Another Awkward Week [6.20.14]

Guyyys, hi! I did NOT make good on my promise for wedding updates this week, now did I? I hope no one actually died of anticipation.  I don’t know if I could handle the guilt. Now, I know you’re all just aching to hear about the fight I had with my mom about addressing the invitations (I’d make Emily Post turn over in her fancy little grave) and my bridal shower (spoiler alert: it was awesome!) and the long, overly poignant 700 paragraph essay I keep drafting about the complexities and anxieties related to composing the guest list. And I am aching to share these stories, too! What do I love more than talking about myself? NOTHING, that’s what. But sometimes you can’t do what you love and instead you have to work and go to physical therapy and clean your house and do laundry and sleep and be responsible and ugh, being a grown-up is the WORST!

But just stay tuned, ok? I’ll get around to it. I must!

Meanwhile, was my week all work, no play and no weird moments? Of course not! Let’s take a look at what was keeping it awkward this busy week:

This Beverage:


On Tuesday night I went to a work event and they had a few bottles of wine and a few bottles of seltzer (and cheese!!) for guests to imbibe upon so I decided to get my Real Housewife on and make a little white wine spritzer.

Turns out the seltzer was the flavored kind.

And turns out you can ruin pinot grigo by adding a few splashes of lemon-lime seltzer water.

I mean…I drank it but still, woof.

And while we're on the topic of vino (am I ever not on the topic of vino?)...

This Bottle of Wine:


Last night I went running for the first time in weeks, after taking some time off to nurse my broken butt cheek and it was SO great. I missed running and breaking a sweat. Pitbull has a new (ish?) song out called Wild Love and as with all things Pitbull it is equal parts ridiculous and amazing and I listened to it four times in a row. HAH. Pitbull is my spirit guide.

ANYWAY, I brought along some cash and my ID in this little runners' fanny pack of Brian's so I could stop at the wine store on my way home and grab a bottle for the weekend. My mom is in town, so I figured we'd need the double bottle, or as I like to call it "family sized."

The wine store in my neighborhood is this tiny little yuppie place that sells all kinds of fancy stuff but I always buy right off their "discount table" because, duh.

On this particular evening, they were hosting a tasting at the front of the store, so a group was gathered around a tiny table sipping and talking about tannins and soil and whatever the fuck else fancy wine people talk about and I barged in DRENCHED in sweat and made a beeline right for the bargain table, grabbed the family sized bottle of sauvignon blanc and plonked it down on the counter. As the snooty cashier run it up, I began digging crumpled dollar bills out of my fanny pack. The total came to $19 which is like, $12 more than I prefer to spend on wine, but they're the only game in town, so you gotta do what you gotta do. Unfortunately I realized I only had $17 on me so I got all frazzled, as I do, and blurted out "I don't have enough cash! I need another one. A different wine. Cancel the order. Cancel the order!" I grabbed the big bottle, raced back to the dicsount table, picked up my go-to regular sized, screw-top sauvy b (still priced at a cool $12...come on, store, would it kill you to stock some Barefoot brand?) and sprinted back up to the register.

At this point I caught myself in the mirror behind the check out. I was straight up glistening with sweat, wearing a fanny pack and waving around a handful of crumpled one-dollar bills.

Did I mention I only had ones on me? I don't know why I had such a big stack of Washingtons.

This guy must have thought I was some kind of frantic, crazed, wino stripper or something. Sprinting in and out of the store, grabbing bottles, throwing around one dollar bills.

I'd say I can never show my face in there again but let's all be real, I'll be back within the week. Ok, weekend.

This Wound:


Technically this happened last week but who’s counting? No one. Great. My friend reminded me of this story THIS week so it still counts. Hi Ami! Thanks for the reminder!

ANYWAY recently I was at a 30th Birthday Party (June is 30th Bday Party Month round these parts – we have one every weekend!) at Brian’s friend’s gorgeous apartment in midtown. This guy lives in like, a TV apartment – it has a BALCONY. A private balcony! What the actual what.

(To all y’all who don’t live in horrible cities are like, I have 17 wrap-around porches, why are you so excited about a balcony? I know. Just…don’t go there.)

The door from the living room to the balcony was super heavy and hard to open. It felt like when you’re trying to push a door against a heavy gale of wind, but the night was perfectly still. It was VERY difficult!

I was NOT the only person to have trouble opening the door but WAS the only person to somehow get their finger caught in said door and end up gushing blood all over the place.

You 4 real can not take me anywhere.

This Flyer:


The corner around my office is like a wind tunnel, always blustery and blowy and ten degrees colder than the rest of the city. It is weird and the WORST.

The other morning I was walking the one block from the subway to the office and a gust of wind blew this flyer up and it got stuck on my leg and the wind just kept it there for the whole block!

