24 November, 2009

...the first month.

It's been a month since I moved into the house. Actually, it's been a little over a month, but things have been so hella crazy that I haven't had time to finish this post.  The first month has been interesting, to say the least.

There was the washing machine incident, which is mostly fixed at this point. At least I can at wash my laundry, if I can't quite dry it mechanically.  Then there is my ghetto internet solution. I will figure this out...maybe there will be a killer deal on a new router this Black Friday and I can join the land of WiFi once again.

I had some friends over and we tried out a few new bars, though I've yet to really try the restaurant and take-out scene. But that will come soon enough, which brings me to my next point - renovations. Or rather, the lack thereof. My kitchen is still fully intact.

I really hoped to have made some progress on the demolition front, but I've been preoccupied with things like roof leaks and not having an electrical outlet in the bathroom. In light of any major updates...here is my first round of (very lame) Before & After pics.



Master bedroom:
I bascially just painted. I haven't gotten around to doing much decorating, but those curtains came down mighty fast. I did not kneel on the ground to get the exact same perspective as the shot from the real estate listing to get the full effect...but whatever. You get the idea..it's not cream anymore.


Main Bedroom




The bathroom:
Again, not much done here except removal of ugly shower curtain, rugs, and valance. You can't see it from this picture, but that is wallpaper that's been painted. Textured painted wallpaper.
And I really wish you could see the old shower curtain, it has dolphins with little wave cutouts on it. Hopefully I will get rid of the World's Most Inappropriately Sized Radiator soon. But not before the wallpaper comes down and I paint.



bathroom


That's pretty much it. Every other room is lacking any kind of update of any kind.

I'd like to say that my feelings toward the house and moving have warmed up in the past few weeks...but they really haven't. I still have lukewarm feelings that verge on contempt, but I'm working through them. Mostly aided by glasses of Riesling and chocolate.


EDIT: I removed the tables because apparently, the "preview" function in blogger sucks and I did not realize they were all on top of each other. :|

20 November, 2009

...another foray into video for Natalie Portman.

I am working on a recap of the first month in the new house. In the meantime, enjoy another entertaining Natalie Portman video. This time she doesn't rap, she just acts with Devendra Banhart. The subtitles make this.

16 November, 2009

...registering for my housewarming party.

Yes. Yes I did. I registered.* I registered because I'm 30 and never married, and I just bought an entire house all on my own. I registered because, like Carrie Bradshaw said, at some point people stop celebrating your life events unless you get married or have a baby.  What if you aren't engaged or preggo?

"Hallmark doesn't make a 'congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy' card." - Carrie Bradshaw.  But it should, it really should.

"A Women's Right to Shoes" might be the best Sex and the City episode ever, if not one of the best TV episodes period. The premise is that Carrie has to leave her shoes at the door of a friend's house - a friend who made the choice to get married and pop a few out. Carrie gladly celebrates these choices - with support and gifts. But when her Manolos go missing - because the friend and her husband don't want dirt & germs tracked into their kid-infested home - the friend doesn't believe in replacing such costly shoes, or supporting Carrie's decision to spend $485 on Manolos instead of a Peg Perego.



After much deliberation and some consternation, Carrie ends up registering for her wedding to...herself. On the registry? One pair of $485 Manolos. Who gets the "announcement" card?  The aforementioned friend - who does replace the shoes and even sends along a note of congratulations.

The whole episode got me thinking.
Wedding registries were traditionally to help couples who were leaving their parents' houses for the first time to set up a new home of their own. They needed assistance in their new life together. They needed a damn blender.

These days, so many couples live together before they get married. Or they combine two single households full of stuff - in which case, do you really need to register for a new espresso maker when you already have two? Not that people shouldn't register when they get married, by all means do! But why do I have to wait until then?

I'm not getting married. Not yet anyway. (And what if I become the Old Cat Lady??) But I am setting up a new house. Granted, when I moved into my first post-collegiate apartment, I did buy things like a nice set of pots & pans...so I wouldn't register for those again just to get new ones. I AM registering for things like barware that doesn't come from Ikea, or a multi-bin hamper, since I now have space and my own washing machine. Most things on it are less than $40 and not tied to a specific store - friends and family can buy the items wherever they like. And no, I didn't ask for THREE new shower curtains.

Some people might think it's greedy or ungrateful. Those people don't have to buy anything if they weren't planning on it. I'm perfectly fine with that. The registry is really just to give an idea of what I need/want to people who want to help me celebrate the new house and life event.

But to those who disagree with my choice - I better get one hell of a wedding present when the time comes.


*at MyRegistry.com, in case you were wondering.

15 November, 2009

...family ties.

