Another Awkward Week [6.21.13]

Hello you sweet turtle doves. How was everyone's week? Thanks to everyone for your enthusiasm over the Cohabitation Situation. And especially for your advice. I have lots of great nuggets of wisdom tucked away for once the shacking up begins. I think we're going to nail this thing. One wonderful tidbit passed on was to 'Keep The Mystery Alive' - aka have a little separation when doing personal things like nail clipping, eyebrow plucking, bikini waxing, defecating, etc - ain't nobody gong to want to make out with you after they see you on the john. Unless you're into that kind of thing, in which case, carry on with your freaky self!

With this lesson in mind, it's a good thing we're not yet living together because tonight, Thursday, as I type this, I a preparing for an early morning colonoscopy. YUPPPPPPP. This is the latest development in the never-ending saga of my stomach ailments, I know you've all been waiting for the new chapter in my intestinal melodrama. Well lucky you, I'm in the process of writing a wholeeeee series dedicated to The IBS (pronounced to rhyme with fibs) and nothing but The IBS.

GIRD YOUR LOINS, Pulitzer Prize Committee, this is happening.

Anyway, I'll save the dirty deets of what is happening in my life right now for that post...and share a hearty Read At Your Own Risk warning when I do...and just say that I'm currently typing this while sitting on the bathroom floor because colonoscopy prep basically involves eating nothing for 24 hours and then chugging this monstrous cleansing medication that clears out anything that may have ever been inside you and thus  doesn't allow you to stray too far from the commode. If you know what I mean.

Which, how could you not know what I mean, I painted a grotesquely clear picture. SORRRYYYYYYYYYYY! My mean medical condition is chronic oversharing. So anyway, it is a blessing that Brian is not here seeing this...and instead he and the entire world (the whole thing!) are just reading about it on the internet. Because if there is one thing I know how to do it is keep that sexy mystery alive.


Ok and here's where I'd say "let's see what (else) was keeping it awkward this week" and I started to do that, I did, but then my computer busted out this fun new trick its been doing which is to overheat and crash, right when I'm in the middle of something. It's pretty cool you guys. If your computer just like works all the time and is speedy and efficient and virus free, well, I feel sorry for you. You're missing out on some good stuff.

Buuut I realized it may have been a bit of a blessing in disguise, all of the items I'd bookmarked to chat about this week - an errant dress hem, a falling basil plant, a teapot, were at best, not very funny and at worst, completely pointless. SO better to have written dumb crap and lost then never have written at all.


All I've had to eat today is two mugs of vegetable broth, a few cups of apple juice and four Werthers' Originals. I am dying. My body is eating my brain from the inside out. I'm shutting this mother down.

Plus, I have to go ingest the next round of my horrid, horrid laxative juice. Bottoms up!


If you made it all the way to the end, you deserve a serious prize. Better next week, I swear!

Now go keep that mystery alive, kids!

xo Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [3.29.13]

Happy Friday! The very BEST Friday, if you're down with JC. Have you missed me? I've missed YOU! I was such a Busy Betsy this week, it was unreal. You know, I could have been an actual Busy Betsy, had things been different in my life. When I was in the fourth grade (never forget), I went through this phase where every week I tested out a different version of my name, Elizabeth, on my school papers. I'd sign them Lizzie one week, Beth the next, Betsy, Ellie, even Betty until finally my teacher pulled me aside and said that, while she admired my creativity and search for identity, could I stick with just one name in the classroom, for consistency's sake. And so I stuck with Liz.

Can you imagine? I wonder how my life would have been any different if I chose something else. I feel like Liz is very suited to me - kind of spunky and that 'Z' is pretty wacky - Liz! But what if I was like, Beth. Beth Ho. HA! I can't even imagine such a person. I've always assumed all Beths to be very quiet and serene and responsible and kind, almost 100% because of Beth from Little Women (seriously never forget!). Do you think  if I had stuck with Beth in 1994 that today I would be like, a peaceful kindergarten teacher with two kids, a responsible husband, a 401K and a love for knitting?

Wellllll, I guess we'll never know! #philosophy.

Aren't you glad you're stuck with me instead?! Let's see what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Coffee Shop

If you'll recall, I first shared a photo a few weeks back about a new coffee shop in my neighborhood who apparently had named their cafe Nouvelle Vag:


Now, I don't know what "Vag" might mean in foreign nations, but here in America, where we speak American, that word stands for vagina. So, was this coffee shop intending to brand itself  Cafe New Vagina?

