i'm redecorating my room, and it might be deadly.

Last week, I went to IKEA and was inspired. I found shelving, I found a bed, and I found a desire to paint one wall in my room purple. Oh man was I excited about this. Little did I know it would nearly kill me.

I went to Home Depot a couple days ago. I looked up the directions online, and when I got off the subway everything seemed to be going just dandy. Until I had to go under the freeway and there was, um, no pedestrian crossing. I ended up on the phone with my dad, having him look at Google maps (I love satellite-view) in case he could see something I couldn't. He didn't. So I told him, "Okay, I guess I'll run across eight lanes of traffic like a mad woman. OHMYGOD I'M DOING IT I'M STILL DOING IT OH GOD OH GOD THIS IS CRAZY. Aaaaaaaand, made it! Thanks Dad, I'll talk to you soon!" I did the same thing (sans phone call) on the way back, this time with purple paint in hand.

I painted one wall last night (with the help of the lovely and talented and ever-sexy Melissa), and decided I liked it so much that I should paint the rest of my room. I got home from work today, waited for my bed to be delivered (Yes! It is totally here!), and decided to try going to a different Home Depot that was perhaps slightly easier to get to. It was in a neighborhood I had never been to, and when I got off the subway it was getting dark (this was at a quarter to 9 or so). I suddenly wondered if it was okay for me to walk around the neighborhood alone. At night. In a short skirt. While being white. These were all things I should have considered before leaving my apartment, but foresight is not one of my strong suits.

I made it to Home Depot #2 and back in one piece, so you would assume the worst was over. Ha. I started taping the edges of my room, which might be simple enough, except my apartment does not have a step ladder. There is a high chair, and a barstool with a spinning seat. Because I'm short, the barstool is the only thing tall enough in my apartment that allows me to tape ceiling edges. Did I mention my room is on a slant? And the barstool, um, spins? So for the last hour or so, I've been nearly spinning/falling to my death.

God only knows what will happen when we add paint fumes to the equation.

not a joke

. . .but I think it's pure comedy.

wowzer!

Second byline!

Two bylines in one week? This can't be good for my ego.

my first byline!

I did mention the site isn't family-friendly, right? Because these interviews are definitely vulgar. You've been warned.

To start: A life update.

Before leaving California (where I had moved home after one last summer of partying in LA), I scored an internship with the online magazine Nerve.com (Warning: Not family-friendly!). I had been working full time at Pottery Barn Kids crunching numbers in a cubicle. When I got the offer via e-mail, I suddenly felt very ill and had to leave work immediately. And go shopping.

I flew from Sacramento (not Oakland or San Francisco-a minor ticket error on my part) to New York on May 18th. I came with my then-boyfriend in tow, and we stayed with my friend on the Upper East Side. Her roommate also hosted a couple (the guy of which was also moving to New York for an internship), so with 6 of us in a Manhattan two bedroom, there was very very little room. We had to keep some of our luggage in the kitchen. That picture with the bags shows the largest amount of open space in the apartment.

One of our nights there, a couple of the girls went down to some fish market and bought fresh lobster. We boiled them live, which I couldn't handle being in the room for, and then I ate my first whole lobster!


My lobster:

I ran around like crazy looking for an apartment via craigslist. I checked out a couple places: a loft in Brooklyn where I'd be sharing a bathroom with 4 other people, and a teeny tiny apartment in "SpaHa" (Spanish Harlem) that was. . .tolerable? On my third try, I struck gold, and found this little place in Red Hook (Brooklyn):

My neighborhood:

My living room:

Not pictured is my room, which is a little 6 by 10 closet of a bedroom. In fact, that brown armoir in the above picture is my closet, because there's no room for it in my room. I couldn't move in until June 1st however, so in the meantime I stayed with my friend on the Upper East Side and spent some time at Stevie's dad's house in Jersey. I also kind of looked for a job to supplement my non-existent internship income. I got a rejection postcard from Anthropologie (a retail store).

I started the internship May 26th, and it's superfun. See look, I'm on this page! I mostly write horoscopes and do random article research. I get paid 25 bucks a day for my efforts, and also get free coffee and (ahem) porn. I've taken to tipping my favorite bartenders in porn and have seen a significant improvement in drink service.


June 1st I moved into my place. Stevie, Melissa, and I made 3 trips from the Upper East Side to Brooklyn, carrying my stuff on the subway. Shortly after, Stevie took me out one last time in New York's Little Italy, and then went back to California (he's getting his Chemistry PhD at Berkeley).

June 9th I got a job waitressing at a cafe. I haven't stopped working since-quite literally, I work at my internship Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and waitress Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. I've been getting pretty burned out, but have talked to my boss at the cafe about cutting down my hours. She agreed to give me this Saturday off, but then realized it was the holiday weekend and half the staff was out of town. So now I'm working July 4th. . .and 5th. . .and 6th. . .and hopefully I'll get the 12th off. God knows I need it.

I'll try to keep you updated on my goings on.