Another Awkward Week [10.101.4] – On Adulthood and Ugly Kitchens

Friday. Finally! It is Friday, right? This week has felt endless – it has essentially been a series of increasingly frustrating exercises in futility, all in pursuit of “getting my life together.”

Being a functioning adult is exhausting. And time consuming. How does anyone get anything done? I spent so much time this week just dealing with…stuff. Hours on the phone punching through automated answering service after automated answering service dealing with issues with our electricity bill, the cable company and my student loans. A visit to the dentist. Running all over lower Manhattan exploring new phone plans – after dropping my cellpiece on the sidewalk and shattering it. It looks like it’s decorated with spiderwebs – just in time for Halloween! – and every time I swipe, little glass pieces come off and get stuck to my  finger.

That can’t be healthy.

ALSO: my laptop chose this week to fully stop functioning. Like, it won’t even turn on anymore, cool beans! And we need a new mattress, which…I don’t know how to buy a mattress! What am I looking for? Why is everything so expensive?!

LIFE IS SO HARD!

I just genuinely don’t know how anybody gets anything done, ever. And! We don’t even have kids. Thinking about how stressful I found this week trying to just keep me and Brian organized and afloat, I truly don’t know how parents get anything done, ever.

And it fully cemented for me that whatever monster came up with the idea of “having it all” was smoking crack. No one can have it all! You’re crazy.

I know I can’t have it all and will probably never be a functioning adult human and that’s fine.

HAHA JUST KIDDING I will get there or die trying.

First step: painting our kitchen.

We lucked out when apartment hunting this year, finding a spacious one bedroom with lots of light and big closets (two closets! Basically a New York City unicorn) and a fancy modern shower that has various settings so you can take a regular shower or use the hand-held nozzle, OR turn on powerful jets that shoot into your neck and lower back, giving dreamy and free massages after a long day.

The one downside to our apartment is the paint. OY the paint. The apartment has three rooms – a kitchen which opens into the living room and then the bedroom. Each is a painted a different bright and vibrant color. The bedroom is blue, the living room green and the kitchen is some kind of orangey yellow, which makes me want to die inside but I’ll get to that in a moment.

My friend Mary, who grew up in Miami, came over recently and commented that the colors made her feel like home.  YES. This small apartment is painted the gaudy colors of a kitcschy Florida shopping mall. You know, the kind of outdoor tourist emporiums you’d find in Fort Meyers or Coral Gables, decked to look like some kind of vibrant island paradise where vendors hock tacky shell art and ankle bracelets and $15 ice cream cones.

Key words above not applying to our apartment would be outdoor, Florida, tropical.

The living room, I can live with. PUN! The green is fine. Whatever. The bedroom I find too bright and would prefer something a little more neutral and soothing but I don’t outright hate it and Brian loves it and apparently marriage is about compromise – even though I think the world would be a much better place if everybody just did everything I want all the time! – so we’re sticking it out.

But OH THIS KITCHEN. I hate the kitchen so, so, SO much. The orange tones blend in with the light wood cabinets and when the evening sun comes in the kitchen window the whole place glows in one horrible orange blob. The only thing brighter than these walls is the fire of hate that burns deep inside me every time I look at them.

I am a woman obsessed. Every day since we’ve moved in – all 76 of them (yes, I counted) – my hate for this ugly yellowy-orange kitchen has grown and grown and grown until it is poisoning me inside. It is all I can think about. Good days have been ruined the second I walk in the front door and find myself smacked in the face with these hideous walls. I can see into the kitchen from the couch and instead of watching TV I just sit on that couch, stare at the walls and stew.

I know, I know, I KNOW: I’m out of my mind.

These ugly walls have become almost a physical representation of all of the things I find negative or stressful in my life. They represent my inability to be assertive – they wouldn’t be orange anymore if I’d just asked the landlord to paint before we moved in…but I didn’t want to be “difficult.”  And our out-of-control busy weekends – we haven’t had TIME to paint in 76 whole days! Where does the time go? What am I achieving in this life? And they are the reason our house is a MESS – the kitchen could be organized if only we hung shelves and racks on the walls but we can’t hang anything until we paint, lo the counters are scattered with pots and pans and spices and the mess spills into the living room which spills into the bedroom and it’s all the kitchen’s fault, not mine!