Well I guess they caught on because this was their sign when I passed by a few nights ago:



Reallll smooth, dudes. No one will notice that "ue" is in a different font size AND color, is clearly a sticker instead of painted on or that the word 'Brooklyn' randomly pops up in the middle of the word. Keep on keepin' on Cafe' Vague Vagina. You're doing great.

This Egg:


One morning this week I was hard boiling an egg and forgot about it and managed to set off our always delicate fire alarm in the process. I didn't want to throw out a rotten egg in our apartment and had just put in a fresh trash bag the night before - I wasn't about to waste a clean empty T-bag, those things cost like 79 bucks a pop - so I decided to just carry the rotten egg in my hand and throw it out  in a trash can on the street. After I styled it for this photo, obvi. Of course the first can I found on my walk to the subway was literally at the subway, four blocks away, so I was just walkin' along for blocks and blocks, gently clutching an overcooked egg.


One of These:



Yes, boyz, those are tampons. (I actually uploaded this photo last night for some reason and saved as a draft, so when I came back to write this AM I had a post saved that was just a photo of a box of Tampax with the caption "blah blah tampons!" I should have just hit publish right then and there.)

 So, I am blessed enough to be experiencing my special monthly magical lady time this week, which is always a real treat. I strive to be a pretty body positive feminist so I know I'm supposed to view all this intrauterine bullshit as a sign of my beautiful fertility and strength  and uniquely feminine powers but I'm sorry, no. It is disgusting and uncomfortable and just plain the WORST. Ever a master theologian, I once said that I know there is a God because of French Fries (uhh, it makes sense in my head) and the reason I know that god is a man is because of this whole menstrual fallopian vaginal scene. Do you REALLY think that if god were a woman she would have stuck her own peeps on earth with all this grotesquerie? And pregnancy and childbirth? I mean! I've never been there, and I'm sure it is a blessed and powerful and beautiful thing and I'll change my tune when the time comes but as someone looking on, that looks like a nightmare. A pure torture hell Saw IV Human Centipede nightmare. Hormonal changes and you can't drink wine and you have to carry around a gigantic human being inside of your own body and then somehow push that human out of your own Cafe Nouvelle Vag and then struggle to lose the baby weight and postpartum depression and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh horrifying. Why would a woman god subject her kind to that sort of terror? MEANWHILE what in this whole lifetime process of periods and pregnancy and the whole 9 does a MAN have to do to procreate? Oh, right: have an orgasm. Rough stuff, dudes. That's not even close to a fair trade.

So yeah, pretty sure god is a man and maybe kiiiind of a jerk sometimes.

Um, ANYWAY, wouldn't it be neat if just one time I sat down and wrote something that didn't turn into a 750 million word tangent about my bizarre philosophies?

Tuesday of this week I had a straight up Seventeen Magazine Traumarama Moment. I had thrown a bunch of tamps in my purse as I was running out the door. Rushing down the steps into the subway station, I reached into my bag to grab my wallet and in pulling that out I also managed to fling a rogue tampon down the steps. I stooped to pick it up but just before I could a guy stepped on it. He realized he had stepped on something and that I was going to pick it up so HE too stooped, to pick it up for me, what a gentleman,and then he realized it was a tampon and we both just kind of locked eyes and I was like "oh, that's mine" (obviously) and stuck out my hand and picked up my stray period plug and he ran away.

As a grown ass lady I should have found this less embarrassing than a 14-year-old in gym class but nope: still awkward.

This Mess:


So I've been working on a whole long post about my various strange food diets over the last few weeks - I know you've all been obsessively refreshing your internet browsers just dying to hear what's going on in my large intestine - but have not had the time to sit down and focus. Mostly because I've been cooking up a storm. I'm doing a two week cleanse to reset my system, which sounds hippieish and is and I like it, so sue me, wherein I do not consume soy, dairy, gluten, corn, peanuts artificial sweeteners orrrr alcohol. OK I've totally cheated on the booze thing once already but the food stuff I'm doing GREAT! I've been cooking a lot of my own food to make sure I'm always stocked with healthy snacks and meals even on the go. It's actually super fun and I feel like I'm doing great things for my body. Go me.

One day this week I decided I'd whip up a big batch of homemade hummus. I've always maintained (and, uh, still do) that hummus is just one of those foods that tastes better store bought, but making at home I could know all of the ingredients and avoid any gross chemicals and preservatives, so I got my Sabra on right in the comfort of my own kitchen, using this recipe.

