Another Awkward Week [5.9.14]

Guuuys, I’m BACK! Just a few hours after writing last week’s sad post, bemoaning my lack of awkward moments, I went out for fries (my second plate of fries for the day but who’s counting?!), misjudged the size of the opening on the ketchup bottle, and poured about 6 gallons of the stuff all over the dish.

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Holla!

Immediately upon spilling, as my friends rushed to help clean it up like normal people, I yelled “YES! I’M BACK!” and whipped out my camera to document it for posterity.

BOOM. It was touch and go there for a while but I it is safe to say the awkward train has left the station. Choo choo!

Why would anyone say that? No one talks like that.

I am a hot mess this morning. I had long-planned dinner with my girlfriends last night that started weird when I called it “sensual”  instead of “sophisticated” on the google calendar invite and ended weird when one of the girls, who works for Peanut Butter & Company, busted out half a dozen jars of fancy peanut butters and we all just sat there in the middle of a restaurant drinking beers and eating peanut butter right out of the jar. It was both sophisticated and sensual, for sure. I feel less than amazing this morning…can you get a peanut butter hangover? Is that a thing? OY! Enough rambling, let’s take a look back at what was keeping it awkward this week.

 

These Tulips:

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Fresh, alive and BEAUTIFUL. I left them for at least 3 more days after snapping this photo.

See also: our garbage covered dining room table. My house is such a hovel. SIGH.

These Cake Stands:

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I got to go with one of my authors to the Martha Stewart headquarters located waaayyyy on the West Side of Manhattan. It was really neat. They have this HUGE prop library just chock full of kitchen gadgets and bowls and plates and vases and, of course, cake stands…just imagine like, the biggest West Elm + the biggest Pottery Barn + Macy’s Herald Square + Martha Stewart Living Magazine + all of your wildest dreams come true and that’s pretty much what this place was like.

Jen and I both arrived late due to train troubles, and she had to be on live radio, so the moment we arrived they whisked us right up the back staircase and into their radio studio. WHO should we see, as we’re sprinting down the hall? Why Martha herself!!! Walking out of the ladies room! Like a regular person!

It was awesome.

It turns out that had we not been late, we would have actually gotten to meet her and have a conversation with her which would have, obviously, been amazing. Buuuut I’m kind of glad it happened this way. It’s a slightly better story and now I get to tell the whole wide world that Martha Stewart pees in a shared bathroom just like a commoner!

ha!

This Fancy Cocktail:

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I realized I was going to be home alone the other night and decided to enjoy the evening with a crisp glass of white wine on ice, like the WASPy desperate housewife I apparently aspire to be.

But then I remembered that we had no wine in the house and I’m not letting myself spend money on anything that’s not wedding or move related so I gave up on my dreamo of vino. But THEN I remembered that I had a few plastic mini bottle of the upscale Sutter Home Vintage floating around my office, left over from a work project so I secretly stuck a bottle in my purse, carted it home, broke out the ice cubes and had the classiest little party for one you ever did see.

On the upside, at least I used a glass! I would have just stuck in a bendy straw…but we were all out.

This project, by the way, was a complete disaster in and of itself. My colleague and I came up with this adorable summer reads package, and we were so proud of ourselves. We stuffed a tote bag with some of our hottest summer titles + a mini bottle of wine (of the classiest variety, clearly. Publishing money!) and cookies and we mailed them to all these editors and it turns out we didn’t wrap the cookies very well because they all smashed so instead of these adorable tote bags, everyone’s packages were just covered top to bottom in crushed chocolate and cookie crumbs and people had to throw them out. Whoops!   A+++ work right there.

These Jeans:

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I wore these pantaloons to work yesterday and for some reason, something on the inside seam of my right leg kept poking me. I don’t know what it was – these are not new, so it wasn’t a tag or anything. I did just get them back from the laundry, so perhaps there were some shards of glass floating around in the dryer and one of them got stuck inside my jeans seam and then started waging war on my inner thigh?

That sounds like a super normal and likely scenario.

