Friday Five

In a feat of spectacularly disasterous uncoordination, I managed to fall down a flight of stairs while carrying a laundry basket on Sunday night. I spent the better part of Monday in the Emergency Room, leering at other patients, comparing ailments, eating vending machine Pop-tarts, being x-rayed, recounting the embarrassing tale of my fall a million times, generally feeling sorry for myself, and ultimately being strapped into perhaps the most unnattractive orthopedic shoe of all time and hoisted into crutches (crutches!).

I suppose I should consider myself lucky, and not only because being laid up for two days meant I was home and in bed for the all day America’s Next Top Model marathon on Tuesday, but because my injury was about as small as it could get in a tumble of that magnitude: I broke my big toe. Not my wrist, not my neck, not my ankle. I fell down a flight of stairs and all I got out of it was a broken big toe, a bruised ass bone (that’s the technical term), and a deflated ego. Granted, the toe is twice the size it should be and purple and black and spends all day and night throbbing to the point that I think the nail is going to go flying off from the pressure. But it’s still the retard equivalent of getting mugged and having the assailant only steal a chapstick. Kind of worthless, when you think about it.

I briefly considered making this week’s Friday Five just a picture of 5 healthy, un-broken toes, but was pleasantly surprised with all of the free time I had in my gimp-tastic state to browse the web for something (anything) to take my mind off the insane pain. I’ll admit that sometimes hangnails make me cry, but I’ve broken both my arms before, at least 4 other little toes, and my wrist, and none of those breaks hurt nearly as much as this one. Not to mention that the inability to put weight on one of my feet is severely cutting into the amount of time I am able to Flamingo-stand for fun. That, and I had a trip to New York planned for today through Sunday, and I had to cancel everything and fight for refunds from both the hotel and the bus. Instead of wandering the MoMA’s new photography exhibit tonight as I’d been planning and looking forward to for weeks, I’ll likely spend the duration of the weekend in some sad fetal position with my right foot stacked on pillows and buried underneath an ice-pack. Lame!

Anyway, enough griping. Here are 5 things that are making me happy this week:

Lion ‘Cola’ hard candy, from Japan

I picked these up on a whim while standing in line at this amazing Asian supermarket last weekend (before my ungraceful Assride through Stairville) and they are delicious. If you’ve never been to an Asian supermarket, GO. Go now. They have everything you could ever possibly want in a grocery store (400 different types of teas in one aisle, directly across from bins of dried mini shrimp) and the prices are phenomenal. I’ll admit I took a gamble buying chicken from a place that kills fish to order, but I survived, it was delicious, and more imporantly, it was cheap. Ever wonder where all the Mochi Red Bean ice cream (<3<3<3) is hiding? In the freezer section, next to the frozen eggrolls! Oh, there’s also the extra-special bonus of being the only non-Asian person in the place. But anyway, these candies. They taste like artificial soda, are the size of chiklets, and fizz in your mouth. They also have 60 calories a piece, so go easy on them. And don’t buy them from Amazon; that is a total ripoff. I think one pack cost me under $1.

Travelcard Cushion, from Ashley Allen

My obsession with not only London, but the London Underground, is insane. I have travelcards from all of my trips, some saved as mementos, and some used as bookmarks. I love the Underground map (I have this poster hanging framed in my apartment, this tea-towel, and this card holder). This pillow, at the equivalent of $48, would round out my collection nicely. Everything is measured in centimeters overseas, and I’ve never been that good at math (maths, if you’re British) anyway, but a quick google search tells me the pillow is about 11 x 9″. Not too overbearing. I think it would look perfect nestled on my dark gray sofa.

Marcel Marongiu’s Apartment, from Marie Claire Maison via Desire to Inspire

I don’t know why I’m surprised that the french designer has a gorgeous Parisian apartment. This house tour is years old, but I’ve only just stumbled across it now. Doesn’t it just take your breath away? Can you imagine the views of Paris he must have from this place? I’m really digging on those antique shutters used as a room divider, and that small gilded mirror above the chest in the corner is making me all sorts of happy. I bet you the floor boards creak just a little bit when you walk across them. Hey, Marcel, avez-vous une petite amie? Appelez-moi!