HAHA this is a horrible story but oh my god, guys, I can’t even tell you how much this made me laugh. I was like peeing myself laughing, walking along the street with this paper stuck to my leg, sporadically stopping to take photos for my blergh.

Even the local homeless man who stands on the corner every day and asks for money so he can take a taxi back to his costume shop on Broadway (aww, it’s sad I know) thought I was a loony tune.

This Drawer:


Oh, and this one too:


I’ve now shown you the grotesque hoarder nightmare zones under my desk and inside my purse. Today I bring you: my desk drawers.

If you read any Real Simple magazines, and I read them all, one tip they’re constantly sharing on organization is to avoid drawers. Drawers are the worst. You can just toss all your crap in there, slam ‘em shut and never think about it again.

I am SO guilty of doing this, to the point that yesterday I wanted to put some paperwork in a drawer, thought “oh there’s too much garbage in there” and then THREW the paperwork out instead of trying to file it.

I then realized maybe I could clean out my garbage drawers so I would have room for actually important things. And so I did.

Here are just a few of the tippy top highlights of what I discovered:

  • A Christmas card for my friend and her husband, dated Christmas 2012 (Merry Christmas 2012, Liz and Bobby!)
  • A cutout from Marie Claire Magazine entitled Sex in a Blanket, tips for having sex while wearing a snuggie. I kept this.
  • And a cutout from Glamour with tips about how do do a workout while laying on your couch. I kept this too. Apparently I am the laziest mf-er known to man.  
  • About five dozen photos of myself from various points in my youth. What do you think it says if a person keeps drawers full of photographs of themselves? Don’t tell me. (PS. see below for an especially choice image of a young Liz Ho.)
  • Two Christmas tree ornaments
  • Program to Brian’s school’s 2012 production of Clue
  • A Tiffany pen, my gift upon reaching five years of employment. Per the internet, this pen is valued at $125 or more. It has never been used. It is also the only item I own from Tiffany and Co. WHAT THE HELL, BRIAN! BUY ME SOME DIAMONDS.
  • Two vials of store brand bug bite cream
  • One button
  • One box of sparklers, a gift from the resident office crazy to thank me for giving her a book
  • Saline spray
  • A blonde wig worn for Halloween when I went as, that’s right, Taylor Swift. I’m the worst.
  • One box of old conversation hearts
  • One Half eaten box of Girl Scout cookies. I can’t believe I never ate these! I don’t even remember when I put them in there?! Disgusting? YES.
  • One package of bamboo skewers… you know, for all the grilling I do in the office.
  • One pair of hideous sensible black wedges I bought my first winter on the job (that’d be winter of 2007) in an attempt to dress more mature and professional. I think I wore them twice?  
  • The folder from the first campaign I ever did solo. No paperwork inside, just a manila folder with the author’s name written on the outside. AWWW! I guess I was feeling sentimental? 

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, pals. I filled up my office trash can lickety split and had to go get an empty cardboard box out of the supply room, fill THAT up with garbage and bring it down to the big communal trash can in the copy room, where I then covered all of my discarded belongings with a layer of paper because I didn’t want everyone to know how grotesque I am.

I did not pitch everything, so if anyone would like a blonde wig or an expensive silver pen or a box of sparklers, just let me know, I’m sure we can work out a fair deal.

And that, my friends, was my week. How was yours?! What’s everyone up to this weekend?! As I mentioned above, my Schmoopster is comin’ to town! We are going to shop for a dress for her to wear for my wedding. I am so excited. I want her to feel like the beautiful special goddess she is! Love that lady.

On that note, I will leave you here to stare at this beautiful photo found in my desk drawer, of Liz Ho at her 5th Grade Field Day. It's hard to pick a favorite thing about this photo. My height? The Seattle Mariners cap hooked to the belt loop of my Bermuda length mom jorts? The pose? The Jon Lennon sunglasses?!?!



It always shocks me I never had a career as a child model.

Happy weekend, buddies. And Happy First Day of Summer - it's finally here!!

xoox Liz

Another Awkward Week [8.30.13]

Guys, hi! How are you! It's been awhile, what's new? I'm sitting here eating pickles and drinking wine and trying to come up with my usual witty ("witty") Friday recap of the past week but coming up blankety blank sooo I'm just going to ramble on for a while about my vacation. How about that? Could get long. Could turn into a stream-of-consciousness word vomit but hey, it's the Friday before Labor Day, were you really going to do any work anyway? Didn't think so.  I figure, you could either read about Miley, Syria or whatever it is I've got going on so...your choice!

And letz begin.