Add to that the stress of marriage. Marriage is great but, as I said above, it’s a compromise. Being a partner with someone means you have to practice, you know, partnership. It’s not just YOU all the time, there’s someone else involved and you have to consider their thoughts, needs and opinions. Let’s just say I’m not the best at that.  Brian doesn’t seem to care as much about the walls as I do and I find myself getting angry with him that he doesn’t share my zealous fervor. Which isn’t fair at all. He’s been perfectly supportive of this plan and NO ONE could care as much about these walls as I do. I’m a maniac. No one has had this much single minded passion about something since Napoleon decided he needed to conquer France or wherever.

What was Napoleon’s deal again? Prussia? I should go back to high school.

I have become convinced that it is just these fugly walls standing between me and the picture-perfect adult life I know is unattainable but continue to strive for. As soon as these walls are painted our house will become a home! Constantly tidy and organized. I’ll discover a talent for interior décor that’s been hiding latent inside of me for the last 30 years. As soon as we paint this kitchen we’ll be one step close to having it all!

I know it isn’t wise to put all of your eggs in one basket – or, in this case, all of your brushes in one bucket of Valspar Candlelit Dinner (or should we go with December Starlight??) –and recognize, of course, that after we paint the kitchen we’ll still live in a frequently messy, adequately decorated, small apartment – now with light walls! – but I’ve gone too far down this path of insanity …there’s no turning back.

I’m nuts. I do know this, but this weekend, it ends. I am taking control!  (PS: remember just last week when I decreed this was the year I learn to chill out? LOLOLOL I’ll chill out just as soon as we paint this godforsaken kitchen!!!)

I’ve decided it must happen this weekend.  I refuse to get up Monday morning without the kitchen being painted. I have a plan. It involves going to Lowes twice in one day…on foot, uphill both ways, in the snow! Just kidding…it’s only uphill on the way back, at which point we’ll be carrying heavy buckets of paint. And I doubt it will snow BUT the weather does call for a 100% chance of rain so this should be a TREAT. Brian may divorce me and I’ll certainly cry at least fourteen times but none of that will matter when I’m sipping coffee in the comfort of my fresh, neutral, not orange kitchen, HAVING. IT. ALL.

Wish us luck? Come over and help us?

Here are some photos of our kitchen as it currently stands, just to illustrate this tale of madness. I’m not wild about that light fixture either but…one issue at a time, Hobag.

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I still haven’t decided exactly what color we want to do but definitely something pretty neutral, to offset the Tropicana Café feeling of the rest of this joint. The problem is, there are so many different shades of white. In my next life I want to be the person who comes up with names for paint colors. They’re so hilariously evocative. Apricot Haze! Snowy Dusk! Sweet Slumber!

Valspar weirdly has a whole line of paints named after Woodrow Wilson. Woodrow Wilson Presidential White…Woodrow Wilson Putty. Now there’s a sexy paint name. Why Woodrow Wilson?! Was he known for his interest in tastefully neutral interior décor? Did he start out as a house painter?

Obviously I don’t know a thing about Woodrow Wilson…I don’t even remember where Napoleon lived.

ANYWAY that’s what I’ll be up to this weekend, just in case anyone was curious which, surely they were not.

What are your plans? Coming to my house and painting??? Buying me a new laptop? Balancing our family budget? Basically I’m just trying to convince someone to be my free Personal Adulthood Assistant. I will pay you in JOKES!

Happy weekend, kittens!!!

xoxo Woodrow Wilson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Another Awkward Week [10.3.14]

Well, well, welll! What do we have here? Bet you didn’t expect to see me ’round these parts after Monday’s big manifesto. But just goes to show how surprising life can be. Sometimes you don’t feel like blogging and then life throws a dildo at your feet and suddenly you’re full of inspiration.

Oh, that’s not a gross metaphor. Just a true anecdote from the disgusting metropolis I call home.

WARNING!

