Well, as many of you already know, he started a new company called Small Batch Inc., and they’re currently working on a project that will rock your face off. It’s called Typekit. In a nutshell, it will let you choose from a giant library of fonts to use anywhere on your site, without having to render them as images or text files. So, for example, the text you’re reading now could look like this:
But you wouldn’t have to save it as an image or Flash file to have it appear. You could just type it in to your blog editor of choice. The W3C has been working for a long time to find a way to display any font across browsers. Now that it’s possible, Typekit will essentially make it affordable for people like you and me. The little people, I mean.
The little people will roll around in the silken, fonty glory of it all!
Good job, Mr. Mason. I’m off to Twitter about how proud I am of you, and then see how long it takes you to notice. You’re making the Web prettier, and it’s nice to be married to you.
Foods You Can Bring Into Your Mouth Simply by Sticking Out Your Tongue, a Partial List*
Dry cereals of all sorts
Lik a Stik powder
Dip ‘n’ Dots
Sour Patch Kids
The crumbs at the bottom of the chip bag
Honorable mention: Cheese
*Responses to my tweet.
Remember the post about what I packed on my trip to New York? That was fun. So much fun that I wanted to do more. The problem is, I don’t want to show up places feeling all cute and have people be like, “Yeah. I already saw that dress on your site.” (Sad trombone.) So I thought I’d visit a few of my stylish friends and take photos of their favorite outfits. Aubrey Sabala is my first Mighty Closet guinea pig.
Aubs throws parties for Digg, where she works as the marketing manager. She’ll be in New York shortly, organizing a shindig for 3,000+ people, and she’s also planning a big birthday blowout for herself and a friend while she’s there. Speaking of which, how much do you love friends who just take charge of their own birthdays, instead of pouting that no one ever remembers their special day? You love them a lot, that’s how much.
Anyway, her entire enormous closet is filled with dresses. She never goes anywhere that requires pants, and I’m pretty sure she works out in cocktail attire. So you know, owning no pants is madness in San Francisco. It’s seriously cold here, especially in the evenings, which is Aubrey’s favorite time of day.
I asked her to show me four of her favorite outfits and her no-fail cocktail outfit, which just happens to be a genuine Little Black Dress. Here are the results:
This is what Aubrey wears when she’s taking her scooter out for soda pop with the gang. (To the best of my knowledge Aubrey doesn’t actually own a scooter, but I encouraged her get one.)
This is the forlorn bag I forgot to include in the photo. Sorry, little bag.
Sundresses and cowboy boots is one of Aubrey’s favorite looks. This is because San Francisco hills laugh at you if you try to wear heels.
Also, if you wear heels, the homeless people assume you’re a tourist and they hassle you because they take you for an easy mark. Same story if you wear shorts. No one here wears shorts, because all of us know that the weather could turn on you at any moment (except Aubrey who is clearly a mutant freak with no nerve endings). And then you’re freezing your ass off in Union Square with aggressive panhandlers yelling at you, and you have to go buy a pair of cheap San Francisco! sweatpants, which only exacerbates the problem. But I digress.
This is Aubrey’s favorite dress, and she’s right about that. Flattering, baby. She usually wears this with cowboy boots too, but she agreed to change things up to give the natives a thrill. We were outside for about two minutes taking this photo, and she was hooted and honked at no less than three times. That’s a good dress.
How cool are these earrings? Aubrey said she never wears them, so I put them in my purse before I left. Aubrey, I stole your awesome earrings as punishment for neglecting them. I’m going to take them out and show them the world, show them what it means to be loved.
She loves this green dress, but rarely wears it either because she has to pair it with 15″ heels so it doesn’t drag on the floor. Tailors, ladies! Fifteen bucks and it’s a whole new dress. Because seriously? You’re not gonna hem it. Don’t kid yourself.
Aubrey laughs 99 percent of the time. She was really trying to put on a solemn face for the sake of fashion, but this is the real Aubrey in action.
I’m such a sucker for a lariat necklace. Almost no one wears them, which makes them even better.
Aubrey has that kind of enviable straight hair that will do a spiky chignon with four bobby pins. Speaking of which, please ignore the pins I neglected to tuck.
