Archive for the Just Do It. Category

Breakfast, and a concert.

Posted in Just Do It. with tags , , , , , , , on July 31, 2009 by sheisnicotine

Dance with that?

There is a time, not inclined to say when but let it be known that the sun is waiting in the wings for its grand entrance, that the stomach begins a rumbling. The champagne has been slish-shloshing in your stomach from all the two stepping. And when you added Mr. Petron to the mix the dance party got a little too friendly in the tummy. So you embark on what can only be described as a vision quest. Hurtling through the New York dawn, you begin to see visions of bacon and eggs in the sky. Arriving at none other then a restaurant that caters to the party set, whose doors never close, and it smells of delicious food at both reasonable and un-reasonable times. The latter being the time we choose.

But when coming straight from the ruckus that is the dancefloor, and not having slept, one can not expect to simply sit at a table and delicately eat as if it were your mothers table. No no. These sorts of breakfasts require a different delicacy. They require that you bring your own speakers, and have an impromptu hip hop concert served to you amid the eggs and waffles and bacon. And of course, you don’t stop dancing.

Early morning meals, right after late morning adventures, where you turn a quiet restaurant into the club you just left and don’t care? That Is Nicotine.

Hawaiian reunion in the big city? That Is Nicotine.

Jump Jump

Posted in Just Do It. with tags , , , , on March 31, 2009 by sheisnicotine

Tom Ford doesn't actually give you wings. He just greatly increases your cool factor. Period.

Tom Ford doesn't actually give you wings. He's just cool.

One of the most underrated things in the world has got to be jumping on your bed. I fucking love jumping on my bed. But I have low ceilings at this homestead, so I have forgotten that joy. A simple, pure, heart pumping joy. It can take you back to that careless life of children. Before the brain drain of adult hood, and the bullshit of adolescences was just a little guy and his bed. And a want to just jump. Fuck a reason, you just jump! I want all of you to just go right after you read this, and jump on your fucking beds! Don’t ask why, don’t debate the relevancy, or justify the time spent, just go be that little boy (or girl) again and jump on your bed. Its the same, just this time with Tom Fords on. Tom Ford gives you Wings.

I’m going to go jump on mine, the Manhattan edition. See you sucka’s in NYC!