So two weeks ago I took a  most magical All American Vacation with my boo (haha gross! What if I really called him that?). We visited my family in Pennsylvania, and took a quick road trip to the Shenandoah National Forest in Virginia for a few days of hiking and sleeping in a tent.  Here's a few highlights from le trip:

1. In Lancaster County, even the pool clubs are barns:


(I don't mean to sound snide, I only tease ya cuz I love ya, Lancaster. Photo snapped during a fab afternoon  visiting my dad.)

2. Shenandoah National Forest is G to the Orge to the U to the S...that didn't really work, did it? 

Anyway, as I was saying:

DSCN3837 DSCN3863 DSCN3818

G to the O to the...let it go, Liz. Let it go.

3. I'm not so great at taking self-timer photos:


That's a framer.

4. But AM pretty great at hiking. 


One of the best days of our trip was spent climbing Old Rag Mountain in Virginia, a rocky peak which sounds like it was named after a used feminine hygiene product (sorry, but true) and which Tina Fey once climbed to impress a boy, a story she recounts in Bossypants aka My Bible.

At any rate, Mount Tampon is known for its stony face over which hikers must "scramble" to get to the summit. When I read about this in guide books I craved fluffy eggs...and then pictured goats kind of running around a rocky field. It couldn't be that hard, I thought. Tina Fey did it. At night! I was somewhat wrong. The trail started as a sloping, gentle forest climb but quickly turned difficult. Blue painted arrows marked which way we should go and often they had us scaling down into tiny crevasses between giant boulders...or heaving ourselves over slippery rocks with no place for a solid foothold.

We made it to the summit and y'all, It felt BAD ASS. I'm sure it's not even a three on a 1 - 10 scale of difficult hikes but for me, it was a pretty big one. Despite being thin and in decent shape, I tend to suffer from some poor self-image issues (thanks, Hollywood!) and fixate on flaws instead of actually appreciating my bod for all that it can do, but climbing Old Raggedy Andy made me put some things into perspective. There were moments when ahead of me lay bare rock and I had to somehow find a way to get my body up and over with nowhere easy to put my feet. I had to use my arms, my back, my legs and my brain and make them all work at once and I did it. I did it!  Often I lead the way in our twosome. I may not look like Giselle or Heidi Klum or Queen B but dang, I felt bold and I felt strong and it was really, really cool. I am hoping to maybe tackle a few even more difficult hikes in the future. Look out Everest!

Juuust kidding.


5. I'm Sweaty.


So remember that terrible self image we were discussing? Let's dig into that. I have always suffered from what shall henceforth be known as Sweaty Torso Syndrome or STS. When I am active, my stomach sweats. This is probably totally normal but because I am a crazy girl, I have always felt ashamed of this. My abs also tend to be my least flattering feature and I tend to fixate, to an unhealthy degree, on my tummular pooch (I was a vulnerable tween in the prime of the Britney years, how could I NOT be obsessed with flat bellies) and for that dumb reason I have always been extra insecure about sweating in my midsection. I have memories of summer soccer camps in high school in 100+ weather, and me slathering Secret Antiperspirant on my stomach because I'd rather smell like a rotten baby powder factory than be seen with a sweaty middle.

You guys, it is NOT GREAT being a teenage girl. Not great.

So flash forward 10 years older and zero wiser and here's me and Brian, after a seriously strenuous hike and I should feel nothing but pride about this photo but I can't stop fixating on my drenched tank.

I made this my profile pic on Facebook and had a cleverr poem written for the caption, read to the tune of On Top of Spaghetti:

On Top of Old Rag

All Covered in Sweat

Don't Look at My Torso

It is Soaking Wet

But then I thought to myself: stop being self deprecating. You were hiking. You got sweaty. OWN IT. I deleted the caption and hit print.

Four minutes later my (well intentioned, I sincerely believe) cousin (hi Jamie!) (no hard feelings!) posted a comment asking if we were in a "mountain top wet t-shirt contest."

No, dude, we just suffer from STS, big time and you know what? 16 year old Liz Ho would have probably hurled herself right OFF of Old Rag had anyone drawn such public attention to her sopping stomach but 28-for-two-more-weeks Liz Ho has decided to flaunt it.

On Top of Old Rag

My Torso is ... Damp.

I Climbed a Fucking Mountain

Cuz I am a CHAMP!

6. Sleeping in the great outdoors? Over rated.


This was our homesite for a few nights. See that clothesline? Made it myself using nothing but rope and trees. Pretty proud, guys. Prettty pretty proud. Anyway, we camped in Shenandoah for two nights (Big Meadow Campground, highly recommended, despite what I'm about to say) and I'd say we slept a collective 6 hours of sleep during those two evenings.

