Another Awkward (SHORT!) Week [7.3.13]

Helllooo, friends. Recapping the week on a Wednesday, say whaat? Whaat!

I slay myself.

But, haven't you heard? Wednesday is the new Friday, at least this week. I'm about to embark on a five day weekend in honor of America's Birthditty and I  hope the rest of you are too. And my non-American friends, well, hang in there, champs!

I am exhausted today - I've barely slept a wink in days. On Sunday, Brian introduced me to this BBC show currently streaming on Netflix called The Fall, starring Gillian Anderson, of X Files fame which is a show I have never once seen, because I wasn't allowed to watch much TV growing up, which is hilarious considering it is now basically all I do (take that, MOM!), but I'd always lie and pretend to have seen it so I would seem cool. In this new show she's some kind of Irish police detective hunting down a gruesome serial killer in Belfast, who is, I can not even lie about it just stupid sexy. This guy, it is just rude how handsome he is. Like, you know in cartoons where someone's jaw literally drops and their eyes but out and they go like "ah-oooooo-gah!" That is this guy.

Am I right or am I right? It's probably not polite to sit next to your boyfriend and repeatedly say "Holy shit, I want to make out with that television serial killer," but some things can not be stopped.

Anywaaaay sexy or not, this show is terrifying and the past two nights I've been home all alone and scared out of my wits. I was so afraid to turn the lights off or close my eyes and I've barely washed my face in two days because I kept expecting that scene in every horror movie ever where the person comes up from splashing their face with water and THERE'S SOMEONE ELSE IN THE MIRROR and hot or not, that's justtt not the way I want to go.

I need severe help.

And coffee.

Anyhoodle, it seems like a good show so I'd recommend it if you have a high threshold for serial-killer induced night terrors.

And that's what's up! Let's see what else was keeping it awkward this week:

This Covered Wagon:


I was visiting some gfs in Pennsylvania this weekend and we went to this massive, amazing flea market in New Hope (actually it was just over the bridge in Lawrenceville, NJ and when we walked over the bridge we stood with one foot in either state and quoted lines from the American Classic film A Walk To Remember starring Mandy Moore and based on the novel of the same name by Nicholas Sparks, because we are incredibly cool people) (haha that parenthetical aside was so long I forgot what I'm talking about!) and suddenly one of my friends yelled out 'Oh my god, Liz!" and pointed in the direction of a beautiful, hand carved covered wagon sitting atop a vendor's table. I rushed to it and my amazement was increased tenfold when the vendor informed me it was a actually a lamp that turns on and off by pressing the yoke up and down.

I died.

But when I resurrected I couldn't decide if it was worth the $10 he was charging - a price that's a little steep for a novelty lamp, even if the lamp does have a genuine canvas cover. He reduced the price to five bucks and the wagon was mine.

It works!


Best $5 I ever spent.

I did not purchase the butter churn pictured above, a move I'm sure I'll live to regret.

This Snack:


Also in New Hope (which BTW is the most adorable town EVER), we stopped for ice cream at this cuter than cute establishment and I got myself one scoop of something called the Jersey Shore, which was vanilla with swirls of salted caramel, yumz, and also a bottle of water...which I promptly forgot I had in my hand.

The cashier rung me up and informed me my total was $6.50 and I nearly fell to the floor. In an uncharacteristic move for my usual doormat self, I challenged her.

"Did you just say SIX-fifty?" I asked, with at-ti-tude

"Yes," she replied, professionally polite

"Um, no. This is ONE scoop, so it only costs four," says moi, at-ti-tude to the extreme

"Plus a bottle of water," she responded, a glare of disdain in her eyes.

Aaand then I quickly dropped my sass for my more typical "Omg! HAHA whoops, my bad! I totally forgot about the water, can you believe it? Clearly I'm dehydrated and need this, am I right? Thanks so much for ringing me up you're amazing I love you this store is amazing everything is great haha silly old me" and now I can never go back there again.


