TRUTH:

When I say I want someone with a sense of humor, I mean I want someone with MY sense of humor.

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?

Seriously though, what is a woodchuck?

And what exactly is chucking wood?

Why would you call it a woodchuck if it couldn't chuck wood?

This is the sorta thing that keeps me up at night.

How much pand could a panda pand if a panda could pand pand?

birds.

Birds are fucking assholes.

The end.

PS: Whoever came up with "put a bird on it" has obviously never stayed up all night working on a project, having to listen to the gleeful chirping of those little fuckers who are so goddamn happy to see the sun rise. Fuck you Portland, and fuck your fucking birds. YOU'RE ALL ASSHOLES.

GOOD vs. WELL

So. As you may or may not know, I'm obsessed with grammar.

While I don't write in grammatically correct form all the time, I do try to adhere to most conventional rules. That being said, one of my biggest pet peeves (and, admittedly, confusions) is the thin line between good and well.

In my junior year of high school, my nun AP English teacher impressed upon the class that we could be "good in bed," yet it was grammatically impossible to just be "good." Instead, the proper answer to a question as simple as, "How are you?" would always be, "I'm well."

Recently, there was debate between my friends and me as to whether this was fact or merely fiction. Having a solid grasp on the difference between adjectives and adverbs, I felt (and feel) that this is an inalienable truth. For me, good will always be an adjective, while well will always be an adverb. I dislike using good as an adverb, though I understand at times it can be used as one. Still, I fell that while you can be "good" at something, it is grammatically impossible to just be "good."

On the other hand, you cannot be "well" at something. You can be well, and well is appropriate in many circumstances. I personally dislike the response of, "I'm good," following the question of, "How are you?"... but then again, I HATE the question of, "How are you?"

In German, that question does not exist.

But I digress.

If "How are you?" must be asked, I believe there is only one appropriate answer in the realm of good/well. That answer for me, obviously, would be, "I'm well." Theoretically, it's grammatically impossible to just be "good." You can be "good" at something (ie, "good in bed"), but you cannot just be "good." Good is an adjective, by definition. Well is an adverb. Case in point, as stated.

Argue all you want, but if you truly stop to think about it... I'm correct.

Just this once.

sunglasses.

Aviator sunglasses either make you look like a badass or a douchebag. 95% of the time it is the latter.

really?

This is what something that is equal parts adorable and evil (aka, Jack Russell Terrorist) looks like while it sleeps:

Let's hear it for New York...

During my past week spent galavanting around New York City, I was lucky enough to see some amazing art, shop at some amazing stores, and visit some amazing friends (many of which I hadn't seen in quite awhile). In an effort to remember everything that happened during this action-packed wild week, I'm going to detail as much as I can, because it was truly a trip for the books.

After bidding adieu to my pup, I boarded a red eye Wednesday night bound for JFK. Someone please remind me never to take a red eye again. I thought it would be no big deal, as I sleep very little anyway... but it was awful. Enough said. I arrived on the other side of the country at 7am and booked it to my aunt's Upper East Side apartment, where I would stay until my friend Hannah arrived the next afternoon. My first order of business, needless to say, was marching straight to MoMA to see the German Expressionist exhibit.

As there is no photography allowed in the special exhibits, I will share a few of my favorite pieces, all from the MoMA website where a full archive can also be found. Below are a few of the many that had in awe:

Max Pechstein

Dancer in the Mirror (1923)

Woodcut

Franz Marc

Blue Horse with Rainbow (1913)

Watercolor, gouache, and pencil on paper

Ernst Kirchner

Evening Patrol (1915)

Lithograph

Franz Marc

Riding School After Ridinger (1913)

Woodcut

Oskar Kokoschka

Pieta, poster for the play Murderer, Hope of Women (1909)

Lithograph

Otto Dix

The Nun (1914)

Oil on cardboard

Emil Nolde

Young Couple (1913)

Lithograph

Edition of 112 in 68 color variations

George Grosz

Circe (1927)