So I was talking to my mother the other week and, knowing that I was at the tail-end of a long-ass, complicated, and time consuming project, she asked how work was going.

Me:  I have the patience of a friggin' saint.

Mom (turns to my Dad):  She said she has the patience of a saint.

Me: No, of a friggin saint.

Mom: I can’t say that, I’m in The Diner. (Said diner is filled with super religious oldies yielding canes and judgement.)

Me: Then say “the patience of a --- saint.”

Mom (to Dad): She has the patience of a --- saint.

Dad (in background): What church are they from?

Thanks Dad. Thanks.

11 November, 2009

...what my house aspires to look like.

I love, love, LOVE these room designs. They're by Greg Natale and they're a fabulous mix of glam and modern. I love the dark woods and cool colors. The mix of glass and fabrics. The way they scream, "come live here and drink martinis!"


if only my living room was this sophisticated...



one day I, too, will have matching crystal table lamps.

10 November, 2009

….moving. And small talk.

I hate small talk. I think often times it’s thoughtless and insincere, done more out of social obligation than genuine interest. (And I suck at it.) People ask the perfunctory, “How are you? “ - but do they really want to know? If you started telling them about your shitty morning where you spilled your breakfast onto Dry Clean Only pants, or how the power went out so you overslept, you would most likely get “The Look.” The look where he or she politely nods and smiles at you, but his/her eyes are saying, “oh dear God, get me away from this person now, I was just being polite.”

This is how I feel when people ask me, “how’s the house?” Most, if not all, do have a genuine interest knowing that I just bought my first house in a new neighborhood. But I guarantee they don’t want the verbal diarrhea that I spew forth as I tell them about the myriad problems I’ve encountered in the past month.

Or worse, they probably don’t want to hear that I’m really not adjusting well to the move. How my routines are all off. How my stove’s cooking temps seem to be way higher than any other gas stove I’ve ever cooked on. How the nearest drop off mail box is now so far out of my way. How, despite only moving 1.5 miles south, I feel so far removed from EVERYTHING. Like I moved to a borough.

They want to hear, “Oh, it’s great! I love it! Best decision ever!” But if I said that…I’d be lying.

Now by no means do I hate the house/new ‘hood. I don’t even think I regret buying this house. I just REALLY miss the area I lived in for the past four years. It was fantastic. It’s like going away to college and really missing home. You know you’re in for good times; you just have a hard time getting past what you left behind.

So, to anyone reading this who knows me – unless you really want to know how the house & new location are going…don’t ask. I suck at polite small talk.

09 November, 2009

…not being hip enough for my new ‘hood.

I am not a hipster. By ANY stretch of the imagination. I don’t even think I could pull it off for Halloween. I like heels and silk and handbags.  ---->


In addition to attracting urban girls who can't afford Center City, my new neighborhood also attracts hipsters. That being said, two friends came down on Saturday so we could check out some bars/hangouts in the new ‘hood. The evening was pretty uneventful, which was fine considering I got home around 3am the night before.


Bar #1 - Lucky 13:
I really liked this bar and will definitely be going back. It was small, but not overcrowded (even on a Saturday night), they had Magner’s cider, good music/jukebox selection, and a bunch of TVs (which were playing Tremors – always good for a laugh). We didn’t order anything, but the food that was being served looked tasty.

It was marginally hipster, but I felt neither old, nor lame. Added bonus – it’s about two blocks from my house.

Bar #2 - Stogie Joe’s:
Also about two blocks from my house, but not on my list of places to return. We didn’t even order drinks. As my friend K said, “it reminds me of a bar in Bensalem.”

NEXT.

Bar #3 - Pub on Passyunk East, a.k.a. POPE:
Hel-lo hipster mecca. I kinda knew this going in, but the sea of fixies out front sealed it. We walked in and BAM – into a wall of people. Correction – wall of hipsters.

We found a corner to wedge ourselves in and ordered drinks - bonus for them having Magner’s. (We attempted to sit down, but were shooed away by the wait staff.) Of course, someone next to us was drinking a token PBR. We finished our drinks and headed out, past a guy in a TNF ski jacket with its hood up.

I have mixed feelings about POPE. I think I’d go back and try the food (which I hear is good)…but I will probably not be going back on a Saturday night around midnight. I am just not cool enough and can't resist the urge to poke fun at the rampant skinny jeans wearing.

All in all, an enjoyable evening getting the lay of my new land, which is slowly growing on me. Slowly.

08 November, 2009

...why I love Fall.

Even though it's about 65 degrees out right now, I'm going to talk about the reasons I love Fall. They can be summed up in three words - foliage, fashion, and food.

Foliage:
Living in the Northeast, I am surrounded by hills of orange, red, and yellow.