NSFLife!

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I spotted this um, big boy, on my commute home the other night, just laying on the dirty grate outside of my subway stop, directly next to the artisinal pickle stand.

That’s also not a metaphor, they really sell real pickles.

I spotted it out of the corner of my eye and kept walking past and then the second my brain registered “that’s what you think it is!!!” I screeched to a halt and whipped out my camera faster than you could yell “stray weiner!” and the pickle sales guy saw me and was like “oh hey did you drop something” and I was like “oh yeah!” and he may have been vaguely sexually harassing me but the whole thing was just too surreal for me to get my #yesallwomen hat out so I just laughed and ran away.

WHAT A WEIRD GROSS DIRTY CITY THIS IS!!

Also so sad for whoever dropped this 😦

This is the second best piece of sexual paraphernalia I found on the streets of this town, the first being an unmarked DVD case, inside of which was a disc labeled “Grandpa and the Shemales” which my friends and I found late late laaate one night leaving a bar back when we were young and cool and stayed out until 4 AM. We took this dirty porno out of the gutter (whyyy?) and went home and popped the disc into the DVD player (kids, this is what people used before Netflix was invented) and made it about three point eight seconds before turning it off in horror. Even in a fuzzy stupor of a million Miller Lights or whatever it was we consumed back in our youth, this video was TOO MUCH. Just too much. Basically a greatest hists compilation of all the most perverse perversities you can think of. Actually if you can think of the things that we saw on this DVD I don’t even want to know you because you are DIRTAY. Normally I’d be like “whatever floats your boat!” but even my alleged open-mindedness has it’s limits and maybe sometimes DON’T FLOAT YOUR BOAT, you boat should sink,  you freaky DEAK.

Obviously I still own this DVD and, though I find it utterly grotesque and dirty on literally every level from the physical -it did come from the gutter, after all – to the psychological, it is my most treasured possession and I have now moved it with me to three separate apartments.

Perhaps I am the freaky deak?

PERHAPS!

I did, however, leave the errant dildo laying on the street, don’t worry.

I really hope my mom’s reading this now. She must be SO PROUD.

To cleanse your palate, here is a story totally free of dildos. At least to my knowledge – you never know what weird stuff people are up to.

Star of the story: This Cup

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I am obsessed with hydration to a level bordering on insane. I always drink at least the recommended 64-oz of H2O per day if not much more. I never leave home without a water bottle and at work, am constantly filling and chugging and re-filling this big sippy cup. I remember in high school the field hockey coach was kind of scary – I didn’t play field hockey, I lack the hand-eye skills – but there was this rumor (or real story? Who remembers these things!) going around that she wanted the girls on the team to stay hydrated so she would check the color of their pee at the end of the day and if it wasn’t totally clear, she’d yell at them.

Did I make this up? What a weird thing to make up, but even weirder, I guess if it is true. Anyway that was the first time I learned about visible signs of dehydration and have been totally obsessed with the color of my urine ever since and get way stressed if my pee isn’t clear.

Why on EARTH do I feel like this is an appropriate fact to unleash on the world the world? I need help. I am clearly subscribing to the Lena Dunham school of over-sharing.

I am the voice and clear pee of my generation!

Good lord, Liz.

ANYWAY, the other day I went to fill up my water for probably the eighty-fifth time. The office water cooler is right inside the entry to our little kitchenette,  so usually there’s a bit of a jam up to get to the microwave or the fridge or whatever. As I was filling my water, a young gentleman colleague I’d never seen before was reheating something in the mikey. I filled my cup, set it down on top of the water cooler, idly screwed on the lid and made the major rookie mistake of picking it up by said lid.

Big mistake. HUGE.

I must not have screwed it on tightly enough because suddenly all I had in my hand was the lid, the cup flew to the floor and water was EVERYWHERE.

I am not joking. It remains the greatest mystery of science to me how liquid can seem so small when in a cup but when spilled, appears to grow by a billion gallons. I had water on my pants, on my shoes, it was all over the water cooler, the floor…the rando young man heating up his leftover Chinese food.

