Another Awkward Week [9.13.13]

Friends, hello! It's been a while, I know. I've missed you. Between vacation and Labor Day and Rosh Hashanah, I've just lost track of time - days have blended into one. Do I observe Rosh Hashanah? Well, no, but I'll use just about anything as an excuse for not writing. But oh, never fear I'm back. And I know exactly what day today is: Friday the 13th. Spoooky! Look out for Jason. Or was it Freddy Krueger? I've never been able to keep them straight. Those movies? Not for me.  I'm far to impressionable and anxious for that sort of thing.

And if today's the 13th, that makes tomorrow the 14th...of September. My birthday! I'll be 29 years young. Which makes me just over 4 in dog years. Or would I be 203? Eh, I've never been one for math. Or dogs. Tomorrow is also the 199th anniversary of the writing of the Star Spangled Banner and the 8th birthday of Sean Preston Federline (aka Britney Spears' eldest son) so yeah, pretty important date in history right there.

Usually I make quite the 'do over my birthday (remember how deep and introspective I was last year? Oh young Liz, how wise you were) but this year I'm just sort of meh about the whole situation. It's kind of weird. Is it possible I'm becoming less self-absorbed in my old age? Have I been cured?!

Highly doubtful.

Let's work on keeping the All Liz All the Time mentality alive by looking back at what was keeping it awkward these past few weeks.

This Pimple:

zit

An early birthday gift from my pores. Reminding me that you're never too old for problem skin.

Or terrible selfies.

Or errant bra straps.

I am KILLING IT today.

This Laundry Pod:

pod

Have you guys heard about these things? They're little plastic pods filled with laundry detergent and apparently sometimes children mistake them for candy and eat them and then they die. Which is just GREAT! Now I can add "death by laundry' to the list of accidental household tragedies that might befall my future children, right in between dry drowning and falling on a sharpened pencil, eye first.

The real tragedy of these pods, well, after the child death thing, is that they are very delicate, causing them to burst inside your purse and ruin all of your belongings.

Why did I have laundry pods in my purse? Solid question.

Sunday morning I woke up bright and early with a long to-do list already forming in my head and decided I'd try to beat the laundry crowd by rushing to the laundromat at 8 in the morning. I threw on pants, stuffed my dirty clothes into my sexy backpack, tossed a few pods on the top of my purse and ran out the door. It turns out the early bird does not necessarily get the washing machine, as even at 8 AM the joint was packed. I'm not much of a religious gal, but I know this much is true: hell is a crowded laundromat on a hot summer morning.

I snagged the one open machine, shoved my clothes inside, reached into my purse to grab a detergent pod and discovered that my purse was now covered in wet, blue laundry detergent. It turns out that one of the pods had popped and created quite the mess - blue goo coated my wallet, my phone, my book, my keys, the five tea bags that I inexplicably have been carrying around for the last six weeks, several tampons of varying absorbancies, the lid to a sharpie marker, a pair of nail clippers, a tape measure...well, you get it...all the important and sophisticated lady stuff that I lug around was smothered in detergent.

GRR.

Luckily this wasn't my only pod and the other one remained intact, so I tossed that one into the washing machine, pressed start and ran back to home to rinse off my goods, only to realize four feet from my apartment that I'd left my phone sitting on top of the washing machine. How'd it get there? Why I took it out of my purse to take this photo, of course. Priorities! i burst into the apartment, threw my purse into the sink, yelled to Brian "I'm having a bad morning!!" and ran back out the door, literally sprinting the four blocks back to the laundromat, praying that my phone had yet to be swiped.

Praise be to the laundry gods: it was still there.

I ran back home, rinsed off the contents of my purse, ran back, nearly murdered a man in race to claim the one open dryer, brought my hanging clothes back to the apartment, hung them, chugged a cup of coffee, ran BACK, retrieved my clothes from the dryer and finally returned home.

It was now 9:30 in the morning.

The first and very very VERY last time i attempt anything productive before at least noon.

This Coffee Truck:

sweetery

My favorite in the city! They park outside of our office nearly every morning and have a customer rewards card - ten coffees and the 11th is free! I'm a sucker for rewards cards, I will do just about anything for free stuff.

I've long maintained that the hardest thing to do pre-caffeine is acquire caffeine. (Also spell caffeine - did you know it's an I before E exception?!) Yesterday morning we had an early meeting and I had just enough time to grab an iced coffee before rushing upstairs. I whipped out my debit card only to realize I was trying to pay with my drivers' license.  Then his square app wasn't working and I didn't have time to wait around, so I asked if I could come back later and pay.

