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.