Instead of being mad, he seemed deeply concerned for my safety, probably because instead of just calmly reacting like a normal human, I loudly gawped and yelped and flung my gangly arms all over the place and generally made a scene.

Oy yoy YOY.

I then went into the bathroom to dry off and ran into two colleagues at the sinks. I recounted the story and the first response outta both of them was “THAT’S going on the blog” because I am a cliche of myself at this point.

WOW this whole post just makes me sound like a raving madwoman. Owning it. Thirty and Flirty and Oversharing About Pee and Dildos. All Day. Errryday.

Have a GREAT weekend, you guys!! What are you up to? We’re going to an Indian engagement party out in NJ to visit Brian’s parents (ugh, the inlaws. Am I right, folks?! Whackawhacka) and also attend an Indian engagement ceremony which means I get to wear my sari again! Holla!

Peace, Love and Hydration,

Liz Ho

 

Another Awkward Week [9.19.14]

Oh mylanta. Is Friday finally here?! This was my first full five day week since Memorial Day – we get half day Fridays during the summer (I know, I know, I’ll never complain about my job again), then it was Labor Day, then we did some travelling and I don’t know what it is about this oneee extra day of work but I am struggling.

Woof.

Case in point: I just wrote a whole blog post about my week but only one of the stories was even remotely funny so I deleted the rest. Excellent use of my work time, methinks.

What’s the winning story that was keeping it awkward this week?

These Shoes:

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I’ve mentioned before that I have a bad habit of sitting pretzel style at my desk. This causes the foot under my behind to fall asleep, so when I get up to go to the printer – or, more likely, the vending machine – I have a hard time walking and occasionally stumble.

Wa-hellll. This week I was rocking these sassy tall wedges like a boss bitch and also eating canned lentil soup like a cheap lazy person and also sitting full pretzel like a Liz Hobag. I finished my soup (meh) and got up to bring my dishes to the kitchen and my left foot was in full REM sleep. I walked out of my office, turned towards the kitchen, attempted to put weight on my left leg but the combo of sleep tingles + 4 inch wedges was too lethal and I bit it.

Like…fully fell down, to the ground, sprawled on the floor,lunch dishes scattering…including a paring knife which nearly impaled me…bit it.

One colleague ran out of his office to see if I was OK.

Another, who knows me better just laughed at my plight.

“Did you actually just fall down?” she asked, as I lay on the floor.

SHO DID.

It was quite the scene, guys.

I have also apparently learned zero lessons as I currently sit here typing with one wedge encased foot pretzelled up under my buns of steel.

Bets on how long I go before I faceplant on the carpet again? I’m hoping I can make it a full week but that might be too bold a goal.

THE END.

Cool story, bro. I know! I’ll do better next week, I swickety swear. Now I must go hide in my office and speed-read 100 pages of our office book club book before our meeting at noon today. Wish me luck!

And how was YOUR week? Long? Short? Sexy? Delightful? Perplexed? Obtuse? Any other cool adjectives I can’t think of at the moment? Do tell!

xoxo Liz Ho

PS – on a more serious and personal note, an uncle of mine passed away last weekend and his services are being held this morning. I wasn’t able to make the trip to be there, but my mind is in PA. If you wouldn’t mind turning your thoughts there as well for a brief moment to send a little love & care to my aunt and family, I’d surely appreciate it.

 

Another Awkward Week [9.12.14]

Hiii guys! What’s up?! Guess where I am?! MAINE! Pretty cool stuff, huh? I posted this from my cellular phone because I am a hip millennial. I know what’s up.

JK I don’t have a clue. But it’s OK because I’m turning 30 in TWO DAYS so I don’t need to worry anymore about technology and apps and twerking and any of that young people stuff. I’m officially and oldster and THANK GOD. I’ve been patiently awaiting the day when I could start unironically wearing holiday themed sweater sets and listening to Joni Mitchell all day and my time is almost here. BOOM. But enough about my impending old age for the moment…I have some deeper thoughts to share on that next week.

Do try not to die of anticipation in the meantime.

Ok enough jibberbabber, these lobster rolls aren’t going to eat themselves. Let us all gather round, join hands and take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week.