The first night we enjoyed a delightful dinner of cheeseburgers and macaroni salad and retired to our humble canvas abode when no sooner than we had zipped the tent closed did it start raining, and hard. I was convinced the tent was going to collapse upon us and drown us both and Brian was just trying to figure out logistically if he could unzip the tent enough to pee out the front window without letting in rain water and we both just laid there, awake, willing sleep, morning or death to come.

Spoiler alert: we lived.

The second night we were strategic: we were getting CRUNK. A light buzz would lull us into a delightful slumber and we'd wake up the next morning refreshed and revived.

We polished off a bottle of wine and a plethora of PBR's (you can take the girl out of Brooklyn...) and checked off the" fall into a delightful slumber" part which worked until I woke up at about 1 AM with WICKED dry mouth and spent the rest of the night laying awake itching my 400 + mosquito bites and taking every sound to be a murderer while Brian lay wide awake beside me, having been up all night on a vigilant patrol for bears.

Next time, we're staying at the lodge.

Why was Brian scurred of bears?

7. They're Everywhere!


That dark blob surrounded by professional graphic editing is a black bear, y'all. Live, up close and in the wild.

Pretty cool, huh?

Speaking of cool, did you know that

8. QUIZ on a triple letter score is a 66 point word.


Just FYI. Here's a snap of Brian getting BURNT.

Annnd then I lost the next 2 games in our Best of 3 competish but still: Q-U-I-Z, dude. Never forget.

And then we went back to PA and ate..



I've said it once, I'll say it a thousand times. I love me some wings. So when my mom asked if we wanted to go catch a game of our local baseball team (obviously called the Barnstormers) on an all you can eat wings/ all you can drink Yuengling package, well, my chicken lovin' Pennsylvania heart just about up and stopped.  And then started again and then actually stopped because between my brother and I we polished off this graveyard of wing bones:


Disgusted? You should be!

We kept the All American Fat Kid trend going into the next day with a stop at

10. The Elizabethtown Fair


I know I seem supremely cosmopolitan but my heart, which is deep fried like an Oreo, belongs in a small town. Our town has a designated Fair Ground where every August the finest in agriculture and teen moms congregate together for an event known as the E-Town Fair. There are cows and goats and a talent show and rides and cotton candy and funnel cakes and alllllll the people watching your judgey heart could desire and tractors. Did I mention tractors?


And OHHH the milkshakes. About 100 years ago there was this agricultural collective known as The Grange Movement where some stuff involving farmers' rights happened or something...I don't know. We learned about it in history class but all I took away is this: the Grange Movement is still alive and well and making the BEST GODDAMN milkshakes you have ever tasted. Don't try to contradict me, I don't care if you come from Milkshake City, Capital of Milkshakeland on the planet Milkshake, you ain't never had a shake til you've had a Grange shake, am I right, E-town readers, or am I right? (85% sure that none of my HS pals read this blergh so I'll go ahead and answer for myself: I'M RIGHT!)

The fair happens every year on the last week of summer and when we were in middle and high school it was THE thing to do. This was pre cell phones and snap chat and One Direction and whatever the youths are up to these days, so every night we'd meet at a pre-ordained time in front of the tractor display. We'd all wear our new clothes that we bought for back to school because the REAL debut happened at the Fair, not in the hallways, and we'd spend the next several hours just circling the grounds in packs, again and again and again.

I hadn't been in somewhere between six and 10 years but the second I stepped back on that midway I was rushed back to high school summers and we were so silly...but how fun was it?

I find I get especially nostalgic during summertime. Is it just me?

Brian was XXXXtra cute during the fair, his first, he was like a kid in a candy shop.


If by candy you mean gigantic stalks of corn.

Also cute, this prayer station, where we picked up a pamphlet with advice on how to love Jewish people.


Good old LanCo, getting more open minded by the century.

Whoa. I feel like it might be time to shut this down, I think I've done and gone wrote a novel! One thing I just realized din't make the narrative somehow was a fantastic BBQ with my extended family, most of whom were meeting Brian for the first time. I have to give a shout out to all my Aunts, who I know read this (hi guys!!!) and are hilarious and wacky and who I thought might do something crazy with Brian just for fun, like sing or pretend to interrogate him or ... who knows. But they were all totally cool and charming and normal and it went GREAT! Not like I would have blamed them if they had, you KNOW when my future nieces and nephews and children start bringing home dates I'ma embarrass the heck out of them and then probably write a blog about it, because I'm nice like that.

Don't worry, Aunts, we can make him sing at Family Christmas!

Annnd that's what's been going on round these parts. What have YOU been up to? Loving the Jews? Twerking? Overcoming STS? As always you know I'd love to hear about it. PS I just accidentally deleted literally this entire post - when I typed that capital "A" at the start of "As always, instead of hitting shift-A I h it control A and then delete for some reason and hoooooooly shit I thought we were a goner here but I saved it. I saved it!