First I tried chopping the garlic in my little food processor, but it wasn't getting it small enough, so I decided I'd transfer over to our large blender instead. So I unplugged the food processor, plugged in the blender, dumped all of the ingredients in there, and hit start. Unfortunately the blender blades were having a really hard time mushing up the chick peas, so I attempted to move the process along by occasionally jabbing a spatula down in there to get the unmashed garbanzos closer to the blades. It's ALWAYS a great idea to shove things willy-nilly at sharp blades. Always.

The spatula hit the blade which caused a chain reaction of things flying out of the blender, including one chick pea which burst out and literally hit me right smack dab in the middle of the forehead.



Incredibly sexy. I then had to re-transfer the hummus ingredients BACK to the original food processor where they whipped up into a so-so batch of hummus that was not near as delicious as store bought hummus and 100% not worth the 42 minutes of cooking time followed by an additional 42 minutes of dish, kitchen and face washing time.

I've also been drinking a lot of homemade green juice which has basically nothing to do with this story, aside from the fact that it's part of this whole cleanse, but it's really a trendy thing to do these days so I just wanted to show off to the world.


This includes kale, romaine lettuce, spinach, parsley, green apples, ginger, celery and lemon. I am a Green Goddess.

It's OK to be jealous.

And that is THAT! My week. Well that + tons of work + work related evening appointments every single night + laundry + errands + a while lotta other stuff that has me feeling exhaustified. Luckily I took today off, holla! Brian and I are headed to Philly to visit our sisters and have Easter brunch with his parents. It should be a nice little getaway and there is a 150 billion percent chance that I will cheat on my cleanse the moment I am faced with a peanut butter egg or any sort of fermented grape product.

Happy weekend to all of you! I hope your Easter baskets are stuffed with goodies or if you are Jewish, your Passover whatevers are stuffed with lots of ...unleavened bread? Or basically everyone have a beautiful weekend with appropriate celebrations related to their own religion, culture or lack thereof.

xoxo Beth Ho

Nope. Would never work!

Another Awkward Week [3.1.13]

My friends, hello! How was everyone's week! Mine was not too bad! Great news for all, after last week's hungover hoagiefest of a Friday, I'm back in business with some stories to share. So let's get to it. Here's what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Eyeliner:


Ok, that's the Almay professional shot of my preferred eyeliner because I couldn't  take a good photo of the stuff, but here's the tale. On Tuesday morning I was putting my makeup on and somehow got a streak of eyeliner across my nose. Like, down the side, around the front, basically just all over my nose. I don't know why, suddenly, after 15 years of wearing makeup, plus that one secret year when I wasn't allowed to wear it and I'd sneak it on in the locker room after gym class, secret's out, Mom, I suddenly find myself unable to apply the stuff without getting it all over my face/hair/clothes/mirror. I'm a mess.

I totally meant to remove the eyeliner streaks from my nose before leaving the house, but my roommate was in the bathroom where I stash my face wash and eye makeup remover, and somehow I just, well, I guess I forgot. So I walked to the train, waited for the train and rode 6 of the 10 stops towards my destination without a further thought. At Franklin Street, in the trendy downtown Manhattan neighborhood of Tribeca a stylish, gorgeous woman boarded the train and I was straight up checking her out. She was rocking that style where she was wearing tall, high-heeled boots and a skirt that was sort of long, so that the boots came up under the hem. It's a look I always wish I could wear, but I can't, so I resort to jeggings and keds, but girl was pulling. it. off.

She caught eyes with me and for some idiot reason I thought she was acknowledging me as like, a style equal, a similarly hot gal making every other passenger on the uptown 3 train jealous. But then she opened her mouth to speak and instead of saying like "great purse" or "is your hair naturally curly?" she very kindly, but slightly condescendingly whispered: "you have something on your face."

I of course caused a huge scene and basically yelled "Oh my god, I know! I totally meant to wash that off. Thank you! I really like your coat." She quickly moved to stand on the other side of the train.

Come back and be my best friend! I really do like your coat!

Related: That eyeliner is specially formulated, allegedly, to "bring out the hazel" in my eyes. I am the target market for specialty products designed to upgrade my very own features. I will buy literally anything if it is marketed as special for curly hair or hazel eyes or vampire pale skin. I KNOW it is just marketing mumbo-jumbo and they repackage the same stuff under different labels to make us all feel like beautiful individual butterfly snowflakes  but I can not help myself. Do you fall for those things too?? Tell me I'm not the only one.