 

This Chocolate Fountain:

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HOLY YUM.

We went to a wedding last weekend (and are attending another tomorrow!) and they had so much amazing food, I honestly think I gained 14 lbs before the day was through. hashtag worth it. hashtag bigtime.

One of the highlights of the evening was the chocolate fountain and then another highlight was watching me try to scrub chocolate out of my dress.

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Oh did I mention the dress was borrowed?! 

Sorry, Mary! I love you!

Don’t worry, I took it to get dry-cleaned.

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The cleaner was super impressed with my spillage skillz. In addition to the obvious chocolate stain, there was another lighter blob running down the front of the skirt.

“What’s this?” He asked. “Water stain?”

“WATER?!” I chortled. “OH that, good sir, is wine.”

You literally can not take me anywhere.

#literally

This Cup:

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Guys, I went to get an iced coffee yesterday morning and when I tried to put my straw in the lid it had no straw hole!! WHAT! So I went to the counter to ask for another lid and she exasperatedly told me those were the only lids they had.

Like I was the obnoxious moron asking for a lid with a straw hole.

Am I living in an alternate reality? Are we no longer doing straw holes? Out of trend for Fall 2014?

Help me.

This Finger:

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Good news is the knife set we received as a wedding gift is S-H-A-R-P!

Bad news is I’m a spaz and now missing a large chunk out of the top of my finger.

Oucherson.

I was rushing around to get dinner on the table because despite my protestations to the contrary last week, I do NOT know how to go with the flow and was having a light about how it was Sunday night and I needed to eat a healthy dinner and it was already 8 PM and I need to go to bed at 9 PM and there’s so much to DOOO and slice: right into my fingie. It hurt so much! And bled all over the place.

Lesson learned: CHILL OUT.

JK but I’m working on it.

Also thank GAWD this happened after the wedding, seeing as how it’s my ring finger. Would have looked real cute.

Some women like to draw further attention to their engagement/wedding ring fingers by adding a little gems or designs to that finger nail (I like to judge these women because come on, girls, you already have a ring…we get it) but I’m taking it a fun, sassy step further by accessorizing with a gaping wound and huge bandage.

Now THAT is what’s Hot for Fall 2014.

This Shirt:

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Photo taken on a different day…same week…as the photo above. I think I need to spice up my wardrobe.

This shirt unbuttons really easily around the booble region. It’s not a huge deal, it is barely noticeable and usually I catch it but apparently not always. The other  morning I came up out of the subway lugging my big bag, walked a few feet and caught the eye of a woman and thought she was smiling at me so I smiled back and then I realized she was actually silently mouthing something at me.

I focused.

“Youuurrrrr braaaaa” her mouth said, soundlessly.

I looked down and sure enough, my entire left boob was hanging out.  And I mean all of it. OUT.

The shirt had not only unbuttoned but fallen fully open and the whole thing was out there for the world to see.

Luckily the actual boob itself was still covered…but by THE most sensible nude bra imaginable so…maybe worse?

Oy yoy yoy! Happy Morning, New York.

This Hot Look:

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OH YES the laundry backpack still lives! I decided to multitask the other night by getting happy hour beers with a pal whilst simultaneously doing laundry at the laundromat across the street, which resulted in this SEXXXXYYYY look of me sipping IPA’s with my laundry backpack strapped high and proud.

2 KEWL!

And that was my week! If you would like to read more about awkwardness, someone wrote a hella long, boring, overly introspective article about it for the New Yorker this week. Apparently people enjoy awkward humor because we live in a post 9-11 world and something about our parents never teaching us about sex? Or something? I don’t know. I couldn’t get through it. A little too intellectual for my taste but maybe you’ll enjoy it?

You snob!

Just kidding. Have a fabbo weekend, my chicklets. Any fun plans?!

xoxoox 29 YEAR OLD LIZ LIVE FROM MAINE!!!

Another Awkward Week [9.5.14]

Hi guys!!! TGIF! Except I forgot it was F because of the FDW!

(Four Day Week)

But now it is the weekend and we can part-ay! H!