Let's get this weekend started IMMEDIATELY. Hope yours is sweaty and delightful!

xoxo Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [8.16.13]

Good morning, buttercups! How's everyone doing on this fine Friday? I am gr8. I just need to power through a few quick hours at la oficina and then I'm on vacation for a full week! It is going to be glorious. Brian & I are headed down to PA for some time with my family and then taking a quick jaunt down to Virginia to hike in the Shenandoah National Forest. Oh and camp, too. In a tent. Something I haven't done since my girl scout days.

Brian & I knew our plan was some mountain hiking time and looked into staying in a few different lodges but decided to keep it thriftay and tent up in a campground. It's only three nights, how hard can it be? I just literally like three days ago realized that this could go horribly awry. It never occurred to me that it might like...rain. Every time I've pictured it in my head it is just sunny and beautiful and then just chilly enough at night to throw on a flannel for a campsite chic look butttt it may very well storm and drench all of our things and I don't know how far the bathroom is from our campsite and I'm fine with peeing outdoors but y'all know (farrrrr too well) how my stomach can sometimes rebel and I don't think I can do that outside.

So yeah, trip could be fantastic OR an epic, soggy, outdoor pooping disaster. Wish us luck!

Now without further ado, why don't we take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Devastating Mess:

sad soda

I managed to check off a number of my August Bucket List items in the past week, booyah! One such item was a long ass bike ride throughout NYC. For a few weeks in August, there is a program called Summer Streets, where what is essentially 4th Avenue in Manhattan is blocked off to car traffic from the Brooklyn Bridge all the way up to 72nd Street on the East Side. There are various vendors lining the sides plus lots of fun outdoorsy adventure opportunities - giant climbing wall in Soho, boot camp classes in Astor Place. It gets a little crowded but is a cool way to see the city via bike or foot. I think tomorrow is the last day so if you're in the NYC and looking for some fun, don't miss this!

We rode our bikes from our place, across the Manhattan Bridge (there was one moment ascending the bridge when I was certain that I was d-e-a-d donefor but I made it!), up the blocked off Summer Streets, across 72nd to the West Side Highway bike paths, down town, across the Brooklyn Bridge (do not attempt this, it is a death trap of human bodies) and back for a total journey of 21 miles. Pretty proud of myself if I can just quickly toot my own horn.

We stopped for a picnic lunch in Central Park in the middle of our journey and ALL I wanted, all I had been fantasizing about during all of this epic physical activity was a big ass Diet Coke. Preferably from a fountain. When I spotted a Subway Sandwich Emporium it was like the gates of heaven had been opened before me. I filled my cup to the brim with ice cubes and delicious, fizzy, soul nourishing DC, took one sip, walked out the door and dropped my soda on the ground.

Whomp WHOMP.

I know they say it's no use crying over spilled milk but spilled Diet Coke? Totally acceptable.

These Sunglasses:


 Also on the summer list: a visit to the beach. Sunday was the most gorgeous day, so Brian & I made the trip out to The Rockaways for a little surf, sun and sand. And seaweed. It's a great beach, free, with fantastic boardwalk dining options and easily accessible, clean public restrooms and they're doing a ton to restore post Sandy damage so I don't want to give them a bad rap but on this particular Sunday afternoon the sea was so weedy the ocean was probably more greenery than water. It was gross. It was like swimming through a bowl of miso soup. Minus the tofu. Gross.

But still: Great beach, accessible via public transit so highly recommended to all my NYC peeps. I'm a regular NYC tour guide this week!

Anyway, I'd somehow managed to lose my sunglasses sometime the previous week so in a pinch ran to the dollar store on my street for a cheap, quick fit. All sunglasses look ridiculous on me because I have a toddler sized head, so I figured I'd just embrace it and go full absurd with the cheesiest sunnies they had for sale.

And there they are. Looking pretttttty fly, if I do say so myself.

This Sunburn:


And, as always, nailed it in the sunscreen department.

This Scene:


Another summer/life bucket list item crossed off: Shakespeare in the Park. People line up for hours every summer to get free tickets to Shakespeare in the Park but I was able to get in easy peasy thanks to my company. We were one of the sponsors of the program and were also testing out a cute new book mobile to sell books prior to the show. I volunteered as a bookseller and snagged a ticket to the show after. Sah-weet.

I obviously had to instagram the occasion for posterity, in this "pics or it didn't happen" world of ours, but was swiftly scolded by an usher the second I took out my phone: "No photos allowed!"

