Category Archives: Space managment


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This post started as “In Praise Of A Well-Organzied Medicine Cabinet”, but then I thought about it and that just sounds so awful. Writing an entire entry on how to style your dental floss and display your foot scrub is the rantings of an enormous dick nipple, and while I’m not above Goop-ifying my blog from time to time I cannot in all good conscience pass up the opportunity to acknowledge how neurotic I am as a adult human man who buys ceramic trays on which to rest electric razors.

This post will be obnoxious. You will roll your eyes. Twice, if not three times. I know this and I want you to know I know this, which is why I’m playing D this go-around.

Below is a list of slop questions I assume you jerk nuggets would ask. I will do my best to answer them in my typically witty and intelligent fashion while also satisfying your insatiable need to know about how to declutter and style the most important cabinet in your mom’s life.

I invite you to join me in the hysterical laughter:

Q: So confused. What should be in a medicine cabinet?

A: OK, first, your thinly veiled sarcasm is not appreciated and, second, how dare you, sir. Medicine cabinets are for your crazy pills and other day-to-day necessities, like hair product, cologne and, if you’re like me, the copious amounts of condoms you burn through on a weekly basis (obviously). Medicine cabinets are not for your mouthwash bottle collection, that free body scrub you got with your purchase of $50 or more at the Estee Lauder counter, or those large Band Aids you think you might need if you ever get into a motorcycle accident the same day your insurance lapses and the terrorists have destroyed all the hospitals. That stuff should not be in there. If you don’t use a product with any regularity it really has no place, and if you think it does then you’re a hoarder. Go to the Container Store, get one of those dollar shoe boxes, fill it with all that unnecessary junk and put it under the sink. Then go call A&E because your Listerine collection is scary and someone should film you with it.

Q: I may not use everything in my cabinet every day, but things like aspirin and ointment I use once a week or so. What do I do with that stuff, Paltrow?

A: So, while you’re at the Container Store buying your shoe box garbage buckets, pick up some of these fantastic lacquered boxes. They’re great for all the stuff you use occasionally but don’t need every day. I recommend a solid container for this stuff rather than a translucent one. It’ll keep things streamlined and tidy by hiding all those eye-rapey logos, ensuring your secrets will be safe when house guests riffle through your stuff during a dinner party. This way no one but you will know you use butt cream every now and again. (I mean, ointment? What’s that about?)

Q: Putting aspirin in a box is dumb. I don’t want to lift a lid and rummage around for that stuff. You’re dumb. This blog is dumb.

A: You don’t take aspirin every day. If you do, go see a doctor because you probably have a brain tumor and will die soon. I suggest cutting down on the Diet Coke now and giving yourself a shot at reaching 30. Then grow a pair and reconcile the fact that to have a clean, decluttered cabinet you may have to lift a lid or two. It’ll add a few seconds to your pill party, tops. Nothing great was ever achieved by being lazy. Unless you’re Garfield or Terry Kiser.


A: To start, please address me as El Jefe or nothing at all, and El Jefe feels you on the residual whiskers. They’re pervasive and insidious and no matter how well you’ve cleaned your razor a stray one will always appear from underneath your toothbrush and cause you to gag. Stop these annoying stubble abortions from collecting on your shelves and hustle your buns over to Muji! They have these beautiful ceramic cups and trays to hold your face mowers and round up all the hair so you won’t have to pull everything out and wipe the cabinet shelves down with a wet rag every other week (or every other month since I know some of you are dirty, dirty little squirrels). If you’re like me and can barely afford the WiFi you’re blogging on you can thrift some vintage double shot glasses. I did and they work great for my tweezers and (sadly) nose clippers.

Q: When will you be posting nudes?

A: Soon, if my readership doesn’t improve.

Q: I don’t collect mouthwash but I do use it. What does that mean in the perverse and suppressive world you live in?

A: Good question! I, too, use mouthwash, not because I find it humbling to be like the commoners, but because I like a crisp set of chompers before I leave for work in the morning. I’m only human! But what makes me a better human? The fact that I don’t want to open my medicine cabinet to a bunch of screaming, metallic labels (read: CAPITALISM). Nope. I don’t want to see that mess. Instead I pour my teeth soap into a small unmarked container, and I do the same with my face wash and toner. Sure, that’s fussy, but I’ve been in some of your bathrooms and I’ve opened your drawers and that gallon jug of hydrogen peroxide makes me think you’re a serial killer.

The moral of the story is if you don’t want people to think you killed and skinned your neighbor go get a couple of these cheap-o bottles from Ricky’s and stop whining. Maybe even have fun with it and decorate them a little or something. I don’t know. Go wild. What do I care?

Q: I can’t with you.

A: That was really more of a statement but 😉

Q: OK, I’ll bite but only because I find your pretension to be an adorable character flaw and you should be pitied, not mocked. What are some things that can class up the traditional medicine cabinet?

A: That may be the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me! Thank you for your words, kitten. This question hits my sweet spot: pomp and circumstance. Medicine cabinets are so…clinical. Traditionally they’re not very stylish or fun at all, so I try to zhuzh it up a little, you know, and have fun with it. I shave with an old timey razor (this one from Baxter of California) because it makes me feel like Jack Nicholson in Chinatown, and  next to it I keep a small hand mirror my Dad carried with him during his service. Years ago I had a framed picture of Whoopi in my medicine cabinet, but that was really just to let my friends know that I knew they were snooping.

Q: I weeded out all the stuff I don’t use daily and I still have, like, 18 thingies of pomade. I have the pre-conditioning paste, the root wax, the mineral relaxer, the detoxifying gel, the gluten-free diary-free hormone-fee stem cell-infused thickening spray, the tea tree glue, the frizz-reducing lotion, the shine-enhancing serum and the top coat. I need them. I NEED THEM ALL TO LEAVE THE HOUSE.