(Hooray!)

Acronyms don’t always work, do they?

Actually I kind of forgot it was Friday because I seem to have lost complete track of what day it is, where I am, what is going on. After travelling for the wedding (I just got married! NEVER FORGET!), Fire Island and Labor Day I am having a hard time getting back onto a normal routine. And life will continue to be nutty for the next few weeks. Tomorrow we’re going to New Jersey for a wedding for someone else, which people tell me means I’m not the one walking down the aisle? I don’t really understand what that means…I’m not the bride and center of attention? WHAT?!

I may need to be restrained.

J to the K – congratulations Kathryn & Mike! Can’t wait to celebrate!

And then next weekend we’re going to Maine for one day and then New Hampshire for another wedding (bitches be really committed to stealing my thunder) and thennn it is my 30th Birthday! Old lady alert. And then it is Brian’s 30th Birthday the weekend after! (I’m a cougar.) So basically my life will continue to be kind of crazy for the next few weeks and I have decided I am ok with this. Normally this would stress me out, because I like clear cut routines and schedules but I am “going with the flow.” That’s a thing right? I am just going to be “casual” and “fun” and keep drinking too much and eating crap and not worry about the gym and do my best at work and not have a heart attack if I don’t get my meal plan written out by Sunday night and (gasp!) don’t know what I’m eating every meal every day and maybe even stay up past 10 PM on weeknights (!!!) and just go with the flow.

It’s happening!

As a result of this, I’m not super organized for my usual recap but here are a few things that defined my week:

Marriage:

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We’ve been married for a mere 21 days (traditional 21 Day Anniversary gift is over sharing about your personal life on the internet) and are already fulfilling so many Married Couple cliches. Por ejemplo:

  • Last weekend we went bowling with another couple Saturday night and then Sunday…we went to Lowes.
  • Foregoing intercourse because “it’s just too hot out to try.”
  • Calling it “intercourse.”
  • JK I always call it that, it’s hilarious.
  • The other night when Brian was in one room doing his Fantasy Football draft and I was in the other room vacuuming and looking at Pinterest.
  • “Babe, I appreciate that you did the dishes and hate to be a nag, but how many times do I have to tell you, if you just stack the bowls like that they won’t dry!”

We are basically the living version of Everybody Loves Raymond. HELP!

Fantasy Football: 

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Speaking of Fantasy Football! In addition to the league he was drafting for while I was wifeing it up in the other room, Brian does a league with his high school friends, which I have played in for the past few years. It’s too hard to get everyone together to draft so we do an Auto Draft, which is where the computer just picks teams for you. It’s not ideal but I usually finish in the top 3 so I’m all aboard.

UNTIL this year! After the draft, I went to Yahoo to check my team and saw they had a “Draft Report Card” and I’d gotten a B.

A B??? But, I’m a straight A student! What is this, 11th Grade Math? (Actually, if it was 11th Grade Math, I actually would have gotten a C minus and my teacher would have humiliated me in front of the entire classroom by telling me that maybe my younger and smarter brother should have tutored me…but that is a different story for a different day. CLEARLY not over it.)

But seriously…a B? The pain got worse. The Report Card includes notes on your draft. Mine begins: “Susan B. Anfernee was handed a solid draft position and apparently they saw that as an opportunity to blow it.”

WHAT!!! Screw you, Yahoo!! I didn’t blow it! YOU blew it! I didn’t even draft…the computer drafted for me and now the computer is telling me that I BLEW IT?! HELL NAW.

Offensive.

I do realize that I’m yelling at a computer about a fake football team and that’s a little insane but no one has been that mean to me since my 11th Grade Math Teacher!!

I might need to get over it…

Also yes my team is called Susan B. Anfernee. Because of Feminism. And Mean Girls. Duh!

Coffee:

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I really need to give up coffee because A) I’m addicted and B) it gives me a tummy ache and C) I keep spilling it all over the place.

Also do you like how I artfully styled that photo with the roses and the mess? The juxtoposition of beauty with disaster is a reflection of the mysogonistic humanitarian struggle affecting the earth and also it is about death. And sex. And my mom.

