Wednesday, November 30, 2011


As you may know, I have cut waaaay back on buying things for the house in an effort to save my marriage become a financially responsible adult. However, there are a couple of things that were too good to pass up and this pair of mirrors was one of them:

The website selling them, Matters of Style Marketplace, is an amazing source for incredible vintage finds, beautiful fabric, and much more. There are about a million other things that I would love to purchase from them right now, like this brass shell that is big enough to be filled with, say, ice and a bottle of champagne and would look wonderful on my bar:

Or this authentic Louis Ghost chair which would be perfect for my vanity table:

Or this incredible cheetah print fabric (although what the fuck I'd do with it God only knows since I can't sew for shit):

They also have a fashion/design blog which is full of inspirational photos of lovely spaces, helpful DIY projects, links to awesome stuff I want to own, and basically rocks my world.

When I fell for the mirrors, I fell hard, and kept checking the website every day to see if someone had stolen them from me bought them already. Once I realized that if that did actually happen I would cry, and that I could already see exactly where they should go in my house, I bit the fucking bullet and ponied up the (very reasonable) $70 to make them my own. And today they arrived (in a very timely manner, I might add). Here's what I want to do - hang them on either side of the painting above the fireplace in the living room:

Jesus, every time I post a picture I've taken, all I can think about is how badly I want a new camera. I even know which one - the Canon EOS Rebel T2i:

But until that day comes, you guys are going to have to suffer through my bad point-and-shoot photos and just trust me that my house isn't really as oddly-tinted and poorly-lit as it appears here. Anyway, back to the mirrors. The measurements for them were listed on the site, and while a normal person would have measured the space next to the painting to make sure that my vision was going to work, I think measuring before you buy is for suckers (also I couldn't find any of the 6 measuring tapes we currently own). It may or may not surprise you to hear that not only does Ted not share this opinion, he thinks that NOT measuring is for assholes. It's truly a wonder we coexist as well as we do. Well, not to worry, because they will fit perfectly and look AMAZING. I haven't hung them up yet because I still can't find a measuring tape and although I think that measuring before you hang things is also for suckers, Ted gets cranky when there are seventeen nail holes in the wall that need to be spackled and painted because I "eyeballed" it. So for now they are merely propped up on the mantel, but they still look AMAZING. See?

And once they are hung at the right height they will look even better. I love them. Happiness reigns, at least until Ted gets home and wants to know why the fuck I spent $70 on yet more crap for the house that we don't need. So I have about an hour.

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Sunday, November 27, 2011


So my office, which usually looks something like this:

Now looks like this:

And that's the good side. Here's the view from the door:

What the fuck, right? You guys, how am I supposed to convince people that I can clean up their shit when my OFFICE looks like this? And to make matters worse, Gerard, the handsome contractor, hung the TV too high:

I know, I know, champagne problems and people are starving and polar bears don't have enough ice and here I am bitching that the TV in my office is hung wrong (about 3-4 inches too high, in case you were wondering). But I get to complain, too, right? But as much as I'd like to, I can't blame Gerard for the fucking disgusting mess. It seriously looks like the closet vomited all over the room. I need help. I am hoping that this post will shame me into cleaning it up so that I can post "after" photos. I guess we'll see. Wish me luck!!


Oh, and P.S., Manty died. About two weeks ago. Andrew asked where he was, and I said that he wanted to go live outside with his other bug friends so I took him out to the yard. He looked me right in the eye, said "That's a lie," and never mentioned it again. I am definitely winning Mother-of-the-Year for 2011. William, on the other hand, has still not noticed Manty is gone, so there's that.
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As you know, I longed and longed for a bar cart, but it was not to be. So I channeled Tim Gunn (the greatest man in the universe) and made it work. So far, the new bar has been a huge success. I use it all the time, and I always feel a little like Myrna Loy in The Thin Man movies when I do. I host Thanksgiving every year but this was the first one with my new bar and I fell even more deeply in love with it:

Setting up a bar for my family is a bit of gymnastic exercise. Some drink, some drink a bit too much, and some don't drink at all, as they used to drink a bit too much, if you catch my drift. But the bar was used, and I was happy. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, keeping my bar from perfection. I wasn't even sure what it was. Until I saw this:

