While spending the past couple weeks prepping our “big project” (tentatively dubbed The Office: The Show: The Apartment), I’ve been jotting down lists of what else amongst our bric-a-brac could be replaced or improved with a little applied style. And as it turns out, making lists is where I’m a Viking. So every Friday, I’ll present a short set of little solutions I have for our little problems.

I’d like to have a “clever” name for this segment, but all I can come up with is Friday Necessities. If you can think of a better one, feel free to suggest it in the Comments section. Bonus points for witty puns.

Just recently our apartment became a source of even greater clutter and frustration when our sloppy, unkempt roommate moved out. It was bad enough that the defecting slob left a Pigpen-like trail of dust and trash behind him as he exited, but we were forced to realize how reliant we were on his filthy presence - turns out the majority of our appliances were his property. It’s one thing to put up with a bad roommate, it’s another when he bails and takes the coveted Mr. Coffee with him.

Now we’re picking up after him, and finding what needs to be replaced. And after the two days it took for Ex-Tenant to get the last of his things out, it could be quite a lot. Not to mention the apartment needed some smartening up already. So this is what I think we could use so far –
Read more »

So our bachelor pad needs retuning. Put simply, the Feng Shui just doesn’t flow in our favor. It needs better furniture, appliances, and organization. But being dumb boys, the roommates and I haven’t been sure how to go about it, especially on what meager finances we have to work from. A unifying scheme is essential.

And like many moments in my life of pop-culture addiction, inspiration came from watching too much TV. One of our favorite shows is The Office, an engaging satire of business culture. As a child of middle management, the show hits a familiar chord. Much of my formative years were spent in offices, inspiring a fascination with workplaces and their inherent absurdity - from banal kitten posters to oppressive cubicles.

It was while watching The Office that it the idea struck me. Our apartment should be an office. Simple, cheap, sterile design. An obvious sense of order. Water Coolers. Kitten posters. And I envisioned the centerpiece: an actual cube station, complete with walls adorned by baby photos and Cathy comics.

Now we can realize goals that we otherwise had no sense of how to accomplish. Old counters and sinks can be replaced with sleeker surfaces. Simple furnishings can be coordinated, even bought for cheap from shuttering offices. And the flat design avoids mucking around with “Post-Colonial Pre-Deco” jive. Such motifs require actual taste to arrange, while it’s much easier for me to work with a gimmick.

Thus the plan is in place. Shelves, faucets, countertops, and cubicle walls. And maybe even a little upholstery. It looks to be a lot of work spread out over a few weekends, all of which I intend to document here. Now I just have to hope we’re not violating our lease with some of this.

Howdy. This is the new guy signing in. My thanks to Kamelia for inviting me to take up her very nifty, slick blog - I mean really, look at all the site design around what I’m writing. This is fancy stuff.

So here is where I introduce myself: My parents named me Alex, and in the twenty-odd years since that happened I’ve become a hip young lad living in the least hip parts of Brooklyn, New York - a result of being too dorky for Manhattan and lacking a trust fund for the Williamsburg Scene. My interests include movies and music (which I am wont to reference at random intervals), and cooking haphazardly.

Until recently I never had much regard for such alien concepts as interior design. As it is, I barely put the effort into dressing myself in a way that one might deem “coordinated.” And with my apartment I’ve been no better: “Why should I care about how it looks? I’ve got a couch, a bed, a TV, and running water. What more do I need?”

A lot more, as it turns out. Little things, like three-slot toasters and faucets that don’t rattle when they run too long. Or big things, like cabinets for storing dishes somewhere other than in the sink. The apartment was a “fixer-upper” when we took it; it just never got around to being fixed, up or down. It doesn’t help that I live with two other swinging bachelors holding similarly lax attitudes toward tidiness.

Recent frustrations with cleaning and organization have resulted in our collective reaching the conclusion that it’s time to shape up. “Style” in our case is not so much of a concern as just putting our abode in order, to live like other civilized mammals; though looking generally nice would be a bonus. At least something less embarrassing to bring lady friends to. And that’s why I’m here today.

My name is Alex, and I am stylistically challenged. But I’m trying to change that, one decorative end table at a time. When I’m done, heaven help me, I may end up a male Martha Stewart. But maybe my inevitable disasters can inspire you, the reader, to go and do likewise.