Friday, July 9, 2010

Spin Cycle

Friday, July 9:30 am

Dear Diary,

Just finished blog post:

Up at dawn for early meeting with one of my closest clients (we're like sisters!!!), owner of the delight BoHo Condo. Over a working gal breakfast of delicious, raspberry friut filled pastries from one of America's oldest bakeries and frothy cafe au lait, helped my BoHo bachelorette de-clutterize (i just coined that one---and copyrighted it, so please don't repost that word without e-mailing and asking for permission-thanks), prioritze, and organize. A dedicated designer's work is never done!!! Pics of the condo, and all of my other projects to follow, one day, I promise, just as soon as I learn how to work this pesky camera. Until then, let's enjoy this previously published room. Isn't it perfection?"
That sounds much better than the actual events (thank God for digital living):
Awakened at crack of dawn by frantic phone call from sister who just returned a day early to fleabitten ghetto studio apartment ("it's all I can afford---I work for a charity.") from some bullshit humanitarian aid trip to the current 3rd world hellhole dujour--if she has to throw her prime earning years away on working for non-profits, why can't it be one that hosts fabulous benefits---and I keep telling her, "Look at Angelina---just because you care about the poor, doesn't mean you can't wear St. Johns knits and a little lip gloss, for God's sake." Just enough time to grab some pop-tarts and a little (shudder) instant coffee, luckily, though, I still had enough incredibly expensive organic virgin cold-pressed almond milk left to make it bearable.
Her crisis du jour (I love tossing in French phrases---it makes me fell so Continental and insouiciant---and my readers love it---so cute): Her live-in boyfriend wasn't there at the apartment; however, some unidentifed female underthings and a new crack pipes and rocks were (Thanks to Sonya from Real Housewives of New York, I now know that's why he always smelled like cat piss). Finally talked some sense in her (I may have slapped her a couple of times, too, but isn't that how you calm down hysterical people?), helped her throw the bum's shit on the street (looked through it for anything worth keeping, but you know how these hipster artists are--everything thrifted and reeking of patchouli, nicotine, and pretension), and called the locksmith. Just enough time to rush home, pick up Angel Baby, and drop him at his day long Vegan Toddler Raw Foods workshop (Mommy needs some alone time--now that pre-school is on summer schedule, he's home 4 days a week, and I'm far too busy to handle that---I mean polyvore mood boards don't make themselves).
God, I needed that drink---I know, I'll post that I had "a light brunch of vegetables (celery, pickled green beans, and olive) in a delightfully tangy Russian tomato sauce." The readers don't need to know that it was actually a couple of Bloody Marys.


  1. I am sick, absolutely sick, that you have mentioned neither Steven Gambrel nor Billy Baldwin so far in this so-called blog.

  2. You are clearly infringing on My Blog™ and my client, The Sassy Single. I will contact my attorney immediately if I see you appropriate any aspect of my project, The Singletarium®.

  3. I WISH those polyvore mood boards DID make themselves! If I have to organize one more 'new pastels' board for this summer I'm going to rip out my own bump-it!! and I despise flat hair...