It's an ice bucket (duh), and you may be thinking that I already have an ice bucket, which is evident from the photo of the bar, but look, there's a lot of glass going on on that bar, and who's to say you can't have two ice buckets? You? Well, you can fuck off then. (I jest! I know that none of my readers would ever object to multiple ice buckets! As if!). But what makes it the best ice bucket I've ever seen is that around the rim it says "RING FOR A DRINK"! And it gets better. On the top, there's a bell:

A BELL! That works! This is genius, and must be mine. Fortunately, the chair in which I spend most of my time in the living room is right next to the bar (do you see where this is going?). I foresee ringing this bell when I need a libation and Ted coming on the run to fix it for me. Heaven, right? Well, not so much for Ted, but whatevs. This piece of fabulousness is from Minty, an amazing new store in Atlanta and one of the many reasons I am desperate to visit this city (Pieces being another). I will be calling first thing tomorrow morning because the best part? It's only $40!!! Forty fucking dollars!!! And it will be mine. And if you think you are going call before me tomorrow and steal this from me I will hunt you down and kill you. Just kidding! Not really.


P.S. The other item I am searching for to round out the bar is a vintage cocktail shaker. If you see one, help a sister out and let me know where!
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Thursday, November 17, 2011


So Ted and I had a Come to Jesus financial meeting and I have been put on a strict budget. This is a giant pain in the ass for me personally, but will likely do wonders for my marital relations as well as for Ted's stress level. And since I do love him, and would prefer he not drop dead from hypertension in his 40s, I am accepting the situation with grace. Well, relatively speaking. But there is still SO MUCH FUCKING STUFF that I really want. Nay, that I need! That I must own! So in an effort to get it out of my system, I am going to post here the items that are calling out most loudly to me and my credit card.

From Kate Spade:

From Michael Kors:

From Free People (a very very cool store that you should be shopping at if you are not already):

From somewhere I can't remember:

From J. Crew:

From :

From somewhere I have no idea where:

Whew, I feel better. Not that that's even the half of it. But it's enough to make me feel a little better, like I shook the monkey off my back for a little while, at least (although those plaid pants are speaking to me. They get me. I can tell).

What are you desperate for right now? Are you going to cave and buy it? Share with the group. IN the comments. How, you ask? Click on the "0 Comments" link below the post. If you can't figure it out, or it's too hard, tell me on Facebook and I'll bitch to my Web designer. I miss her anyway and this will give me an excuse to contact her without looking (more) like a stalker. Yay!

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Ever have one of those days when you were so busy that you barely had time to go to the bathroom, and yet at the end of it, nothing that needed to get done was done? That was my day today. I tried so hard to get shit done, but every. Fucking. Thing. that could have gone badly, did. So I got stood up for some meetings, and suffered through others, and my shoot, which was pretty much touch and go for the whole day (and at one point looked so unlikely that I almost called Time of Death) ended up happening after all but was extremely delayed and proved to be yet more wasted time. For reasons that are too irritating, and, frankly, too boring, to go into, nothing got done. It's one of those nights when I have to remind myself why I get up every morning and head into the office:

And it's true. I love my "real" job. Almost as much as I love my fake one, which is this blog and my clients who truly believe I can help them. Most people would kill for one job that they love, let alone two. So I should really shut the fuck up. At least I am aware of this. However, after a day like today, here's what I have to keep telling myself:

Because right now all I have is that quiet voice (and hey there, voice, feel free to speak up a little). But I will get up and try again tomorrow. And somehow or other, I will come out on the other side of this. Right? Right. (Right?)

I promise the next post won't be such s downer. It's on Client #2 and all the progress that we've made, as well as some sneak peeks at purchases for her bedroom. Yay! Progress.

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Sunday, November 13, 2011


No, I am not referring to the Eagles game, which sucked my ass (in fact, being an Eagles fan sucks my ass right now. It's bad enough that we have a disgusting dog murderer for a QB, can't he even win us any fucking games???). I am also not talking about the Giants game, which also sucked my ass, or the Jets game, which I had to turn off in the middle to avoid the possibility of watching that insufferable smug bastard Tom Brady win a game. I am speaking of Tailgate Toss, which is called Cornhole by people who have no class and/or manners (i.e. most of America). Whatever you call it, it ROCKS. Normally, I would be concerned about overselling something, you know, building it up so much that when you actually go and play, it can never measure up to the amazing picture I have created in your head. But I have no such fear in this case, because this is the best game ever.

