Happy Friday, all of you beautiful butterflies. How was everyone’s week? I am happy to report that I made it through seven straight days without spilling ANYTHING on my clothing. A new record for sure.
That said, a friend of mine informed me that she dropped a meatball down the front of her top and the first thing she thought of was not how she was going to get the stain out or whether or not the meatball was still edible but ME. My life is complete. Blogs (and you know, personal writing in general) are such a weird thing and it’s not unusual to question what exactly you hope to get out of this exercise in narcissism and I realize now, that is just what I want: to be the first thing on anyone’s mind when they spill food on themselves.
Also: to have a movie made about my life.
Just two simple, realistic goals.
My week was a little meh, I must be honest. I’ve been struck by severe seasonal allergies/ a spring cold and my head has been beyond stuffed up. I feel like I’m supporting a bowling ball on my neck and am totally fuzzy and lethargic and having a difficult time focusing, none of which is made much better by the Zyrtec I keep slamming, which just adds to my general air of complete confusion. So if I’m even loopier today than usual, forgive me. Between mother nature and allergy pills, I’m high as a kite.
ALSO, breaking news, I might have to take back what I juuuuust wrote four second ago about not spilling, because literally as I sat here typing this dumb post, our mail guy came in to give me a package and in reaching for the package I knocked a mug of tea all over my desk including my calendar and work notebook. Live from New York, I’m makin’ a mess!
So…Days Without Spills:
It’s a rough life over here. Why don’t we see what else was keeping it awkward this week:
On Monday I was riding down for lunch, standing in the back corner of the elevator, just totally spacing out. I guess I zoned so far out that we reached the ground floor and everyone else exited, leaving me just standing there staring into space. I came to and found myself facing a group of women staring at me curiously, debating whether they should just get on the elevator or say something to me or I don’t know, check my pulse to see if it was dead.
I said “Oh geez, whoops!” and gave a THUMBS UP to the crowd of onlookers and then ran away.
Also, this just happened: I needed a photo of said elevator, so I went out into the elevator bank on my floor and surreptitiously snapped an image of a closed elevator door with my phone, and was going to just turn around and go right back in, but then decided I should make it look like I was doing something normal, in case the receptionist was watching me (she wasn’t), so I boarded the next elevator to arrive – there was one other passenger, a guy, aboard – got to the lobby, exited, stopped and made a whole scene of patting my pocket and said “oh, no, I forgot my wallet” to the other passenger slash thin air, but I needed to make the whole scene look realistic in case anyone was wondering what I was up to (again, no one was), then got back into an empty elevator, rode it up four floors and took this selfie on the way up.
NORMAL STUFF. Workin’ hard.
Also: It’s hard to view in this image but I am straight rocking this mint green zip up hoodie that I have had since 2001 and is now covered in weird rips and stains. I brought it into work to wear to the gym but instead left on the back of my chair and now have been wearing every single time I feel cold, which is every day. So, yes, today happens to be casual Friday and I happen to be wearing a highly professional flannel, but even days when I’m looking corporate chic, I end up covering it all with a ripped sweatshirt.
Employee of the Century.
I got them at Urban Outfitters a few years ago and never ever wear them and this week was like hey! these shoes! who do I never wear them? And so I wore them…and remembered why. They’re cheaply made and feel it – the soles are terribly thin and offer no support, so I added an insole. Except the insole makes my foot stand too high in the shoe, so I can’t walk without them falling off of my feet.
I lost them walking down the hallway at work. Coming up the subway stairs (ew). Crossing the street to get home.
You’d think I might have switched out for one of the five pairs of shoes still under my desk, but unfortch that idea did not occur to me until right now. Too late.
If anyone wants a pair of crap flats that look cute when standing still but are 147% impossible to move in: they’re alllll yours.
Some night over the weekend I was going to meet a friend and wanted a slim book so I could read on the subway without having to lug around anything too heavy at the bar, so I tossed The Great Gatsby in my purse, figuring I’d been meaning to re-read it anyway, and would be all caught up just in time for the movie, so I could fully engage in any highfalutin debates about why the book was better or how the themes didn’t translate to big screen or how Baz Luhrman really missed the mark on using 3-D to engage viewers with the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg or whateverrr.
I forgot how much I love that book. What a great read!
