Another Awkward Week [11.22.13]

Good. Morning. Dudes. How's everyone doing? I'm not gonna lie to y'all: I'm a scoonch on the cranky side. I just can't seem to accept the fact that it is not yet the weekend. That we still have 8+ more hours of working and wearing pants and generally being not on the couch. I can't get behind that. I call a foul on the whole earth. Everyone, it's time to go back to bed! Ok to save me from launching into a full on melodramatic tirade about the cruelties of the modern world, why don't we just try to put on our happy pantsand take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week.

This "Poncho":

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One possible factor in this morning's mood: it is grey and rainy here in the NYC. Also, I couldn't find a single one of the dozens of umbrellas I suh-wear we own, so I fashioned a poncho/rain bonnet out of a garbage bag.

Genius or pathetic? I'ma go with genius. Watch yo' back, MacGyver. Two can play this game.

Wish I could say this was the first time I wrapped myself in plastic this week but wait, nope...

This Bib:

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I got to go to a super swankadoo work event on Wednesday night (The National Book Awards! One of our authors won!) so I was looking extra good at the office all day. A blazer over a cocktail dress can instantly take it from day to night! Did you know that? I should write for Vogue!

ANYWAY. We all know how good I am at eating food and I was worried about getting my lunch all over my dry-clean-only, snazzy day/evening wear so I hooked a grocery bag to the lapels of my blazer et voila: a bib!

Pure sophistication right there.

Speaking of pure sophistication...

This Makeover:

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If you recall, one of my New Years' Resolutions for 2013 was to figure out how to wear red lipstick and drink whiskey. Lofty goals, I know. On Friday evening I hosted some of my lady friends for an evening of trying whiskey and lipsticks. We called it Classy Broads Night. To give you an idea of just what kind of broads we're dealing with here, one gal announced that she'd arrived via car service (classy!) ... but also wasn't wearing a bra (less so!). It was one of the best nights I've had in quite some time.

One friend, Kathleen, has become a fermented grain mash aficionado, so she led us in a guided taste test of  four different types of whiskey, each one more disgusting than the last. She was very official about the whole thing. First she poured us each a small portion (possibly called "a finger")  and then instructed us to "spend the next five minutes smelling it." Fun activity! While we sat and sniffed, she gave a dramatic reading from the back of the bottle, explaining the whiskey's history, flavor palate (i.e. "mint, leather, papaya, wood and Sweden" - yum!) and other general information. All of these were hilarious. If you are a struggling creative writer looking for a place to get out all of your best metaphors, flourishing adjectives and overblown narrative, might I suggest applying to be a whiskey company copy writer? These jabronies take themselves wa-haaaay too seriously. From the website of one of them:

WE DIDN’T SET OUT TO EMBODY THE SPIRIT OF ADVENTURE AND SELF-RELIANCE OF THE HUDSON VALLEY, IT JUST TURNED OUT THAT WAY.

Did you, though, really, guys? It's whiskey. I love my booze as much as the next Irish Catholic lush but let's all just calm it down a notch or 73.

Moving on. After we sat around and sniffed, Kathleen then allowed us to begin sipping.

"Like a shot?" someone asked (see what I mean about sophistication?)

The thing about whiskey is - it is terrible! Every sip burned. Kathleen told us it's supposed to hurt, just power through the pain. When one pal exclaimed that her esophogus was on fire, Kathleen assured her "that's good!"

WHAT! No. "Pain is good for you?" That's what they tell people in like, the NFL. Or concentration camps. Why are we consuming something that smells like nail polish remover, burns our esophoguses (esophagi?) and requires time and effort to enjoy.

I'm still not on board. I tried. I really tried! I know that whiskey is sexy and rugged and sophisticated and girls who sidle up to a bar and order bourbon, neat, are totally smokin' hot babes and I really want to be all of those things...whelp, I am not.

I'm an extra large glass of bargain brand Sauvignon Blanc. And I'm just going to have to live with that.

In the midst of our tasting, our other friend Nicole, who is a makeup artist gave each one of us a brand new, beautiful lipstick and showed us how to apply, complete with lip liner. Ooh la lah. Everyone looked stunning and amazing and then, since none of us know how to wear lipstick, we spent the next several hours alternating between staring at ourselves in the mirror (Kathleen!) to sitting very still, trying not to move our lips when speaking, for fear of smudging. We all need so much help.