I tried to be rebellious and snap a shot when she had a her back turned but chickened out and did it all too fast and viola: here's my photographic evidence. I'd say this one is a framer.

And finally:

This Foot:

sleeping foot

It's mine. Shoes by target, nail polish Sally Hansen, skin & bones: God and/or science.

This is not a summer bucket list item, instead a recurring problemo. I always sit really pretzelly at my desk with one of my feet up under me or crossed over the other or in some other weird position which causes one of my feet to fall asleep and then when I stand up, I can't walk for several minutes. I'll get up and have to limp to the printer or hop on one foot to get my snack or sometimes just stand up and fall right over in front of my desk or the very worst: make it a few steps out of my office before stumbling in the hall, where everyone can see.

It is REALLY embarrassing and happens probably 3 x a week. I understand this might be a problem (I've obviously searched WebMD rigorously for "frequent foot sleeping + cancer = death?") but I can not seem to sit like a normal person.

Does this happen to anyone else?

Annnnd that's the week, kids. Short & simple. I'm now desperately craving fountain Diet Coke and it's 8:15 in the AM. Too soon?

Have a fantastic weekend and pray for sunshine over Virginia next week!


Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [8.9.13]

You guys. Is it just me or is this summer going like, really, really fast? I feel like I've blinked and missed it. I haven't been to the beach once, have barely picnicked in the park, haven't been on my bike in weeks. On the plus side, I've managed to avoid any more ridiculous sunburns but...I'd trade pattern-free skin for a few days of really feeling summer. I made a pact (with myself) to Make The Most of August but mostly it's left me feeling anxious for everything I want to accomplish...and every rainy Friday ruining my plans!

What have you been up to this summer? What do you have left to check off your list?

I'm planning:

  • beach day (at least one!)
  • swim in a pool (will be visiting my dad in a few weeks to check this off the list!)
  • camping & hiking in Virginia in a few weeks
  • long bike ride ... somewhere
  • visit Governor's Island
  • sunset picnic in Prospect Park
  • summer Friday happy hour at my favorite local outdoor bar (was to be this afternoon but, see above for weather complaints!)
  • 5K in Prospect Park (if I don't accomplish this one I won't be that sad)
  • Outdoor movie in one of the parks (there is quite the selection!)
  • Eat more heirloom tomatoes

What an ambitions list I KNOW. I'll let you know how it goes! Now, let's move from the future and back to the past with a little look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

These Pickles:


As everyone knows, I love me a good pickled veg, especially if that veg was once a cucumber. I am VERY into these mini picks known as cornichons, which is french for YUM. I can not pronounce that word but I gobble these little guys up like they are candy. They're the perfect sized to shove in my face one by one by one bye one by two by five while I'm cooking dinner to hold me over until my food is ready.

Anyhoodle, I was pickle bingeing in the kitchen the other night when I choked just a little bit and then thought in my head "choking on the pickle" and how that could be a euphemism for you knowwwww dirty stuff, because I am twelve, and then I started laughing at the thought of me dying and them having to write

Cause of Death: choked on pickle (that's what she said!)

on my death certificate and I started laughing really hard and actually DID choke on a pickle but did not die the end.


This Bathroom Door:

bathroom door

So I got a much, much needed hair cut this week, my first since I chopped it all off last winter. My usual pattern for hair maintenance is to get it cut and then let it just grow out for a while and it usually looks good, fine, GREAT, fine, good and then suddenly: TERRIBLE. Like one morning I'll just wake up, look at myself in the mirror and think holy shit, get this monster off my head immediately.

That happened to me earlier this summer but I was being cheap and lazy and thought I could eek out a few months of ponytails but finally Monday morning the feeling of my hair touching my neck gave me such shudders I panicked and set up an appointment.

I tried a new salon near my office which made me nervous and also filled me with great guilt about abandoning the gal who has cut my hair for the last few years. She's great but her salon is so far away! It's not worth the time! Or is it? She lives in my neighborhood and I have great anxiety that I might run into her on the street and she'll know I've gone elsewhere and cry.

I need to get a life.

Where were we?

Oh! This bathroom door! So, the salon I tried out was actually pretty great - just swank and hip enough without being too over the top. When I got there I needed to use the ladies' so I asked the desk attendant if she could show me where it was. The ladies' room had a sliding door and appeared to be open just a crack, so I tried to pull. It opened a little bit more...then stopped...I thought it was jammed, so pulled harder. It turns out that the chain on the door lock is a little bit too long, so that the door is able to open a sizable crack, even when it is locked.

I call shenanigans.

I realized what was happening and moved away from the door and the gal who had walked me there gave me this super pitying look and said in this kind of condescending, almost childish voice

"oh nooo! someone is in there! looks like you'll have to wait just a little second!"