He looked at me like I had 9 heads when I asked what I should leave for collateral.

Upon rereading this might be one of those 'had to be there' stories but I've come this far, there's no deleting now!

This Red Black Carpet:

red carpet

Spread out by our building maintenance staff on rainy days, they prevent slippy floors but provide hazards of their own. See that crack where the two pieces meet? I nearly BIT IT on the way out the door yesterday afternoon but I thiiiink I managed to save it by turning my near-trip into a sort of jaunty, exuberant leap.

A whooole lot of people saw, but I'm hoping that instead of seeing me as a clutz, they think me a unique butterfly of a person, dancing through life.

Highly doubtful.

This Logic Puzzle:

logic

Brian and I may or may not have spent last Friday night doing logic puzzles late, LATE into the evening.

I know what you're thinking and no, it is not possible to be any cooler than we are, so you can just stop trying right now.

This Diet Coke:

dented coke

So like any good addict, I keep trying to drop my DC habit, only to get pulled right back in. I wish I knew how to quit you, Diet Coke. You are the Jake Gyllenhaal to my Heath Ledger. I just want to take you into my mountain tent and love you like you deserve. IS THAT SO WRONG, I ask? Is that so wrong?

One day last week I swore I wasn't going to hit the vending machines, but sure enough, 2 PM rolled around and I was basically going through high level withdrawal symptoms so I caved. I had no money so I scrounged up a bunch of dimes from the bottom of my purse and headed for the vending machine. I should have taken this as a sign that maaaybe I didn't need to be indulging - if you can't even pull out four quarters, do you really deserve a treat? Probably not.

 And yet, I persisted. I popped those ten dimes in one by one by one and pushed the button for Diet Coke. The machine rumbled and shook and the can tumbled out with a decidedly flat plonk. SOMETHING was amiss!

The can was perfectly sealed, and yet basically empty. The exterior was dented on every side. Gross? Gross. There was a 700% chance it was filled with poison and yet ANOTHER sign that Diet Coke might not love me as much as I love it, but I would not give up. After begging for quarters to buy another can I took the encouragement of some friends (hi MG!) and took it to the source.

First I took to the Twitters, delivering what I'm sure is a fatal blow to Coke's pristine public image:

@CocaCola Oh no - faulty can from the vending machine. Sealed...but EMPTY! pic.twitter.com/X6TgyEAmtQ

HARSH.

I then took it a step farther and sent the following email to Coke's Customer Service hotline:

To Whom It May Concern,

I am a loyal Diet Coke consumer. I drink one can every afternoon. It is the best part of my day. Today I visited the vending machine in my offices for my afternoon soda and the can I received was defective. It was entirely sealed, and yet was empty of liquid. The exterior was heavily dented. This was highly disconcerting, to say the least. I wanted to be sure to relay this tragic incident to your staff right away. I hope that Coke will find a way to remedy this upsetting and troubling situation.

Best regards,

Liz

Mildly dramatic? Maaaaaybe just a scoonch. But they need to see my plight! They need to feel my pain! And they need to send me a free can of Diet Coke, please and thank you!! It's been a week and I've had complete radio silence from the Coca-Cola team. RUDE! That is the last time I'll ever give them a cent...until mid-afternoon today when I start sweating and shaking, at which point I'll give them 75 of my cents because I have a problem. Big time.

Annnd that's it. Not my best but maybe not my worst? I've been extra hard on myself these past few weeks, I'm thinking that might need to change come 29. No point wasting time with negativity, now is there?

And what are you up to this weekend? Going to a surprise party for your favorite blogger?! SSSH! You're not supposed to tell!

Har har har. Seriously, though, what's the latest? I've missed you!

xo 28-year-old Liz

Another Awkward Week [4.26.13]

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: seven ZERO

It's a rough life over here. Why don't we see what else was keeping it awkward this week:

This Elevator:

elevator

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.

These Flats:

flats

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.

This Combo: 

gatsby

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:

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.

This Tree:

semen trees

Because it is gorgeous and possibly the cause of my cotton head and also smells like semen.

Say wha?!

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!

Turns out, we're not alone: several news articles have been written on this very subject, including one in the ever illustrious New Yorker.

Sooo, with jizz in the air, maybe it's a good thing I can't smell this week?!

This Cucaracha:

cockroach

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