Watercolor and ink on paper

Ernst Kirchner

Street, Berlin (1913)

Oil on canvas

Lyonel Feininger

Uprising (1910)

Oil on canvas

Ernst Kirchner

Max Beckmann

Descent from the Cross (1917)

Oil on canvas

Kathe Kollwitz

The Last Thing (1924)

Woodcut

Spent the rest of the afternoon sketching in Central Park then caught up over dinner with my aunt, but was too tired to do much else. The next morning I met my friend Elizabeth, who has recently relocated from Portland to Brooklyn, at Grand Central Station where we caught up over coffee before heading back to the MoMA to (surprise, surprise) see the Expressionist exhibit again as well as wander through some of the other galleries.

Elizabeth took this picture of me outside the entrance to the special exhibit. I look awkward, as usual.

She also told me that Yoko Ono left little notes all around one of the exhibit areas in the museum, so following our stroll through the land of Expressionism, I went on a scavenger hunt to find all of the aforementioned phrases.

On my Yoko Ono search, I also came across this. Being incredibly immature (as I am), I found it quite amusing, and had to take a photo.

After spending close to an hour playing with fascinating gadgets in the gift shop, I hugged my friend (hadn't seen her in 3 years! Love her!) goodbye and hopped on the subway to meet another friend, Megan, at the Blind Tiger (a beer bar in SoHo). Megan and I went to high school together, and she is one of my favorite people because she is funny and down to earth; one of those friends you can just pick up conversation with after barely any communication for 2 years. She opted for a beer called No Regrets, while I chose the aptly titled Prankster. It was Friday afternoon, otherwise known as The Eve Before the Rapture, and we had an animated discussion about our lives and potential end of the world. Also, a man in clown makeup strolled into the bar and began to juggle scarves. It was awesome.

I met up with Hannah after she flew in from LA that night, and we headed to Nobu to get some sushi. After visiting that cattle station, we headed to 1 Oak then Avenue, then met our friends Clementine and Alexis at Southside. After a late night party-party, Alexis & I found a diner... then proceeded to a park to watch the sun rise.

Hannah being Hannah.

Alexis being Alexis.

Sunrise being the sunrise.

Saturday was... a wash. Hannah and I ended up shopping a bit in the afternoon, then heading back downtown to Cipriani for dinner. We hid in our beds early, as was necessary to ensure the rest of a fun weekend.

Sunday I headed off to see Jim Dine speak at the Morgan Museum and Library... and what an amazing talk he gave. He was speaking in conjunction with his exhibit at the Morgan, a show titled "Drawings from the Glypototek" in a conversational setting with Ruth Fine, a curator from DC. After the talk, I marched right down to meet him. It went well. I'm kind of insistent about the things I decide upon, and this was on of them. I have a lot more on the Dine topic, for a later time. Anyway, I met up with Hannah later, and we decided to head back to Cipriani for a late dinner & to check out the bar.

Heels in the bag, flats on my feet. My typical party song/MOTTO, and an insight into how our Sunday night ended.

Monday morning came... and went. Hannah and I shopped in SoHo, then I met my friend Emily (whom I went to high school with), who'd also just graduated with her masters (!) from Columbia. After a short hang with Em and a dinner with another aunt, Hannah and I went to meet my long-lost friend Meghan (cool, cool girl and excellent jewelry designer) in the East Village where she was DJ-ing. She DJs at the most rad bar, Cabin, hidden below a pizza parlor in an epic place that is totally small but very Portland-ish in style.

Tuesday, I hopped (more like limped) out of bed to make an appearance at the McQueen exhibit at the Met. The show was TO. DIE. FOR. It was equal parts depressing and inspiring, and I have to admit... I'm a huge McQueen fanatic.

After McQueen, I returned to my stomping grounds at Barney's and Bergdorf, followed by a quick third romp through to the MoMA for one last trip through the German Expressionist exhibit.

After a quick pack-up, I was once again on a plane... this time bound for the rain-soaked state of Oregon. All-in-all, a truly successful trip. More pictures (and maybe stories?) to come.