Kayleen Grows In Brooklyn

What’s more delightful: My Mom’s super-serious school picture or Cadbury “Screme” Eggs?

What to do when you’re maybe too old for this:

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But perhaps too young to stay home and hand out candy?

Leave some chocolate outside your door:

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And go to Balthazar with your bros!

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(Some of us aren’t ready to give up costumes yet.)

Can we talk about the elephant in the room?

That joke is the entire reason I bought this guy.

My apartment renovation is 100 percent done! I’m 100 percent thrilled! (I hope Mark and Amy at OFFICIAL, the majorly talented architects of the place, are too.)

I climbed the Eiffel Tower in 2001, and it was cool and all, but then I got to do it again in 2013 and it was so much better. This is because they sell champagne at the top now. Une coupe de champagne, s’il vous plaît!

I did spill a little. Ever tried sipping bubbly while dodging people who are taking photos with their iPads? But it was worth it. There’s really nothing better than champers with a view.

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Seriously. 

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ruthbaron:

3. Mix Your Own Juice“I got Escape! Calvin Klein Escape! Mix it up with Calvin Klein Be. Smell nice? I SMELL NICE!”
I felt deeply ambivalent about Spring Breakers. I didn’t hate it as much as I feared I would, but I also didn’t love it. What I did love was the scene quoted above, and seeing it with one of my favorite people on the planet, who has gone on to write one of the best personal service stories in recent memory: A 6-Step Guide to Looking Like James Franco’s Alien

What Ruthie doesn’t say is that it was her fantastic idea. 

ruthbaron:

3. Mix Your Own Juice
“I got Escape! Calvin Klein Escape! Mix it up with Calvin Klein Be. Smell nice? I SMELL NICE!”

I felt deeply ambivalent about Spring Breakers. I didn’t hate it as much as I feared I would, but I also didn’t love it. What I did love was the scene quoted above, and seeing it with one of my favorite people on the planet, who has gone on to write one of the best personal service stories in recent memory: A 6-Step Guide to Looking Like James Franco’s Alien

What Ruthie doesn’t say is that it was her fantastic idea. 

An Apartment of My Own

In March, my parents came to visit, and somehow, some way, after a few days, we all decided that I should have my own apartment that they would help me buy. Honestly, I have no idea how this happened because the conversations that led up to the decision went like this:

 Mom and me: “We should buy an apartment in New York.”

 Dad: “You can’t be serious.”

 I couldn’t leave Brooklyn because then I’d have to change the name of the blog. So after a lot of looking and some luck, I found a lovely, light-filled, one-bedroom place a couple of blocks from where I live now.

 In November, four months after my offer was accepted, I closed on the apartment. I’m not thrilled with this picture, but I decided not to ask the roomful of lawyers and bankers to take another shot because I didn’t look pretty enough.

 

 I spent a long time trying to think of what the feeling of walking into the apartment for the first time after the keys were mine compared to, and the closest I could come was when I went on my first business trip, at 23. I got to stay at the Treasure Island hotel in Las Vegas, and when I walked in the room, I was so excited I jumped on the bed. I couldn’t believe that I got to be there.

 Except this is a billion times better. If there had been a bed in my new apartment when I walked in, I would have broken it. Instead, I drank champagne while sitting on the floor.

 Thank you isn’t enough, Mom and Dad. I’m thrilled to have my own place in this city and so grateful that you made it possible. 

 During this whole deal, I also learned that it takes a village to buy a one-bedroom apartment. Thank you also to everyone who went to open houses with me, who gave me great advice about what to look for, who took me step-by-step through how to make an offer on an apartment, who taught me how to apply for a mortgage, who wrote me recommendation letters for the co-op board, who listened to me complain about how freaking long everything took, who let me stay in my old apartment a lot longer than I said I would, and who haven’t told me to shut up about the apartment yet. You’re welcome over anytime.

 

A Walk On a Glacier

One Saturday about a month ago, I found myself in REI, wearing hiking boots that felt like I’d strapped sneakers, orthopedic shoes, and Uggs to my feet at the same time, while I walked up and down a pile of fake rocks.

 I’d tried to get out of this situation. When I was told I absolutely had to have hiking boots to climb a glacier in El Calafate, Argentina, I tried to borrow some. (No luck.) I also called the ice-climbing company to ask if hiking boots were absolutely necessary. (They were.)

 I could spend an hour shopping for my tenth black sweater or pair of ankle boots. But if it’s action-adventure related, it’s probably also ugly, and I’ll buy it with my eyes closed thank you very much. No one at REI appreciates this attitude. 

 The whole expedition took like 10 minutes (including getting boots, waterproof pants, and texting Julien and Jeff to show them how hideous the outfit was). 

 But, cut to me staring at the glacier—on Thanksgiving Day in my new boots and pants—saying, on repeat, “I really don’t see how we’re going to walk on that.” I was glad I had some gear. After our guide Sorrientino (such an awesomely “Princess Bride”-like name) stuck spikes on all of our shoes (and put harnesses around our waists to fish us out of any glacier we might be swallowed by), we wandered around in the Ice Age for three hours. We peered into crevices, where the water was a steely blue color I’d never seen before, took a billion photos, and basically just marveled at the whole thing. I’ve never been so close to the Pacific AND Atlantic Oceans. Thanksgiving lunch was chicken empanadas shoved in our mouths at top speed—no standing around without gloves too long on a glacier.

When Julien saw the pictures, he said he was disappointed that they don’t make the glacier look as out-of-control cool as it actually was, but when I saw this shot of me, I decided this might be the coolest outfit I’ve ever worn. Badass boots, right? 

Last Lochte Post (Maybe)

  • Daniel: please don't encourage Ryan Lochte's douchiness
  • Sent at 6: 33 PM on Monday
  • me: i will do what i want
  • Daniel: I'm pretty sure he doesn't get irony
  • me: um, dan, i do not love him for his brain
  • #jeah