I like that this whole chart is just a buildup to the bottom right.
The only TRIPLE ESPRESSO person I ever met was my undergrad adviser, who had been awake since the late ’70s and was widely rumored to be a stern but capricious god. (He also dressed like a hipster without having the slightest clue what a hipster was: huge black-framed glasses, a tweed fedora, and five-sizes-too-big thrift-store blazers.) I was strictly a tea drinker in college, and he once told me that if I wanted to survive grad school, I’d have to learn to enjoy coffee. He fired off a series of maxims: “Good coffee tastes like hay. Bad coffee tastes like lima beans. You should only drink coffee black. Coffee with milk and sugar is just a baby bottle.” It was at such junctures that he would hand me a photograph of his cat, named after the 16th-century poet Torquato Tasso: “Here. Keep it.”
Four years later, I drink very milky coffee and feel a little guilty when I add the second packet of sugar. Given time, we all rebel against our gods.
I MISS THIS MAN.
ME TOO. So many academics seem to believe that high intelligence justifies rude, self-centered behavior, but EDH is a deeply good person and I appreciate that more and more with every year I spend in academia.
(Source: pinkymixology)
After two years of bright lipsticks in the spring and summer and dark lipsticks in the fall and winter, I suddenly can’t be bothered with more than NARS Dolce Vita, a sheer pinky my-lips-but-better color as moisturizing and ephemeral as a balm. Sometimes I put on a vivid coral or fuchsia, squint at myself in the mirror, then wipe it off and reach for the Dolce Vita. Don’t get me started on eye makeup; I’ve never had the skill or patience for more than mascara and one neutral shade of eyeshadow, and now it’s a chore just to apply those. I’ve never actually worn much makeup; I’ve just thought a lot about the makeup I did wear (and even more, perhaps, about the makeup I admired but didn’t buy). Wearing bright lipstick in grad school, especially at events sponsored by my male-dominated subfield, is often about daring people not to take me seriously. But now school is out and I don’t have the energy to be defiantly girly; sometimes I just want normalcy and simplicity, and maybe that’s not a sin.
I like that this whole chart is just a buildup to the bottom right.
The only TRIPLE ESPRESSO person I ever met was my undergrad adviser, who had been awake since the late ’70s and was widely rumored to be a stern but capricious god. (He also dressed like a hipster without having the slightest clue what a hipster was: huge black-framed glasses, a tweed fedora, and five-sizes-too-big thrift-store blazers.) I was strictly a tea drinker in college, and he once told me that if I wanted to survive grad school, I’d have to learn to enjoy coffee. He fired off a series of maxims: “Good coffee tastes like hay. Bad coffee tastes like lima beans. You should only drink coffee black. Coffee with milk and sugar is just a baby bottle.” It was at such junctures that he would hand me a photograph of his cat, named after the 16th-century poet Torquato Tasso: “Here. Keep it.”
Four years later, I drink very milky coffee and feel a little guilty when I add the second packet of sugar. Given time, we all rebel against our gods.
(Source: pinkymixology)
This is the ice cream I made earlier. Literally, take 6 bananas plus about 3/4 cup of Nutella, put it in your blender or food processor until it’s nice and creamy, and put it in popsicle molds or a container and you’ll have lots of delicious two ingredient ice cream. You can mix pretzel pieces (or anythiing your heart desires (even people (but probably not people))) in as well and you can just blend bananas, too. Heaven.
I’ve made a few disappointing iterations of frozen-banana ice cream, but I think I’ve figured out what was missing: Nutella. Obviously.
The closest I ever came to being a scientist was getting an A in intro to biology and, seven years later, buying a hipster lab coat at Zara.
