My alarm went off at 3:25am this morning because I sometimes work an early morning shift at 5am. Sometime around 3:45am I remembered that today's schedule was pushed back to 11:15am so I went back to bed. Running late at 10:15am, I got a flat halfway between work and home. So I called in that I was going to be late. I actually made it to work at noon where I was informed that my start time was 8:30am. Sometime between Monday and today my shift was changed and I'd never noticed. Luckily my co-workers find this more funny than troubling.

My pink jeans are dirty and my hands are aching. It's not the worst day but, ugh.

itchy mcgoo wrote:A local design blog that I like a lot did a write-up/photo tour of my apartment. If it's a really, really slow day for you, you can look at it here.
Amongst other odd things, I get called a Goth. Awesome.

I'm assuming young children never visit your place.
I'm always jealous of the style that others are able to demonstrate through their "living space".

I have one of these!



My friends father brought it back from Japan for me, but had no information about it. It's obviously made from a tusk, but that's about all I know about it. Do you know what they are/were used for?

Your apartment is beautiful!

Arriving at work, I checked my email and received a message that I was probably expecting, but nevertheless was put into a gloom by. I made my excuses to my wonderful boss and headed to the lifts to "deal with something" (buy cigarettes and stomp around smoking). I reached the lifts, said hello to the European Financial Controller exiting one, entered it, pressed "G" and heard a loud crack. A digital sign came up with a helpful "Out of Order". The lift would not move and the door would not open, so I pressed the alarm button to speak to helpful man who sent an engineer. I've never been trapped in a lift before, but being 39 floors up was an extra thrill. I called my boss and she laughed, but at least did not threaten to shoot me again. She's being doing that a lot recently.

The engineer arrived and we reached the ground floor. He was talking into a loud walkie-talkie throughout, which was embarrassing as others joined the lift: "Yeah, I got him out. Yeah, he's free... What? I said 'I GOT HIM OUT HE'S OUT."

I bought my cigarettes, smoked a couple and listened to that bloody 10cc song. I returned to the entrance, making a stern list of things to concentrate on over the remainder of the morning. But they wouldn't let me in. There was a fire drill for the first thirty floors and they were not letting me in.
"Go to your evacuation point.!
"But I'm not being evacuated! Our floor is not being evacuated!"
"Go to your evacuation point!"
At this point I must have looked like I was about to cry, as one of his gentler colleagues smiled and told me sorry, just wait twenty minutes. I phoned my boss upstairs. When she stopped laughing I told her that my life was a joke.
"Just don't get stuck in the lift again."
She was being kind as she again refrained from promising to shoot me. When I finally made it back, she made up for this by telling me that she will shoot me in each cheekbone "so that it looks like you have another couple of eyes."
Then shoot me in my chin, as she indicated by pointing at her own. Then shoot me in my nose, at which point she could not stop laughing. She told me that I needed to rethink my "strategy towards women."
During these days, my boss is the sanest element in this mess.

I am now outside with a good bottle of whisky and the remainder of this pack of cigarettes. I am compelled to state that my host and good friend Dan is a complete star.

itchy, speaking as a New Yorker with a 550-square foot apartment with one fucking closet and all the design skills of an autistic squirrel, I say "Curse you!" and shake my green fist.

Fantastic place.

itchy mcgoo wrote:A local design blog that I like a lot did a write-up/photo tour of my apartment. If it's a really, really slow day for you, you can look at it here.
Amongst other odd things, I get called a Goth. Awesome.

LOOK AT THAT JACKET!

SHIT IS FUCKING TIGHT!

TIGHT!

vockins wrote:

itchy mcgoo wrote:A local design blog that I like a lot did a write-up/photo tour of my apartment. If it's a really, really slow day for you, you can look at it here.
Amongst other odd things, I get called a Goth. Awesome.

LOOK AT THAT JACKET!

SHIT IS FUCKING TIGHT!

TIGHT!

One meets the nicest people riding a honda, wearing a Vanson jacket.

I do wish Ms. McGoo would get a full-face helmet, though. Her face is lovely, and I want it to stay that way. Those pudding bowl helmets look cool, but do not protect very well.

ITMCG - Oh, yah, the next apartment better be really something, if you are giving up that lovely place.

Nina,

They are cricket cases! No, really!

People would keep them as pets to hear them sing at night* and would also fight them. Usually Chinese, made popular in the Tang Dynasty. The small ones were mostly decorative but there are crazy big rosewood houses.

If yours does not have a pierced top to allow air for the cricket, it might be a snuff container.

Mine has dirty, dirty pictures on it.

*

One old Chinese chronicle records that crickets were treated with a mixture of brass powder and rosin2. This mixture was applied to the stridulatory mirror of the front fore-wing with a needle and was supposed to refine and heighten the volume of the insect's 'voice'.

wtf! from here

itchy mcgoo wrote:A local design blog that I like a lot did a write-up/photo tour of my apartment. If it's a really, really slow day for you, you can look at it here.
Amongst other odd things, I get called a Goth. Awesome.

Okay, just so you know, I having that. All of it.

itchy mcgoo wrote:A local design blog that I like a lot did a write-up/photo tour of my apartment. If it's a really, really slow day for you, you can look at it here.
Amongst other odd things, I get called a Goth. Awesome.

Jeebus Miz McGoo, you are one sassy gorgeous chick on your motorcycle.

I want your apartment. Can you move it to Queens?

KTHXBYE