Picture: AFP/GETTY IMAGES (via Pictures of the day: 7 August 2013 - Telegraph)
Baby panda jazz hands
Our Art Director, Elizabeth Spiridakis, got married over the weekend, and the party was completely DIY. Click on the images for captions explaining how she did it.
This wedding was SO FUN.
"Research shows a typical A-cup boob weighs in at 0.43 of a pound. Every additional cup size adds another 0.44 of a pound. That means a hurdler with a double-D chest carries more than 4 pounds of additional weight with her on every leap. And when they get moving, the nipples on a C- or D-cup breast can accelerate up to 45 mph in one second — faster than a Ferrari. In an hour of moderate jogging, a pair of breasts will bounce several thousand times. For the modern athlete, the question isn’t whether breasts get in the way — it’s a question of how to compete around them.”
— “You Can Only Hope to Contain Them,” ESPN The Magazine
This was fun to edit.
I hate shopping for sports bras/tanks. They’re all either for women with B cups or smaller or they’re like straitjackets.
rachelfershleiser asked: I just copy-paste 'em like I see 'em.
Oh yeah I didn’t mean to imply that you made the mistake!
Buzzfeed’s Editorial Director and Beastmaster Jack Tapper and Director of Editorial Development Tanner Ringerud’s REVIEW OF MY CAT, giving our beloved felines the judgment they always give to us, based on their Tumblr of the same name, to Shana Drehs at Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, for publication in…
Jack Tapper? I think they mean Jack Shepherd. Anyway, yay!
The beautiful Camille Becerra, grilling vegetables from The Grilling Book.
(Credit: Nicole Franzen)
So Bon Appetit publishes “six meat-tastic videos of men” grilling meat. And then after some backlash on twitter, we have a ”beautiful” women grilling vegetables. Because men grill meat, and women grill vegetables? Is that how it works?
The new sexism is the old sexism
How I feel today.
Today is the one-week anniversary of moving into my new apartment, which is in Los Angeles, which is around 3,000 miles away from my old apartment in Brooklyn. These are the living room windows, which overlook a courtyard that has all manner of trees and flowers and a little fountain, and it is quiet and lovely and peaceful.
The windows face west and so in the afternoon the living room gets what can only be described as sun-dappled. Everyone says the weather in Los Angeles is perfect, but it’s true, and Los Angeles is sunny in a way I have never experienced. So now it feels like I am making up for lost sun-time, gulping the rays so I can get as much Vitamin D into my bloodstream as I can. I feel like a drooping plant that was dusted off and watered and put out on the patio, and now my leaves have perked up. I feel like I am in a video game where I was dangerously close to becoming a vampire and now my sun hearts are being replenished. I feel like I could forget what rain is.
Joseph walks barefoot across the cream-colored floor tiles, still sticky with boot prints from yesterday’s meetup of regional NSM members. He sidesteps the empty Budweiser bottles scattered around the sofa and stands two feet away from his sleeping father. Joseph pulls the revolver’s hammer back, aims below his father’s ear, and fires. The Southwestern Regional Director of the National Socialist Movement’s brains are blown out by his 4-foot son.
I have been in Riverside the last few weeks reporting on the story about the 10 year old boy who shot and killed his father. I am very proud of it. I hope you will read it.
Scientology leader David Miscavige has been trumpeting his church’s “milestone year,” but the mysterious religion is alienating scores of its most faithful followers with what they call a real estate scam. With anger mounting and defectors fleeing, this may be more than a fleeting crisis; it may be a symptom of an institution in decline.