Concrete's a bitch

The walls of my new place are concrete. Which is great for sound-proofing (and since my old neighbors woke me up practically every night having sex, I really APPRECIATE sound-proofing), but not so great for hanging things. My mom's one job this week: hang things. And I have to give her a big fat A for effort. I now own all kinds of random adhesives and hooks and screws...none of which actually work. Industrial strength velcro! (Maybe I'll make one of those fly walls and get a trampoline and jump up and stick myself to it.) Mortar nails! Double-stick tape! (My personal adhesive of choice...) Liquid nails! And the list goes on. I think the staff at Lowe's knows her by name at this point.

It's very much a "how many blondes does it take to screw in a painting" situation. And apparently it takes more than two: we finally gave up and hired the maintenance guy at my apt to come and drill a bunch of holes. There's a "that's what she said" joke in there somewhere...