Ditching the hanging cabinets: Off the wall idea?

Kind of old news, but sort of relevant as the unit below this one is on the market for $1.6 million. (I'm thinking I'll probably buy it. No big whoop.)



This Ukrainian Village man cave was created with entertaining (bagging chicks?) in mind, and while I would maim for the awesome rooftop deck and gorgeous staircase (gallery here), I'm not sure how I feel about the kitchen that, in attempt to disguise it's function as an, um, kitchen, has been stripped of its hanging cabinets. It's kind of cool, but also kind of odd looking. Plus, all the BENDING.

Your thoughts?

Some things I do take issue with:
- The outdoor shower on that fancy rooftop deck. Why? Especially in 7 months of icy tundra Chicago. It just seems like a headache to keep from getting destroyed by the elements.

- That an interior designer gets praised as "bold" for putting a lamp on a kitchen countertop. Zzzzz. Wake me when it gets replaced with thee-foot-tall taxidermied mongoose fighting a cobra flanked by A Clockwork Orange poster and an Eraserhead life-size cutout. (This is just me thinking back to one of my childhood friend's brother's bedroom. Which was what I'd call bold. And scary as hell to an eight-year-old.)

- Random people dancing on your counters? Ew.

Morning pudding

The problem with bringing my lunch into work is that I immediately turn into that fat kid who eats her whole lunch by 10 a.m. and wants to beat people up for their food during real lunch time.

I like to start the day out right with some yogurt for breakfast

...then ruin it all by eating pulled pork, French fries and M&Ms for lunch. I top that all off by washing my dinner of salami and chocolate chip cookies* down with a few glasses of wine.

I am a WINNER*!


* To make matters worse, I made these cookies for my grandma, who is in the hospital with a broken wrist. My plan was to send them to her in a care package, but knowing me, she's going to get padded envelope stuffed with three cookies wrapped in some paper towels, one with a big bite missing.

**In the spirit of full disclosure, I am taking vitamins these days, but that's only been to get over a disgusting, disfiguring disease (post to come).

Long drive, short conversation

You know those times when you think you’re going to be cool about finding out about some unflattering trait you have? And you’re not? Not even a little—because it’s REALLY EMBARASSING?

I had one of those times during a long car ride last Friday (specifically, in the Steak N’ Shake drive through…I know, I know. Let’s just throw all dignity out the window now.):

A: Ahh, of course. The mocha shake. I know you all too well. You know, it’s really interesting how when you’re in a relationship for a while, you get to know everything about each other. And you kind of get used to each others’ quirks.

M: Such as?

A: Oh, I don’t know. Like, I’m used to the way you only eat one thing on the plate at a time, or how you hate warm cookies.

M: Ok, right. Like how you’ll sometimes eat cold egg rolls for breakfast.

A: Exactly! I know that the skin on your right eyelid gets dry. But only the right one.

M: Yeah, and when you get all excited and talking, you get this spit bubble in the corner of your mouth.

A: I do NOT!

M: ….Um, yeah, you definitely do.

A: …

M: …

A: Really? Right here?

M: No, other side. There.

A: And this is something that happens often? Regularly? As in, you noticed this and still carried on dating me?

M: Pretty much. It’s probably because you do that stupid retainer voice. (this is an AWESOME voice my friend Shannon and I do where we clench our jaws and suck back our essses like we’re talking through a retainer. She is much better at it than I am. Marc passionately HATES it, which encourages me to do it that much more often.) You’re like that cautionary tale about making an ugly face and having it stick. Ha! You did this to yourself!

This is terrible. Ever since, I’ve found my fingers wandering up to the corners of my mouth to check for saliva. I’ve quizzed some friends, but no one will cop to ever noticing any spit bubbles.

Well, at least I can probably trust him to at some point say, “Yes, Alison, your ass DOES in fact look fat in those jeans.”

The pros and the cons

I just got a new driver's license this afternoon.

Somehow I came out looking like a wonky-eyed, Eastern Europan call girl in my new license photo.

The upside? Since I chose not to wear a maroon polo like the last time I went to the DMV, I no longer look like I just got off the night shift at Arby's.

Two things I recently discovered about myself:

1. I have distinct Liz Lemon tendencies (and not the cute ones)
On Friday, my work had a bake sale to raise money for breast cancer awareness, so I stopped by first thing in the morning. Being the altruistic person I am...Ok, let’s be honest here...Being the sugar-crazed freak I am, I bought a cupcake, a Rice Krispie treat and brownie, took them back to my desk and immediately began to devour them in that order.

When I got to the brownie, I decided it wasn’t that good, I’d had enough sweets (this is a sure sign of maturity!) and threw most of it away.

Work, work, work. Hands gliding around the clock’s face.

The next time I looked up, it was 3:30, I was starving and in the middle of working on a presentation that was due at the end of the day.

So yeah, I took the remaining brownie out of the trash, ate it and got back to work.

That’s right. I’m almost 30 and eating chocolate out of the garbage. In my defense, I could tell you about how it was the only thing in my wastebasket and how it was still sort of resting on its paper plate, but I really have no excuse for why I’m not capable of eating something with actual nutritional value from a sanitary surface. That cup of nice blueberry yogurt I have stored in the refrigerator 30 feet from my desk was apparently too much of an effort for me to reach.

2. I like excercising to montages
This weekend, I worked out on an elliptical machine while watching Ocean’s Eleven (I had to make up for the dark chocolate times outlined above). Whenever the movie got to little montages of the guys prepping for their big heist, I found myself especially inspired to keep my heart rate up. I gotta tell you, there’s some sort of powerful alchemy at play when you’re gliding along to a series of scenes that act as shorthand for accomplishment and/or transformation.

Can someone make an all-montage DVD mix? Makeovers! Dance/sports practice/training! Cleaning/painting a house! The above-mentioned heist!

Maybe the snazzy bubblegum pop/percussive anthem rock/techno is good for exercising, But really, I think it’s watching some people get some serious business done in three minutes max tricks me into playing my own montage loop in my head:

Sweats-clad Alison runs three miles on the treadmill, looking drained and red. Her legs shake like a newborn colt as she steps off the machine. Next, she’s sweating it out in bikram. Oh no! She’s wobbling in the tree stand pose. Down she goes, toppling to the floor, taking the poor girl on her right with her. Eye rolling, shoulder shrugging. Later that night: Alison sits down to a giant bucket of fried chicken. Sighing, she pushes it away and instead gnaws on one of those huge cartoony carrots with the green foliage still attached. Turning point! Wearing a tighter-fitting tank top and running shorts, she’s jogging by the lake. Even though she collapses out in the grass after her run, a radiant smile lights up her face. Now, cutting through a lane in the lap pool, The hunk of solid muscle formerly known as Alison emerges, glistening and sleek. She hoists herself over the side of the pool and immediately chugs a blender full of Creatinine and raw eggs. Her biceps bulge as she wipes her mouth with her forearm.

So much progress in about 30 seconds. Much easier than actually eating right and doing all that crap. And if watching someone else’s magical transformation keeps me exercising for another few minutes, maybe my own personal moment of triumph isn’t so far behind.