Another Awkward Week [6.14.13]

Gooood morning! Listen, I know that nobody likes the person who complains about the weather all the time, but I'm just going to pop on my unlikeable hat and be that person for one hot second. And by hot second I mean cold, grey, rainy second because what. the. WHAT are you doing right now, Mother Nature? Is this all a practical joke? It's mid-June and we've had more 60 degree days than 80 and enough dreadful precipitation for twelve lifetimes. This isn't April, girlfriend. Step it up! My company is supposed to be doing this walk for charity today for this organization called Girls Write Now and I believe strongly in this organization and many generous friends and family donated and I'm so grateful...but the thought of traipsing along the Hudson River Path at 10 AM in the cold, blustery rain is...unappealing. I mean, how important is literacy anyway? Not that important right? It's not like reading pays my bills or anything.

Ohhhhhh wait.


Anyway! Let's try to get positive, shall we? What's everyone up to this weekend? Don't forget that Sunday is Fathers' Day! Call your dads, kids.

I'm wishing a very happy Fathers' Day to all the Baby Daddies reading this. I hope you get all the grills and tools and red meat your manly hearts can handle! My relationship with my own father is complicated in a way that's too personal and delicate and serious to get into on this here blog about farts and food spills, but I feel like we are moving forward in a positive way, reminding me of the power of second chances and unconditional love. So wishing an especially happy Fathers' Day to my old (very old!) (just kidding, I'll be nice today) (you're only regular old) man.

And now, without further ado, why don't we take a look back at what was keeping it awkward this week.

This Frisbee:


So let's just start this week at the very beginning, shall we? Sunday I was in the park, with George, which is what I call Brian when I'm feeling particularly Sondheimy, and we decided to toss the bee around. WELLLLL I don't know what happened, if like, my arm chemistry changed or something but I could not throw this stupid frisbee for the life of me. I've never been great at what you'd call 'hand-eye-coordination' or "athleticism' but I can throw a frisbee pretty well. Or at least OK. Let's go with OK. Until this week when I could not get the disc to leave my hand in a normal fashion. It's like it was glued to my hand or my arm lost the ability to properly release objects. I'd give it a toss and it would swerve to the right, then to the left, or just flop right in front of me. I threw it straight up in the air. Side to side. Basically anywhere but in the direction of my target. The more this went on the more self conscious I got and thus the worse I got at throwing until I somehow managed to tomahawk the frisbee straight down into the ground in front of me and just quit while I was ahead. And by ahead, I mean very, very behind.

We then sat down for a leisurely game of cards until I threw a dramatic tantrum when Brian had the audacity to question my authority on the rules of Rummy 500 and I self-diagnosed myself with a very dire condition known as Hangry which is when you are so hungry you become angry and fly off the handle for little to no reason.

For the record, I was, indeed, incorrect about the rules of Rummy 500, a fact which I conceded graciously...after stuffing my face with a burger.

That said, it might not have been pure Hanger poisoning my mood that afternoon. It miiiight have also been due to

This Sunburn:


Yeah. Remember when I said I was "diligent about sunscreen?" Well, what I meant was that I am diligent about applying sunscreen to some portions of my body while leaving others entirely unexposed or even worse: splotchily covered.

I went to the park in shorts and a tank top and I started with the SPF, I did.

Face: check

Shoulders: check

Arms: check

Legs: check...minus

I just plain forgot to lotion up my bare legs, but did seem to possibly wipe my hands on them, leaving a delightful pattern. Let's take a closer look...


here on my outer leg you'll notice a wavy pattern of white that I assume is from the swipe of my sunscreen covered fingers and what's this white blob, glowing in the middle of my thigh?


It appears the very size and shape of a thumb.

Of which I would give two, way up, to this hack job of a skin safety course.

Monday it was raining and freezing, because when isn't it, these days, so I wore the loosest, softest pants I could find and at regular intervals throughout the day would shut my office door, pull down my pants, slather my legs with aloe and then sit there for a while, with my pants around my ankles, workin' away.

If you've ever thought "wow, email is so impersonal, you have no idea what the other person is doing, they could be pantsless." Wahellll my friends: I'm living proof that they probably are.

Later that night I returned to my palace and wrapped my charred stems in cool wet paper towels like a sad mummy.


I can't wait for this to turn to tan so I can have brown spotted legs all summer.

S to the E to the X-X-Y.

Then next morning I made...

This Smoothie:


I know, you're thinking like, how many times can one adult human ruin a smoothie? And the answer is: MILLIONS. Watch me.