ANYWAY, I was walking to gym over lunch and the poking got SO painful I could barely walk. I told myself to keep going, I just had to make it one more block to the gym and I could take the pants off in the locker room and inspect them. I made it five more steps, but the pain was unbearable, so I stopped and adjusted the jeans from the outside, hoping that would do the trick.

No dice.

I made it five more steps and was in such excruciating pain, I realized I couldn’t wait to the locker room to go deep…I had to get inside my pants.

Now, I was walking on a crowded sidewalk, so I tried to be as inconspicuous as I could. I turned away from the street and as quickly as possible, jammed my hand down the inside of my jeans and sort of rubbed around the inner-mid-thigh area, hoping to dislodge the sharp object.

As I quickly withdrew my hands from down in my pants, I looked up and realized that I had turned away from the street, oh yes, and instead was DIRECTLY FACING a middle school.

A MIDDLE SCHOOL. I was standing on the street, with my hand shoved down my pants in front of a middle school.

I belong in jail.

And on a similar note…

This Photo:

 

I probably can’t show the actual photo for legal reasons.

One of the fun things about commuting on the train is the people you see every day – it’s sort of comforting and weirdly I start to think I know them, when I really don’t. Do any of you guys do this?*

One of my VERY favorite subway buddies is this little boy who is maaaybe three years old and I see him some mornings, riding the uptown 1 train with his mom. This kid is SO flipping cute – he has little glasses and you KNOW how much I love toddlers with glasses (I hope our future children inherit their dad’s near blindness instead of my, ahem, better than perfect , vision.) and I can just tell he’s charmingly nerdy, he’s always reading books or playing like, math games with his mom and I LOVE him.

Yesterday morning it was drizzly and my BCFWIACS (Best Child Friend Who Is Actually a Complete Stranger) was wearing a mini rain slicker, galoshes and…wait for it…a knit sweater with the superman logo on it. Not a sweatshirt, but an actual like, wool sweater with the iconic logo on the front. It was soooooooo cute that I took a photo because I wanted to show all my pals how cute my BCFWIACS was looking that morning. Did I bust this picture out over our peanut butter feast last night? Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.

Basically what I’m saying is please forward all my mail to the New York State Home for Deranged Criminal Women because that is where I’m headed.

Annnnd on that note, I think it’s best if I shut this whole thing down before I actually get condemned. How was everyone else’s week?! Big weekend plans? I’m going to Philly for a wedding of one of my study abroad buddies that should be one heck of a party. I’m excited! I wonder what my BCFWIACS will do all weekend??!!!! 

Xoxoxo

* We’re going to be publishing a book allll about this phenomenon next winter (I think?) called Girl on a Train (probably!) and it’s AMAZING and creepy and awesome and I assume you’ll all rush right out and buy it when we do!

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Another Awkward Week [2.1.13]

Oh my god, you guys. 30 Rock is over. My life IS OVER. Just kidding, we still have Netflix and I personally would rather see a show do 6 outstanding seasons before coming to a cohesive, meaningful end while they’re still on top, rather than skidding along, a ghost of their former greatness ala the US Office or How I Met Your Mother.

Do I care way too much about television? How DARE YOU imply such a thing.

So yes, last night was sad and I’ll miss my cast and crew of TGS but life will move on. And when I’m sad, I can always dress up in my Liz Lemon costume and drown my sorrows with sandwiches and off brand cheese puffs:

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I spilled sandwich all down the front of my shirt directly after this photo was taken. As true a tribute to Liz Lemon as could ever be imagined.

I went above and beyond prepping food for this party and am now considering a side job where I plan and host TV theme parties. I’m only 12% joking. Would you like to hire me?

Below are a few snaps of the excellent feast I whippped up, and do note this will probably not make sense to you unless you’re a 30 Rock fanatic, in which case you can go ahead and scroll to the next segment of the blog,  using that scrolling time to reevaluate your priorities and life choices.