Canon Powershot SD1300, from Amazon.com

I bought this camera a week or so ago when it was on sale for the fabulous price of $109 (it still is through Best Buy!). At 12mp, it exceeds my giant Nikon DSLR, and fits in my pocket. I bought it with the intention of taking it to New York this weekend, and adding a new, convenient little camera to my collection, but now all I take pictures of is my jacked up toe situation. I’ve been documenting the bruising every day. I took my nieces to the playground on Saturday and was able to shoot on ISO 80 with amazing results. Indoor shooting is a little difficult, because the camera seems to always need more light. So far, though, I love it. Coupled with an $11 8gb memory card, the whole thing cost me $120 (gotta love Amazon’s free shipping!).

Deux Lux ‘Decker’ satchel in Coco, from Bluefly

In a Tramadol-induced haze, I stumbled upon Bluefly the day they were having an extra 15% off handbags. I’d been lusting after this bag for a while, and the price was finally right (a lot of things are right when you are hopped up on pain killers). If it sucks in person, I can always take advantage of Bluefly’s easy returns and get mah money back. I don’t think it will have to come to that though, because I have pretty high hopes about this beauty. Not that I can use it for a while, because thanks to ye olde crutches I am relegated back to weilding a backpack like a middle-schooler (further cementing the fact that I am indeed an 11 year old boy), but knowing I have a bag that requires full ambulatory motion to carry is certainly going to serve as motivation to heal faster.

Not too much on the agenda this weekend thanks to my lame extremity, aside from pathetically hopping around, wishing I was in New York. What supercool activities do you guys have planned this weekend? Take care, kiddos!

Friday Five

Wow, apologies for the 10 day lapse in blogging. I’m sure all 3 of you were very concerned over my absence. Fear not, dear readers! I did not succumb to food poisoning by way of the dasterdly Shamrock Shake, nor let my body waver to the mystifiying powers of daylight savings (which I still contend is a crock of shit, and someone else agrees with me!). That last part is only half true. Daylight savings is fucking my shit up in the worst way.  More than the time it inspired my dad to coin the term (of endearment) “bitchmuffin” when I had to ask him a million times to explain “springing ahead”. Couple that with a new job (going well so far!) and a new commute, and I make for one sleepy specimen at the end of the day.

 Sadly, the lovely dress from Zara in this post  had to be returned; in a battle of fashion and wanting to prevent a Lindsay Lohan-esque display of my top shelf, fashion lost. It put up a good fight, though. I hung the dress on the back of my closet door, lest I ever forgot how beautiful it was, and fought with myself to wait just one more day before returning it. I hope that somewhere, there is a Medium sized woman adoring that dress the way it deserves.

 All of these things have combined forces inside of me to create a venerable Captain-Planet-like mood of suckitude, the likes of which not even old, youtube’d seasons of America’s Next Top Model could vanquish (Cycle 2!).

The only solution, of course, has been to drown my sorrows the best way I know how: mass consumerism and vapid materialism! And out of all of it, I’ve started a new blogging recurrence: The Friday Five. Let’s take a peek at 5 things that have been tickling my fancy this week:

Ordinal Dresser, from Anthropologie

Nevermind that it is a cool $1000. That dresser will be mine. It is like my soulmate, you wouldn’t understand. Plus, I know 2 people who work for the company, and after a hefty 40% employee discount, that baby could be mine for “only” $600. I wouldn’t even put clothes in it. I would just stare at it all day and sing it lullabyes at night. What? That’s not weird.

 

Collected Mirrors, from Anthropologie

Anthro you are killllliiinng meeeee. Even though I’m convinced you are on crack for thinking it is okay to charge nearly $700 for a collection of old mirrors I’m pretty sure I could find at a flea market for under $30 total if I tried hard enough. I don’t think my pale visage is even worthy of being reflected in this lovely set of mirrors though, which is inspiring  some really fun Snow White moments for me (“YOU, ERIN, YOU ARE THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL”). Actually, I want everything in that entire room.

