The Mexico Diaries: Part 3


Tall local leaves around 9am. Apple Watch says I’ve already stood for 4 hours so I must have been out until at least 4am. Already doubled my move and exercise goals for the day. Need to go clubbing more often. Skinny goals. Back to sleep until noon. Gracias. Continue reading

Sofa Shopping Shenanigans…Otherwise Known as the Nightmare of Incompetent Salespeople

There’s something therapeutic about going furniture shopping…or just shopping in general. Ladies and gays, I’m sure you can relate. Straight men, I’ve probably lost you already  (if you were even reading this to begin with).

Shopping becomes a literal hell, however, when you’re an interior designer and you’re shopping for yourself. Especially when you’re on the hunt for a new sofa. I know it’s not just me either because I was talking to my friend Courtney, one of my bestest friends from college, this evening and she went through the exact same experience recently in her quest to find a new place to park herself after a long day at work.

You’d think it’d be easy to find a sofa when you live in the third largest city in the country. With a population of nearly 3 million, Chicago should be a mecca for furniture stores. Okay, maybe it is, but when you’re a picky designer and know exactly what you want and the price you want to spend…all hell breaks loose. Continue reading

The Culture Quest

So I realize I’ve been MIA for over a week. First off, yes, I’m alive. I haven’t been mugged, blown away by a giant gust of wind, murdered, or whatever other stereotypical thing you might associate with Chicago. I live on the north side, nowhere close to the south/southwest sides where the majority of gang violence occurs. No. I’ve simply been MIA because I’ve had too much going on this week to even think twice about posting. Hence the reason I’m sitting at home on a Saturday evening like a grandpa in my rocking chair boycotting Boystown in favor of unwinding (with a bottle of wine, of course).

So here we go…

I’m on a mission to attempt to become cultured. Call it Mission Impossible if you will. I say bring it on. And of course, my trusty sidekick and temporary roommate/maid/chef/sleeping-partner/whatever – or “winghoe” as she’s also referred to – will be by my side going balls-to-the-wall on this quest right along with me.

From shopping-fueled fundraising benefits to lectures to scotch tastings, we will become cultured one day/night/event at a time.  Continue reading


After a few months of living in my condo and several people managing to lock themselves in my bathroom because of an ancient doorknob with a mind of its own that liked to randomly lock itself, the little shit finally decided to lock me in the other night. A couple glasses of wine deep, I figured it was time to take matters into my own hands and ensure it wouldn’t happen to anyone else. A pair of tweezers, some creativity, and a little elbow grease later, I’d successfully removed the doorknob and let myself out. Take that, Mr. Doorknob.

Yesterday, I decided it was time to replace it and hiked my happy Hudson-skinny-jean-clad ass (complete with a cute sweater and loafers) down to the local Homo Depot on a quest to find myself two new doorknobs (because heaven forbid the bedroom and bathroom not match) and hopefully a hot, hunky, and – most importantly – handy husband.

Wandering around the store aimlessly, I managed to find doorknobs and a ceiling light. Calling my mother to see if she thought I’d be able to change the light in my kitchen on my own, she wasted no time reminding me of that one time I tried to rewire a table lamp and shorted out my entire apartment, nearly starting a fire in the process. Perhaps I’ll leave that to my landlord or, even better, an electrician.

(Fine mom, I’ll hold off on the light for now. I’ll call my landlord and see if he’ll pay to have it installed if I pay for the fixture. Seems like a fair trade to me.)

Doorknobs though…I can handle that. Continue reading

Putting the “Fun” in Fundraiser

Just yesterday afternoon as I was rushing to get home to my temporary live-in-maid/chef with a bundle of asparagus and two sweet potatoes to go with the steaks she’d been marinating for me to cook for us for dinner (yes, even live-in chefs need a night off once in a while), I was stopped and asked on the sidewalk if I had a moment to help save a starving child.

“Sorry, buddy. I’m on my way home to save a starving roommate before she bites my head off in hunger-induced cannibalism.”

I’m not sure if the look he gave me was one of shock, disbelief, annoyance, or if he was shooting daggers with his eyes because I didn’t turn around to see his reaction. I was on a mission.

Call me heartless, but when you get asked every day by the representative of some charity or another on the streets of Chicago to spare a minute and make a donation or, better yet, a recurring donation…you just have to say enough is enough at some point. It annoys me the most when I have my headphones in or I’m on the phone and this happens. Clearly I don’t have a moment to save a ___________. Can’t you see I’m in a hurry/preoccupied/whatever?

But sometimes, once in a great while, my Grinch-esque heart thaws momentarily and I decide to help out a charity. Continue reading

Social Media, Customer Service, and a Justification for $200+ Jeans

People often ask me – in particular, my mother – why on earth I have no issue spending exorbitant amounts of money on jeans. I’ll tell you why. The quality of manufacturing and great customer service. A company that is willing to stand behind its product when something goes wrong – especially when contacted through social media – speaks volumes about the brand as a whole and fully justifies the cost of the product in my mind.

I recently had an issue with a pair of Adriano Goldschmied jeans that I’d bought at this awesome boutique back in Lincoln (that is now unfortunately out of business…but only because the owners are moving to NYC). The issue? The zipper refuses to stay up. It doesn’t matter if I’m sitting, walking, dancing, whatever. If they made Viagra for zippers this pair of jeans should have been prescribed a maximum dose for daily wear. Don’t get me wrong, I love everything about this pair of jeans except for the fact that the zipper refuses to stay up. 

So what do I do? The same thing any social-media-savvy twenty-something does these days: I took that shit to Twitter.

“I’ve never had more trouble with a zipper not wanting to stay up than with my favorite pair of @AGJeans #WasteOfMoney” Continue reading