I know how to use a bathroom lady! I wasn't like, ripping down the door because I can't control my urges - your lock sucks!

It was weird. Then I had to stare at the wall for a little bit to avoid making eye contact with the woman in the ladies room as she walked out of the door.

Awk to the ward.


This Robe:

haircut robe

After I peed they brought me into the "changing room" to get a "robe" which just confused me because any salon I've ever been to just wraps you up in one of those apron doodads and goes about their business.

Not this place.

They had a full changing room, like you'd find in a gym or mall, and a room full of black robes and a woman working back there handing robes and taking people's bags and handing back check tickets like a coat check at a fancy club or somewhere. I was not experienced in this kind of class! I did not know what to do!

Was I to put the robe on over my clothes? Was I to take off everything and just put on the robe? I didn't know. I was wearing a skirt and a top so I took of my top and put the robe on over my brassiere and skirt. If this was the appropriate way to do it, I have no idea. I tried to snoop around at my fellow salon patrons but couldn't get a glimpse. I spent the next hour terrified that my robe would fall open and I'd flash the whole establishment.

Like most of my fears, this did not happen.

I did however make a mild scene trying to pay. I realized I had no cash to leave a tip and had to use the salon's ATM and it was late evening so I was kind of the only customer with about 5 stylists and cashiers watching my every move, including my own stylist, and I'm super awk about tipping - I never know how much to leave and don't want to look stingy but also don't want to break the bank just to look good - and I had to break a 20 and everyone was just staaaring at me (they probably weren't, but it felt like it!) and gah! Get me out of here.

How much do YOU tip your stylist? I'm genuinely interested! I never know the etiquette!

This Nectarine:


I stopped at a fruit stand to buy some cherries and the vendor convinced me to grab a nectarine as well, telling me they were very sweet and soft this time of year. I do love a good necta so I said, sure, why not. He selected the fruit, washed it and handed it to me with an expectant look on his face.

"Eat it," he said, staring at me lasciviously. "Bite it. 'Eat it. Bite it. Bite it"

Um. Yikes. I threw the fruit in my bag and ran far far away.

Ladies of NYC if you have a fetish where a stranger is lustily watching you get covered in fruit juice, um...I've found your man!

And finally, if we could all take a moment of silence for

My Basil Plant:

dead basil

June 2013 - August 2013.

We had a good run. RIP bud, RIP.

And that's the week! I'm off to conquer August! What are you kids up to?

xoxo Liz Ho

Some Awkward/Awesome Travel Tips

passport In case the 146 billion degree temps + fireworks + corn on the cob haven't tipped you off: summer is upon us. It's here, drink beer, get used to it.

Summer + travel often go hand in hand, hence the term Summer Vacation, so I thought I'd toss out a few fun travel tips to help take your summer trip from zero to hero. These tips are also applicable to fall, winter and spring vacations - timeless travel tips, that's what I aim for.

But listen. I'm not going to tell you how to dress or how to efficiently pack a suitcase or what to read or eat on a plane or any of that jazz, you already know that and if you don't, you can flip to the latest and greatest issue of Real Simple and they'll hook you right up. No,  thought I'd share some special, supplemental travel tips that will have you the star and hero of your own vacation, making the most out of any trip whether you're headed to Little Rock, Arkansas or Paris, France or somewhere in between.

You're welcome in advance!