I usually make my smoothsters using banana as a thickening base + some kind of fruit + almond milk but on this particular day I was fresh outta nanners and remembered I'd read on the interweb that one could exchange avocado for the banana for the same effect + xxxtra health benefits. Lucky me, I had an avocado! I was all aboard.

I chose this recipe because it seemed the easiest, except I didn't have any vanilla almond milk so I just tossed in a few droplets of vanilla extract. The result was...grotesque.

It looked, smelled and tasted like vanilla flavored guacamole. And no matter how much I tried to liquify it by adding more milk or water, it maintained the same semi-solid state of matter, like sucking a  big cup of lime green, vaguely grassy tasting pudding through a straw.


Still with me? GREAT. Let's skip to Wednesday when I took an evening bike ride through Prospect Park onnn...

This Bike:

apple bike

Yes, the same godforsaken bicycle I keep writing about week after week. Love her but she don't make it easy.

What, exactly are we looking at here? Allow me to explain. So, like I said, I decided to take Saucy Sally out for a spin around the park, it was a beautiful evening, I needed to get my blood flowing, and what a better way to see the world than on two wheels, am I right?


First, I was forced to face the Hard Truth of just how out of shape I am. Like...very.

Out of Shape

Cool diagram, bro!

The park has this great 5K pavement loop that ends with a big hill, so whenever you run or ride you have to end by hauling tail up this mother flipping mountain. Yes, a mountain.  I'd like to meet and murder whoever came up with that genius idea. And just like the last time, I could not get myself up this hill without stopping. I made it roughly 2/3 of the way up, pedaling my darndest, before screeching over to the side of the road where I rested, sagging, heaving for oxygen until this short, fat little Hasidic Jewish boy who could not have been more than seven years old or weighed less than one hundred and seventy pounds, no offense fat people OR Jews, just setting  the scene here, whizzed by me on his little ten speed like it ain't no thang and I was MORTIFIED that this little chubbster could bike better than I could, so I hopped back in the saddle and wearily pedaled the rest of the way home.

BUT FIRST I stopped off at the local delicatessen to pick up a few apples to juice the next morning (along with carrots, beets and a hodgepodge of random greens I got during this week's CSA. It was...interesting. Apparently I had already forgotten the perils of haphazard breakfast beverage concoction experienced nary 48 hours prior) and the guy at checkout asked me if I needed a bag and I said "no, I live right around the corner!" and proceeded to shove two large apples into one very tiny purse.


I knew there was only one way for this to end.

I walked my bike the rest of the way to my home and took my customary 14 minutes to get it through the front gate + 7 more minutes to enter the vestibule + 11 more to get into the hallway and as I leaned over in an attempt to pick up the bike to haul it up the stairs, my purse caught on the handlebars (P), knocking one of the apples across the hallway floor (A) and causing me to drop my keys (K).  As you can see above. Getting untangled from the handle and picking up my stray belongings while still holding my bike upright is one of my new Top 15 Greatest Life Accomplishments.

Seventy three hours later, I arrived at my third-floor apartment door, near dead from exhaustion and dehydration. Where were the stray apple and my keys? In the only place I could think to store them: my brassiere.


Um, guys, does this shirt make my hooters look lopsided?

I was starving, naturally, so I whipped up...

This Tasty Egg: 


My riff on Smitten Kitchen's smashed egg toast, but with broccoli raab instead of spinach, because I'm risky like that. But before I made this delightful egg I made

This Disgusting, Undercooked Egg:



This Egg That I Broke In The Pot So Then Egg Whites Started Bubbling Around In The Water And Weirding Me Out:


Too runny. Too yucky. Just right. And totally exhausting. Now I know why Goldilocks needed that damn nap.

I mean, I could have stopped after the first egg but that's not my style. Did I quit the soccer team after being relegated to the bench? NO! Did I stop watching How I Met Your Mother after the seventy fifth terrible season? NO! Did I give up on these eggs? HELLLL NO.

I have become the queen of food wasting around here lately and I'm mortified at the thought of it, but everything I've been whipping up has been terrifying. I then, offff course, convinced myself I was pregnant, what with all of these food aversions, before reminding myself that it's likely more a matter of weird jars of butter and vanilla guacamole shakes and raw eggs being disgusting than me being hormonally repulsed by foods.

So! Was this dinner worth the 2 wasted eggs + 15 minutes of pregnancy terror? Eh. It wasn't not worth it, it was actually pretty delicious, but I'm sure there were multiple dozens of equally delicious things I could have cooked up for half the effort and 100% less intrauterine paranoia.

Aaaand there you have it my friends. Another week, a whoooole lot of drama for very little reason. Thass the way I do it!

And how was your week? Plans for le weekend? Adventures? Challenges? Potential moments of glory? Tell me everything!

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