I don’t have air conditioning in my New York City apartment—which is a perfectly fine way of living for 360 days a year. Every spring, I pull out my trusty box fans and decide they’ll do the trick, as long as I eat lots of watermelon, cucumbers, ice pops, and of course, banana soft serve. It’s summer. I like it hot.
But there is one tiny problem with an apartment that some might call sweltering—no one wants to come over for dinner. So I had an aha moment when I saw this idea at thekitchn.com: Picnic Parties! I live right near a park with lots of trees, and I can just create a spread on a blanket, instead of my kitchen table.
And now that I’m thinking picnics, what about workday lunch picnics? Brunch picnics? And why not a picnic today, to kick off the start of summer? It can be as simple as cheese and crackers or PB&J, or an all-out array of hearty salads. And whenever I’m tempted to buy an air conditioner this summer, I’ll know right where to head—to a picnic party.
Just found the worst page in the entire dictionary. What I saw was disgraceful, disgusting, dishonest, and disingenuous.
Client: We need you to log in to the YouTube and make all our company videos viral.
My cat just walked up to the paper shredder and said, “Teach me everything you know.”
“Just because you can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dance.” —Alcohol
@yoyoha (Josh Hara)
My parents didn’t want to move to Florida, but they turned 60 and that’s the law.
Q: What do you call an Amish guy with his hand in a horse’s mouth?
A: A mechanic.