JK it’s just a stupid picture.

I don’t really care for art.

Annnd that’s it. THAT IS IT! What are you beauties up to this weekend?

I am going to go do some work and then go to happy hour and then go to this wedding and then who even knows what, I sure don’t because I’m going with the flow! I’m just a laid back cool cat taking life one day at a time, who even cares what happens and OH MY GOD where is my day planner and what’s for lunch and I haven’t checked weather.com in 4 minutes AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Smoochies!

Another Awkward Week [8.29.14]: I’m Baaaaack Edition

 weddinggggWell! So yeah, that happened!

#Hottwedding has come and gone and I don’t even know where to begin! It was just the best day. The best! The whole weekend was dreamy and perfect. Which is not to say it was fairy-tale flawless, but fun, memorable, exhausting, hilarious, delicious…perfectly perfect and perfectly us. I loved it!

When can we do it again?

I’m in the midst of getting my brain re-combobulated (that’s a word?) on all of the weddingy goodness I want to share, but I just wanted to pop back here and say hi!

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!

Also, to reassure you that, though with a new ring and a new last name (I mean, technically…I’ve not even begun to think about considering the paperwork but we’re in the midst of going full-on Liz Scott over here) (more on THAT to come!) (omg!) things here should continue to roll on at their normal bizarre clip.

Case in point: This Vinegar

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After the wedding we spent a few days on Fire Island (muuuuch more on THAT to come, too!) where basically every inch of my flesh was devoured by mosquitoes.

Don’t worry, Ebola is not spread via mosquito…I checked.

We got back late Thursday night and didn’t have any cortisone cream in the house, so I took to the web in search of home remedies, as I am wont to do, and learned that regular old white vinegar can be a good cure for itchy bug bites. Whaddya know, we have a large bottle right on our pantry shelf!

I went to bed early and put the bottle beside me, in case I needed to reapply during the night. I don’t know. It made sense at the time.

The following morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, because my body hates me and hates sleeping past 7 AM, picked up my glass of water and my bottle o’vinegar and stumbled out of the bedroom. First stop: bathroom! I set the water glass on the sink and promptly knocked it over, shattering it all over the floor in the one room in which we are legit always barefoot.

Le sigh.

Thank god we registered for so much glassware – I didn’t made it 2 days without breaking anything.

I blearily made my way to the kitchen, got the broom and pan, swept up my disaster and staggered to the kitchen, already exhausted. All that work had made me thirsty, so I picked up the nearest water bottle resting on the counter, unscrewed the top and took a huge swig.

Except…you know where this is going…that bottle was SO not water. It was the big, giant bottle of white vinegar.

Yum.

If you’re looking for a surefire way to wake yourself up in the mornings, might I suggest the vinegar chugging method?

On second thought…never mind.

So there you have it. Married? Yes. Together? Certainly not.

Thank you in advance for listening to me talk alllll about the wedding for the next foreseeable future. I know I have but a small window where it is acceptable to obsess over our recent nuptials and I plan on milking every goddamn second of it.

HOORAH!

(PS: photo credit Kylene Lynn Photography, Kylene is the bomb. More about THATTTTTTT, you guessed it, to come.)

xoxoxo Liz Ho…Sco?

One Awkward Wedding: The Final Countown

Oh

My

Sweet

Lord

Depending on whether you count today as Day Zero or Day One, the count is either T-8/9 days until #hottwedding. Irregardless of your counting style, August 16 is pretty darn soon. Single digits soon. Deposits due soon. 10 Day Forecast soon.

We have reached THE FINAL COUNTDOWN:

 

My current emotional state is just…weird. Impossible to describe.  Distracted. Impatient. Buzzy. Mildly panicked but much less panicked that one would imagine, considering my natural inclination to panic. I never leave home without my trusty notebook, a gift from a sweet cousin that has been a saving grace over the last month and losing it now would = losing my mind. But as I get closer, there is less and less for me to write in the notebook. Now is the hardest time for me because basically everything is done. Planned, paid for, coordinated, organized, done. All things that I can control are lined up like perfect little mallard ducks and now it’s just up to fate to take care of the rest and I’m not great at not running the show.

