Brace yourselves, boys and girls. Get your hard hats and band-aids ready. It’s time to bust out the power tools and do some DIY.
Since I recently (ok, so not-so-recently at this point, but you get the idea) moved into my new place, I figured what better way to make it my own than to get my hands dirty with some DIY projects. Plus who likes a standard-issue “vintage” apartment anyway? In the days of Pinterest: no one. Especially me.
First up: Adding some much-needed storage.
I’m a shoe whore. Always have been. Always will be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nowhere near as bad as my aunt (she had my uncle turn a spare guest room into an extra closet for her shoes – you go Aunt Melissa!) but I have everything from running shoes to wingtips and from rain boots to ridiculously-uncomfortable-yet-super-cute leopard print loafers. God forbid they be homeless, but when you live in a studio finding a home for them is definitely much easier said than done.
Especially once you’ve already maxed out your under-bed storage with off-season clothing and shoes and other stuff that just needs a home. Out of sight, out of mind.
Always up for a good DIY project, I’d seen this project on Pinterest that looked like it’d have a relatively low chance of ending up as an epic Pinterest fail. Easy peasy. I could do this. Bring it on. Continue reading
So I recently moved out of my old apartment. In other words: no more MDR. While I love the kid to death, I decided it was probably for the best – especially since I had gone back to working in Corporate America and had to be up at 6am (vomit) to get ready for work and haul my morning-hating-self downtown – for my sanity and our friendship in general to go back to living on my own.
Let the hunt begin.
They say honesty is the best policy, but apparently apartment leasing companies missed the memo on this. Continue reading
If you follow me on Twitter (which if you don’t, then you totally should be), you’d have already guessed from the title of this post that it’s about the charming young man I like to refer to as MDR, also known as “My Delightful Roommate” (or another “D” word if you prefer). If not, this should explain it and get you up to speed.
As you might have guessed from my tweets and a previous blog post, my roommate is pretty much awesome and has phenomenal taste in the men that he brings home from the bar. Especially on random Tuesday nights. He’s probably the best roommate I’ve ever had.
Oh who am I kidding? Other than my Roomdog, I tend to have a great track record with choosing only the cream of the crap to live with. Crap. I meant crop. Same thing. Don’t get me wrong…I love the kid to death, but living with him is a real treat. Where do I even begin? Continue reading
Forget everything you ever knew about TGIF – and no, I’m not talking about TGIF as in TGIFridays (although I do love great all-day-everyday drink specials and delicious artery-clogging appetizers. No. It’s all about TGIT these days. If you missed the memo (as I apparently did), Tuesday is the new Friday – or else at least at my apartment it is…
I never really understood mid-week drinking. Well, outside of happy hour, networking events, wine nights, and….well….okay, fine. I get it. Sometimes you need to just let loose. Tuesday is apparently the new “it” night to do such.
For example… Continue reading
As we rolled into San Diego on a sunny Sunday afternoon, depression started to set in. In less than 24 hours I was supposed to be boarding my flight back to Chicago and trading 80-degree temps for 50’s and rain. Determined not to let the inevitable (me leaving) get us down, we headed for Balboa Park to stretch our legs and let Baker make some friends at the dog park before checking into our amazing last-minute AirBNB booking at the Granada House (make sure to check out their blog too!!) in San Diego’s North Park neighborhood. As our stomachs began to growl (yes, gays really do eat sometimes), we set off for the beach to grab dinner and catch the end of the sunset.
I mean seriously…how can you not fall in love with this view?
And just like that, my love affair with San Diego began. Continue reading
Hello, and welcome to what may possibly be my last post since I may die from hypothermia or frostbite in my sleep tonight.
But really, it’s kind of chilly in my apartment this evening. It’s currently a balmy zero degrees outside with a wind chill of -18…and about the same in my apartment. So yes, I’m currently curled up in my flannel-sheeted bed under two down comforters wearing long underwear, socks, sweatpants, a henley, and a sweatshirt. With a space heater going and my bedroom door shut so the small amount of heat it puts off stays in this room and this room only. No joke.
Why, you may ask? Because there’s nothing I love more than being given the run-around. Continue reading
Roommates and I are like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. It’s always either one extreme or the other, however some are just perfect. When it comes to roommates, I’ve experienced about everything there is to offer. Good roommates, bad roommates, and everything in between.
Growing up, I shared a room with my sister for over seven years – welcome to having a two-bedroom home with two children – until we finally put on an addition, so sharing a room was something I was somewhat experienced with already when I went away to college. My roommate freshman year and I couldn’t be more different, yet we got along great. A communications major at the time, I was the social butterfly. He, on the other hand, was an engineering major who wanted to design roller coasters. Super cool, but always studying. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to him, and I wouldn’t have nearly failed out my sophomore year. But that’s beside the point. We got along great, even though we never really hung out much outside of our dorm room…partially because we were both slightly obsessive compulsive when it came to keeping our room clean.
Fast forward to sophomore year. I moved into a three bedroom apartment with three of my friends from freshman year. Since I was staying in the city to work for the summer, I got to enjoy having the place to myself for the summer. Needless to say, when they moved in, I lasted all of about three months before I decided to head for the hills – well, downtown rather – and go back to living on my own. Continue reading