And, while we're still on the PA theme allow me to just brag quiiite quickly about...

This Social Media Achievement:

Screenshot_2013-07-02-21-10-03 (1)

Now, y'all know if there is one thing I love more than anything in the world, even covered wagons, it is sandwiches. And Wawa hoagies are definitely in the top five of my favorite sammies list. So obvi we had to stop at Wawa on the way back to NY to stock up and obvi I had to instagram a photo, hashtag hoagiefest because that's how I do and GUESS who "liked" my instagram.

WAWA. Their corporate account! Are you jealous or WHAT?!

The tiniest things that make my life complete.

This Calendar: 


Hanging above my desk at work. Notice the year? Yup: 2012. I snapped that photo yesterday, July 2, 2013.

I decorate my office nearly as well as I decorate my home.

This Register:


Monday night I committed the cardinal error of going for the self-checkout line at the grocery store.

It took me probably 45 minutes to ring up 12 items. None of my produce rang right, it kept yelling at me to put my items in the bag and when I finally tried to finish and pay it told me to take my final item out of the bag and scan it. So I took the item out of the bag only for the machine to tell me to return the item back to the bag. And repeat. This happened NINE times, I counted,before I finally got the idiot overseeing the self-check aisle to come help me. I was nearly in tears.

I should have known. Especially because, I HATE self check out aisles. Always! Something I really and truly despise is having automated voices boss me around. I could never drive with a GPS  system, which is too bad considering what a horrible driver I am. But I can't stand it! That fake, digital, stunted voice telling you to turn left and turn right and ohhh I'm recalculating the route.

Shut up!!! You're not a real person! I don't care if you have an Australian accent and are nicknamed "Ken" and are just trying to help me get from point A to point B without driving off a cliff. You're not the boss of me!

So, yeah, lesson learned. No more self-checkout. It was a stressful night.

This Wedding Invitation:


Remember THIS, the proudest moment of my life?

Well, my partner in dancing mortification is getting married himself in October and I just got the invite. His fiance wrote me a sweet personal note:

"P.S. I told my grandma to wear pants."

REAL CUTE Jennifer. Real cute.

P.S. she has a great food blog if you're into that kind of thang, and why wouldn't you be?

Annnnnd fianally, land the plane, Elizabeth:

This Public Service Announcement:

Google Reader is no mas as of this week so if you were using the GR to keep up with this here blog, you sadly are no longer able to do that. Actually, since it already shut down, if you were using Googs Reads to follow the blog you're probably not currently reading this as your reader is already gone, and all the good bloggers already gave this warning welllll in advance so that their followers could be primed and ready but if there is one thing I've never been called it is a good blogger so there ya have it.

If you would like to be kept CONSTANTLY up to date with the latest and greatest in Liz Ho land, might I suggest:

Clicking The Button Marked 'Follow Me' On The Right of Your Screen - you'll be registered to get an email every time I update. A dream come true, I'm sure.

Following Me on BlogLovin' - you can keep up with alll your favy fave blogs via one great site and they have lessons on importing your Google Reader

Checking Out Feedly - which is something that people are apparently into but I still don't know how to use, so good luck with that

Or 'Liking" One Awkward Year on Facebook - click hyperlink or "Like Me!" button to your right. I have 96 facebook fans right now and a prize for whoever becomes my 100th follower.

Just kidding the prize is nothing but I sure would be happy!

Or, you could probably just take the sane route and run far, far away from all this craziness but what fun would that be? Not much fun.

Have I mentioned how much I appreciate y'all checking into this weird corner of the internet? Because I do, a lot!

And that's a wrap. Lottttta rambing for a short week. Happy Independence Day to All and to All a Good Night!

