I haven’t done one of these posts in months, but I thought now was the perfect time since everyone is in an Instagram TOS tizzy. Maybe I’m cynical, but I never thought I had any control over my images once I uploaded them to a third party site in the first place, so I’m nonplussed by the whole sitch. If you want my advice (which I realize you probably don’t) people should be more concerned about self-hosting their blogs than fretting over what Instagram may or may not (probably not) do with their photos.

Now…how about some low-res heavily filtered photos that aren’t good enough to grow up to be ads? Yeah? Yay!

oysters at Quality Seafood Market / homemade tortilla lime soup / salsa choices at Taco Cabana
cheeseburger at Mighty Fine / brisket from Smitty’s Market / morning queso and margaritas at Chuy’s
homemade roasted potatoes / blue crab fried rice and pad thai at Sway / brown sugar, cinnamon, and squash ice cream at Lick

pocorn thief / snoozing / toehawk
wig (my hair) / refusing to socialize / up in my business
up in my business – the sequel / are you gonna eat that? / Christmas angel

giving my worries to my worry doll / wearing my wedding band – right hand stacked / where I left my glasses
downtown / the art of the blow dry / emerald purses
crapi apartments / I cannot lie / serious lights

Tomorrow I leave for my 18th trip to Disney World. My mom doubts I’ve been to Disney World 18 times, but I think she’s just not ready to confront how much money our family has spent at there in the last 30 years.

I know the place like the back of my hand. Pirates of the Caribbean? Left after Main Street, over the bridge, past the Jungle Cruise and Tiki Room, on the left. The Haunted Mansion? Through the castle, left at the carousel, past It’s a Small World and Peter Pan, under the now defunct Swiss Family Robinson tree house (Correction: it’s the defunct skyway platform, which closed in 1994. Does anyone actually go to the Swiss Family tree house anyway? Ditto Tom Sawyer island?), on the right. Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride? Shut down in 1997. You need to go to Disney World more often.

I thought I’d share some snapshots from my first trip to Disney. For my fourth birthday, we ditched my baby sister (don’t worry, she’d experience her first touch of Disney magic a few years later) and headed to the happiest place on earth.

I distinctly remember a few things about this trip. 1.) We drove a sky blue Pontiac from Chicago to Orlando and I remember thinking we were going to go right off a cliff as we drove through the mountains 2.) I had a GlowWorm that I flashed at passing drivers out the back window 3.) I loving my Mickey balloon and was devastated when it was all shriveled and deflated the next morning (though I think I got another, because I remember having the balloon within a balloon, not the red one pictured).

You rock those purple pearls, Mom.

Look at those Saltwater Sandals!

The Matching Mickey sweatshirts! Layered over polo shirts! I die.

Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow! (But why is there a bird on my head?)

With those sunglasses, how could I not be sassy?

ANNIE! I’m so glad to see my favorite Cabbage Patch Doll got to go on vacation.

Let’s hurry it up, mouse man.

Are you a Disney fanatic? How many times have you been? What’s your favorite thing about Disney World?

I was going through my morning ritual of scrambling eggs and scanning bookmarked blogs for new posts (yup – I still bookmark) when I read this post from Whoorl about school photos gone wrong (but really, if that hair is wrong, I don’t know what could be right). Which reminded me of this kindergarten photo of myself…

What you don’t see is that I’m also wearing a sweater vest, grey wool skirt, and knit knee socks. 80s preppy done right.

I wasn’t supposed to be wearing that Smurf bobby pin in my hair. Oh no. I remember that picture day like it was yesterday.

When I left for school that morning, I had the bobby pin in my hand and my mother looked me in the eye and told me explicitly  “do not put that Smurf in your hair.” And I didn’t. I kept it in my pocket all morning; even while pulling the little red wagon down to the lunch room to pick up cartons of milk for snack time and all through the chaos of morning recess. Right up until it was time for pictures.

I was standing quietly in line, waiting my turn, when the photographer’s assistant spotted me fiddling with the bobby pin. She and her complimentary black plastic comb made a beeline for me. I saw her coming and tried to stuff  Papa Smurf (why I didn’t choose Smurfette, I will never know) back in my pocket but it was too late. She plucked the bobby pin out of my hand, told me how nicely it matched my outfit (that I can’t argue with), and with one swift flick of the comb it was in my hair and she was ushering me in front of the camera.

Don’t let my toothy smile deceive you. I was sweating it.

For six whole weeks, I waited for those photos to be delivered. But let’s face it, I totally forgot about it by the time school was over that day and Papa Smurf was resting comfortably in the pocket of my wool skirt. But the anxiety came back the day pictures arrived and Mrs. Yeckle handed me that flimsy envelope with Papa Smurf giving me the stink eye through the cellophane window.

My mom picked me up from school every day (pretty much until I could drive myself – I don’t do buses) and while I don’t remember trying to hide the photos from her (what was the point? everyone was waving them around), I do remember handing them over reluctantly and hearing her say “whaaaat is in your hair?”

For whatever reason (I suspect it was because the pictures were so damn cute), Papa Smurf and I never did get in trouble and I didn’t go back for retakes. But I still have an affinity for bobby pins.