Bud Vases, from West Elm

D’aww. How tiny and cute! It’s no secret I love pretty much everything from West Elm, but these darling and affordable little frosted glass bud vases are especially high on the list right now. I want a couple of them in the light blue, amber, and maybe gray. Of course that would mean filling them with beautiful buds, not the faux-flowers I buy from IKEA.

Shopper tote, from MrPS on Etsy

I have been in love with this bag for over two years, ever since I saw the tea towel version of it in the Museum of London giftshop on my last trip across the pond to visit my family. It’s so sweet and cheery, reminds me of London and my family, and like any good canvas tote it is perfectly utilitarian. I could take it to the market to buy groceries, or carry my laptop in it (whenever I get a new one), or use it as an everyday bag. The possibilities are endless! The only thing that is throwing me off is whether to get it with the screen printing in blue or red. Decisions, decisions. At $19 a pop, I might just have to get both.

Woodland Print Duvet Set, from Pottery Barn

I’ve been a fan of my all white duvet and sheet situation for quite a while. It’s totally relaxing, extremely peaceful, and given the small size of my studio apartment, it doesn’t clash wildly with the rest of my furniture. But this duvet set is making me forget all about that. It’s so sunny and bright! What a perfect duvet set for the spring. Of course, I might have trouble falling asleep on sheets that loud, but what is a little more sleep deprivation in the name of quality home furnishings?

Well, that’s all for this week’s Friday Five. Have a great weekend, kiddos! What are your awesome weekend plans? I’m helping a lovely lady celebrate turning 25, and seeing my fabulous little nieces off to Disney World.  And trying not to spend any money.

Bookworm

I don’t consider myself a very black-and-white person by nature; I’ll shades-of-gray all over something before coming to a conclusion about it. This holds true in all areas of my life, except for literature analysis. It makes me want to crush things when I have to talk about what the author could have meant by saying a character took a pickle dish down from the shelf (side-note: Ethan Frome is forever a comedy, thanks to 11th grade English). Yes, there are evident themes in Lord of the Flies, but that book was picked apart so much that it was ruined for me. I don’t want to perform surgery on a book, I just want to read it.

I remember sitting in a Creative Writing workshop course in college and listening to the other students dissect a story I’d written, and being amazed at the things they were reading into, things I’d never intended or meant when I’d written it, but things they were just sure meant something else. Uh, if I meant for the protagonist’s decision to lock herself in the bathroom to be a metaphor for upper class guilt, I’d have put  a footnote in all caps that said that. But I didn’t, so stop reading into it.

Thankfully, reading has not been ruined for me. I still love nothing more than curling up on my sofa with a good book (and a better cup of tea) or reading until I fall asleep at night. My dad was the kind of person who read a book a day, almost, and was good friends with local booksellers. He spent years reading to me in bed at night, both of us eventually falling asleep. Over dinner, we’d read from the Etymological Dictionary (and yes, I endured a fair bit of teasing for that).

Anyway, here are some of the books I’ve read/been reading recently:

Little Bee, by Chris Cleave

I loved this. Santa left it for me under the tree this year, and I couldn’t put it down. It’s beautifully written. The author has a refined voice, and the end left me, literally, speechless. I had to sit quietly for a while when I finished it, to let it all sink in. Once you read it, you get why you’re not supposed to talk about it, and truly, I don’t want to ruin the magic of this story for anyone else. Trust me though, it is definitely worth a read.

Incendiary, by Chris Cleave

Again, the author has this staggering command of a woman’s voice. Plus, lots of Arsenal references! It’s a pretty dismal, very realistic story on a fictional terrorist attack. I’m almost finished, but I don’t want to be.

Columbine, by Dave Cullen

I have a very weird fascination with Columbine; the event itself, not the book. I was 12 when Columbine happened, and it was the first major, life-changing thing that totally reshaped the way the world worked for me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what had happened. Guns at a school? That just didn’t fit anywhere in the world I’d known my entire life up until that point. A few months after Columbine, my school installed metal detectors. Dress codes came a few years later.