The aforementioned uncomfortable shoes.
This is Aubrey pretending to chug a bottle of whiskey. She’s wearing her all-purpose Little Black Dress, and holy crap it’s a good one. (J Crew, you do this so right.)
I love this photo. It’s so nightcap.
Closeup of her chunky bracelet, which is actually a twisted necklace.
Adorable, harrassment-attracting patent leather shoes.
I know, that was exhausting. Thanks for being so game, Aubs. Especially considering the aftermath. Hoo-boy.
So! That’s my very first Mighty Closet. Was it good for you? Let me know if you’d like me to do anything differently next time. Do you want brand names, even though a lot of the stuff won’t be available anymore? Links to similar outfits? Stories behind the outfits? Photos of exceptional lingerie drawers? I live to serve, so let me know.
Here’s my latest post for WePC, it’s about keeping laptops out of landfills. Even if you’re not into computers, please scroll down to the final diagram I drew, because it is funny.
A couple weeks ago, Bryan lost his keys, causing much upheaval. They’re the kind of keys you can’t copy, thus leaving us with only one key between us and the sitter. This morning, I saw them sitting on the dresser.
Me: Hey! Where did you find your keys?
Bryan: (slightly annoyed) I told you already.
Me: What? When?
Bryan: Yeah, I already told you this.
Me: No. I’m sure you didn’t. Where did you find them?
Bryan: Remember when I was all, “Me and a bottle of cabernet are besting the toddler?”
Me: What? What are even you talking about? Where did you find them?
Bryan: Didn’t you read my Twitters?
Me: … You mean you told me via your public Twitter? Are you kidding me right now?
Bryan: Yeah, remember I was all, “It only took six days, but I bested…”
Me: No. No. Stop saying things out loud.
Lots of parents aren’t particularly concerned about stuff on their kids’ faces. This is because you can wipe a child’s face, leave the room to throw out the tissue, and return to find them covered with snot and dog hair. You’re standing there thinking, “We don’t even own a dog.” Well, that’s beside the point. The point is that keeping your kid’s face clean is like pushing a boulder uphill. Except the boulder has teeth, and can scream.
When I was child free, I’d laugh nervously when people passed me their baby food-covered kids. Then I’d lunge for the nearest napkin before the baby could slime my sweater. I always figured I’d grow out of that when I had my own kids, but instead I just chase Hank around with baby wipes all day. The result is a remarkably fastidious kid who would prefer not to touch anything that might leave a residue. He has a very conflicted relationship with bananas.
For some reason, I didn’t ponder this much when we took him out for his first ice cream cone. It was the first warm day we’ve had since he’s been old enough to hold his own cone, and I could barely wait. I’d somehow failed to remember that the kid who loves to play in mud and sand, and splash in puddles had to be taught that all those things were cool. We weren’t going to rush at him screaming, “Noooooooooo!” and then whisk off all his clothing to go soak it in the bathtub. Mud all over your shirt? Yes. Smoothie and dog hair all over your shirt? No. These are complex distinctions.
So we convinced Hank to hold his cone the way we convince him to do anything scary. Outright bribery. As you may recall, Hank will only be bribed with chocolate. Perhaps you think this is a no-brainer, because ice cream conveniently comes in chocolate form. Perhaps you have forgotten that ice cream remains on one’s face, long after one has requested that it be removed?
And apparently ice cream drips?
And this chocolate is cold? Which is unexpected when we’re talking about chocolate. And why aren’t you holding it, as any idiot can see that your manual dexterity far exceeds that of a toddler?
Why are you making him do this? It is disgusting. Are you not aware that he has teeth and can scream?
Eventually, through our laughter, we convinced him that ice cream on a cone would not grab his ankles when he walked by the bed, or secret away his security blanket while he was distracted by ice tongs. So Hank warmed to the idea of holding it himself.
He took about two bites and then thrust it at me, “You hold it?” Fair enough. He pointed at my napkin and held his hands out questioningly. So I obliged.
Then he ran back and forth on the sidewalk screeching happily while we finished our cones.
It was a good day.