And then there were four. The cheftestant loft is mostly empty now, and the remaining chefs pretend to be sad. Then: bon-bons!
It’s a wonder I can even get my fingers to move.
Because I don’t care what people say, I fricking love the song “Yellow Submarine.” And tea.
Farro: it fed the legions, back when Rome was still hot shit.
Tonight, Yigit mourns the loss of Intact Head Heather, Danielle makes faces and Morganza’s manliness lashes out to shatter a vase. Scary!
When someone tries to blow you up, not because of who you are, but for different reasons altogether.
Because I am impossibly regal, and want to consume all beverages from a chalice.