  • Always wear good underwear when flying. You never know what those full body scanners might show up and if, God forbid, your plane crashes and you end up in some kind of Lost island scenario, you're going to want to be looking and feeling your sexy best.
  • Speaking of underwear: always have an extra pair in your carry-on and pack three times the amount you think you might need for your trip. You can never be too prepared when it comes to underbusiness.
  • Don't bother bringing toiletries when staying with friends, it's fun to use other people's stuff.
  • DO bring toiletries when staying at a hotel, you can never guarantee the quality of the free products. That said, if they are high quality, obviously and no duh, stock up.
  • If your hotel has a continental breakfast, it is your duty to go back for thirds and fill your bag with leftovers.
  • When going on a road trip, make your companion drive 93% of the time.
  • Always bring your exercise clothes. Never use them.
  • Sneak a razor onto a plane by hiding in the running shoes you're bringing but not using. Yes, you might get caught and shipped right off to Guantanamo buttttt it's a risk you have to be willing to take not to have to buy razors at resort prices.
  • If your travel destination has a special local cocktail, just drink it. No questions asked. And order another round.
  • Same goes for food - whether it's chicken fried steak or boiled monkey brains, just try it! As the youths say: YOLO.
  • To be frugal, pack your lunches.
  • To experience the best of local culture, eat at all of the finest restaurants.
  • To get the most bang for the all of your money, do both: pack a lunch, eat it by 11:05 AM and then hit up a fine dining establishment an hour later. By the transubstantiatial property of 2 x 2 = 4, you'll be four times happier and t is a proven fact that credit card debt doesn't count when you're on vacation, so just go for it.
  • Don't wear a string bikini in the ocean unless you're prepared to go accidentally full-frontal at least once.
  • Pack a lot of bandaids. You never know.
  • Take 70 billion photographs. Upon your return, print them out and invest in a fancy scrapbook. Keep the photos in a box for 6 + years and eventually just throw the scrapbook out.
  • Before you travel, watch a movie set wherever you're going and then reenact scenes all over town. The cheesier the better. (See photo above of a pal & I reenacting a pivotal scene from the Mary Kate & Ashley CLASSIC Passport to Paris in the Luxembourg Gardens, circa 2006.)
  • Send postcards! It's cute and makes someone's day. Write dirty stuff on the back and make the postman's day, too.
  • It's 5 O'clock somewhere
  • Two Words: Sun Block
  • Two More Words: Aloe Vera
  • If you're travelling by bus, don't change your entire outfit, including bra and underpants in the bus bathroom while en-route, even if you're on the way to see your new long-distance boyfriend for the first time and you want to be as fresh and sexy as possible. Just take my word on this one.
  • And finally, do your best not to be a crazy stress monster even if that is your natural state of being. Your job - that's back at home. You missed a connecting train? Get drunk at the station bar. Trip not working out exactly as you envisioned it in your brain all these weeks - that's ok! Slow down, go with the flow and enjoy it as it is. You can get right back on the anxiety bus the second you get home but for now, you're on vacation. Ain't nobody got time for that!

And there you have it.  Follow these tips and you're sure to have a top notch vacation at any destination.

Now your turn! What do you think makes a perfect vacation even perfecter? That's a word now, just roll with it.

Happy Summer, my fine friends!

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 [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

One Awkward Tip: Beat the Heat, Freeze Yo Sheets!

A pet peeve of mine is when people endlessly talk about the weather. (Others include not clearing the microwave timer after you're done cooking, misuse of the term "OCD" and people who don't own TV's). This especially bothers me on Facebook, endless newsfeed updates displaying the 10 day forecast or giving minute-by-minute temperature updates. Buncha Al Rokers over here! We get it, it's the weather, MOVE ON. But every now and again, Mother Nature really steps up her game and just refuses to be ignored. A bitch after my own heart! This week was one of those times. Temps across the country have risen above 270 degrees and New York City has turned into a hazy, humid, rotting island full of garbage. My apartment has no air-conditioning and exposed brick walls. Charming detail, to be sure, but also not the best for keeping cool. I was always curious what life must be like for brick oven pizzas. Now I know how they feel.

Thanks to this scorching heat, I haven't slept in weeks. I have a great fan but with temps at 8 zillion it just blows hot air. Another thing I've always wondered is what it would be like to sleep with a dragon breathing over my bed, and now I know how that feels too.

Sorry to see me so uncomfortable, B, my wonderful  gentleman friend (barf, I know) suggested I try putting my bed sheets in the freezer before getting into bed. He heard this tip from a  strange man in line at a South Philadelphia UPS depot so you know it's gotta be legit. I was dubious but so, so desperate so I immediately ripped those bad boys right off the bed and shoved them up in there. (That's what she said?)

All the essentials!

B's lucky he's so cute (stilllll barfing!) because his lil tip was a total failure.  I think maybe you're supposed to put them in a bag or protective cover of some kind? I left them in for about 45 mins and when I pulled them out, most of the fabric just felt normal, except for small patches covered in a thin film of ice which promptly melted the second I laid my hot bod (literally hot, figuratively just sort of meh) down on them. My pillowcase had an actual ice cube attached to it, which was both delightful and a scary visual of how messy and disgusting our freezer is. Also, now my dirty bed sheets have rubbed against all of our foods ... freezing kills germs, yes? Yes, let's go with that.

Despite an initially unsuccessful run, I refuse to give up. Those guys on Appollo 13 refused to quit austronauting  until they made it back to Earth and I, Liz Ho, refuse to stop freezing my linens until I find a way to make it work.  Here's what I'm thinking.  I spritz them verrry lightly with cool water and then they will stay frozen and feel great when I lay on them and yes, they will surely melt, but it is so hot that  it will immediately evaporate and be dry again. This will definitely work. I was an A++ science student, obviously. I'm also thinking maybe I need to just leave them in longer, like all day while I'm at work? Or, maybe I should just put the sheets in the freezer, take that bottle of vodka out of the freezer, and chug it all and just see what happens?

I welcome any suggestions you might have but until them, I think I'll go with option C.