30 rock food

Night Cheese, D’Fwine, Hayum, Teamster Sandwiches and the higlight of the meal: cheesy blasters. And how do you make a Cheesy Blaster, you ask? I’ll let Liz explain:

And that’s exactly what we did! Using this helpful recipe here, I took some hot dogs, stuffed them with some jack cheese, wrapped them in a pizza and we had cheesy blasters.

cheesy blasterThanks Meat Cat!

And I’m not even for one second going to pretend they weren’t the greatest thing I’ve ever eaten. See what you’re missing, vegans!

And that was my Lemon Party. A delight it was. Now let’s leave 30 Rock in our rearview mirror and move on. Here’s what else was keeping it awkward this week:

This Chicken Foot:

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Because it is a chicken foot and it is just lying (laying? help!) on the floor of the subway. Grotesque. If you were to ask me what I love most about living in NYC I would respond “EVERYTHING!” But then if you were to ask what I hated most, I would say “except rent and chicken feet.”

This Hole:

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Because it is in my favorite pants and yes that is a picture of my crotch. You’re welcome, Mom! She’s so proud.

These black stretch jeggings from The Gap were my favorite pair of pants, bar none. I wore them a minimum of four times a week without shame. I look amazing in these pants. They’re also about as close to pajamas as you could possibly get without actually wearing Pajama Jeans.

Well, they are no more. Last Saturday I wore these to a Crafting Party at a girlfriend’s house (details on THAT to come next week!) and then went immediately out to a nearby restaurant to meet another friend for her birthday dinner. While gathering my things to head to dinner, my crafty friend asked “what do you have between your legs?” The answer, it turned out was absolutely nothing. Just air floating through a gigantic rip just three inches south of my babymaker.

I had two options: go home or find some other pants I could wear out to dinner. My host rummaged up a pair of black leggings that I thought I could rock solo, until someone pointed out that they were completely sheer and sporting a solid control top.

Tights are not pants, girls.

I managed to get my ripped pants on over top of the tights and in the dark of night it was hard to tell what a mess I was but oh, I still knew. Last week sweaters, this week pants.

I could not be classier.

And that’s that. A short list, I know but I kind of had my hands full cheese shopping, so please forgive me!

And how was your week? Did you bare your hooty ha for all the world to see? Weep over a comedy TV show? Stuff a hot dog with anything fancy? You know I’d love to hear it.

Anything big planned for the weekend, too? I am going to be a Productive Pamela. I’m going to write (!), file my taxes, go to yoga, go to Trader Joe’s and then I guess watch the Beyonce Bowl. I probably won’t accomplish half of what I’m setting out to but I’m hoping that by putting my intentions out for the whole internet to see, I will feel guilted into getting shit done lest ‘ye judge me lazy. Let’s see if it works!

Ok, I’m outta here. Happy weekend, nerds!

xo Liz Ho

One Awkward Surprise Visit

What a beautiful weekend, my friends! I spent the afternoon in the park and got a lil color. My legs are looking GOOD:

Post park I had the apartment to myself and was lounging on the couch sans culottes, airing out these char-grilled gams in front of a particularly epic Law & Order SVU marathon, when my roommate and three of her cousins – two male! – unexpectedly walked through the front door.  I yelped “I’m not wearing any pants!” and scrambled for something to cover my ass, then spent the next five minutes making small talk with a bunch of strangers while wearing nothing but my skivvies and a strategically draped blanket. This sounds like the kind of activity Cosmo Magazine might suggest in an article about spicing up your TV time or  making your home sexually appealing for visitors but I’m going to go ahead and say this was not so much erotic as wildly, excruciatingly uncomfortable.

What can we learn from this latest embarrassment? You must ALWAYS wear at least 17 layers of sunblock every time you leave the house, especially if you’re planning on laying about roasting yourself and, perhaps more importantly, you should have a pair of pants or shorts or company appropriate bottoms within arms reach at all times. I’m not advocating you always wear pants, I mean, let’s be honest, pants are the worst, but you just might want to be prepared for unanticipated drop by visitors. Just do it. Trust me.

Summer 2012 is off to an auspicious start!