Stars & Stripes Forever, Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [2.22.13]

My dudes, I am a terrible blogger today. I'm sorry! I am in a real state of disarray this morning and can't get my brain to organize my usual Friday roundup. What if I just show you the one and only awkward photo I took this week:


That's me looking GREAT in a bedazzled hat on-sale in the men's department of Zara. Which, what? I mean, listen, I am obviously totally in support of a man's right to sparkle and similarly, a lady's right to wear bowties, but gender politics in fashion aside, that is the ugliest effing skirt hat I've ever seen. Is bedazzling back in? Is it supposed to look like somebody covered a hat in glue and then poured a bottle of pills all over it? This looks like something I would make. NOT a compliment.

My birthday is just 203 days away if anyone would like to buy this for me.

Ok, what else was up this week:

  • I had a computer virus on my home laptop but I fixed it! GREAT STORY.
  • I ate terrible Dim Sum and thought I saw a guy I knew at the restaurant, but it was actually just someone who looked like him. ANOTHER GREAT STORY. 
  • I got my coat stuck in the gate in front of my apartment. The coat was on my body.
  • I ate one avocado per day.
  • I got cocktails with a very posh, poised, beautiful editor who works for a women's magazine - wining and dining the media is part of my job that I kind of love/hate - and spent at least 3 hours the next day googling her so I could learn everything about her life and be her. Like, I read articles she wrote for her high school newspaper and typed her name into and looked at every single one of her Pinterest boards. WHY. On a Creepy Scale of 1 - 10 with 1 being a newborn baby sloth and 10 being Jeffrey Dahmer, how creepy is this? A 6? ...7???
  • I listened to the Ke$ha song "Die Young" probably 456 times.
  • And liked it.
  • I can't stop listening.
  • I am so ashamed!
  • My other to musical artists of the week are Flo Rida, Bruno Mars and Fun., so I'm basically a 14 year old girl.
  • I like that band Fun. but HATE that they have punctuation in their name.   What is that all about? I hate it.
  • I did NOT drink coffee for THREE DAYS. Four if you count today, but I see myself cracking in the very near future.
  • Why you ask?
  • Well, friends, because somebody is hungggggover today.
  • (That somebody is me.)
  • I went to a work happy hour last night that became about 6 very happy hours and I am hurting like a murting today. What's a murting? DON'T ASK QUESTIONS.
  • Here's what I had for breakfast:


I am the poster child for healthy living.

With that, I think I'll shut this mother down. I need to drink 17 diet cokes and take a nap under my desk.

Happy Weekend, everyone!

xx Liz Ho


Reflections and Ramblings in the post Sandy City

What a long, strange week it’s been. Unless you live on Mars (in which case, OH MY GOD, HI! I have so many questions for you!), you’ve surely been following the tale of The Frankenstorm or, as I like to call her, Pecan Sandy.  It was just 7 days ago today my East Coast friends and I found ourselves lining up for canned goods, battening down the hatches, stockpiling wine. In those 7 days, thousands of people lost their homes, belongings, electricity and much more and others of just lost our minds out of sheer boredom. It is mind boggling, really, the amount of destruction this storm caused on some areas of the region, while leaving others practically untouched.

Coastal areas of Brooklyn, like Red Hook and Coney Island, each just a few miles from me, were practically flooded off the map. Same for Lower Manhattan, Staten Island, The Rockaways and the Jersey Shore. The worst damage I saw in my neighborhood was my favorite middle-of-the-parkway  porta potty had been knocked over by the wind.

Thankfully it has since been restored to its original glory.

We Shall Overcome.

SandyPants left me unable to get into my office, with little to do but wander around Brooklyn, drink too much, stress out about missing work and refresh my twitter feed. It was boring! I have a confession to make, and I know I’m going to risk sounding like a total loony bin, but I feel like this is a safe space, so here goes: I’m a little, teensy bit jealous of friends who had more traumatic storm experiences. I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted to lose my house or anything but would it have been too terrible to let me have no power for a few hours or something cool? I need a good story to tell! What am I going to do? 70 years from now I’ll huddle my grandchildren around my chaise lounge on the deck of my Costa  Rico beach mansion and tell them all about the time their Grandmother lived through a giant hurricane and...nothing happened? Oh look, the grandkids have already teleported away, before they passed out from boredom.

