I am a frequent wearer of everything in my husband's closet, from his t-shirts to his blazers to yes, even his underthings (very cozy - and sorta oddly sexy - sleepwear). If you've got a willing co-habitant of the male persuasion, I advise you to get rummaging in his drawers: I bet you'll double your wardrobe in no time at all.
What to steal:
- Obviously any and all white button-down shirts; they can be worn to bed (undeniably sexy, as evidenced by Brigitte Bardot over there) or tied in a …
Since I've spent much of today writing about pool floats that I do not want and halved furniture that I do not want, let me now move on to a new subject: food that I do not want. See that? Don't want it. Not now, not ever; I don't even really feel comfortable knowing that this horror lives in the same city as me.
I recently learned that there is a place called K! Pizzacone in midtown Manhattan, and I wish that there wasn't. It opened a few months ago, largely to reviews as lukewarm as the con …
That's right: an absinthe egg cream. Yee! A cocktail that comes complete with its own little Tinkerbell and has the extra allure of maybe-possibly (but not really) being illegal? Doesn't get much better than that, folks.
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