Photo courtesy of  VisitPA.com
Fashion:
It gives me an excuse to buy new winter clothes, like this:
kenneth cole marilyn sweater

Food:
Aside from the Halloween candy, Fall is a time of apple cider, pumpkin pie, and Tastykake Spice Kake Krimpets. Mmm...



So readers, what do you love about Fall?

07 November, 2009

...new neighbors.

Depending on how neighbor relations go, I could regret writing about this. That being said, I'm doing it anyway.

The other day my Dad met my next door neighbor while out on the roof patching a leak (they were down to help with some stuff and mingle with the neighbors, who must think they live here).  Apparently she's singl(like me), well-spoken (like me ;) ), and seemed nice (hmm...people would say I'm nice. right?).  So she likes to spend time on her roof sans deck, outdoor space is at a premium in these parts. No biggie.

Cut to about twenty minutes ago when I catch a reflection in my TV (which should really just be called "my 42 inch monitor") of someone outside my window. Being the crazy paranoid person I am, I turn around expecting to see a lurker...nope. It's my neighbor. In a tank top. In 50 degree weather. 

I have no idea what she's doing out there and then I just see a pair of legs from the knees down. And they were, uh, kinda masculine in their, um, hair coverage.  Then they went away. And then I realized my hippie artsy neighbor is outside on her dirty roof doing yoga in a tank top and yoga shorts.

Meanwhile I'm inside on the couch in a t-shirt, flannel pants, and slippers eating Halloween candy thinking to myself, "is the heat really on??"

06 November, 2009

...how to hook up the interwebs - ghetto style.

Step one: Get a piece of shit router that's older than your laptop. Note, laptop must be running shitty Windows Vista.



Step two: String DSL line across dining room, right in the path of traffic, and over washing machine.


Step three: Affix DSL modem in place on stairway with blue painter's tape. Then run ethernet cable and power cord up through the railing.  Note - the tape must be blue to achieve maximum ghetto-ness.


Step four: Run cords across hallway and into room to hardwire laptop. Safety tip - Make sure to put a rug down to avoid tripping over wires. (For extra ghetto-ness, use a rug that completely clashes with the carpet or decor.)


Well, there you have it folks. Four easy steps to geting your very own ghetto interwebs connection.

05 November, 2009

...delivery fail.

I moved into a house with the world’s narrowest stairway leading to my basement. It has already caused me to send one, wonderfully option-filled LG washer and dryer set back. As a result, my dad measured the stairway and I went on my merry way to find a front-loading washer that would fit and wash more than two socks and a t-shirt. I thought I found them until the delivery guys showed up.

Delivery guy (after getting the dryer downstairs): “I don’t think [the washer’s] going to fit.”

Me: “Are you kidding me!? Mother ‘ucker.” (Yes, I said “ ‘ucker” – that’s what happens with my shi- gets ‘ucked with.)

I promptly call my mother. (Shocker.)

Mom: Hello?

Me: I’m going to fucking kill him.

Mom: Who? The delivery guy?

Me: No, my father.

Mom: Why? What happened?

Me: The washer doesn’t fit down the fucking stairs. It’s wider than 24.5”.

Mom: You’re kidding me.

At this point I had to hang up and deal with the delivery men, who suggested that I'd have to remove the drywall in the stairwell. They ultimately left the washing maching in my dining room. Right in the middle of everything.

Note – I would never wish any harm to father. Hell, we argue over who will carry my bags because I don't want him to exert himself.  I may be a bitch, but I'm no Lizzie Borden.

Cut to two days later when my father and I are trying to figure out how to get the washer in the basement, where it belonged.

Dad: Which way did they take the dryer down? Front first? Or side first?

Me: Umm…I think side first, but I’m not sure. Why?

Dad: Because the washer is only 23 ½” wide, so is the dryer …and the stairway is wider than that. They took it down the wrong way, no wonder they had trouble.

Lazy, lying delivery fuckers! I want my tip back.

In the end, my Dad and I got the washer down to the basement with minimal destruction to any property and I got my front-loading washer hooked up. Once again, Dad comes through.

What did I learn? Delivery men are liars and take advantage of single women.

04 November, 2009

...what Hannah Montana will look like in 20 years.

Hannah Montana now...

Hannah Montana in 20 years...a.k.a. Rachel Zoe.

03 November, 2009

...the Septa strike.

Way to go Philly. This morning at 3 am, the Septa union went on strike. I won’t get into how I feel about unions in general; I’ll just stick to this particular incident.
This is what I have to say in response to Septa – WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!

Okay, granted, you have been working without a contract since March.