This is a serious problem I have. I am frequently jealous of other people’s misfortunes. Not like, huge misfortunes, I’m not completely insane, but really anything that might result in a good story. Public humiliation, minor mishaps, unplanned adventures. A friend of mine recently reminded me of the time that, during college, she ended up locked in the bathroom of our campus apartment for over two hours. None of the rest of us were home and this was before the days of checking instagram on your smartphone while on the john, so she had no way of communicating with the outside world. She banged the door & walls so hard she knocked dishes from the cabinets in our kitchen, which shared a wall with the bathroom. Eventually one of us came home and called the campus popo, who kicked the door down and came to her rescue. That story is amazing. I covet that story. When I came home to find her locked in the bathroom, instead of concern for her well being, my very first instinct was to wish it was me in there, so I could get all the attention...and then concern, I swear!

And that’s just one lil example. I do this all the time. I think I might have some deep, deep psychological issues surrounding my need for the spotlight. Or maybe this is normal? I can’t be the only one who thinks like this, can I?  And what would we call this anyway? I don’t think there’s a word for this bizarre disorder in current psychological journals. Sure there’s the German word Schadenfreude, which means pleasure derived from the misfortune of others, sympathy and empathy which basically mean caring and understanding the misfortune of others but there’s no word for feeling jealous about the misfortune of others.

I think I’ll start a petition to name it Lizhosinschnoozle. That has a nice ring.

Now, for a serious moment. I write jokingly, self-centeredly about this debilitating Lizhosinschnoozle of mine because, well, that’s what I do here, write goofy stories all about myself. And because I’m a lucky gal. I get to sit here and riff about wishing I’d lost power, being jealous of my friends who roamed the city, nomad-like, for five nights, with no heat, electricity or hot water because I was blessed enough to make it through this particular misfortune unscathed. I do not know if I will be so lucky the next time and I do not take this for granted. I hope that anyone reading this who has suffered greater than I this week is getting back on their feet and will soon be in a warm, safe place, if they are not already.

And I encourage all those as lucky as I to count our blessings and turn them into good deeds. I’m sure many of you have already found ways to give back and get involved, but if you want to help and aren’t sure how, I’m linking to a number of online resources below who are rallying volunteers all across the tri-state area - and taking donations from far and wide.The storm may be over, but a lot of these communities are going to need our help for a long time. I spent the day today working with the Occupy Sandy team in Sunset Park, Brooklyn making millions of sandwiches to deliver to those in hardest hit communities. It wasn’t much and I’m legit not tooting my own horn, just sayin'. I haven’t felt as good all week as I did walking out of the volunteer center this afternoon, I’d highly encourage you try for that same good feeling. We can all get involved, even a little bit.

And maybe don’t stop the good deeds as soon as the East Coast is rebuilt.I realized this week how long it has been since I’ve actively volunteered. I used to spend hours a week working within my communities in high school and college, but since moving to New York over five years ago have barely lifted a finger for anyone other than myself. It took a disaster to get me up and moving again and I don’t like that feeling. I’m issuing a challenge to myself, and I hope you’ll join me as well. Let’s get back to giving back. Find something you care about - animals, old people, local government, environment, women’s rights, education, marijuana, I don’t know what you’re into! -- and get involved. I’m not sure yet where I’ll be lending my time and talents - are any organizations in need of someone to write corny puns? - but by one month from today will have a tangible update: who, what, when, where & how I’ll be giving back. I’d love for you to join me!

And, whoa. That shit just got real. I promise I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled ramblings in no time but until then, go do some good, why don’t you?

xoxo Liz

Sandy Recovers Resources:

Staten Island Recovers

Red Hook Initiative

Occupy Sandy

Volunteer Opp Map - NYC

United Way of NJ

Red Cross

New York Cares

And that’s just a few! If you know of any other great opportunities, let me know!


Some pics from yesterday's sandwich-a-thon. Yes, we already thought to call them Sandy-wiches.

One Awkward Lunch Break: Stalking Paul Rudd!

Have you ever been out on the street, just walking, a bit pigeon-toed, schlubby in your worn hoodie and leather coat, idly scrolling through your blackberry, enjoying the surprising warmth of the sun on a chilly January day, when suddenly you begin to sense that someone is following you, frantically, at a very close range? Not too close to be fully detected but still very clearly there? If so, you might be Paul Rudd.


Two fun facts:

1. I have no game (especially when it comes to celebrities, remember this? Yikes.)

2. I loves me some PAUL RUDD. And errrrybody knows it.

This afternoon, just moments ago, I was sitting at my desk working hard as I always do because I am a powerful Book Publicist, when a few colleagues popped into my doorway.

"Liz. Paul Rudd. At Pret. Right next to the garbage can."

I flung my computer mouse into the air (literally), threw on my coat and ran, RAN for the elevators. This Pret of which they speak is Pret A Manger which is a popular takeout restaurant. The name means Sandwiches For The Stars in Francais, so it's really very little surprise that The Ruddster had chosen there for his Tuesday lunch.

I entered the crowded restaurant and there he was, as promised, alone next to the trash cans. I wavered in the doorway, considering my next move. Say hello? Not while he was eating. Stand and stare, awkwardly? Already doing that. Accidentally trip and pour soup all over him? Solid plan, but the soup line was far too long.

I decided the best option was to buy a pre-made sandwich from the cases near to the door. I was not hungry, but the activity would allow me to buy some time to think while Ruddmasta finished his lunch.

And then, as I stood there, ham sammie in hand, the Love Of My Life walked out of the door - and my life - forever.

"How fleeting life is!" I thought to myself. "How swiftly these beautiful moments pass us by. If only I could look upon that shining face for just one moment more!" I threw caution to the wind, tossed my sandwich back on the shelf and raced out the door behind him.

He was a few paces ahead of me, but my legs are longer, my passion more powerful so I quickly fell into step a few paces behind him. We walked one block, we walked two, we walked a third. What a tableau! The charming, every-man actor walking down Hudson Street, enjoying the day while a gangly, frizzy stalker crept up from behind. So beautiful! So inspiring!

So, so, SO weird.

At this point  I'd tailed the Ruddski for four blocks, literally, like an amateur spy (I was even wearing a trench coat!!). We'd walked past my office and any other place I may need to be. We were reaching the point of no return. As we approached a natural stopping point, a red light, I weighed my options.  I still held a burning desire just to say "hi!" but from where I stood, three feet behind him, the task seemed impossible.

  1. I could race ahead, and cut him off at the pass.
  2. I could speed up and bust out my patented Accidental-Bump-And-Apologize move (you ain't the only man for that, Ron Livingston.)
  3. I could yell out, "Hi Paul! Paul, Hi!"
  4. I could reach out and tap him on the shoulder, grab his arm...pinch his butt!
  5. Or I could turn around and head back to whence I came.

I chose the final option. Chicken, perhaps, but what did I lose, in the end? What was my ultimate goal in this stalking expedition (in everything, really) besides a good story? There is, of course, the very likely chance that he would have invited me back to his loft apartment, made me a grilled cheese sandwich and made tender, passionate love upon me but he is married and I don't roll like that. And there is the equally likely chance he'd immediately notice my sparkling wit and talent and invite me to star in his next film but if we're all being honest here, and I do think this is a space for honesty, the life of a celebrity seems all too invasive for me. I don't need freaks chasing me around the West Village on their lunch breaks.

So yeah, I'd say it was a success. Who have you stalked today?!