The Hanger-Tangle and How It Took Over My Closet.

or, How I was almost featured on Hoarders…..

Click here for a photo that is awesome and applicable but stupid wordpress wont put it in my stupid blog post. Talk about first world problems. 

I moved into my current apartment back in June. It’s fine, nothing too special (except for the connected bathroom which makes me the happiest person in the whole world – I constantly get undressed to shower before I realize there are no towels in the bathroom, so it’s nice to have that extra privacy).

The house I lived in before had a tiny closet. TINY, tiny. It was sad, but I eventually adapted…in time to move again.

The closet in my current apartment is by no means huge, but is much, much larger than what I had previously. When I moved in and begin the torturous process of unpacking, I discovered that the previous tenant left behind clothes hangers.

I KNOW, you are probably thinking “Score! I never have enough clothes hangers!!” Wrong. Wrong, wrong. There were so many hangers hanging on the rods that there was no room for mine. Since I was drunk on champagne (how do you unpack?), I decided that I needed to keep all the hangers, you know, just in case my closet doubles in size. YOU NEVER KNOW! I also had grandiose thoughts of buying a freestanding clothing rack (I don’t have space for that nonsense). Going against logic, I decided to pack up all of my hangers and about half of the hangers in the closet into a large trash bag.

I then had a massive, awkward bag of hangers….and no place to put it. Closet floor it was!

The bag was fine for a few weeks and somehow the bag sprung a leak. Before I knew it, the hangers had breached their packaging and created a massive hanger-tangle on my closet floor.

I really did try to stop the hanger-tangle before it got out of hand, but I would pick up one hanger and the whole hanger-tangle would come at me. So, I did the next best thing: ignored it and more drank champagne.

The hanger-tangle prevented me from actually going into my closet because if I stepped on the hanger-tangle I would be acknowledging its existence….also I might not make it back out (Cause of death:  Hanger-Tangle-Strangulation. Also, cat ate her face off.) I would have to precariously lean in and out to hang clothes up or find something to wear (whatever, I’m used to being awkward). If I dropped something and wasn’t able to catch it mid-fall, it was gone. A silk shirt slipped through my fingers? Gone, the hanger-tangle had it now. Shoes? No, I don’t have any shoes in here, the hanger-tangle does though.

The hanger-tangle had completely taken over my closet and I didn’t know what to do. I stopped hanging things in my closet. My shoes lived scattered all over the place (okay, that has nothing to do with the hanger-tangle). The elephant in the room had gotten so big that there was only one logical thing that I could do. I closed my closet door never to be opened again.


Sunday, February 19, 2012  03:35am

I decided to reopen the hive my closet and see what had gone wrong. My worst fear was that the hanger-tangle would have multiplied and maybe even become self-aware??!? I went in (don’t freak out, I brought Cat with me as backup. Besides, if I was going to die in there, I didn’t want her to starve.) and was pleasantly surprised to find that the hanger-tangle had not gotten any larger, but it was still incredibly daunting.

I untangled my clothes. I untangled my shoes. I untangled my bags. I untangled those hangers.

And then, I did what I should have done on my first day there, what I should have done when the trash bag broke, what I should have done when I sealed off my closet.


I threw away 2 whole bags of plastic hangers.

I no longer have a hanger-tangle in my closet. More importantly, I no longer have to worry about maybe having to explain what the fuck a hanger-tangle is doing in my closet.


Here are some life-flaws you may have picked up on:

– I drink too much champagne (I don’t really…I drink too much of ALL alcohol, it’s being given up for lent)

– I don’t like to deal with hanger-tangles (problems) in life

– I’m the opposite of organized (well, WAS, my closet is awesome right now)

– I do my spring cleaning between 11pm and 5am on Saturday nights.

– Yes, my cat and I are single….how’d you know?


Juicing makes me sad.

Since I am a crazy person, it makes perfect sense that I decided to do a juice fast. Fat Sick and Nearly Dead – watch it, it’s absolutely worth your time. If you are anything like me, be careful. You may promptly decide to buy a juicer and fast.

I love my little juicer. He is cute and small and I feel like he needs my love. (I predict him breaking in under a month, I like it rough with my appliances.)

Anyway, screw juice.

Juice is nice every once in a while and is a wonderful way to make sure you get multiple servings of fruits and veggies.  It is however STUPID when it’s all you get to “eat.” Stupid.

Last night, I needed to stop buy the grocery store to buy more beets** and I had to walk right past the chicken strips. I FUCKING LOVE CHICKEN STRIPS!! (<— hey, maybe one of the reasons why I am a fatass????) And furthermore, it is stupid Bagel-Day in the office. Stupidstupidstupid.

This is extra hard because I don’t have anyone else to blame for my misery. This is all my doing. I really like blaming other people for my problems, it makes me feel good.

So, whatever, I’m sad but I’ll be healthy. Ugh.