Now, I am not a particularly athletic, or even active person. In fact, I have been called such things as "lazy" and "sedentary" merely because I would rather sit on a couch than go for a run, and if someone is already getting up, I see no reason why they shouldn't get me a drink (or more likely a refill) while they're at it. That way I can stay where I am in my comfortable seat on the couch. See how it works? So when it comes to games I am a fan of ones that involve sitting around on a couch and answering trivia questions or drawing pictures or drinking or all three. Or just drinking. Whatever. But I do like some sports, mostly the ones that you can play and drink beer at the same time. Like bowling. Or darts. Or beer pong. Or, apparently, professional baseball. Tailgate Toss, as you may have deduced from the name, falls into this category. You basically stand in place and chuck beanbags at a wooden board with a hole in it, trying to get your beanbags in the hole. It might give you some sense of my fitness level when I tell you that after one afternoon of this, I woke up sore the next day.

I have only played once. And I wasn't very good (which makes it kind of surprising that I liked it at all, since I usually only enjoy activities when I'm really good at them right away. Much like I really only enjoy parties when most people are paying attention to me). But I got really into it. And when I get into something (or someone, for that matter) I don't do things halfway. And the thing about Tailgate Toss is that you have to have the equipment to play it. Two big wooden boards and eight beanbags, to be exact.

My New Friend Sparky has his own boards that he painted himself, which he brought over the other day to teach me how to play. But I could tell right away that he was not going to be a reliable source of equipment, in part because he wouldn't take me up on my very generous offer to let him keep his boards and beanbags at my house even though I have a huge house and a dry garage and he has a small apartment and a wet basement. I think he was concerned that I was trying to steal his stuff, which is ridiculous as his boards are adorned with the Florida Marlins logo and therefore embarrassing and not even that attractive.

The only option was to get my own equipment. You can buy boards that are pre-painted, but that seemed like it was for losers. So I got naked wooden boards (you can also make your own boards, but I know my limits) and spent the weekend on the porch painting. Here are my new Tailgate Toss boards:

The theme (apparently one's boards are supposed to have a theme) is Carbonation. What? That makes no sense, you say? Well, you're kind of right, but fuck off. Consider that you are usually drinking beer while playing, and beer is carbonated, and so is Magner's Hard Cider which is really good and you should try it, and so is champagne, all of which are awesome beverages. I know, it still doesn't really make any sense, but whatevs. My boards rock.

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Monday, November 7, 2011


I know I promised you guys a post about sex, music, and drunken texts, but I am going to have to split those topics up into separate posts. It's just too much to cover in one. The fact is, my Friday nights lately have turned into a Katy Perry song. This most recent Friday was actually the tamest. Before we even left the house, my outfit was deemed unacceptable and not sexy enough and I was forced into borrowed attire. Here we are at the beginning of the evening:

That's me, T-Dawg, and T-Dawg's friend Kim. Here's Theresa and me:

It looks innocent enough, but this was before we met the two lesbians, got hit on by an octogenarian and another man who may or may not have been a serial killer, and convened to discuss whether or not this was an appropriate picture to send via text to a work colleague:

(the answer was no, mostly because Theresa is a big buzz kill, although there were texts sent that mentioned escort services and phone sex, as well as texts to Theresa's husband about which the less said the better). We moved on to a bar where 90% of the men were wearing flannel shirts and then went to a place that Theresa had billed as "an Irish bar" but was actually a club that I swear to God was one step above an episode of the fucking Jersey Shore. First of all, I am too old to be going to clubs. I was aware of this fact, but I am even more aware of it now. I am lucky that there was not a replay of that scene in Knocked Up where the bouncer tells Leslie Mann that she's too old to even get in to the club ("I mean, you're not old for the earf, you're just too old to be coming in here...") Anyway, suffice it to say that we went to bed around 2, and when I got up at five to go to the bathroom I fell into the goddamn tub. Don't ask how I managed that, because I have no idea. I also have no idea how I got out of the tub. Theresa apparently thought that I was slamming doors from all the commotion.