My color was called Russian Red and as you can see above, it looked pretty good! I was feeling seductive and badass until...this happened:

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How. HOW HOW HOW did lipstick end up on the bridge of my nose? I guess I touched my mouth and then wiped my face? I was probably biting my nails (gross, I know!) but why was I then rubbing all over my nose? There are no answers to these questions.

So there you have it. New Years Resolution 2013 ... complete? I drank whiskey and wore red lipstick and pretty much failed at both of them but I'm just going to go ahead and call it a wild success.

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Cheers!

And I guess I'll just take this whole classy drunk theme to the end with a story for which I don't have a picture because, as you'll see below, I wasn't quite in the photographing state.

As I mentioned, Wednesday night I was out at this fancy party for the National Book Awards. The party started at 10 PM (on a school night! Are you kidding me?!), so to kill time between work and the party, some friends and I got a few glasses of vino before hitting up the high endopen bar for several more hours. A whole WORLD of good decision making right there. I am not joking when I say that I am still hungover. I can't hang like I used to, guys, I just can't. How does anyone a) stay up past 10 PM on weeknights, just in general and b) drink heavily while doing so and then c) leave the house the next day? My entire body is in pain. All day yesterday I was just wishing the grim reaper to come upon me with his cape and his scythe and just put me out of my misery.

Anyway, I think that I had the idea to include something in my blog about wearing a blazer and then putting a coat over it and how weird that feels. Double the coats! Does anyone else ever experience this? Men? Do any men (aside from Ross, hi Ross!), even read this blog? Do you ever get used to wearing a coat over another coat? What a strange strange world we live in!

So I guess that was in the back of my mind and then I had a semi-awkward incident again involving my jacket at this NBA party - I'd left my coat & tote (rhyme!) in the coat check but of course couldn't find my check ticket when I was getting ready to leave, so I had to walk around the cloak room with the attendant til I found my stuff. She then wouldn't just give it to me, I could be a common thieving robber, so I had to give her more explanation.

"What is the brand of this coat?" she asked. "It's from H&M, I got it on sale, and it still has an old dry cleaning tag stuck to it from when I took it to the cleaners several winters ago."

Nailed it.

"What's in this bag?" she asked.

"Dirty Tupperware!" I declared, triumphantly.

Nailed it again.

I should not be allowed in fancy places.

I guess I thought this was hilarious and amazing and wanted to be sure that I remembered to blog about it, so on the taxi home I sent myself a drunken email that reads as follows:

Coat clog: coat over blazer, coat check lost ticket.bag full of tullerware . 

Also.dont forget apple

So there you have it. My coat clog! And what do I mean about the apple? No freaking clue.

Famous last words: I am seriously never drinking again.

And that was my week! God willing this hangover will subside any minute now. Otherwise I might just end up in the fetal position under my desk listening to the Dream Girls soundtrack and quietly weeping. I don't know if I could blame that on booze, though, that actually sounds like a nice little Friday afternoon right there.

Hoping everyone is in a significantly better state than I am at the moment! Any good plans for the weekend (I'll be sleeping) or stories from the week? Make me laugh, it's Friday!

xoxoxoxo Liz Ho

 

Another Awkward Week [7.12.13]

You guys?! Did you know that 'Namaste" means "hello" in Hindi? I did not! Guess I need to spend some more time at yoga. Why am I bringing this up, you ask? WELL I'm headed to South Carolina today for a big Indian wedding and was going to start this post by wishing everyone hello in Hindi but then realized that I'm not actually 100% sure if the bride & groom are Hindi, I just sort of guessed that because I am what you might call 'culturally insensitive.' See also: complete asshole. So anyway, Namaste y'all. I'm so excited for this wedding, I bought a sari! There will be multiple nights of dancing and possibly a white horse but definitely not elephants which of course is the first question I asked upon receiving the wedding invitation because, well, see above.

And how are YOU guys? What cultures will you be learning about slash deeply offending this weekend? If you're going to be in Colombia, South Carolina around 10 AM on Saturday and know how to drape a sari...wellllllll call me.

And that's what's up! Let's take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Basil Plant:

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Purchased at Trader Joe's (where else) a few weeks ago, he has been brought to the brink of death and back no less than 80 times since coming home with me. He has fallen to the ground, been parched dry, over watered, and ignored and yet every time it looks like he's on his way to meet his poinsettia cousin in houseplant heaven: he revives!

