Pulp Fiction turned 30 this week, and the celebration brought out everyone except Bruce Willis, because he isn’t well enough, and Quentin Tarantino for reasons unknown. For all that QT can gab forever about movies, he doesn’t get super bogged down talking about his OWN movies. At least not the ones he’s made. He’ll talk about his ideas at length, but once he’s completed a film, he’s done with it. I guess that attitude extends to parties thrown to honor his own landmark work. (Go Fug Yourself)
“Sunshine guilt” is the term given to the feeling of staying inside on a gorgeous day. Basically, FOMO for good weather. But it implies an expectation of activity, which, personally, I don’t struggle with. I like to sit outside and read on a sunny day, or just walk around my neighborhood, or take care of my roses. If anything, sunny days make me LAZY, you’re more likely to find me at activities in the winter. Do you struggle with sunshine guilt? (Popsugar)
I do not know the Kelce brothers, but somehow, this is the most Jason Kelce thing I have ever heard in my entire life—Jason lost his Super Bowl ring in a kiddie pool full of three-way chili. Please. Tell me no more. There IS a photo but like, you don’t need it, do you? You can see the whole scene perfectly. It’s the MOST Jason Kelce thing. (Celebitchy)
I love when Jaya Saxena writes about food. Today she takes on the concept of “marry me” recipes, which I have never heard of before. Is this a tradwife thing? But Jaya would like us to can the term “marry me recipes”, because cooking isn’t about securing a ring, and marriage isn’t the end goal of a woman’s life. Cooking as an expression of care for others is beautiful, it doesn’t have to be about legal contracts. (Eater)
True crime alert—Texas Monthly has a new true crime article this month. The “Shane and Sally murders” occurred in San Angelo, Texas in 1988. I remember this case, the double homicide of a couple of teenaged sweethearts, Shane Stewart and Sally McNelly, in a place that people whispered had a “darkness” about it. It was the Eighties, it was the height of the Satanic Panic, for the adults in the room, it was too much like the Texarkana murders that happened when they were kids.
Shane Stewart’s father, Marshall, is still searching for answers 35 years later. A new sheriff and a new cold case unit have brought some hope that there might be a resolution after all this time, but with so much evidence lost, or bungled in the moment in 1988, it seems slim. Rob D’Amico looks at the state of the investigation then and now, and how Marshall Stewart continues to keep a light on for Shane. (Texas Monthly)
