Another Awkward Week [1.30.14]

Goood morning, you perfect sunflowers. How was everyone's week? Mine was...meh. I'm in the midst of the blissful lady time known as pre menstrual syndrome and have been basically a living breathing cliche of a hormonal woman. Judd Apatow himself couldn't write me better.  I was even more hyper-emotional than usual which, as you can imagine, is a real treat. I nearly burst into tears at the slightest of upsets (count your blessings you were not present Wednesday when I was six minutes late to a department meeting at work and almost threw myself out the window in melodramatic despair) and all I wanted to do was eat chocolate chip cookies and listen Taylor Swift. Which is basically my regular life, I know, but this week, it was all the ballads you guys. THE BALLADS!

Ladies are like...I know it all too well! HAHA get it? NO please don't. That's a lyric to a Taylor Swift song. WHAT is wrong with me, I need a musical slash life intervention like, yesterday.

If only we could go Back to December...Speak Now if you'd like me to keep this going...NOPE. Nope. I'm done. Let's end this TSwizzles fest and take a look back at what was keeping it awkward this week.

This Coffee:


Sunday morning I woke up at like 7 AM semi hungover and totally groggy and realized we were out of coffee, so I bundled myself up for the subarctic temperatures and struck out in search of some joe. (Or, jo, if you're being tricky in Scrabble, which...don't even get me started.) I could and probably should have just gone to the coffee shop on the corner and had them give me an already brewed cup, but on weekends, it's just so much nicer (and more cost-efficient!) to brew at home. Plus you can drink out of a real mug, instead of one of those terrible, flimsy paper cups that always leaks out the lid and gets all over your mittens. Or does that just happen to me?

I had a number of options for purchasing coffee within a few block radius of my home: bodegas which have the cheap stuff BUT don't take credit cards or fancy organic grocery stores that mostly only carry the expensive stuff but take plastic. As I had no cash, I decided to try my luck with the swanky place.

Now, Brian and I are coffee snobs, but like, on opposite day. We stand very firmly in our belief that the fancy stuff is overrated. Bring us a plain old cuppa joe! Preferably Chock Full O' Nuts but we'll go with a Folgers if necessary. None of this fancy, shade grown, pure bean, slow pour hipster bullshit.

I'm sure that stuff actually tastes "better" and is organic and fair trade, while we're drinking the equivalent of carcinogenic motor oil picked by child slaves in Somalia or whatever and I do feel bad about that, I DO! I feel bad about everything, literally every single thing that I eat or drink or do but sometimes I just don't have the money or energy to do the right thing, so I'm just going to go right ahead and enjoy my cheap, slave labor coffee.

Today's unnecessary long winded guilt stricken rant brought to you by the letter C...for coffee!

Anyway, where was I? Oh! In the coffee aisle of the grocery store. Which is actually just a shelf right in front of the register. I was the only customer in the store, so the two clerks got a real show of me wandering around like a homeless person in my 2 layers of sweatpants, fur boots and ear-band over top of a hat over top of bedhead.

I have long maintained that the hardest thing to do before coffee is acquire coffee and this shopping spree proved that theory. OF course they had no regular coffee, and I wasn't nearly awake enough to make any quick decisions so I stood there staring at all of the options, wandering back and forth, touching all the containers of coffee, staring at labels, trying to figure out if I'd prefer Guatemalan over Colombian. Most of the coffees they sold were whole bean which honestly,why? Why would you make yourself go through all that effort? This is America. In the 21st Century. You can pay someone to do that for you.

I mean, again, yes, it's probably an impoverished 8-year-old but come on. Get over yourself. No one thinks you're cool because you smush up your own coffee beans, ok?

(Said the woman who refuses to buy bottled salad dressing...pot calling the coffee ketttle super black.)

Finally, 20 minutes later, I settled on a bag of coffee that did not anywhere on the label at all, trust me on this, guys, say that it was whole beans, paid a cool $12.99 for the stuff (as compared to $5 for a can of chock fulla!) and slogged my self home fantasizing about a steamy, dreamy cup of coffee. I ripped open the bag and OH WAIT ... IT WAS WHOLE BEAN!

Come on. Is this grounds for a law suit? I'm going to go ahead and assume YES. I mean, hair dryers have to include  a warning not to put them in the bath tub, I think coffee distributors should be legally mandated to give their friendly customers a heads up on their bean situation BEFORE they shell out approximately six hundred dollars for their overpriced nonsense. I'm seriously taking this straight to the White House.

I'm sure they'll have time for me just as soon as they resolve this whole Bieber situation.

So, after all that, I strapped my outdoor gear back on, walked over to the coffee shop and did what I probably shoulda done in the first place: I bought a takeaway coffee, in a flimsy paper cup. And was delicious.

While I was gone, McGyver Scott tried to grind the beans in our food processor and it did NOT work. Sadly I missed this whole process which is probably for the best, as I would have likely videotaped it and put it on the internet with 50 paragraphs about how great he is ... I'm becoming like a weird stage mother to my boyfriend. It's creepy.

In other grocery shopping news...

This Olive Oil:


$6 for a full liter, only at Trader Joe's. Once you've purchased oil at the Teej there is NO turning back. I can't justify buying it anywhere else. It's just so cheap! We ran out this week so I had a TJ's trip scheduled for Wednesday night when a friend suggested happy hour instead.

I know what you're thinking, another drunk Trader Joe's trip, Liz? NO! I solved my Trader Joe's splurging issue by shopping before I hit the bar.

I mean, OK sure, were the bags of groceries super bulky and awkward as I tried to push myself into the one snug open seat at the swanky wine bar? Yes.

Did the super attractive couple trying to enjoy their date next to me give me suuuurious side-eye as I rearranged my food purchases around me like a bag lady? Sure!

Did they give me double the side-eye when I then spotted a better seat had opened up a mere two minutes later, grabbed my groceries, coat, hat and cetera and begged them to move their chairs so I could snag those seats before anyone came? Of course.

Yes, all of these things happened and yes I definitely caused a scene and yes I then spent $30 on wine which kind of negated the whole olive oil savings which was the reason for this whole trip in the first place but it was worth it guys, it was. I finally found a way to keep my impulse shopping in check while in Trader Joe's! I just need to make sure I shop for necessities on my way TO somewhere, then I'll be forced to put down the frozen spanikopita and chocolate covered espresso beans and 8 lb bag of sweet potatoes: ain't no room for that!

I am a money saving, grocery shopping genius.

This Sleeve:


The other morning I changed my outfit three times because everything I tried on felt too sloppy. Finally settled on a semi-nice cream colored top only to get to work and find the sleeve covered in this ENORMOUS stain.

And it was bone dry, so definitely way old and not fresh coffee. What IS that? How long has it been there? And how sloppy were my other clothes if THIS was the best I could come up with?!


Speaaaaking of sleeves...

This Sweater:


But wait! We've seen this sweater before. OH YEAH. Just wanted to reassure you that I'm still wearing this bad boy, pen stains, huge holes and all. I'ma keep wearing this until it just literally disintegrates right off my body.

Aaaaand I am done now. I'm done! I'm going to go pour myself a piping hot cup of home brewed, non-organic, cheapass coffee, crank up the T Swift and get this day STARTED.


Liz Ho

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:


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:


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.


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:


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:


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!


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,


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 [5.17.13]

What's up, chicken nuggets? How was everyone's week? Mine was signifffficantly better than the last. Thanks to everyone for being so nice last week when I was so down. And belated thanks several weeks late to all who offered oh so helpful tips for hard boiling eggs. My egg eatin' life is bettah than evah. Y'all complete me. It's offensively early at the moment, but I don't mind it. I'm about to hop in a car to a plane to Chicago. My little brother is graduating from law school this weekend! Well, I don't know if he qualifies as 'little,' he's a six-foot-two, twenty-seven-year-old attorney, but I have to assert my older sister authority somewhere. I'm so proud of our Mikey boy, he's worked incredibly hard the last three years and landed a sah-weet job post grad. He's definitely a future Sandy Cohen or Jack McCoy so look out, criminals. I only wish Chicagy wasn't so far away!

You win some, you lose some. And now, quickly, before the sun rises, let's take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

This (Brand New) White T:


Where my no-spill streak and Diet Coke cleanse came to a simultaneous end.

These Mangoes:


You guys. This is a true story. So I'm still big into smoothies these days, now that I know how to freeze bananas (but I still prefer them regular, if anyone's curious) (no one is curious), and lately have been on a smokin' hot strawberry-banana-mango kick thanks to Trader Joe's handy and delicious frozen mango pieces. WELL. I ran out of frozen mango, a real #whitepeopleproblem if I've ever heard one, and didn't have time to hit the Teej so I popped into my neighborhood store and did they have mango pieces in the freezer section? No. They did not. I wandered dejectedly back to the produce section to just, I don't know, cry into some spinach or something and what to my wondering eyes should appear but some FRESH mangoes! Better than frozen!

All of a sudden realized The Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want" was playing over the grocery store loudspeaker.

"You can't always get what you want," crooned Mick Jagger, "But if you try some times, you might find..."

I reached out to pick up the glorious fruit and as my hand touched the mango...

"You get what you neeeeed!"

Believe it? Believe it.

I have always dreamed of having a life soundtrack and finally, my dream has come true.

Unfortch it seems I have absolutely no clue what to actually DO with a fresh mango, as I ended up with this mess:


I theeeenk I might be better served sticking with the frozen fruits.

Speaking of food I don't know what to do with...

One of These:


As I mentioned, on Tuesday night I met up with some g-friends and caught up over entirely too much wine and delicious food. One of those foods was steamed artichoke with lots of yummy dipping sauces. I've eaten artichoke hearts from a jar and a can and in salads and things but I guess I have never eaten a whole artichoke. Or watched anyone eat one.


Apparently when eating an artichoke, you don't eat the tough outside parts, but sort of pick off each petal and scrape off the soft, yummy insides with your teeth. Me, I didn't know this. And for some reason, didn't want to like, admit that I didn't know how to eat an artichoke. Or ask. And my powers of observation took way too long to realize that my compatriots were not, like me, struggling to chew and swallow huge, tough, inedible outer petals. I nearly choked like eight times. And yet, I soldiered on. Why, why, why?

If you are an uncouth slob like me, here's a helpful article on how to properly eat an artichoke:

The more you know!

Also, this is a fact: pretending to know how to do something always ends up more embarrassing than just admitting you don't.

These Hot Wheels:


I got a bike, you guys! I'm finally real hipster! I'm so in love with the old girl already. I'm considering naming her Saucy Sally, after a character in a great book I just read.

Why are cars and boats and things always named after women? As a feminist, am I setting the cause back by considering my bike a girl? Or is it a good thing, filling the world with more strong, sassy ladies, even if those ladies are inanimate modes of transportation?

I might overthink things.

Anyhoodle, this is my bike and I love it!

The one smidgeski of a downside: getting her into my apartment. I have nowhere to store my precious outside or on the ground floor, so, while carrying my heavy bike, I first must open up the front gate to my apartment building, then walk up three short steps, then some how set the bike down long enough to get out my keys and open the first of two front doors, then hold the door open with like, my foot slash butt, haul the bike into the vestibule, switch keys, open the second door to my apartment, repeat the butt-hold, yank the bike into the first floor of the building, realize it's facing a direction that makes it impossible to get it up the stairs, do a fifteen point turn to get it in the right direction, somehow yank it up just high enough to clear the steps and clang up the four floor staircase, banging the back wheel at every turn and acquiring a huge-ass bruise on my outer thigh.

Oh, while looking like this:


There has got to be an easier way!

(And a friendly reminder, kidz, always wear your helmets!)

And finally..

These Duds:

Style 2

Just wanted to inform that my sartorial spirit week marches on. Last week I wore purple but the photos were terrible, as was my mood. But trust me. This week: stripes!

And there you have it! How was your week? What are y'all up to this weekend? Do you know how to eat an artichoke?

Huge Congrats to my brother Michael and everyone graduating from some place of education this spring. You did it! You really, really did it!

xoxo Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [4.19.13]

Hello, sweet friends. How is everyone doing today? I think we can all collectively agree this week was...not great. From Boston to Texas and back (not to mention the disappointing news out of the Senate) it has just been a chilling, sad, scary week and my whole heart goes out to anyone affected by any of this week's tragedies and to all of us feeling a little less safe, less sure about the future.

One small light that has emerged from this week is the reminder that, even in bad situations, good people prevail. This article this roundup and this moving facebook post have all brought a smidge of comfort to me in the last week, and of course, this funnyguy brings a bit of much needed laughter amid the tears.

Love to friends in Massachusetts, Texas and across the planet. And everyone reading this, wherever you may be, do me a favor today, will you? Hug someone you love. Or if they're not a hugger, perhaps an arm pat. Pinch their behind. Smack them upside the head with a rolled up newspaper, gently, then laugh about it. Bring them coffee in the afternoon or a cookie at lunch. Snuggle a few minutes longer than usual. In whatever language works for you, show a little extra love today and this weekend. Life is short and scary and unexpected and impossible to predict, but it's also full of a lot of wonderful, beautiful things. Like love. Embrace it.


Aaaaand moving on to excessively more trivial matters, life is also full of humor and ridiculousness and vain people who like to talk about themselves on the internet all the time so let's insert a terrible segue from serious to silliness here (it absolutely destroys me that this is now the second time in under six months that I've had to make that joke) and take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week.

These Muffins:


My department made baked goodies to send to all of our sales reps this week, to thank them for their support and also to butter them up so they keep loving our books. Buttering up is probably what I should have done to these pans because my banana muffins (from a box) came out looking less than appetizing. I made it into the office with five semi-salvagable muffins. My teammates had beautiful boxes of cookies and brownies and homemade whoopie pies that looked professional and I had this hot mess. You're so welcome, sales staff. Keep up the great work, I know I will.

Want to know where I got the mix for such delectable muffins?  See below!

This Shopping Cart:

shopping cart

Last Friday night I met a girlfriend for happy hour and after a few glasses of wine, was walking to the subway when I realized, hey! I'm walking right past Trader Joe's. And they're still open! Why don't I drunkenly go on a shopping spree at 9:30 on a Friday night. And so I did.

This is my life now. Gone are the days of late-night shenanigans and inappropriate romantic decisions and pizza bingeing. Nowadays, my boozy impulse behavior is apparently just pillaging the hummus aisle and stocking up on dried fruits.

Party Animal.

This Balloon:


Over the weekend Brian & I were walking around Williamsburg (Brooklyn, not Colonial. I WISH!) on the way to a friend's birthday party when we encountered a group of people carrying huge bunches of turquoise balloons.

"Would you like a balloon?" one of the people asked, in a singsongy voice.

"YES!" I shrieked and ran to them, grasping at a balloon, ignoring the strange look on the person's face.

"I think she was talking to those small children," Brian said, pointing to the group of strollers and toddlers directly in front of us, which I had barreled through in pursuit of my shiny new toy.

Real, cute, Liz.

But, adults need balloons too! I call age discrimination.

I was going to give the balloon to my birthday friend, but when we showed up at the party we were super early and I felt weird and self conscious standing there holding a balloon, so I tied it to a post outside the bar. Sorry, friend.

This Laundry Bag:

laundry mixup

Because those are my clothes, but that is NOT my bag.

Here in the Big Apple (no one calls it that), drop off laundry service is incredibly popular for those of us without in-building washers and dryers.  It's relatively affordable and saves you from having to hang around the laundry mat, which is always just the best place in the world to spend your time. (<------------- lies.)

I usually don't do drop-off because it seems just too indulgent to me, even though it's not that exciting. I don't know why I put this much emphasis on it, but I feel like doing ones own laundry is kind of a grown-up thing to do and dropping off is just like, so excessively fancypants and snooty. Also I'm really particular about what clothes I tumble and what I line dry and I worry they won't do my wash in the right way, so I'd rather do it myself, even if it takes time. But, long story so, so, SO long, sometimes when I'm supremely desperate, I'll drop-off my tumble dry things (sheets, towels, gym clothes) before work, and then in the evening I'll pop in, wash just my hang-dry stuff, pick up my drop-off and bring it all back home, so I'm only wasting 25 minutes at the laundropalace instead of 2 hours.

Is anyone still reading this story? Good god, Liz, land the  plane.

ANYWAAAAAAAAAAAAAY this week was one of those desperate times and when I went to pick up my laundry, the clerk handed me my sexy backpack and luckily I looked inside for some reason, because it was filled with someone else's clothes! The fuck!

It turns out they'd mixed up my laundry with someone else's, putting the wrong things in the wrong bags. GAH. The clerk, who did not even pretend to apologize, took his sweet old time poking through the stacks of clean laundry bags, lazily checking to see if any of the tags matched my pickup receipt and after FIFTEEN MINUTES he finally located my clothes, then took fifteen more minutes switching the items into the correct bags, so I really saved myself no time whatsoever by dropping off and added a significant amount of stress to my life.

It took all the strength in my being not to lose my marbles on this man. I'm never ever a complainer, I'll eat burnt food and drink stale coffee and just want everyone to love me but sometimes, dudes, I can't. I managed to keep my cool - I figured this guy probably makes like $3 and hour and has to touch other people's crusty underpants all day long - but not without serious effort. He wasn't even PRETENDING TO TRY to look hard! He never once apologized for their friggin mixup and was beyond rude to me. MLKMAKDJYLUMKS.! That was me belatedly taking out my frustration on my work keyboard.

Felt good!

But, it turns out I can't really blame him for ruining my laundry life because...

These Camisoles:


Used to be white but are now...that color. They were in the small batch of clothes I'd washed myself to hang dry. I must have let in something that ran because now all of my whites are greyish.

Just slaying it in the clothes washing department this week.

And then, less than 24 hours later...

These Pants:

avocado pants

From which I had literally just washed out last week's lotion stains and by 10:30 the morning after laundry night, were stained with permanent sharpie marker AND gloopy green avocado.

I am a mess. I'm going to give up on clothes all together. Laundry professionals can't handle them, I certainly can't seem to be trusted to wash them myself and I can't go more than 12 minutes without staining them, so I'm just going to start wrapping myself in plastic sheeting, like a mummy, and at the end of the day I'll just spray myself down with a hose.


And that is what's up 'round these parts. Anyone have anything exciting planned for the weekend? Tonight I'll be celebrating this gal's birthday and tomorrow my mama's coming to visit! We're going to go to the Guggenheim, walk around Dumbo and probably consume several gallons of pinot grigio.

Look out, New York!!

Happy weekend to all of you beautiful flowers and big love from me to you.

xoxo Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [4.12.13]

Happy Friday, my ducks! (Ducks? Ducks!) This week was SO good. Spring has finally sprung and I think the sunshine and warm weather and a few glasses of sauvignon blanc on a sunny patio was just what the doctor ordered to whisk away any remains of my winter doldrums.  I'm back, baby! I'm not even that bummed by today's torrential downpour because I finally get to tell my VERY BEST joke that I save up and break out once a year on the first rainy day of April.

Is everyone ready for this? Hold onto your hats, it's a good one...

April Showers Bring May Flowers, but What Do May Flowers Bring???

Answer in the comments and I'll select one correct jokester at random to win a prize! The prize is a secret and could range anywhere from me mentioning your name in a post next week OR me sending you a bust of my head made of one million Sacajawea dollars, so you probably want to just gamble on it and take a guess.

But don't rush into it, this is some pretttty sophisticated humor and might take a while to land.

Aaaand on that note, let's see what else was keeping it awkward this sunny, beauteous, Aprilicious, Springalingadingdonging week:

This Banana:


I've been making a lot of smoothies lately because they are a healthy, delicious, relatively easy treat that my body seems able to digest. I kept using regular bananas as a base, but read online that frozen bananas really take smoothies to the next level, so I tossed a nanner in the freezer and it came out this horrible grey-ish brown color and ROCK SOLID. It took me at least 15 minutes, using our sharpest knife, to saw through the peel and try to salvage some of the banana meat for a smoothie that ended up tasting no better, at all, than my regular mix.

And incidentally, my smoothies have been looking a lot like what I'm trying to prevent with all this clean eating:


But they taste really good, I swear! My fave recipe: one NON FROZEN banana, handful of frozen blueberries, handful of frozen strawberries, handful of spinach, dollop of almond butter, 1/2 cup of almond milk and some water as needed, blend away until smooth and drink up! And if you really want to get fancy you can add some chia seeds which are the trendy new superfood, according to the internet, and I am obsessed with superfoods, even if they are the base of chia pets.

One of the articles I read about chia seeds gave a warning that, good as chia seed are, people should NOT eat their chia pets. AWW. People are so dumb!

These Pants:

lotion pants

Which I laid out on my bed to put on yesterday and then promptly managed to get lotion all over the butt.

Whyyyyyyyyyyyy? I am not exaggerating when I say that I have to change my clothes at least once a week before I even leave for work, because I can not get out of the house without first covering myself in food, cosmetics, lotions or other products that usually leave vaguely sexual stains all over the clean outfit I just put on four minutes ago.

I am like a toddler. Just once I would like to make it five days in a row without requiring an outfit change, is that too much to ask??? I don't know why I'm getting so irate - who am I yelling at, besides myself, the only person to blame for all of my stained clothes? God?

Are you there, god, it's me, Liz, stop spilling stuff all over my jeggings!!

Phew, that feels better.

This Salad:


Mixed greens with artichoke hearts, olives and...yum, cardboard!

My latest cleanse: only eat corrugated paper products.

OBVIOUSLY I threw the c-board away and finished the rest of the salad because a) I'm disgusting and b) that shit cost TEN DOLLARS AND EIGHTY THREE CENTS. For a bowl of vegetables. It would take like, an entire severed human arm popping up in my lunch for me to throw it away after dropping that kind of dough.

This Bookshelf:


Mine, in my boudoir  where the magic happens. I try to keep things generally tidy in my home and I am practically perfect in every way, except one, which is that I am a notorious cup hoarder. Once a week or so my roommates will go into the cupboard to grab a drinking implement and find the cabinet empty and they'll know exactly where alllllll of the cups are: in my bedroom. Every time a glass or mug goes in there, it never comes out again, until we're forced to drink out of empty jars and I finally lug my dirty half-full water glasses and mugs of tea and things back into the kitchen, usually requiring multiple trips.

I was worse in college, when I was at the peak of my laziness/messiness/liquid consumption. I reached my record one day when we counted and I had thirteen cups with varying levels of old liquid in them including like a 7-11 big gulp, a plastic margarita glass, five wine glasses, three coffee mugs and so forth. Gross? Gross!

I can't help it. It is my weakness. Now I usually just let myself get to approximately five cups or so, before bringing them back in. Usually they're scattered about the room between the bookshelf and the desk and the bedside table, but the other morning I realized that every bare surface on my bookshelf was covered with a dirty cup.  Whoopsicles!

These Ankle Boots:


Aren't they cute? They're Steve Madden and were originally over $100 but I got them for $45 at Loehman's, cha-ching! It took me literally 11 tries to get a photo of them that came out halfway decently - at first  I tried them on their own but they just looked like weird disembodied Wizard of Oz witch shoes (minus the cute glitter) so then I put them on my feet and couldn't get a good angle and had to turn the flash on and it was a whole thingggg and I REALLY should not have gone to all that effort to tell you what I'm about to tell you, which I should probably tell no one but I have no filter whatsoever, so I'm doing it:

These boots make my feet smell.

Big whoop, you say? Everyone's feet smell! (Except Kate Middleton's!) Well hold your horses and let me go on (no, stop me!):

These boots make my feet smell like corn chips.

HAHA isn't that gross?? For whatever reason, every time I take these shoesies off my feetsies the insides of the shoes and my feet smell EXACTLY like a bag of Fritos and I am not even joking. It is the weirdest, grossest thing ever.

Annnnd isn't your life better now that you know this information? I think I may have just crossed the overshare line into a bad place, one I can never return from.

You're welcome!

And for bonus fun, here is a photo of me this morning, modeling my Frito Boots (future band name, I call dibs!) for a blog photo:


Just GLAMOUR 24/7 up in the Liz Ho household.

And how was YOUR week?? Spill anything on your favorite pants? Rock ankle boots with a hot robe? Eat any good smoothies? As always, I'd love to hear from you.

Have a delightfully awkward weekend - get out and enjoy that spring weather! Unless you live in the snowy, icy Midwest in which case yikes, sorry guys. Hang in there!

Peace, love and corn chips,

Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [4.5.13]

Ugh, worst blogger on the interwebz right here, I KNOW. I have a plethora of excuses, some are work related, some are travel related but I can’t lie to y’all: most of them are TV related. Being so busy the past few weeks, I’ve fallen behind on all my programs and in addition to playing catch-up, I’ve added a binge watch of Justified to my agenda. Which like, just what I need is another TV show to get hooked on, I know, I know, but my sister is a big fan and she was expressing sadness that noone else she knows is into it, so she has no one to discuss with and she wished more people would watch it and FAMILY FIRST, I can’t just let my baby sister suffer alone with no one to talk to about her favorite television shows, what kind of monster do you think I am, soooooooooo now I’m bingeing on Justified. But it’s all for her!

You might even say, it is justified.

 BA DUM BUM! I’m out.

 Just kidding still here. And real quick, just in case anyone else has been considering getting justified  but needed a little more convincing, the show stars this guy:

timothy   WHAT! Can I get a hummina hummina up in here?

 Sorry. I’ll never say "hummina hummina" or "up in here" ever again.

 But I couldn’t help myself! Gentleman is just too good looking. You might even say that “hummina’ was....wait for it...yeah, I’m going back again...JUSTIFIED.

 The end. Shut it down forever. Let’s get this Friday over with.

 Here’s what was keeping it justified awkward this week:

This Turnstile:


Or one like it. If someone hasn’t already made a blog of weird shit that happens in the subway, well they should. This place is a goldmine.  Homeless people sleeping. People preaching the word of god. Mariachi bands. Flashers. Ladies throwing their tampons and birth control all over the place. Ladies holding up traffic taking photos of the turnstiles. It’s a big ol’ mess!

The other night I was coming home from Whole Foods with a few bags worth of cleanse friendly goodskis (ends tomorrow! Bring me my wine!) and this guy rushed into the turnstile just as I did, basically cutting me off mid card swipe. He seemed really in a big rush, so I stepped aside and told him to go ahead. And, ok, maybe my voice was dripping with some mild disdain, but I was generally polite and a normal human being. But this dude, you guys, he just stopped right where he was standing, basically next to me, looked straight ahead, did not acknowledge that I had spoken to him and waited for me to go through the turnstile. 

“Um, you can go ahead,” I tried again, louder, maybe he was deaf, and his eyes sort of flitted over to me ever so slightly, I watch a shitton of crime procedurals so I know how to read delicate facial tics, and I KNEW he heard and saw me but instead of going through the turnstile or telling me to go ahead or saying any words or making any normal body motions, he just continued to stand there, still as a statue, staring straight ahead, waiting, I guess, for me to go through. 

So I did. And he then immediately sped up again, rushed through the turnstile, past me and down the stairs to the train platform. 

WHAT IN THE WHAT WHAT was this guy’s problem. Do you think he was a robot? That when I stopped him in his initial attempt to go through the turnstile he shut down and had to reprogram and power back up again? 

It was weird, guys.

This Book:

Detailed Info Here. 

This is apparently a real thing. DISCLAIMER: I was watching Scandal last night (Olivia Pope!) (all I do is watch TV!) and saw an ad for this new show How To Live With Your Parents for the Rest of Your Life which, admittedly, looks like a complete disaster, but I could sah-wear I recognized one of the actresses and it was bugging me that I couldn’t place her so I went over to Google to check it out and as I typed in the words How...To...Live...With...the auto-fill brought finished my search with “A Huge Penis.” I mean, I could have just finished my search and NOT immediately clicked on the link for this big penis guide, but, come on. Do you even KNOW me? I was at Amazon faster than a something-something-insert gross joke about magnum condoms here.

And this is what I found. I’m sure this is a joke. It must be a joke? But how MUCH of it is a joke? Is the author REALLY a Catholic priest? Is penis literature something they started allowing in Vatican II or did I just miss this whole lesson in CCD? Who are all of these people writing 5 Star reviews and are they joking? And most importantly, WHY am I spending so much time thinking about this.

Shut it down, Liz. Shut it down.

 Also, in case you are curious, the actress I recognized was Mary Louise Parker's neighbor on Weeds. Mystery solved!

This Sign:


Another of my crazy landlady’s understated decor pieces, this hangs just outside of our apartment door. The other morning I guess I slammed the door a scoonch too hard and the sign fell to the floor. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to hang it back up without being 100% crooked, so now I guess I have to confess to Connie that I am trashing her biblical plaques. 

Also: because this sign hangs directly outside of my apartment door, at the top of the staircase, I see this sign every single day when I come home and therefore every single day of my waking life, I have the lyrics to that song in my head.

If you ever went to any sort of Christian bible camp or retreat or youth group meeting, you KNOW what I’m talking about and you know the hand motions. Though I’m now a hell bound heathen, I dabbled in religion in my youth, as I’m sure all goody-two-shoes girls did at one point or another, and so I have a pretty basic memory of the top modern Christian Worship songs of the early ‘00’s, all of which are complete nightmares (to me! If this is your jam, JAM ON!) and 100% impossible to get out of your head once they've wiggled in there. I guess that’s the power of the lord buggin’ in your brain or something.

Anywhoo: if you know the song I mean, SORRRY it will now be stuck in your head for the rest of eternity and if not, well, here is a terrifying/fascinating YouTube clip to get you started:



This Sweet Tote:


I have about 8 zillion tote bags, one of the two perks of working in publishing (the other one is free books. yay?) and yet always seem to be without one when I need it most. I needed to lug some dirty tupperware home the other night and found this stylin’ number abandoned in one of our book closets.

 As I've mentioned here before, I'm really not one for animals and definitely not one for attired adorned with animals, which I find so overly cutesy it makes me ill. Except for owls, which I wear all the time because they are cool looking and super hipster so I guess I am a hypocrite (hipster-o-crite?) (NO.) and I should just shut it and be glad for this new tote bag.

But come on, y'all, would you wear this?

These Gross Stains:


On a running shirt & a pair of jegs. WHAT is this mess? Very Lewinsky. Very classy.


This Restaurant:


One of my faves in NYC! I went there yesterday on a blind friend date. When I studied abroad I became friends with this French guy Nico and a few years later he visited New York with his then girlfriend Lucie and we met for drinks and Lucie revealed that she was interviewing with the UK branch of my company the very next week, so we became “friends” on social media and keep up with each other that way and I’m pretty sure she and Nico have since gone the way of the dodo but we’re still internet pals and a few weeks ago one of her UK friends took a job here in the US so Lucie put us in touch and yesterday we got lunch. This is the longest and boringest and dumbest introduction into a story that, I’m not gonna lie to you, does NOT have a very good payoff. Keep reading?

So I was here at Westville meeting a guy I studied abroad with’s ex-girlfriend’s former colleague for lunch. Capiesch? I had friended her on the Facebook so I was pretty sure I’d recognize her but you never know! I was standing just inside the door, a woman walked into the restaurant, lit up with a smile and waved in my direction, I smiled, waved back and was about to say “Hello!” when she breezed past another solo woman standing directly behind me.


But it was a great lunch and now I have a new friend! You can never have too many friends OR tote bags. That’s what I always say! 

Aaaand that was my week. I’m off to New Jersey for the weekend - tonight Brian’s sister is running a track meet at Princeton University, so we’re going to be spectators which should be cold and boring but, as I said just moments ago FAMILY FIRST sooo, yeahhh. No, it will be really nice - I love his family and obviously want them to love me more than a Liz Ho loves cheese, so any time I get to hang with them is a-ok in my book.

And Saturday, I’m SO excited for Saturday, we’re going to a Holi party. Do you know what Holi is? I barely know more than the first paragraph of its Wikipedia page, but I do know that it is a joyous Hindu holiday known as the Festival of Color. People gather and eat good food and celebrate and then throw colored pigments and paints at one another. Here are some pictures, if you’re curious! I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks!

And what are YOU up to this weekend? I’d love to hear it. Whatever you do, make sure it is JUSTIFIED!

Nope, OK, officially dead.

xo Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [3.22.13]

Helllooooo my friends and Happy Spring! I mean, yes it snowed yesterday and is was sub-freezing when I woke up this morning and I still maintain that March is the ficklest of all bitches, but you know what: it's Friday, the sun is shining, I'm sipping a delicious glass of Emergen-C and life is pretty good. I'll take it. But good of course does not mean smooth and normal so why don't we take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Shopping Basket:

shopping basket

See how you can see the sidewalk and the great outdoors in the background? Yeaaaah. Over lunch one day this week I went to the drug store by my office to stock up on some goodz, paid, walked out of the store, back to my office, got into the elevator, spotted my reflection in the mirrored doors, thought One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other and realized I'd carried the shopping basket right out of the store.


Is what I said outloud and a stranger riding up with me replied "yeah, I was wondering what was up with that."

Uh, thanks buddy!

So then I had to get off at my floor, stand in the elevator bank with my shopping basket and wait for a down elevator so I could ca-reeep back to the store and return the basket.


This Manicure:


Notice anything?

Tuesday night I decided to paint my nails - I did my left hand just fine but then decided I was tired and hungry and I needed my right hand to eat food, so I'd just do the other hand in the morning. Of course I overslept and showed up for work the next day with half a manicure.

It's the hot new look for spring, you saw it here first!

(I'm wearing Charismatic by Revlon, just in case anyone is curious about my personal style and wants to run right out and buy it. Or Revlon wants to give me some sort of endorsement deal. )

This Whole Thing:

salad dryer

Basically, guys, I'm a genius.

We have either a very smoldery oven or a very sensitive fire alarm or a little of both. Every time we cook or bake anything the alarm goes off, so we have to set up this elaborate system of fans and open windows unless we want the alarm to go off for the entire time we're cooking. One night this week I was baking some dairy free, sugar free, whole wheat zucchini muffins because I am a holistic domestic goddess, and while they were in the oven I was prepping a salad for dinner. I washed the lettuce and then came up with the brilliant idea to use the fan to dry the leaves, since I broke my salad spinner months ago.

Isn't this the smartest thing you've ever seen?

Don't worry, there are plates under there, I didn't just throw my food down on the ground.

Though, the fan was probably blowing all sorts of kitchen dirt all over my fresh, clean lettuce but whatever. I stand by it.


This Shirt:


I went to a St. Patrick's Day party last weekend and it was basically as classy as you'd imagine. I've been really, really good about sticking to my healthy eating plans, while I'm trying to diagnose my gross bowel issues (the latest = no soy, dairy or alcohol, my life is the saddest), but if there is one thing in this world that I am powerless to resist, aside from French onion dip...and peanut M&M's...and brie cheese...and Diet Coke...and cheese fries...and ok, leave me alone, I know I have gross eating habits and no willpower...but aside from all of those things and many more, the one thing that I MOST can't resist is buffalo wings with blue cheese dressing. Sweet Mother Mary I LOVE BUFFALO WINGS. It is Pavlovian. Just the smell sets my mouth watering until I'm overcome with a desire to feast upon greasy, spicy wings covered in creamy blue cheese dressing.

Just typing this I'm starting to sweat with desire!

So of course when I walked into the bar on St. Patrick's Day and a friend ordered a few plates of wings, I had to completely abandon any sort of clean eating plan I was on and dive in headfirst. Was it worth it? HELLZ YEAH.

The thing is, wings are a messy, messy food. I already have a complete inability to eat anything without having it somehow all over my face and body so hand me a buffalo wing and suddenly I am literally covered in sauce. Covered.  My friends find great joy in eating wings with me and then taking photos of the results. Above: a mess all over my shirt. Below, a classic photo from someone's graduation party:


Have you ever been more turned on in your entire life?

Aaand on that note, I'm out!

What is everyone up to this weekend? It's a pretty quiet one for me. I have to go to a work event tonight (#ugh) and might meet some girlfriends for breakfast tomorrow but otherwise I'm hoping to be sort of productive and who knows what. I mean, I can't have wine OR cheese so like, what else is there to do on a weekend?

And don't say like, 'go to a museum!" "do a craft!" "write letters to loved ones" because I KNOWWWWW there are things in life that are "fun" but don't involve booze and dairy products but are they "fun," really? Really? REALLY?

So basically, I'm asking you all for a favor: please spend the weekend heavily imbibing on delicious adult beverages and grilled cheese. Maybe dip your grilled cheese into your wine instead of tomato soup?

Think about it! Could be good!

Just try it, for me?

Happy weekend!

xoxo Liz Ho


Another Awkward Week [3.15.13]

Good morning! I know I begged off earlier this week while I got myself into a better headspace, but I couldn't possibly end a week without an awkward recap, now could I? Luckily for me, it was one for the books. I feel like the universe really heard me when I complained I was feeling down and uninspired and said "Liz, you want inspiration? Well here ya go, girl!" And there they did go. I might be the only person who considers a ridiculously embarrassing week a blessing but to each his own, right?

So, let's take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Mug:


Because apparently tea does not steep when you put in COLD water and then dump it out, get another tea bag, and re-fill it ...again with cold water! I do this like once a month. Never learn. Ever ever learn.

(PS Trader Joe's Pomegranate White Tea is a delight, if you're into that sort of thing. Also: pomegranate, much like poinsettia is a surprisingly difficult word to spell. There's no 'n' in there - it's not a pomENgranate...just pom. Learning new things every single day!)

These Socks:


On Tuesday it rained a bit during the day. After work I was walking to the subway with a friend and a big leftover rain droplet plopped from an overhead awning and landed right on my face. So I reached into my coat pocket and took out what I thought was my cotton glove to wipe my face, but instead I pulled out a sock. An inside out sock that I can only imagine to be dirty. Of course I didn't realize it was a sock until AFTER I'd rubbed it all over my face.

Luckily it was definitely my sock but a lot of questions remain including what, why, how and when did this sock end up in my pocket? His pair was in the other pocket! Was I wearing socks as gloves? Did I think they were gloves and put them in my pockets mistakenly? Was I somehow wearing my coat as pants?

Update the list of America's Greatest Unsolved Mysteries!

This Cup of Water:


Or, the shape made down at the bottom where there are no water bubbles. Don't you think it looks like Africa? It totally doesn't but the amount of time I spent staring at this water shape is horrifying. I lost like 45 minutes of my life staring into this cup, trying to decide if I saw Africa or not.


PS I swear I don't do hallucinogenic drugs.

This Mess:


Making microwave oatmeal is a HARD task, y'all. There is a careful balance of water to oats and if you leave them attended for too long, they'll bubble over and make a giant mess. Like this. Sorry, colleagues in line to use the microwave.

The double layer of awkward is, of course, me getting caught by a random colleague standing in front of the microwave with my phone camera out.

Nothing to see here, just documenting my breakfast mess, like we all do, move along!

These Shoes:


Why those shoes, you ask? They're adorable! I KNOW! Also, $19.99 from the Banana Republic outlet, booyah.

On Tuesday it was semi-warm out and I got a little carried away with the whole spring thing, busting out flats and bare ankles instead of my usual 300 layers of socks and boots and things. I also wore jeans to the office because I'm a lazy slob. Anyhoodle, I'd forgotten that this particular pair of flats is a little slippery on the bottom. On my way into work, I slipped on a cigarette butt and nearly fell down the subway stairs, but caught myself. At the time I blamed the smoker instead of my shoe.

I still do blame him/her, for the extent that they were implicit in nearly causing me harm. I'll spare y'all the lecture on smoking, you know all the reasons why you should quit, if you want to kill yourself, go to town, but SO HELP ME BEYONCE, I will not stand idly by while you throw your gross cigarette garbage, because that's what it is, garbage, on the ground. I can not EVEN with this. I chew gum, which is gross, but I don't spit my gum on the floor. I don't throw old bits of sandwich wrapper on the ground. I don't just throw trash everywhere all over the ground upon which innocent people have to walk because that is disgusting and against the law and just plain mean and gross and offensive, so whyyyywywywywywhy is it OK for smokers to throw their butts on the ground? WHY?! If you do this, how do you get up every morning and look at your (probably grey, yellowed & wrinkly from nicotine!)  face in the mirror?!

Throw your garbage in a garbage can.

Ummm end rant, whoops, that got intense. What can I say, sometimes I have serious feelings about things, you know?

So where was I? Ok, so Wednesday morning I slipped and fell on the remains of some cigarette bandit garbage criminal but caught myself and placed the blame elsewhere. Wednesday evening was a different story. I met a work acquaintance for a glass of wine (always winin' and dinin' over here) and then walked down to Brian's apartment. It was a little brisker than I anticipated when choosing to go sockless, so I was walking even quicker than I normally do, and I am an extremely fast walker. Not to brag or anything, but I'm like the Usain Bolt of regular street walking. Move it or lose it, everyone else on the sidewalk: here I come. I can go four city blocks in under 30 seconds. This isn't really something to be all that proud about but listen, it's the little things, you know? So, I'm power walking down a sort of busy street when all of a sudden:


I BIT it.

I don't know what happened or how I got there but all of a sudden I was on the ground on my hands and knees feeling like I'd just dropped down from Mars.


People stopped to make sure I was OK and offer to help me up, but I was so disoriented and shocked I just waved them away. Mortifying. I looked around: there were no loose sidewalk tiles, no bumps in the ground or sticks or stones or errant CIGARETTE BUTTS to hinder my stride, just the wide open, smooth sidewalk and me, laying on the ground. I tripped over nothing. One minute I was walking down the street and the next minute I was not. How does someone trip over nothing??? Maybe I'm NOT as good at walking as I thought I was!

Making matters even worse, I ripped a hole in my jeggings! Whomp. I guess it's a blessing I dressed like a slob that day, so I didn't tear a pair of good work pants. But still, RIP those jeans, I loved you a LOT.

I limped myself the rest of the way to Brian's house and immediately started taking photos of myself shouting "I have to blog about this!"


I then stripped off my now dead pants only to realize I was covered in blood.



Also: how gross do disembodied knees look?

Alsoer: I keep typing knees as "kneese," just FYI.

Two days have passed, and now I have the bruised, skinned, scraped knees of an eight-year-old. COOL BEANS, GREAT LOOK!