Who speaks limited French, has two thumbs and both of them are green?

This moi!

This Towel/Cape:

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Last weekend Brian and I went to a wedding on Long Island (was nottttt joking when I said it's all weddings, all the damn time round these parts) and it was too close to merit a hotel, so we decided to just rent a zip car and zipped on over. We got sandwiches for the ride up and Brian, ever resourceful, was worried about getting food on his suit so he tossed a towel in the back seat.

He ended up being too focused to drive to get any time to eat and even worry about this problem, but true to form, his ever worthless co-pilot had nothing but time and mayonnaise on her hands, so I spent the hour drive wrapped up in a towel a la so.

Cute right?

Brian may or may not have eaten his bagel in the vestibule of the Catholic Church, sorry  JM&J (Jesus, Mary and Joseph, obviously), but it was all worth it, as we managed to both dine on the go and keep our clothes in immaculate form. Here is a gratuitous, nauseatingly adorable photo to prove it:

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Sexy and we know it!

This Mess:

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That, friends, is NOT dirt, but a pile of cinnamon on my kitchen counter. Why, you ask? Good question! We have a minor ant problemo in la cocina and, ever the naturalist, I've been trying to get rid of them sans chemicals. Apparently ants are very averse to a number of herbs including but not limited to: cinnamon, cloves, cayenne pepper, bay leaves, black pepper and garlic. Cinnamon smells the yummiest of these spices, so I poured it all over the problem areas in the kitchen and voila! Problem solved!

No ants, no harmful chemicals buttt in we do have giant piles of cinnamon all over the place so I don't know how great of a trade-off this is...

This Bathroom:

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This is the door to the men's room at a VERY divey dive bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn called The Turkey's Nest. They are right next to the park in that neighborhood and have some deal with the devil/city that they are able to sell booze in GIANT styrofoam to-go cups that patrons can carry into the park and get good and outdoor crunk. Their specialty is margaritas... hellooooo disaster!

Anyway, we hang in this park every 4th of July before catching the fireworks from a pal's roof nearby and always make frequent stops into the T-Nest to refresh our margs and use their facilities. WELL, on this particular day, the ladies' room (labeled "Turkettes," really guys?) was backed up so I decided to declare my independence from waiting for women to take their sweet time going to the bathroom and use the empty Turkey's room.

The room is pretty run-down - just a solo toilet and a sink and a bunch of rolls of toilet paper all strewn about and the lock on the door was rickety, at best, but I felt confident that it had locked solidly behind me.

You know how this ends.

I'm mid-stream when the door swings open - I scream, throw one hand to close the door and the other to cover my Va-J-Lo and the befuddled gentleman backs his way out the door.

I run out to tell my friends the hilarious story and learn they've already heard it: the unsuspecting intruder was no other than my friend Peter.

Sorry Petey!

Now for a confession: My embarrassment was NOT about being barged in on bottomless, no. Rather,I was mortified I'd been caught texting on the john.

And don't even TRY to tell me you've never done it because hi, your pants are on FIRE.

Speaking of bathrooms...

This Sink:

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I went to happy hour the other night and before we left I met my co-worker/friend (no, friend first, then co-worker!) on the floor below mine and I decided to use the unfamiliar third floor bathrooms on my way out the door. Afterwards, I went to the sink to wash up and was at the middle basin between two other women. I turned on the warm and a little bit of the cold, washed my hands and...could not turn off the water.

I turned the spouts left, right, side-to side. I turned them in unison and one at a time. I could not, for the life of me, get the water to turn off. I tried to play it cool, but the caught the eyes of the gal to my left, who I know very casually from working on some projects together and she was doing her best not to crack up. I looked to my right and sho nuf, the girl there was holding in her laughter.

It ended up kind of cute, we all giggled about it and eventually one of them manged to help me  shut down the faucet but OH! there was that one, painful moment before the laughter broke when I thought: this is it. You've done it, Liz. You've broken the office bathroom sink and EVERYONE saw it was you and now you have to quit. Just grab your purse, head for the door and never return.

Mildly dramatic, I know, but that's the way I do it!

And that was that! My week! How was yours?

Now I'm off to get my Tikka Masala ONNNNNNNNNNNNNN. Sorry in advance, Jay & Ami!

Goodbye in Hindi,

Liz Ho(rrible American)