I’m going to get ice cream.

(Source: scullymd, via elliotdill)

02:58 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly[2,296 notes]


If y’all follow me here, you should follow me elsewhere:

12:00 am, BY stumpyandwobbly



10:47 am, BY stumpyandwobbly

picture HD

(vía @roxxxxylove)


(vía @roxxxxylove)

(via elliotdill)

08:45 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly[43 notes]

picture HD

On a hot day like today, it’s best to just stay in, blast the AC, and watch a movie. Go to the beach vicariously through Marcello Mastroianni and Daniela Rocca in Pietro Germi’s classic satire, “Divorce, Italian Style.” Credit: Everett Collection.


On a hot day like today, it’s best to just stay in, blast the AC, and watch a movie. Go to the beach vicariously through Marcello Mastroianni and Daniela Rocca in Pietro Germi’s classic satire, “Divorce, Italian Style.” Credit: Everett Collection.

07:21 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly[293 notes]

My new boyfriend.

I’m kind of obsessed with food. And by kind of, I mean really. I like to joke that being single’s fine by me as long as there’s a pecan pie sundae at Buttermilk Channel, just down Court Street, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.

But then I met him. Her. It. Hello, lover, you’re all I need.

I’d like to introduce you to the sweet and salty brownie at Baked, in Red Hook.

This picture is from Serious Eats. They're awesome.

Baked gets written up a lot, but what’s one more endorsement? True to its name, this brownie’s sweet and savory. It’s rich without making you feel gross, like a date who takes you out on the town but still gets you home at a decent hour.

Pick one up at Union Market, stand next to Michael Showalter while you’re checking out (true story!), stick it in the microwave for 30 seconds and throw some vanilla ice cream on it. And, well, who needs boys when there’s Sweet and Salty around? (Sorry, there’s some Belle and Sebastian playing.)

09:39 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly

Fine, Just Goofy

Today was the Steven Alan sample sale. For the past three seasons, it’s been an important part of my New York experience. Come May and November, I head over to TriBeCa and pick up staples for the season. The scene is hip, defined by such 2010 trends as plaid, skinny jeans and shoe-boot hybrids called shooties. I decided it best to forgo the shooties, but the flats I’d chosen were driving me crazy. Bunions aren’t really as much of an issue with a prosthetic leg, but the slightest change in its alignment can cause shooting stump pain, or just as bad, a dull – but considerable – soreness that builds and requires as much as a day or two of rest. 

That’s what what happened today. 

I fidgeted all day with the pump at my ankle, trying to get it to align correctly. I would push in the tension valve, pressing my foot down, try to find the perfect angle and fail. And, while at the sale, full of hipsters, I leaned down to play with the pump once more. I leaned over, and as I did, my skin pulled away from the suction fit socket. There I was, hand at my ankle, butt in the air, when my leg starts to, well, fart. Really loudly. So loudly that the two cute preppy hipster boys behind me started stifling laughter. I didn’t say anything. I just posted about it on my Tumblr, because “I didn’t fart, my leg did” doesn’t exactly make sense.

But whatever. Joke’s on them. They’re hipsters.

02:18 am, BY stumpyandwobbly[1 note]


Ever have those days where you wake up feeling like an Erector set? I sure do!

I’ve been having my fair share of leg problems lately, but I’d been holding out to
see my doctor when I visited my family in Florida. And of course, as soon as I got the day off, it happened. I fractured my foot. Well, my fake one, which is like fracturing your real foot without less pain and a lot more moving parts.

In five years of fake leggery, I’ve never seen anything like this. And it basically just happened when I slipped off a ledge. I’d been shopping and slipped off a ledge. And with that, my foot broke my fall, and I broke my foot. If I’d broken my normal foot, I’d have gone to the hospital.

09:13 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly

R.I.P. J.D. Salinger

"Years ago, in my earliest and pastiest days as a would-be writer, I once read a new story aloud to S. and Boo Boo. When I was finished, Boo Boo said flatly (but looking over at Seymour) that the story was ‘too clever.’  S. shook his head, beaming away at me, and said cleverness was my permanent affliction, my wooden leg, and that it was in the worst possible taste to draw the group’s attention to it. As one limping man to another, old Zooey, let’s be courteous and kind to each other.

Much love,

Franny and Zooey

11:04 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly

Overheard in New York

"Hey, baby, I’ll fix that twitch in your leg."
- Guy hollerin’ at me on Third Street and First Avenue

I didn’t really have a response, though a friend instantly told me I should’ve handed him my leg and Allen wrench kit.

- “You’re a licensed prosthetist? Thank goodness! I’ve been looking all over for one.”

- “Can you have this back to me in an hour?”

- “Do you have any references?”

But best ways to respond to heckling aside, that guy on First was right. My leg’s been clacking and twitching horribly lately. Think I might be heading home for a long-overdue fix with a professional. Updates to come.

11:40 pm, BY stumpyandwobbly