You’re envisioning your new dream home. Images begin to spring to mind…
A small, cozy nook, under a flight of stairs, with plenty of space for your wand and pet owl.
No? Okay. How about this: a tiny house with a loft bed and ceiling hooks for your fixed-gear bicycle and kombucha tea jars.
All right. Perhaps this: a 300-square foot, 3rd floor walk-up with no oven, coin laundry, and street parking.
Really? Not even if I told you you’d get to add an extra 10 minutes to your commute?
God, you’re difficult.
Starting November 1st, I’ll call the latter home.
“A third floor walk-up? Are you that desperate to win the company Fitbit challenge?” you might be asking. Excellent guess. The truth is, about a year and a half ago, I started making some pretty big changes in the name of Mother Earth.
Obviously I have become an environmental hero and goddess to Portlandia fans everywhere.
The Next Big Thing in my journey towards braided armpit hair is downsizing. Right now I live in a 1,200 square foot, 2-bedroom duplex, complete with a yard, sunroom, and plush carpeting thick enough to hide Trump’s tax returns.
When I moved to my current apartment from a 4-bedroom house, it offered plenty of space for my furniture and featured all of my must-haves.
As time passed, I realized I needed less room to feel content. I also needed less stuff.
Speaking of, the real reason I’m posting is because I’m trying to get rid of this. Any takers?
Do you have any moving / downsizing advice?
P.S. – Don’t even think about it. I’m keeping that Aladdin VHS tape.
I so have this! I invented the best thing ever (still need to get in contact with someone about marketing this) when I was perhaps not low but ____. What you do is take two nacho cheese Doritos, the crumbs are the best for this, and then take a somewhat stale (staleness dependent on preference) chocolate raisin and sandwich it in between the Doritos. Pop it in your mouth and experience heaven. Seriously.
I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Could it possibly be good? I liked Raisinets, and I loved Doritos, but together?
I had to know. I called for reinforcements:
Has there ever been a more polarizing FrankenFood? The overall verdict: WIN! You are my hero, Marta. But I already knew you had impeccable taste, given our shared love of Leonardo DiCaprio.Thus, I present your prize – a custom jack-o-lantern:
STEP 1: DESIGN OVERLY AMBITIOUS PATTERN
STEP 2: RIP GUTS OUT OF PERFECT PUMPKIN
Step 3: Tape Design On Pumpkin While Palms Begin to Sweat
Step 4: transfer design And question everything
Step 5: Tell Yourself, “There’s No Turning Back Now” over and over while shoving Raisinitos in your face
Step 6: Begin to Realize Self-Worth
Step 7: Marvel
Congratulations, Marta! (And seriously. Get on this Raisinito thing, pronto.)
Cherubic chipmunks, today is the most magical day ever. It’s:
What, you mean you don’t always make a wish every time the clock hits 11:11? And your favorite actor‘s birthday isn’t today? …Hmm. Okay. If you don’t think today is special, maybe we should talk about other special things. Things for which you will not be able to deny their specialness.
On this most bewitching day, I’d like to introduce you to [some of] the people I hold nearest and dearest. Also known as…
Babs is the Mommasita extraordinaire. She taught me everything I know about guilty pleasures, namely, how to harmlessly stalk celebrities. Babs also showed me the way around a Long Island Iced Tea (or seven) and how to write a proper greeting card. Sometimes I don’t even know why I bothered with school.
Babs is special because she agreed to have a third child when she only wanted two. Also because she makes people feel good just by being around, and she doesn’t even know it.
My hubster, the one and only Peppermeister, taught me how to embrace guilty pleasures that I might have otherwise been too embarassed to share (er, like this one). He’s also the person who convinced me to start a blog, and is there any greater guilty pleasure than blogging about guilty pleasures (as I’ve mentioned before, it’s like trying to stare at the sun)?
Peppermeister is special because he once told a college english class -before we were dating- that I was “appropriately feminine.” Also because he’s the funniest, most selfless person I’ve ever met.
My Big Sis (actually, not-so-big – homegirl has lost almost 100 lbs. in the past year!) knows a thing or two about guilty pleasures. What she does with Pilsbury crescent rolls could blow your mind. She’s an inspiration!
Bee-atch is special because she lets me live vicariously through her dating life and is super-fun when she’s drunk. Also because she’s the only person I know who can dish it out as well as she can take it.
Some of you know Bestie, a.k.a. Jenn, from our stellar interview on JM Randolph’s blog. More than 11 years ago, Bestie rescued me from the depths of bad poetry despair and told me to have some g.d. fun! From animals dressed as other animals to vodka to hilarious Hallmark cards, she gets it.
Bestie is special because she thinks it’s funny when I’m angry. Also because she’s one of the smartest, most talented chicks on the planet. (Let’s see if I can convince her to introduce her music to the blogosphere…)
SIL (sister-in-law) helped me write an entire blog post, and in fact it’s one of the most popular to this day. If that isn’t guilty pleasure inspiration, I don’t know what is!
SIL is special because she remembers more things about my life than I do. Also because she welcomes people into her heart and home even when they’re trying to secretly date her only sibling.
Duh! You are totally special, too! I mean for starters, you have impeccable taste. You are also overwhelmingly attractive, and that counts for a lot everything.
You are special because you knew me when I was just an awesome blogger. Also because you take the time out of your busy day to encourage your fellow writers.
P.S. – If you’d like to repay me for all the compliments, please email me the secret(s) to levitation.
Leonardo DiCaprio is the bee’s knees. I own every movie he’s ever made (this includes a tape-recorded version of “Critters 3“), but… he’s always making me feel guilty. If you follow him on Twitter or Facebook (which I TOTALLY do), you know what I mean. Somehow between kicking thespian tail, selling watches and looking super-cute, he finds time to crusade for things like coral reefs and the ozone.
This year, it’s tigers.
If, like me, you’re feeling schmucky and want to feel a little less schmucky, click on Tony and donate: