Another Awkward Week [9.12.14]

Hiii guys! What's up?! Guess where I am?! MAINE! Pretty cool stuff, huh? I posted this from my cellular phone because I am a hip millennial. I know what's up. JK I don't have a clue. But it's OK because I'm turning 30 in TWO DAYS so I don't need to worry anymore about technology and apps and twerking and any of that young people stuff. I'm officially and oldster and THANK GOD. I've been patiently awaiting the day when I could start unironically wearing holiday themed sweater sets and listening to Joni Mitchell all day and my time is almost here. BOOM. But enough about my impending old age for the moment...I have some deeper thoughts to share on that next week.

Do try not to die of anticipation in the meantime.

Ok enough jibberbabber, these lobster rolls aren't going to eat themselves. Let us all gather round, join hands and take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week.

 

This Chocolate Fountain:

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HOLY YUM.

We went to a wedding last weekend (and are attending another tomorrow!) and they had so much amazing food, I honestly think I gained 14 lbs before the day was through. hashtag worth it. hashtag bigtime.

One of the highlights of the evening was the chocolate fountain and then another highlight was watching me try to scrub chocolate out of my dress.

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Oh did I mention the dress was borrowed?! 

Sorry, Mary! I love you!

Don't worry, I took it to get dry-cleaned.

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The cleaner was super impressed with my spillage skillz. In addition to the obvious chocolate stain, there was another lighter blob running down the front of the skirt.

"What's this?" He asked. "Water stain?"

"WATER?!" I chortled. "OH that, good sir, is wine."

You literally can not take me anywhere.

#literally

This Cup:

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Guys, I went to get an iced coffee yesterday morning and when I tried to put my straw in the lid it had no straw hole!! WHAT! So I went to the counter to ask for another lid and she exasperatedly told me those were the only lids they had.

Like I was the obnoxious moron asking for a lid with a straw hole.

Am I living in an alternate reality? Are we no longer doing straw holes? Out of trend for Fall 2014?

Help me.

This Finger:

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Good news is the knife set we received as a wedding gift is S-H-A-R-P!

Bad news is I'm a spaz and now missing a large chunk out of the top of my finger.

Oucherson.

I was rushing around to get dinner on the table because despite my protestations to the contrary last week, I do NOT know how to go with the flow and was having a light about how it was Sunday night and I needed to eat a healthy dinner and it was already 8 PM and I need to go to bed at 9 PM and there's so much to DOOO and slice: right into my fingie. It hurt so much! And bled all over the place.

Lesson learned: CHILL OUT.

JK but I'm working on it.

Also thank GAWD this happened after the wedding, seeing as how it's my ring finger. Would have looked real cute.

Some women like to draw further attention to their engagement/wedding ring fingers by adding a little gems or designs to that finger nail (I like to judge these women because come on, girls, you already have a ring...we get it) but I'm taking it a fun, sassy step further by accessorizing with a gaping wound and huge bandage.

Now THAT is what's Hot for Fall 2014.

This Shirt:

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Photo taken on a different day...same week...as the photo above. I think I need to spice up my wardrobe.

This shirt unbuttons really easily around the booble region. It's not a huge deal, it is barely noticeable and usually I catch it but apparently not always. The other  morning I came up out of the subway lugging my big bag, walked a few feet and caught the eye of a woman and thought she was smiling at me so I smiled back and then I realized she was actually silently mouthing something at me.

I focused.

"Youuurrrrr braaaaa" her mouth said, soundlessly.

I looked down and sure enough, my entire left boob was hanging out.  And I mean all of it. OUT.

The shirt had not only unbuttoned but fallen fully open and the whole thing was out there for the world to see.

Luckily the actual boob itself was still covered...but by THE most sensible nude bra imaginable so...maybe worse?

Oy yoy yoy! Happy Morning, New York.

This Hot Look:

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OH YES the laundry backpack still lives! I decided to multitask the other night by getting happy hour beers with a pal whilst simultaneously doing laundry at the laundromat across the street, which resulted in this SEXXXXYYYY look of me sipping IPA's with my laundry backpack strapped high and proud.

2 KEWL!

And that was my week! If you would like to read more about awkwardness, someone wrote a hella long, boring, overly introspective article about it for the New Yorker this week. Apparently people enjoy awkward humor because we live in a post 9-11 world and something about our parents never teaching us about sex? Or something? I don't know. I couldn't get through it. A little too intellectual for my taste but maybe you'll enjoy it?

You snob!

Just kidding. Have a fabbo weekend, my chicklets. Any fun plans?!

xoxoox 29 YEAR OLD LIZ LIVE FROM MAINE!!!

One Awkward Wedding: Lemme, Lemme Update You

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Hot damn we're good looking.

Ok stop reading literally right now if you don't care about wedding nonsense.

Otherwise, buckle up because I have SO MUCH to tell you!

 It is official:  On August 16, 2014 I will become Ms. Has Yet To Decide If She's Changing Her Last Name (more on that later) aka a married lady! Whoop whoop! And we're planning to pull a full Kardashian and sell rights to our photos to the highest bidder so start making your offers now.

Yay! I'm making weird, dumb jokes, because you know I can't handle genuine emotional conversations, so I'll just go ahead and get it out right here at the top: I'm so excited! In 247 days (but who's counting?), I'm getting hitched! To Brian! My favorite guy. He makes me so happy every single day and I honestly can't contain myself from grinning ear to ear like a damn fool at even the slightest thought of calling him my husband. Squee!