I went to see “Bowling for Columbine” when it came out, but after reading this book (well, okay, so I’m halfway through it but I can’t read it when I’m by myself because it scares me too much, and it’s extremely dense due to being a compilation of 10 years of research) I realize how narrow Michael Moore’s take on the whole thing was. He went into the movie declaring that guns were the entire problem, that it all happened because of America’s problem with guns. I’m not saying that point isn’t valid, but Dave Cullen goes further into the story with this book, by talking to victims’ families, taking full pages from the shooters’ journals, and interviews with hundreds of people connected and affected by the tragedy. It’s definitely worth picking up, but if you’re a chicken like me, don’t read it late at night or before you go to bed, or you’ll be left sleeping with the lights on.

What books are you reading these days? Any recommendations? I’d love to know!

What day is it?

I’ll be upfront with you and admit that I’ve never been a timely person. I was never good at keeping a diary / calendar / date book, arriving on time, or remembering where I’m supposed to be. And it isn’t for lack of trying! I’ve bought beautiful leather date books with gold embossed page edges with the full intention of writing down my schedule each day. It was easier when I was in school, and things like that were a necessity. If I didn’t write it down, there was a very good chance it would never get done. Not because I am lazy, but because I seemingly have the attention span of a cheese sandwich, and that plummets significantly once you pile on massive amounts of work.

Then I got a job, and a Blackberry, which somehow made me want to put everything I might possibly have to do in my calendar. It made me feel like a grown up, being able to say, “Let me check my calendar” when someone would ask if I was free.

I also felt like a grown up when I got my first big-girl apartment, that I was paying for on my own and not sharing with anyone else. You realize quickly when you move into a place with high ceilings that there is a scary amount of  blank wall space. Wanting to maintain my streak with being organized and also wanting to totally design-nerd-out on my apartment, it hit me.

The Stendig Calendar!

I had first seen it in Anna’s New York City apartment kitchen redo, and instantly fell in love with it. It’s a calendar that meant it. It’s large enough to take up an ample amount of wall space, and beautiful enough that it transcends being just a calendar, and becomes art. Did  you know it’s the only calendar in the Design Collection at the MoMA? Rationalization!

But back then I was unemployed, and couldn’t bring myself to spend $30 that I didn’t really have to spend (do you hear that? It’s the world’s tiniest violin). And by the time I got a job, it was almost 6 months into the year, and they had stopped selling the 2010 version of the calendar. What was a girl to do? This was a crisis of epic proportions! I felt like it was the most unfair thing that had ever happened to me, that I had to wait a whole 6 months to get my own calendar. (Do you know what we call this? White People Problems)

Those 6 months were agony, let me tell you. I tried to talk myself out of it several times, so the waiting wouldn’t be as painful, but my heart knew what it wanted. It wanted this calendar, and this calendar it had to have. So, finally, when the new 2011 ones were released in late December, I ordered one.

 

My desk, the like / want / need office. Believe it or not, I did not do any pre-photo cleaning or straightening up. Aren’t you impressed? It’s one of my New Years Resolutions to be cleaner.

Look at how proudly that calendar is hanging on my wall. It’s like it is saying, “HELLO. TODAY IS FEBRUARY 13TH. IT IS A SUNDAY. DO NOT BE JEALOUS OF MY BEAUTY.” I didn’t realize when I ordered it that it would be a euro-style calendar, with the week starting on a Monday, as opposed to a Sunday start like we have here in the states. Somehow I missed that. But I’ve adjusted rather easily! Except for that one day in January when I was convinced it was Thursday but it was really Friday. That was fun.  

And in case you were interested:

Enjoy the rest of your weekend, kiddos!

This chair. I can’t even.

There is a small (and weird) group of people in this world called Objectum Sexuals, who carry on intense, realistic relationships with inanimate objects. Like bridges, the Berlin Wall, and the Eiffel Tower (but I try to pretend that last one isn’t true, because I love the Eiffel Tower and don’t like to think that there are people in the world who routinely make love to small replicas of it). I was going to say that I didn’t understand their psychological pull to things that aren’t, you know, alive (or human, more importantly), and am in fact creeped out by the entire thing, but I think I’ve made that clear.