This Wallet:


It is mine and it is Chanel! Just kidding, it is almost certainly from Kohls. I have a classier big girl wallet, but due to a really boring story about a broken purse, which I won't force you to sit through, I've been using this lil guy for the last few weeks. I have a really bad habit of taking it out of my bag whenever I need my work ID or some coins for the soda machine and then just tossing it on my desk and forgetting about it.  Last Friday night I met Brian and a friend for happy hour after work and as we were sorting out the check, I reached into my purse and: no wallet. I could instantly visualize right where I had left it, on the corner of my desk. BLERGH.

I keep everything I need in there: credit cards, photo ID, metro card, everything, and knew I couldn't go the weekend without it so I left the boys at the bar and ran out the door. Luckily my office was just a few blocks away, so with my expert powerwalking skillz I was there in minutes. After 7 PM you can't get in without an ID and, of course, mine was upstairs, so I had to plead the door man, who totally knows me, to let me in. He acted like he'd never seen me a day in his life before and sent me over to building security who sent me BACK to the doorman who finally remembered that we talk every single day and called the guy who specifically patrols my company's section of the building to come and fetch me.

I have this really bad like, upstairs/downstairs guilt associated with our building maintenance and cleaning staff which I KNOW is really pretentious and rude and condescending and #1percentproblems, but I am a horrible person, so now you all know. I just can't help feeling really guilty and weird sometimes - I have such an easy, dumb life and there is a woman who spends her evenings cleaning up all the food I spill on my floor and that makes me feel uncomfortable. So of course when our security guy comes to let me in, I become overwhelmed with this sense of anxiety that he works so hard and I'm just running around and going to happy hour and here he is working until midnight on a Friday so he can let in any morons who can't remember to pack their bags correctly. On top of all of this, this guy is incredibly nice, but not much of a chatter, so what do I do in this situation? I start to talk.

He rode four floors in the elevator with me, which seemed to last a lifetime.

I asked him how late he was working ("midnight.")  how his day had been, ("fine, thank you.") and if he was excited for the weekend ("of course.") and then just started word vomiting all over the elevator:

"I can't believe I forgot my wallet! It's so small, and I always forget it and I took it out to get a Diet Coke earlier today, do you like Diet Coke, I love it I know it's bad for me but I love it so much, so I bought some and totally forgot to put my wallet back and then I met my boyfriend for happy hour and realized I didn't have any money! So I just left him there and came back here. I mean, he picked up the check and would totally pay for me all weekend if I needed it, he's a really nice guy, he wasn't like 'Go get your wallet and pay for this drink!', how horrible would that be, no he's really super nice, but I needed my metrocard and stuff so now I'm here. Getting my wallet. I'm sorry you have to work until Midnight. Oh look, here we are at my office, there's my wallet....oh, you're running away down the hall forever the end."

Shut up, shut up, shut up!!

Please note that I had one drink during happy hour so this was not at all alcohol-induced, juuust my regular personality. If I'm ever captured by enemies and being tortured for information, all they'll need to do is put me in a room with a silent person who seems disinterested in my charming personality and I will sing like a bird.

And finally,

This Feast:


I know I've gone like 3 whole weeks without talking about my bowel problems, but during that time I've been attempting to regulate my body by trying out different diets I find on the internet. And never calling a doctor, obviously, why would I do that? This week I was attempting something called "Extreme Elimination"  recommended by a doctor who sometimes goes on Good Morning America, so you know she's legit. Basically all I could eat all week was white rice, plain chicken and potatoes. It was miserable. On Tuesday, I went to a buffet luncheon for work and from platters of pasta salads and sandwiches and goodies, all I could eat was a few pieces of sad chicken. OF COURSE someone at my table asked me what was up with my meal (leave me alone!) but I came prepared with a stock answer ("I'm testing for food allergies, so on a limited diet this week.") and was able to avoid awkward word vomit like the above mentioned incidents.

Later I came back to work and was confronted with THIS spread of deliciousness, home baked by one of my colleagues, but I stayed strong.


And then last night I went to an open bar, free appetizer work function and abandoned the whole thing completely.

BUT! I also made an appointment with a nutritionist for 9 AM Monday morning so I am finally being serious about my health. Yay.

And that is your monthly update on Liz's intestinal problems, you are SO welcome.

And that's that! Anyone have anything good planned for the weekend? I need to do some serious laundry, hopefully file my taxes and maybe, if I'm feeling sassy, do a little yoga. Prepare myself for my new holistic health centered lifestyle!

I hope everyone has a lovely weekend with no gross or upsetting digestive malfunctions and I'll see y'all on Monday! xoxo Liz Ho