I’m Martha Effing Stewart With Zero D*ck Appointments

Let me give you a quick run down of my living situations:


  • ages 0-18: lived in parent’s house Decorating freedom: my bedroom

  • 18-22: various college dorms / apartments Decorating freedom: always shared, sometimes with up to four other insane girls

  • 22-24: Tel-Aviv, where my land lord had pretty much decorated the apartment with a very old futon, but decent bedroom furniture for my roommate Sara and me. Can’t lie - we had a sick view of Dizengoff (big street) Decorating freedom: Posters from the dizengoff mall and Duvet Covers

  • 24-27: back to said parents’ house Decorating freedom: worse than ages 0-18

  • 27-30: apartment in Venice with my roommate, Jamie. She won’t mind me saying this, but it was really Jamie’s apartment even though we technically co-signed the lease, I was just living in it

Decorating freedom: upgrading from plastic dressers and nightstands in my bedroom to used wooden furniture

  • 30-32: the mansion, aka my studio apartment in Venice right by Gold’s gym. The kitchen consisted of a stove, fridge, sink, and no counter tops but you could not beat the location!

Decorating freedom: slight upgrade from Jamie’s apartment, still had a TV with no actual working remote and a kitchen “table” that looked like a kindergartener’s coloring play table

  • 32-34: COVID - back to parents’ new condo in Pennsylvania and or Florida Decorating freedom: ha. Ha. ha.

  • Age 34, now hopefully ⅓ through my lifetime: I have my OWN space in a real apartment. Now, it’s in a community that isn’t a luxury community, so it has these big metal doors that require a ridiculous key and I can’t buzz people up, but once you get past all that and the winding garage littered with speed bumps, the actual unit is quite lovely.


Decorating Freedom: ABSOLUTE CRACK.


My mother is convinced I’m hemorrhaging money buying crap for this place. I reasoned with her that I haven’t been going out and spending money on Ubers and getting shit faced, so all of these purchases are actually reasonable, long-term investments. I refuse to think that my turquoise and gold abstract pillow case will depreciate over the years, they are just so gorgeous.


Speaking of gorgeous, spending hours pouring over curtain shades and textures has totally been worth it. When my teal curtains came in for the living room to match said pillow cases, because I am now going for a cohesive, Diva Chic look, I almost cried with joy. Over curtains! When I told Jamie this from across the country, she was dumbfounded, but proud as she tended to her vegetable garden.


If you want to know what color my living room curtains are, they are a gorgeous shade of shimmery teal:


(Note: Please do not judge the wrinkles, these were fresh out of the packaging from Amazon. I doubt the underpaid workers were worried about spraying anti-wrinkle stuff to prevent the slightly white-trash chic look.)






Don’t worry, definitely not turning this into some decorating blog, I’ll save that for the real Martha Stewarts and other like-minded decorators.


Now, let me get to the real stuff, the d*ck appointments travesty. I was minding my own business, swiping away on a good old Sunday, attempting to schedule a last minute (free) brunch / late afternoon cocktail session, when Bumble rudely showed this:

Shut the f*ck up, Bumble ------------->

My age settings are 32-44, so if I do the math, that’s a 12 year age selection of potential suitors for dating or d*ck appointments, with a radius of 60 miles. Either there’s some new app I know nothing about where all the bachelors have migrated to (so please enlighten me in the comments below), or I have a pathetic existence of excessive swiping. This is what Google, the most reliable source for all information, told me:


Let me state that I do use Hinge as well, but I’m running into so many bots, it’s just ridiculous.


If you are a Hinge user too, this is how to spot a bot (<--- rhyme coincidental): In their bios, they are from European countries. Nothing against Europeans. I used J-Swipe in Los Angeles but I didn’t enjoy the selection to put it nicely. Oh, I still haven’t been accepted to Raya. Like come on, sorry I’m not on Vanderpump Rules with 500k + followers on social media. So unless everyone in South Florida suddenly got famous and migrated to Raya, we can blame the excessive swiping.


Guess I’ll go back to being a version of Martha Stewart who does not yet have a criminal record.


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