MTV CRIBS 2012

so, i'm pretty naked on this blog meaning i expose a lot about my emotions and life with little to no shame. that got me thinking - we should hang out! like at my place. nothing sexy, just chilling with like some beers and stuff. i'll make some dip or something. it'll be fun! i've been living on my own for 2 years in october and I WILL NEVER HAVE ANOTHER ROOMMATE UNLESS IT'S MY ADORING HUSBAND. i have too many rules, am too particular and the biggest reason? i'm naked 3/4 of the time here and i ain't putting on a dress or pants for ANYONE. you wanna live with me? you better know how to deal with my boobs.

okay, so, come in! isn't my front door inviting?

they actually JUST painted it that color on monday. it was a nice little surprise when i came home except for the fact that there were "WET PAINT" signs everywhere, and i had two armfuls of groceries, my purse, my gym bag and a coffee mug under my armpit. also, i always have a wreath on my door. i just think it's nice to do for people. who likes walking by or entering plain doors? losers, that's who.

this is my view when you first walk into what i refer to as "sex's birthplace":

yeah, that's a GIGANTIC mirror that smacks your ego in the face upon entering my apartment. i like it because i feel like it leaves attitudes at the door. like here's what you look like today in case you forgot on the car ride over. now you're in emma's place. DON'T ACT A FOOL.

TRUTH: i am OCD. what you are about to see in the next 20 or some odd pictures is how my apartment always looks. don't flatter yourself - i didn't clean for YOU guys. i clean everyday for my own sanity.

these stools usually are home to a hodge podge of things - piles of magazines, shopping bags, empty online shopping boxes - but recently, i've dubbed them my purse and agenda holders:

a lot of the time when guests are over, i do this weird thing where i kneel behind the stools facing the living room to chat to them. basically, i use it as an elbow rest. i'm an active sitter.

then we have my living room. my mecca.

that couch. that fucking couch. hands down, best purchase in the history of apartment purchases. my treat to myself on weekends is to sleep on it - ON PURPOSE. secretly, i love it more than my bed. don't tell my bed that. she'd be so hurt. but this couch is like a burly mountain man with a full beard who just wants to rub my scalp all night and tell me i'm cute. the couch asks nothing of me - it just gives.

the coffee table, though, is a bitch. i got it from some girl who finds junk and repaints it and then charges you $200 for it and it has seen some hard times. i spilled an entire bottle of clear coat nail polish on it, wine stains cover most of it and countless bags of jack in the box have laid upon it after a late night. i kinda feel bad, but if she wasn't such a bitch, maybe she'd be in better shape.

in this corner, we have the oldest piece of furniture known to man:

this brown recliner has seen life. it was in the SHIT and lived to tell the tale. my dad used to sit upon this throne and when my parents were convinced it had seen its day, i rescued it and brought it into my life. i refuse to get rid of it. sure, it's bulky but what has it ever done to any of you except let you sit on it and use it to your own comfortable advantage? sshh, sshh, it's okay recliner. it's okay. i'm here. we're safe.

ZEN, we move into ze bedroom. where the magic happens. where men BEG me to go. a place that's so busy most weekends, i barely leave it and usually the air is thick with the smell of desire:

let me tell you what happens in here: i sleep. i fart. i get dressed for the day. i watch seinfeld dvds. i drink water. so.

moving on.

my dad came up with this genius idea and i still bow down to him for it:

yeah so... TAKE THAT, PINTEREST. PAPA GOLDEN HAD THIS SHIT FIGURED OUT WAY BEFORE YOU CAME ALONG. seriously. you guys don't understand - being able to see all my necklaces makes each day a little easier to face. i suggest this sort of hanging system to all females.

then we have my closet:

like i said, i'm OCD. everything is organized by color/pattern, short-sleeved, long-sleeve, dress/skirt... you get the idea. WHAT. the last thing i wanna face in the morning time when i'm already frustrated about the fact that i have to get up every day for work is not being able to easily find what i'm looking for in order to clothe myself. EMMA TIP: every closet should have a smelly goody thing in it. i don't care if you think your shit doesn't stink and your TOMS smell like flowers - YOU'RE WRONG and people probably talk about the stench in your closet. BUY A FEBREEZE SOMETHING.

people always flip out over the size of my bathroom. they act like it could be its own studio i rent out. i mean...

