Stacker

(Images courtesy of StreetFSN)

Currently vibing a wrist full of sparkly, stacked trinkets.

#FatBitchProblems

Back when we first met (if one can even remember so far back) we divulged our undying love for dirt-cheap, authentic Mexican food in the form of Mi Viejo Pueblito. In addition to spreading this obsession all over the internet, there is not a single member of our posse who has not dined there (strong arming was only implemented twice). Fearful of having too much of a good thing, we took a brief hiatus, allowing our cravings to truly grow. During this separation, a friend informed us that MVP was under new ownership (?!) and had undergone a name change (?!?!). Unaware of the awesomness of the first iteration, he gave the place high marks (which were likely swayed by the BYOB status). 

Fast forward to this past Saturday night when we made our long awaited trip ''home''. Upon our initial observation, not much had changed. Same sunny exterior, intoxicating smells wafting through the front door, and a wonderful handwritten BYOB sign. Situated at a nice corner table equipped to handle our party of 10, we dove into the menu. Despite the absence of a few dishes, it seemed pretty unscathed. Another sigh of relief. The first plate to arrive at our table was a hefty portion of bright green guacamole. Going in for the first bite, we noticed something odd. The chips. The fresh from the fryer, hot, salty tortilla chips that we have come to expect had been replaced with some straight from the bag Tostitos shit. WTF? And it only got worse from there.

Although everybody's food was hot and palatable, there was nothing exceptional about any of it. Chicken Enchiladas were completely overwhelmed by quarter inch thick corn tortillas and enough mole to overflow a bathtub. Tamales so void of anything but dense, dry masa that they could sink a boat. To be fair, our feelings of devastation were not shared by all. Some of our party ohh-ed and ahh-ed with every bite. Some people enjoy bland food. Au revoir, Mi Viejo Pueblito (we don't care to remember your new epithet). And so, the search for Baltimore's perfect Mexican spot continues....

Starch Raving Mad

(Images courtesy of The Inspired Bride)

While we have done our fair share of entertaining and ''table-scaping'' the past few weeks, none of our accomplishments even compare to this bomb-ass spud bar. This fabulously decorated spread includes every variety of delicious potato treat conceivable; mashed, baked, tots, fries, and wedges. Not to mention enough topping and dipping options to seduce anyone into the sweetest of starch comas. They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so prepare to be flattered super soon, spud bar.

Take Me Back

(Image courtesy of this site)

Happy opening day, Baltimore.

Under the Overpass

FINALLY.

The farmers market opened yesterday and we couldn't be happier. To ensure an early Sunday wake-up, we had an unusually low-key Saturday night and awoke shockingly refreshed and ready to buy some shit. Since the market opened a full month earlier than usual, the stands were a little sparse. We noticed an influx of "art" (and underwear) dealers along the perimeter, as well as a concrete field of hula hoops and variously-aged hip thrusters. Once we got past the hullabaloo, we bee-lined to the chicken kebab stand, strolled past our favorite Mexican food spot, bought armloads of Boston Lettuce and grabbed a few (half gallons) of fresh chocolate milk.

Even though the produce and snacks are incredible, the best part of the market is running into friends underneath of the high way. The combination of getting your voice heard over the crowd and roaring cars above while jumping around trying to avoid people on roller blades (saw two this weekend) and the hipster parents who apparently made a southern turn out of Park Slope and found themselves in Baltimore is too fun. The catching up with friends part is fun too.

Welcome back, Spring.

Drink Your Juice, Hov.

 

Coolest dork on the internet.

You Light Up My Life

(Image courtesy of Apartment Therapy)

With the help of the glamorous Tupperware recycling bin taking residence in the middle of our kitchen, we feel as though we do our part to keep our cities' shit in order. We'll even pick up the occasional Colt 45 can that finds it's way onto our sidewalk. But this Apartment Therapy tutorial takes conserving to a whole new level. For about $5 and an old light bulb, you can craft yourself an adorable bud vase. Recycled malt liquor containers could work too but they won't look nearly as fabulous.