And granted, you could have gone on strike on Saturday, leaving tens of thousands of World Series fans in the lurch. And you didn’t. So there’s that. But let’s face it – who the hell wants to take the chance of pissing off 50 thousand Phillies fans?? Only certifiably insane people would to that – a full on riot would have ensued.

But to go on strike at 3 am? On a Tuesday? Really? Hell, there were even Septa workers who showed up to work and didn’t know they were on strike.

Some of the details (for those not wanting to click and read the article:

“According to TWU officials, SEPTA management has proposed no wage increase for the first two years of a four-year contract and a 2 percent increase in each of the final two years. It also wanted to increase worker contributions to health coverage from 1 percent to 4 percent and freeze the level of pension benefits.

The union wants a 4 percent raise each year and health contributions to remain 1 percent. It is also seeking an increase in pension contributions from $75 to $100 for every year of service.”

I think it’s irresponsible, and rude, for anyone to strike during this economy. They should be thankful to have a job. I personally have known at least three people who have been laid off this year, and others who are very concerned about their jobs. And anyone who complains about a contract that doesn’t include wage increases next year? I’d like to have a word with you. My company cut raises this year, including the Cost of Living Increase. Hell, my 401K match was cut in half, and tuition reimbursement was cut altogether (which, in an industry that likes people to have MBAs to be competitive, is a big deal). Am I complaining? Well, yes, but I am still happy to have a job.

"Think about that," Rendell said. "Whose pension has been increased in this day and age?" Thank you Ed.

Let’s not forget about the hundreds of thousands of people who are affected by this – people without cars who can’t get to work, kids who have to go to school tomorrow, girls who moved to South Philly and still want to shop in Center City?? (Okay, that last one is really selfish, but the first two are totally legitimate.)

And to keep the selfish tide rolling – the traffic this morning was nuts. There were cops directing traffic all throughout Center City this morning and not one single traffic light was out – there was just massive congestion as people had to take to their cars en masse.

I get that unions exist to make sure that people just trying to feed themselves/their families aren’t taken advantage of, and I really tried to be open minded about the Septa workers “requests,” but I think they’re just taking advantage of their position. Shut it. Get your ass back to work so everyone else can go to work.

02 November, 2009

...being masochistic.

Owning a house that was built around the time my late grandparents were born is expensive. So are the rennovations I have planned.
Yet I still open up my Rue La La email and proceed to drool over things I can't buy. And then further torture myself by calculating that they are more than 70% off.




This would make a  fabulous New Year's dress.


Navy is so complementary to my dark hair and blue eyes...*sigh*

01 November, 2009

… why I hate people.

My “inaugural” post…aaaand I spew haterade over inconsiderate bitches.

Picture it…Philadelphia, a few days ago. I post an ad on CraigsList (the one in Philadelphia) to get rid of some furniture that I absolutely don’t want to have to move to my new house. I need to have it out by that Saturday by noon. The ad says:



Desk & file/printer stand - $50 (Washington Sq. West) -- my exact neighborhood
 
I know that CraigsList is a total crapshoot. Still.

I get a couple of replies and the first one seems fairly sane, so we narrow down a day for the exchange.

Her (Tuesday): Friday works perfect for me. If it is alright, can we just plan on that? Maybe about 4-5 range? I can either call for directions or I can look up address on gps.

Me (Tuesday): Sounds good - the address is 9XX Lombard St. #102.

Me (Friday @ 11:25 am):
hi K------,
Just confirming pick up for this afternoon - do you want to make it 4:30?
thanks,
k-----

Her: Between 4:30 closer to 5:00 ok? I am not sure if you gave me the address and maybe I just accidently deleted it, but i do not have it. Let me know if cloer to 5:00 is ok. Thanks!


(Yes, yes I did give you the address you twit, maybe you should be more careful with the Delete key.)

Me (at 2:46pm): Closer to 5 is fine.

It's 9XX Lombard St. #102 (if the buzzer isn't working, try knocking on the large window to the left of the front doors)

Her (at 4:11): I'm soery to bother again, what is city and zip? We are out and about now but I get my emails on cell. Thanks!

(Um….PHILADELPHIA. Google what I provided already. It will help. Trust me.)

Me (at 5pm…after sitting in an empty apartment for 25 minutes): Sorry just got this - zip is 1914X its s block north of South St call 215 8xx 5xxx if u have questions

Me again at 5:45 after not hearing anything: Hi - just wondering if you're still interested. I don't actually live @ this address anymore & i'll need to get back home to work if u arent interested. thanks,k.

(Egregious typos abound. I was emailing from my non-PDA phone for the last two. Don't know what her excuse was.)

No reply whatsoever. Ever. 
So much for her phone being able to receive email. Thanks!

I had to disassemble the desk and move it to my house, where it is now taking up space in my living room.