Also, I realized on the subway mid-week that in addition to reading TGG I was carrying around my Gatsby tote bag (which I won as a door prize at a work event, booyah), basically looking like some kind of F. Scott Fitzgerald Super Fan slash Super Huge Nerd slash incredibly fashion-forward literary type who matches all of her accessories to her novel. I’ll go with the last one.
I guar-an-teeee you there is at least one weirdo working in publishing who does/could, in fact, pull off this nerdalicious fashion trend. I aspire to be that person.
This Sidewalk Crack:
Did I trip on it this morning? Yes.
Did I fall and rip my jeans? Blessedly, no.
Did anyone see? Tons.
Did one of the witnesses say “Be careful and god bless you on your journey today”? You betcha.
Because it is gorgeous and possibly the cause of my cotton head and also smells like semen.
You heard me! These beautiful trees blossom all over NYC and the first spring I was dating Brian, he pointed out how smelly they were and told me how he & his buddies always said they smelled like sperm.
To which I turned up my prim nose and said ‘you, sir, are an immature boar” and pranced away. Just kidding, I laughed and laughed and LAUGHED because I, too, am an immature boar and how funny is the word semen? tee hee!
Also, tis’ true, these trees do reek of man juice. (Just, no one question how I know that.) (Sorry mom!) Now every spring, we walk around and remark “my my, what a beautiful semen scented morning!” or “Spring and sperm are in the air!” and oh, how we chuckle.
It’s pretty sophisticated humor, you guys, keep up!
Sooo, with jizz in the air, maybe it’s a good thing I can’t smell this week?!
Well, one of his real-life, much more disgusting counter parts, but I didn’t want to put a real photo of a real cockroach on le blog because ew.
So Tuesday morning I was at Brian’s house, he was in the shower and I was sitting on the couch in my towel, drinking my tea and reading the internet when I noticed a movement on the floor beside me and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a GIGANTIC COCKROACH scuttling all around the living room floor like he owned the damn place.
Now, allow me to make a momentary disclaimer lest you think Brian is some gross bug infested monster person, he is actually quite clean and if I do say so myself, adorable. But this is New York, the grossest city in the whole world and bugs (and rodents, yech) are basically housepets ’round here.
All of which might make you think I’d be unafraid of them, but you would be incorrect in that assumption. Apparently I am a squealy, squeamish, pathetic little girl for when I saw Old Roach Face, I immediately pulled my legs up on the couch and just started yelling “BRIAN! BRIAN!” but he didn’t hear me over the noise of the shower. I thought about throwing something at it, but the only things within my reach were a drinking glass and Biran’s work-issued laptop, neither of which seemed like good options.
So I just sat there like a baby and watched as the dumb bastard crawled around the floor and eventually underneath the coffee table, presumably into the running shoes stored under there, where he would live forever and lay eggs and mutate into a colony of one million killer cockroaches.
Brian got out of the shower and talked me off the ledge and I managed to muster up the courage to get off the couch and sprint over to the bed, where my clothes were tossed, so I could get dressed for the day. I had no sooner dropped my towel when this jerk of a roach came zipping out from under the coffee table, across the floor right next to me. Real impressive timing, perv, right when I was undressed!
I lept up onto the bed and stood there completely naked as the day I was born just flipping out. “Brian! Brian! He’s back! He’s going into your closet! He’s touching your belts!!” Brian bravely and calmly threw a giant math textbook (of course) at the beast and it didn’t kill him, but did seem to scare him into the deep recesses of the closet, where he has not been seen or heard from again.
It was horrific.
Not so much the bug, but my behavior. When did I become, like, Gloria from Modern Family? Not in va-va-voomishness, of course, but in shrill hysteria? I live in a dirty city and have encountered skads of creepies and crawlies in my day and will likely encounter many more in my future and yet this one bug sent me flying into a butt-naked freak out.
Quite the scene, my friends. Quite the scene.
I will do my best to work on my bug bravery, but I can’t make any promises. Yuck, yuck, YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKY.
And on that note, the end! What a week, guys. I have already had four cups of tea this morning, to flush out this cold, and my head remains stuffed but I’m running to the ladies room ever 20 minutes. Can you pee out a cold? Is that a thing? Starve a fever, pee out a cold?
Oy yoy yoy. Enough.
Everyone, I hope your weekend is full of semen blossoms and empty of bugs and a delight from start to finish.
xoxo Liz Ho