That said, I want to introduce you to my newest crush. Meet the Cappellini armchair:

This chair makes my tiny little heart flutter. Look at it! All curvy and colorful. It is like plastic and confetti and broken crayons and magic got together one night and did the hanky panky (In the interest of full disclosure, I googled euphemisms for sex out of sheer boredom and found a bunch! Some of them are so vulgar! I can’t even).

Anyway, back to the chair! If you find it as painfully cute as I do, it might be because this is a Cappellini / Walt Disney collaboration, and we all know that Walt Disney is the universal sign of mass-produced cuteness (and anti-Semitism, but that is besides the point). I’m sure it’s not really all that comfortable (the chair, not anti-semitism, though I suppose that’s pretty uncomfortable, too) but they lure you into thinking otherwise by announcing that there were only 99 of these brilliant chairs produced. Ninety-nine! As in, I’ve got 99 problems, but this, uh, chair, ain’t one.

True to form, the gene in me responsible for consumption is spazzing over the possibility of owning something that rare. So, also true to form, I start rationalizing the purchase. I could just save up for a few months, cut back on frivolous expenses like electricity and food, and then the darling chair will be mine! Nevermind that my studio apartment is barely roomy enough to fit the stuff I already have (which leads me to believe that I have too much stuff. I refuse to believe I am paying too much for a small apartment), look at that chair! If that chair doesn’t make you grin like a tea-party republican idiot, then you clearly have no appreciation for whimsy, or for finely crafted homegoods. And that’s fine. I’ll be happy with my chair, and you can lust after it from afar and I won’t even let you sit on —

Beg your pardon?

$2461.00? Two thousand, four hundred dollars? No, I don’t think I can “ADD TO CART”, no matter if it’s in caps lock or not. I’ll be adding it to my dream box, assuming of course that that is not some euphemism (we’re back on euphemisms!) for something else.

There is cute, and there is insane. And this chair, though it breaks my heart to say it, has crossed over to being expensively, prohibitively, ridiculous. I’ll just have to show my adoration in other ways, like creating an image header hommage to its wonderful multi-colored-ness.

Oh well. Good thing I have other chair-lust backups! Let’s observe, shall we?

The Bertoia Wire Side Chair. Fabulous and shiny, and, if at all possible, looks even less comfortable than the Cappellini above. But! The patent on the design has expired (thank you 70 year copyright rule!) so you can pick up a pretty decent replica on the cheap. Not that I would, because that is shameful. However, my thrifting talents aren’t quite as honed, but I’ve seen many examples that prove these are readily available (albeit in a right state) if you’re willing to dig around.

And oh, Eames shell rocker. You deserve a post all your own, even if I can just tell by looking at your my tokhes would hate you.

Oh hi, you must be new here.

Gazela Vinho Verde

Do you know how hard it is to come up with a pithy entry title after spending an entire day already trying to come up with a cool, pithy blog name, and searching for the perfect font and the perfect color combinations to make the perfect image header? It’s veritably exhausting.

Thankfully, it is Saturday, and I have been drinking Vinho Verde since noon like some eastern European expat, because I’m convinced the tap water in my apartment is non-potable and I don’t have anything in my fridge besides a bottle of mustard and some string cheese, and I don’t want to drink either of those.

Enter Gazela. Fabulously priced at a mere $6.99 a bottle (though in googling it, I’ve seen it sold for even cheaper), and deliciously bubbly and sweet. My best friend and I picked a bottle of this up on a whim a few years ago, mostly because it had a peacock feather on the label. What can I say? I am clearly on my way to becoming a renowned sommelier.

Gazela Vinho Verde

SO. I’m intending for this blog to be an aggregate of all the things that tickle my fleeting fancy (and there are many, many things, ranging from purses, to desks, to clothes, to swedish furniture) where I can hopefully expel the desire to buy all these things by writing about them to death.

Hi, I’m Erin. I like / want / need lots of things.