A: Mindy Kaling summed up my thoughts on this in book she wrote that almost no one has read or even heard of. On men’s grooming, she said:

“Kiehl’s for your skin, Bumble and Bumble for your hair. Maybe a comb. That is all you need. and when girls look in your medicine cabinet (which they will obviously do within the first five minutes of them coming to your place), you look all classily self restrained because you only have two beauty products. You’re basically a cowboy.” *

I fully subscribe to this celestial way of thinking. Let’s all be sexy cowboys! You don’t need all that other stuff anyway and with it gone your medicine cabinet will join the ranks among some of the best (mine).

I’m of course only talking to the men. Ladies, I don’t know what to do about you because I’ve never been one of you, but I kind of feel the same. No one needs all that product. Trust in your natural beauty and join the guys. Be lady cowboys.

*Or something like that. I don’t know. Go buy her book and read it for yourself. I’m sure she’s struggling and could use the income.

Q: My mom always said not to have glass in the bathroom. That’s why I have bar soap in a plastic travel container and my cotton balls stay in the drug store bag.

A: You and your mom are complete savages. No glass in the bathroom? YOU WERE RAISED BY WOLVES. Crate & Barrel has some great vessels (yes, vessels) to store your q-tips, cotton pads and swabs and whatever else you might want to drag along your face. Their kitchen section is enormous, which is really the place you should be looking for affordable glass containers. All that bathroom-specific garbage is a snooze and over-priced but something from the pantry can fit nicely and is half the cost.


That’s it. I think I’ve squeezed enough blood from this stone. If you’ve gotten this far you can brag to your friends that you’ve read the greatest entry so far into the World Wide Web. If you liked this post, do nothing. If you found this post to be the antithesis of everything good and holy on the planet then please email me for my bank account and routing number. I’ll only stop if you pay me.

You’re welcome and good day.


In Breaking News To No One, Manhattan apartments are small, and at 295sf my place is tighter than a prom night virgin. However cramped it may be I lucked out by having an enormous amount of storage space. My kitchen, miniscule as it is, has two large banks of deep cabinets capable of holding spill-over from my closet. My bathroom is the same; a large cabinet under the sink and an equally respectable drawer above the loo.

But no matter how much storage one apartment has living in New York means space is at a premium and nary an inch can be wasted.


Exhibit A

Submitted into evidence for the jury’s review is Exhibit A: The Space Above The Toilet. Doesn’t it seem like such a waste of good space?


Exhibit B

The defense concurs.

“Objection,” says the prosecution, “on the grounds of installing a shelf in such small quarters seems silly.” They take a moment before adding, “Ikea doesn’t even make shelves that size!”

“Screw Ikea,” bellows the defense. They high-five each other in grand fashion.

“Strike that from the record,” orders the judge. The jury looks on.

The prosecution motions that the court recognize the holes and damage to the walls the defense will make with said shelf.

“Irrelevant,” screams the defense. “That’s why they invented spackle!”

The judge eyes the defense. Only he can say ‘irrelevant’ and he wants them to know it. So he squints. Hard.


Exhibit C

The defense is ordered to proceed with their case. In it they outline their trip to the lumber yard in Midtown, where a shop steward from Dyke’s Lumber kindly cuts the defense a piece of wood from their pile of scraps to measure because they asked so nicely. The defense also emphasizes this wood was free.

The prosecution unsuccessfully stifles their laughter. After all the defense did say “dyke” and “wood” in the same sentence and they’re only human.


Exhibit D

The defense demands the prosecution keep their cool, and they continue with their case. Although the wood was free it was still very rough. They’d like the court to recognize their efforts sanding the raw wood, first with a coarse grade then with a finer one, because it took a lot of work and their arms were tired after.

“Ninnies,” yells the prosecution!

“Eat me,” cackles the defense.


Exhibit E

The defense continues, despite being a little weirded out by the use of the word ninny.


Exhibit F

After the wood was sanded and cleaned, a generous coat of dark stain was applied to the shelf in question. The defense submits into evidence a foam brush to show the court they know what they’re doing. Only a jerk would use a bristle brush for this kind of work. The defense not so coyly looks over at the prosecution. The prosecution is too busy deducting the amount from the security deposit of the soon-to-be botched shelf installation and they miss the accusatory stare.The defense asks to approach the bench.

“What is it,” the judge says, annoyed. The defense admits this next part is a little shady, but since the weather was bad they had no other choice. The shelf had to be spray painted and it had to be done in the bathtub.

The prosecution catches wind of their whispers and screeches, “Mistrial!”

The judge looks down his glasses at the prosecution and tells them to shut their talk boxes.

The defense assures the jury a window was open and that as long as they weren’t huffing from the can it’s all gravy. The jury cringes at the phrase ‘it’s all gravy’ but seems to be OK with their explanation.


Exhibit G

Nearing the end, the defense mounts their final push. At $4.99 a bracket this shelf has racked up the infinitesimal debt of 10 bucks. Whatever their peers must be thinking they can’t deny the value of a shelf that cheap.

The jury is slack jawed.


Exhibit H

Submitting their last piece of evidence, the defense begins their closing argument.

“BOO-YAH!” They pick up a microphone–from where no one knows–and drop it on the floor, walking out of the courtroom and letting those little saloon door thingies sway to and fro behind them.

The prosecution doesn’t know what to say.


Exhibit I

One by one the jury stands and slow claps.

The bailiff, who should really just stand there and say nothing, takes a look at the final piece of evidence and says, “WHAAAAAAAAAA.” Most people in the courtroom take this to mean he’s impressed, though with the bailiff you never really know.

The judge bangs his gavel. The prosecution bangs their heads,


Exhibit J