The Coolest Kids in Town: a blog about Baltimore, DC, and the misadventures of two-city life.

Well, kids, Tex is back from her long travels , wild adventures, and mysterious rendezvous (rendevi? rendevouseses?) in the distant East. And she's brought something to share with you. You know, until recently, I wasn't big into 'furniture stores.' Why buy furniture, I asked, when fruit crates fall off the back of trucks all the time , and you hardly ever run into trouble collecting cardboard boxes ? Well, times is changed and Tex has seen the light. That light is Su Casa . As those of you who read last week already know, Coda and I entered Su Casa's Test It/Blog It/Win It contest on a tipsy   loaded   drunken completely s***faced  fun whim - never thinking we'd actually be selected to perform our jobs (blogging is a job, right ?) in exchange for goods and services, and certainly never thinking we'd actually like doing so. In fact, we showed up at the Su Casa store championship-style: a week late, a little bit drunk, and 15 minutes before clo...

Kids, gather round. Kids. Kids. KIDS.  I said   'gather round.' Jameson, Cooley, Tulla, Whinnie, Deanston, Cutty - get in here. Mummy wants you to look at something. Now then . A few weeks ago, Tex was engaging in her usual Friday night routine - slamming whiskey with state officials, cursing incompetent aurifabers , and sexually harassing off-duty astronauts - when she stumbled upon the Test It. Blog It. Win It. contest being held by furniture moguls Su Casa .  Now, drunk Tex loves contests like drunk Coda loves starting fights with Steelers fans. So naturally we entered, and will be blogging our merry little lives away for the next few weeks. (Settle down , Cooley, love - this won't affect our summer plans at all. We're still going to see your little friends play in their soccer game or whatever.) And in the interest of full disclosure (and in an effort to teach you some  semblance of good taste in home decor), we're going to share o...

You know, kids, I had thought there were certain things that we could all just leave unsaid. I had believed that Charla would raise you all well enough in my stead (obviously not as well as I would have myself, but some things simply must be sacrificed. Mummy had to work! It was tennis season , after all. And for what we're paying her - nevermind. It's no one's fault. No one's but Charla's. ). I had wrongly dreamed and hoped that our tacit understandings and silent disapproval would be enough to guide you all safely through the horrors of the world outside and into the gentle waters of polite society. I was wrong. As your Classics professor (why are you majoring in Philosophy again, darling? We're not that family,  cookie, we're simply not . I wouldn't let your sister play the oboe and I won't let you major in Philosophy), Dean, and several rather overexpressive advisors have explained to me in excruciating detail, you simply have no idea how to...