HI! i guess it's pretty big. see that laundry hamper tucked under the counter there? i sit on that every morning to do my makeup. not to be cute like "oh look at me! i have a vanity!" moreso like "i literally am too weak to stand and want to be back in bed. my legs can't support me until 9am, so i guess i'll sit here."

this is my shower curtain.

it was a target find two years ago and it still makes me happy. i also wash my shower LINER like once a month because that shit is sick and as long as i am forced against my will to have a shower curtain rather than a glass door, it WILL be clean and free of sickass pink mold crap. it's already bad enough that it reaches out and touches you sometimes if there's a draft in your apartment. sickass pink mold crap makes the accidental touching worse.

oh hey.

this is where another kind of magic happens. a strange and wonderful magic.

so, we're nearing the end here. i hope you're okay with that. i mean, i can't really give you much else. i'm not gonna sift through my underwear drawer for you. i have a washer and dryer, i have a desk. i have a pantry. but you don't need to see any of that. my apartment is small and it all connects in one, big circle. i pace around it all the time. it's kinda fun.

this is my "bar" area (i try :/):

OMG hey that's me! what am I doing here?! the amount of times i've ACTUALLY sat down at this table and eaten food is laughable. typically, i bring my dinner to my coffee table and call it a makeshift "TV dinner" (which also adds to the mess of stains that is my coffee table).

i've tried to build up my room temperature liquor collection, but shit's expensive, y'all!

at least i have baby cocktail straws?

please disregard this massive ass cookbook:

my EX got it for me as a present and it's the worst cookbook i've ever owned. the recipes are completely authentic italian - like "an easy lasanga recipe: FIRST, make everything from literal scratch. get on a plane to italy and grow your own tomatoes and bake your own pasta, then come back home and serve it to people." homie don't got time for that. give me an ina garten or giada book, ya know? poor guy. he tried.

HEY LOOK! I ALMOST FORGOT! my fireplace has christmas lights in it!

AW!!! this was my sister's idea and an amazing one at that. it creates a real ambiance, if you will. and i will. another tiny touch that makes this girl smile.

i call this tiny section of my kitchen my "inspiration corner":

and not because of the two year old stashes of: sugar, granola and lentils. no. my best friend made me that chalkboard and i started writing happy things on it to make me happy. this saying has been on there for at least a month now - it's sort of my motto (for the summer, anyway). and ya know what? it's working in my favor! i wasn't ever comfortable with the idea of selling my body for sex, but ever since i've stepped out of that safety zone and started hooking out on the streets, i feel more confident, sexier, and LOADED!

we might as well take a peek into my fridge while we're here, right? i mean i DID just go grocery shopping so don't be fooled - this isn't usually how it looks:

lettuce, beer, milk, yogurt, fruit... the essentials. and, yes - that IS a bundle of asparagus in a glass of water. IT KEEPS THEM FRESH, OKAY?!?!! also, i don't trust people without britas or some sort of filtered water system in their homes.

on our way out, you'll see my countertop that greets me the second i walk in the door, the place i throw my keys. this square of space always makes me smile:

tina fey and mindy kaling hold up my lamp for me, and that bowl is full of goodies including: unpaid bills, a visitor badge to my office i never returned, a mexican toy gun, a baby maraca, and a pen. oh, all of which sit atop a pile of magazines. this little section of my apartment is probably the least organized i get.

all right, that's enough. now you know what my surroundings look like, that i have a toilet, and what i choose to consume on a weekly basis. GET THE FUCK OUT.