** Beets make my urine super red. It is disturbing and weird. TMI – you’re welcome.

Almond Milk

Holy balls. I am never drinking regular milk ever again*.

It’s healthy and delicious and I love it!




* Does not apply to baking. I am more than happy to make my friends fat. xoxo

I guess I forgot I had a blog….

Here are some things and stuff:


Gougères that my oven cooked too hard, finally decided it was time to buy an oven thermom.


J got me a signed Paula Deen book!


And then I bought ALL the butter.


Thanksgiving fondant cornucopia – in progress.


Thanksgiving fondant cornucopia -finished!


Thanksgiving fondant cornucopia -In action on top of a coconut cake.


Christmas tree prep


Finished tree


These helped me quit smoking, its complicated to explain.


Christmas cookies!


BFF Christmas cinnamon rolls.

Peppermint bark!


I Love Sriracha corn bread muffins


HEY-O! I am so super healthy now cause I joined the gym!


SEE? See how healthy I am!?




The worst pain I have ever felt.

I take a lot of precautions to avoid hurting myself because I am a wimpy little princess.  The kitchen is the only place that seems to not care that I am super sensitive.  I don’t mind the nicks, cuts, singes, etc because whatever I’m making is usually worth it.  Although, that one time I nearly julienned my finger on my new mandolin was pretty brutal.

Sunday, I got to experience a whole new level of pain – YAY!  Melted sugar.  (back story: I keep most of my baking supplies in the freezer because Ants.)  I took out my brown sugar and popped it into the microwave for 20 seconds.  I opened the door and grabbed the bag out.  I blame the microwave entirely for this, because it shouldnt have had this reaction – the bottom of the bag had melted and the sugar had liquified.  Being the generally obvious ditz that I am, I didn’t notice this until the molten sugar oozed out of the bag and onto my hand.  We’re going to slow this down:

Seconds 1 – 5: Stare at hand/bag blankly….wtf?

Seconds 6-7: Scream absolute bloody murder

Seconds 8-9: Fling bag across kitchen, stare at hand – do not stop screaming

Seconds 10-11: Run to sink and run hand under water, whimper loudly.

I put my hand in a bowl of cold water and then took the most logical step – I called mommy.

This is my hand right after the incident:

I iced it for over and hour, but it still hurt HORRIBLY.

And then…..this son of a bitch started to form:

Annnnnd here’s my new little friend fully grown:

It’s gross and I can’t bend my middle finger at all (mostly for fear of breakage/ooze).

After the incident I decided to look at the internet to see if there was anyone else as retarded as myself.  People burn themselves on sugar ALL THE TIME.

Because I can sit and google things for hours, my searches turned to croquembouche (A tower of pastry heaven glued and topped with melted sugar).  I think I should conquer my new fear of sugar by making one of these beasts. You know, when my hand heals.

The picture at the top is what I was making when the incident occurred. Crockpot BBQ pulled pork on pumpkin dinner rolls.


This post has been sitting here for about a week and a half.  The blister went away and my wound was bright red and deathly looking:

^^^Not pictured: How much it fucking hurt.

Its kinda scabby and gross right now. I better have a neat scar after all of this.



[Insert something witty, funny and perhaps inspirational here]

I write myself these little shopping lists while I am at work.  Ten times out of ten I forget them on my desk.  Which means that tonight I will probably forget the flour (seriously, I’ve forgotten it no less than 6 times) and buy bologna instead of bacon. ‘Cause my brain is special.  I will also probably forget that I really, REALLY want to make macaroni and cheese tonight. Frozen burritos may be in my near future.

I bought a pumpkin. I wanted to eat the pumpkin seeds, so I did. But then I felt kinda bad about my maimed pumpkin so I hacked at it and threw it outside. Yay! holidays!

I was THISCLOSE to walking precincts a couple weekends ago, unfortunately (supersadface), the plans fell through.  I made cookies in preparation for the trip and then just gave them to my office.  This was my first time playing with fondant – I LOVED IT! I am ready to cover a cake with it!

You may or may not know that I spend a lot of time dicking around on the internet. I have to do it. I need it. During one of my internet nonsense binges, I saw a thing on roasted pears. I thought “Holy crap! I want to eat that! Now!” I didn’t stop to consider that I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually eaten a pear AND I hate caramel (and caramel happens when sugar and water hang out at high temperatures.) I was undeterred (being oblivious to reality really helps with that). There was butter and sugar and vanilla – all good things.  Anyways, long story short – it was disgusting.  My roommate loved it. Things I confirmed with that experiment: I’m not into pears and I still hate caramel. I’m not putting a recipe cause I’m still bitter about it.


Puscifer is going to be in town in 26 days! Now, the $200 concert ticket may have been a tiny bit irresponsible, but it came with a wine tasting. It would be foolish to not go. FOOLISH.