Por ejemplo, the weather. Despite multiple attempts, I can not (yet!) control the weather. I think if I had a superpower that would be it.

As should surprise zero percent of y’all, I am obsessed with checking the weather. The last thing I do before I go to sleep every night is check the next day’s hourly forecast, so I can be prepared. I then check again first thing when I wake up to see if anything has changed. It is insane. Due to this obsession I know oh so well that anything can change at the blink of an eye and sometimes weather.com is just straight up wrong and lying right to your face. There have been multiple occasions where I’ve been out walking and felt rain drops on my head and my weather app told me “dry conditions would continue.” Which… nope! It’s raining!!! Are you drunk, weather.com? Are you going to finish that sentence by saying “Dry conditions will continue to not happen because it is now raining?” Otherwise you’re just lying to me and I don’t like liars.

Basically I think weather.com is just an evil torture tool created by some kind of monster, designed to give neurotic people a sense of control and then constantly toy with their emotions.

Since August 16 showed up on the 10 day yesterday morning – where I checked it at 6:41 AM, the moment my eyes opened – the forecast has said 81 with rain and thunder, 85 and partly cloudy, 83 and sunny (stay that way!!) and 82 with scattered thunderstorms. I know it will change 890978618694 more times between now and then and I know that no matter what it’ll be a Tony the Tiger style GRRRRREAT day but I will continue to check every hour on the hour until I’m walking down the aisle.

Other things bringing me mild stress:

  • This zit on my forehead.  Is he going to just hang out there until next Saturday, or is he on his way out? Go away, dude!
  • This weird pain in my inner thigh which is probably just from all the excessive exercise I’ve been doing in an attempt to channel my anxiety into Madonna arms or is it some kind of glandular malfunction?
  • What I’m going to have for lunch today. This is unrelated to the wedding, I just think about food 24/7
  • Potential family awkwardness/drama/situations at the wedding and remembering to love&accept things for what they are, not what you wish they would be.
  • WHAT IF I FART WHILE I’M WALKING DOWN THE AISLE?! Will the music drown it out?!

But really, I swear on my first edition hardcover of Bossypants, I’m not that stressed! I mean, I’m always stressed anyway, it’s kind of my jam, so I imagined that by now I’d be in full scale meltdown mode but really I’m just buzzing right along at my normal level of neurotic. It is surprising and awesome. And if I can plan a wedding with little to no panic, anyone can! I should probably write a book all about stress free wedding planning, now that I’m an expert and it’ll become an instant bestseller and I’ll be a billionaire and I can move to Tahiti with my husband (!!!) and everyone there will love me so much they’ll make me the queen.

That’s how life works, right?

I will now make a confession: I will miss wedding planning when it is over and primarily because I will miss the attention. I’m not exaggerating for comedic effect and any bride (or groom!) who denies they, too felt this way, is straight up lying. Planning a wedding gets you 8,000% more attention than usual and it is awesome. Everyone wants to ask you how things are going and hear about it and there’s always something to talk about and think about and do and be excited about and I love it. When else am I going to get this much attention? I GUESS if I ever pull off that Queen of Tahiti scenario, which frankly sounds unlikely and then maybe if ever I get pregnant…but that publicity stunt results in me having to care for and keep alive a human child who will then get all the attention that was previously directed at me so I’m not racing into that one. ALSO I read this New York Magazine article that revealed that science has proved that 29 is the most popular year of your life and I’m turning 30 a few weeks post-wedding so basically this is it for me! The end is nigh. I need to just embrace my inner Jenna Maroney and embrace every second of my fleeting wedding planning/age 29 popularity.

 

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Preach it sister.

I should probably be ashamed to admit my true nature but there is clearly no shame in my game around here.

Now I must dash off to refresh weather.com (still saying 83 and sunny! Come on, god, work with me here!) and then wander around the office until I can find someone to ask me about my wedding so I can really just maximize the last 8/9 of my Glory Days.

Ok bye!!!

xoxooxoxoxoxo Liz Ho