The previous Friday night was even better (or worse, depending on whether or not you are my mother). I was out with three gentlemen work friends:

Brian, Scott, and Dave (AKA Sparky)
(and Theresa, of course, from whom I am apparently inseparable these days. Lucky Terry!) We started the night in a bar across the street from Grand Central where I laughed so hard that I spit my drink out:

It was especially uncool because my jeans got all wet and it looked like I peed in my pants which was really the most embarrassing part of the whole thing and I really couldn't relax until my jeans dried out. Anyway, we ended the night in a  Mexican bar doing tequila shots and looking like this:

The Friday night before that has already been covered, at least the parts that can be discussed in a blog that decent people read (or probably used to read, after this post). Next Friday I am going out with my sweet husband Ted to for our seventh wedding anniversary (which is actually today but Ted is in Cali so we had to postpone the celebration) so who knows what will happen? Will the Friday Night Streak continue? Tune in next weekend to see.

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Sunday, November 6, 2011


OK, this is real more of an update on the playroom/mudroom conversion, but I am so enamored of my new floor that I can't help but share. Here's a reminder of what we were working with:

Gross Vinyl Floor

And let's not forget this:

Hole in Gross Vinyl Floor

So there was really only one way to go, which was up. That said, I was unprepared for how much I would love the new floor. Here's the view from the top of the stairs:

Here's the area in front of the door to the backyard:

No More Hole!

This is where I want to put in built-in cubby areas with storage underneath:

And here's where I'm going to put the storage bench and shelf with coat hooks:

I admit that at this stage it still takes a fair amount of imagination to visualize the end result, but imagination is something I have aplenty, so no worries there. I'll keep you posted as the progress continues!

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Friday, November 4, 2011


OK, so I've confessed my addiction to throw pillows, and how Etsy has become my main enabler. Here is the evidence to prove it. Let me start by saying that I think it's perfectly acceptable to have one set of throw pillows for summer and another for winter. OBVIOUSLY the same fabric is not going to be appropriate for every season. I mean, I could probably rationalize spring and fall pillows as well, but we all know that Ted would kill me. Probably by smothering me with a pillow. Anyway. Here are my living room's summer pillows:

There are three for each couch (a purple velvet pillow from Pier One is the fourth pillow in the middle)  and I love them:

These pictures are crappy (Jesus, Ted, I need a fucking SLR camera already! I have one picked out and everything!) so you'll just have to take my word for it that they look great. They are from an amazing Etsy store called Ikat and Batik, which is run by a lovely lady who was kind enough to find extra yards of this fabric to make the six pillows I wanted and do a custom order for me and everything. Also, you get a ten percent discount on repeat orders. Yay! I love Etsy, I truly do. So when I needed wanted to change the pillows for winter, I went back and found these gems:

I love them. If I wasn't married to Ted, and something happened to Theresa, I would definitely want to marry these pillows. I got eleven. Eight like this and two slightly different:

I know what you're thinking: "Eleven pillows? This girl is fucking crazy!" And while you are sort of right, the pillows are not a good example of the crazy. Because even though there are stores that sell these pillows for more than $70 each, I got mine for almost half that at another amazing Etsy store called Joya. But wait, because my living room is not the only room in the house that has benefited from my pillow obsession. My office, also known as the "Mom Cave," doesn't have a desk, really, which is strange for an office, but really I do most of my work sitting with the laptop on my lap and don't need a desk. Besides, the room is tiny and has to double as a guest bedroom when people (T-Dawg or my mom. I am very popular) stay over and there's no room for a desk, so get off my back already. Instead of a desk I have a daybed and it has a lot of pillows:

These pillows are from the same Etsy stores, except for the XOXOXO one, which is from Pottery Barn Teen (a totally underrated site, if you ask me) and while they don't seem to have it anymore they have a ton of other cute ones. Most of the other pillows are from Joya, including the bolster in the middle which she made especially for me to cover a random ugly pillow I bought in a fit of no-taste (it happens to everyone now and then).

And there are a million other Etsy shops that sell incredible pillows at great prices, like Modern Marvelous Home:

So get out there! Buy more pillows! Accessorize your home! Drive your significant other crazy! Two birds, one stone! If he's a man, that is; it's a known fact that men can't stand throw pillows and would like to chuck them all out the nearest window. 

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