Yes, it’s 2016 already, and I’m stuck in the early 90s forever, but whatever—I’m okay with that. And as winter finally descends on New York City plunging my shivering Texan heart into hopeless despair and boundless misery, it’s time to pull out the fuzzy socks and stay inside forever ordering oatcakes from Tesco and listening to PJ Harvey. Maybe because PJ Harvey will never not be the coolest person ever. Or maybe because there are only so any times you can allow your roommate to convince you that deep frying pickles in a kitchen with no windows while blasting Alice in Chains is
not a completely insane a good way to spend an evening.
Can we all take a field trip to London for this next weekend?
Resistance is futile but try not to get frostbite.