Is there a good story behind any of your school photos?

How the devil are you? Did you have a good holiday weekend?

I was back in NYC and had a much more enjoyable time now that the temperatures are in the 70s instead of the 90s. I was still a hot mess and my feet are still swollen, but good times were had.

For posterity (since that’s what blogging is all about, right?)…

Obligatory tunnel photo upon arrival. I’m 90% sure I’ve taken this exact same photo on every ride into NYC since 2007.

My buddy, Huey. As long as I’ve got food and/or his favorite stuffed chicken.

My first trip to Brooklyn included a lobster roll at Smorgasburg and a photo with Sofie the Giraffe. The Humphrey’s were nowhere to be found.

Sunday we watched Andy Roddick play at the US Open, and while I was originally rooting against him just so I could say I watched his last professional match (how’s that for sportsmanship?), he won me over and I was cheering for him by the end.

I enjoyed the day so much I signed up for tennis lessons. Watch for me on the pro circuit soon (or never).

The B-list celebrity sitings were pretty incredible, too. John Legend, Tony Danza, John McEnroe, the guy with the fro from LMFAO, Brooklyn Decker, Kevin Spacey, Barry Gordy, Rosie O’Donnell, Josh Groban.

We had the happiest little dinner at Momofuku noodle bar.

It was seriously amaze-balls. Slushies, pork buns, mushrooms, grilled corn, ramen with slutty eggs and pork belly. Highly recommended. I want to marry whoever was poaching those eggs in the kitchen.

Alec Baldwin lives here. I didn’t see him, but he’s in there.

The Big Gay ice Cream Shop was another win (though we missed Ottavia Bourdain by an hour!). I had the salty pimp and I’d do it again.

And yes, the unicorn is wearing a necklace with a portrait of Bea Arthur.

Art around the city. Does anyone know the story behind the waving statue on the top of the random building?

While at the MOMA, my sister and I decided that we’re not smart enough to understand modern art, so we headed to the gift shop.

A final lunch at ABC Kitchen before my flight, where the sundae came topped with caramel corn. As @outsidevoice said on Instagram “is this real life?” Yes, it is. And it is awesome.

I kind of hate New York.

Not really.

But sorta.

Don’t get me wrong, there are tons of things that I love about NYC – like the parks and museums, the restaurants and street vendors, and visiting my sister. But I always come back feeling a little beat up and defeated. Know what I mean?

I’m a city girl, just not a NYC girl.

Having my Princess Di moment upon arrival.

Greeted by Huey and his much loved Chicken.

The Meatball Shop was probably my favorite meal of the trip. Classic meatballs with mushroom gravy over homemade smashed potatoes. I’d like to eat this with a spoon on the couch watching reruns of  My So Called Life.

On the way to the restaurant, I had an honest-to-goodness celebrity sighting – Edward Norton! I would have asked for a photo, but I couldn’t handle the rejection if he said no, and I get the feeling that he’s the kinda guy that would say no.

Seated Odalisque by Henri Matisse and Augustine Roulin by Vincent van Gogh are two of my favorites at the MET. Cloud City by Tomás Saraceno is worth a trip to the rooftop – you can get all up in its business for a unique view over Central Park (but I was too chicken).

My mom found her doppelganger among the portraits.

The wax figure of Yayoi Kusama in all the Louis Vuitton windows is so spot on (no pun intended) it’s scary.

The Kusama exhibit at the Whitney is a fascinating retrospective of her life and career – though I prefer her more recent works. It’s amazing that someone would have the wherewithal to save clippings and letters and fliers for 50+ years to make such an exhibit possible.

For exactly one minute, each exhibit visitor get to stand and take in the lights, mirrors, and water of Fireflies on the Water. They tell you over and over again that there’s no photography or video allowed, so obviously I had to stuff my phone in my bra for easy access once they shut the door.

I may live in Texas, but I don’t do heat. Instead, we bought day passes to the Holiday Inn rooftop pool and kicked it with the old-money-season-pool-pass-holders where all the dirty old men looked like leather and discussed their travel overseas. Apparently Portugal is where it’s at.

I love the graffiti in NYC, but this one definitely edges over into art, and it’s right around the corner from my sister’s apartment.

A wicked summer storm caused an electrical fire across the river and we saw it all go down. My sister said that we’d make excellent beat reporters. I tend to agree (though despite my expert hashtag usage, my Tweet didn’t gain much traction).

S’mores was the cupcake of the month at Magnolia Bakery. It’s officially the cupcake of my life.

Just strollin’ past Sarah Jessica Parker’s house, trying not be a creep.

The Foster girls in Washington Square.

Adding to my Buddha collection with a souvenir from Pearl River Market in SOHO.

And no trip would be complete without a little drama.

I had trouble starting my  car when I got to the airport at midnight, but thankfully I made it home. I wasn’t so lucky the next morning. I got stuck an hour from home in my pajamas (the ones with the bleach spot on the leg, of course) after picking up Ollie from being boarded. 7 hours and $600 later and Ollie’s expression pretty much sums up our day.