And how was YOUR week?

Related: A huge thanks to all who offered up 'likes' or sweet comments during my woe-is-me moment earlier this week. It's funny, I woke up the next morning feeling more focused and positive already. Maybe sometimes you just need to get those grey, blah moments out there, off of your mind and into the world where other people can remind you that it's OK and you're OK and you're not the only one.

And catching a sunrise like this one sure don't hurt, either.


So! Here's wishing everyone a good weekend. I hope whatever you do: wear green & get hammered, stay home and watch Hulu, eat good food or bad food or a mix, craft, sleep, fall on the street, mope around feeling blue, write a novel, etcetera and so forth, you find yourself on Monday morning feeling restored and ready to take on the world. I have a feeling I'll be right back there with ya!

Luck O' The Awkward,

Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [12.28.12]

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanza or Winter Solstice or Non Denominational December Vacation Day or whatever it is you might celebrate. I spent the last week at home in Pennsylvania and it has been lovely. I did all of my favorite things: watched Muppet Christmas Carol multiple times, went to the movies, hung out with my family, wept in the bathtub while drinking wine and reading a sad book (every year I save up my saddest entertainment for when I go home, last year it was the FNL finale, so that I can get in a good bubble bath cry. That's normal, right?), ate myself into oblivion and generally had a blast. Plus, we had a White Christmas! 20121224_174206

So pretty!

Despite all the fun, I couldn't help feeling like this Christmas went by too quickly. I know it is a cliche to say that every year goes quicker than the last, but 2012 really seemed to zip by. I'm going to make a concerted effort in the New Year to try to focus on the moment and slow things down.

But talking about the passage of time is a surfire snooze inducer, so let's change the subject! Here's what was keeping it awkward this festive holiday week:

This Photo ID:


Because it is FINALLY legal! I know you've all been a part of this license saga from the beginning, so I'm pleased to share that I have finally renewed my drivers license and am once again a functioning member of society. Or at least just a semi-functioning person who is now allowed to drive a car. I'd suggest you all get off the road now.

This picture is horrible. My DMV clerk was about 60, a woman with long grey hair in two pigtails done Native American style with multiple bands at intervals down the plait and had tons of turquoise jewelery adorning her periwinkle fleece vest. She spoke in a very condescending, strange way "ok now you use this nice pen to sign your beautiful signature...there you go! good job!" and kind of creeped me out. I tried to smile in a serene, mature way because, I don't know why, I'm insane, and the photo is clearly hideous. But after old pigtails asked me why I "hid my pretty teeth" I couldn't decide if she was being insulting or encouraging so just choked and told her to hit print.


These Sweaters:


Just kidding, they are amazing. My favorite holiday tradition is Christmas Eve. We've spent the past 26 years celebrating with our very dear family friends and every year is better than the last. This year we were gifted some seriously sassy holiday sweaters. Damn we look good.

This Trivial Pursuit Card:


Which came up during family game night on my turn to read. Specifically the yellow question which asks: "Which Greek philosopher's last words before dying of hemlock poisoning, were: "I owe a cock to Asclephius; will you repay him"?

The answer is Socrates. And also, no, Liz is NOT mature enough to read a question about someone owing someone else a cock during family game night...

This Blob:


This is a horrible photo but trust me when I say it depicts a giant red wine stain on my mom's living room carpet, courtesy of yours truly. Merry Christmas, Mom! Oh, and your birthday is December 25? Great! Stained rugs are the gift that keep on giving.

This Television:


My Christmas gift from my amazing, generous mama but we forgot to consider an exit strategy. Today I'll attempt to lug this thing from Pennsylvania to Brooklyn via public transport. Should be totally smooth.

This Christmas Ornament:


One of my favorites on the tree! I made this in AP English in HS (I swear the curriculum was more vigorous than this craft would suggest) and every year it gets funnier and funnier. I'm not sure what's the best part of that acrostic. Is it using "available" as an adjective (so desperate) or "BOOTYLICIOUS!" in all caps (so delusional) or the fact that I spelled "intelligent" incorrectly (so...dumb!). Intellegent. Oh I slay myself.

Good thing I've really matured and changed since then...

And finally, the gem to end all gems that ever were gems:

This Advertisement:


Yes, read closely, that is an ad for Central PA's finest rural sex club The Hedo Farm Resort. They're having a New Years' Eve Party that includes a champagne toast, DJ Dance Party and "Country-Style Breakfast" at 1 AM. I don't know about you, but to me, nothing says "hot sex club" quite like a late night buffet of creamed chipped beef and toast. Do you think they provide bibs so you don't spill on your harness or exposed breasts?

I went to the website ( SO WORTH whatever spam this will send me) and this place is BEYOND. I realized that the only examples I've seen of sex clubs are from like, Castle, when Castle & Beckett had to go investigate an S&M murder and they had witty banter and crackling tension or something, if that hasn't happened, I'm sure it will, but I've always assumed they'd be a little, you know, sexy. This place is potentially the least sexy sex club you could imagine. It is set on 40 acres of beautiful land, the party palace is an old farmhouse, which was hopefully formerly owned by someone Amish. They have two hottubs, a pool with a sun deck (clothing optional!) a beach volleyball pit (clothing don't want to be a diving dig with you cooch exposed, ouch), 25 "themed party rooms" and are BYOB. They have a very strict business casual dress code which emphasizes slacks as appropriate attire for both men and women.

"Everyone grab your chinos, we're going swinging!'

They also offer RV hookups, places where you can pitch a tent...both in your pants and in the woods (ba dum, ping!)...and are obsessed with food. Every night there is a buffet and every morning they offer a continental breakfast that prominently features danish. DANISH!

"So great to watch you screw my wife last night. Could you pass me another danish?"

Also, the owner's names are HERBY AND JUDY and their logo is a cartoon horse with the slogan "helping you horse around."

Basically this ad is the best Christmas gift I've ever received and I will see you all at the Hedo Farm Resort on New Years Eve. Get there early, the prime rib and stuffed haddock buffet starts at 6!

And there you have it. The last awkward week of 2012 - how wild is that? How did you spend your holiday?

xo Liz Ho Ho Ho (last time this year, I swear!)