Ok, we're done with that.

So. As is customary in all engagements, the moment that Brian popped the question, the world began to pop the other question which was: when? And also the other, other question, which was: where? And thankfully, no one has yet asked the other, other, other question of "why?" so I think pretty much everyone's on board with our impending union.

Phew.

We quickly stepped to planning because we knew a long engagement just wasn't for us. I know it works for some people, but it's just not our style. Because Brian is a teacher,  he has less flexibility in taking time off from work so we pretty immediately zoned in on August 2014 (between his summer teaching gig and the start of the regular school year) or March 2015, during his long Spring break. I was fine with either but ol' Briguy said he didn't want to wait all the way until 2015 to lock this down.

(One more quick interlude to mention how much I like this dude.)

And thus, we had our sights pretty well set on August 2014.

And the rest, they say, is history!

Just kidding, the rest, they say, is many weeks of researching,venue visiting, budgeting, list making and extreme emotional roller coastering.

I know it is gauche to talk about money but it's also gauche to talk about poop and I've never let that stop me, so a quick note on el dinero. I'll go into budgeting in detail another time (who's excited?!) (no one!) but will say here, just in case anyone didn't realize, weddings are motherflipping expensive. Like, SO EXPENSIVE. I always knew they were pretty pricey but now that I'm actually looking into planning one in great detail do I realize the incredible cost that goes into pulling off a wedding.

And I do understand (deeply) that none of these costs are necessary, but we've decided that it is important to us to celebrate our wedding in the so called "traditional" manner and therefore will incur the costs associated with such an event. Just to give you a sense of what we're working with here I've dubbed the term "Regular Classy" which is to say a mid-sized gathering of friends and family for a non denominational ceremony followed by a meal (with adult beverages) and boogieing down in a festively decorated room. She wears white, he wears a suit, toasts are given, tears are shed, badda bing, badda boom: married.

Despite the many hours I've spent reading wedding blogs and attending actual weddings, I honestly didn't have much of a concept of what it cost to pull this sort of spectacle off and let me just tell you, the results are staggering. Hence the emotional rollercoastering. Every time we find something we like we get super excited (UP!!) and then we see the price tag (DOWN!!) and then we become despondent (WAY DOWN!) and decide we're calling the whole thing off and getting married in city hall (SO FAR DOWN!!) and then we have a heart-to-heart and decide no! We love each other! We want to throw a bomb-ass wedding, we'll figure out the money and make it work! And then we're UP UP UP again, repeat, repeat, repeat.

And we're not talking like, releasing humanely raised turtledoves off a yacht in the south of France while Bruno Mars croons live in the background, oh no. Just REGULAR CLASSY in the middle of Pennsylvania and still we're looking at thousands (yes, like 3 zeros) more greenbacks that I ever dreamed of spending.

Blergh!

So gauche as it may be, I can honestly say that money was a very large factor for us when picking where to do this thing. We toyed with the idea of marrying here in our beloved Brooklyn (Go Nets!) but quickly learned that pulling off a wedding in the New York Regional Area is pretty much impossible if you are on our budget range. One venue I reached out to charges $19,000 just to reserve the space. That does not include chairs, tables, decorations, music, food, liquor or doves of ANY kind. The coordinator did say it might include cocktail tables which, for that kind of moolah, better be made out of solid gold or like, human bones.

NINETEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! For a room! I will never get over that fact for as long as I shall live. And that's probably not even that expensive in the grand scheme of things! What is this world we live in, you guys? What is this world.

(And HERE is where I put the note that if you personally spent that kind of money on your own wedding totally good for you, do your thang. Also: how are you so rich and can I get in on that? Let me make a blanket statement that henceforth, every snarky thing I say about weddings or the WIC is but crazy broke judgmental lady's opinion, don't let me stop you from getting your nuptial onnn in however you see fit.)

And thus, we zeroed our sights on my ancestral homeland of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Armed with a date range and the knowledge that we needed to find a venue that fell somewhere within the tricky Venn Diagram of LOW COST and REGULAR CLASSY, we prepared a list of targets, set up appointments and made the arduous journey back to Good Old Pee-Aye.

And that, my friends, is where I will stop my story today. Return tomorrow to get the skinny on exactly what went diggity down on said wedding venue hunt, because this is already basically an epic novel and I'm just vain enough to think that my wedding planning journeys warrant a cliffhanger.

Until then!

Liz Ho

Another Awkward Week [7.12.13]

You guys?! Did you know that 'Namaste" means "hello" in Hindi? I did not! Guess I need to spend some more time at yoga. Why am I bringing this up, you ask? WELL I'm headed to South Carolina today for a big Indian wedding and was going to start this post by wishing everyone hello in Hindi but then realized that I'm not actually 100% sure if the bride & groom are Hindi, I just sort of guessed that because I am what you might call 'culturally insensitive.' See also: complete asshole. So anyway, Namaste y'all. I'm so excited for this wedding, I bought a sari! There will be multiple nights of dancing and possibly a white horse but definitely not elephants which of course is the first question I asked upon receiving the wedding invitation because, well, see above.

And how are YOU guys? What cultures will you be learning about slash deeply offending this weekend? If you're going to be in Colombia, South Carolina around 10 AM on Saturday and know how to drape a sari...wellllllll call me.

And that's what's up! Let's take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:

This Basil Plant:

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Purchased at Trader Joe's (where else) a few weeks ago, he has been brought to the brink of death and back no less than 80 times since coming home with me. He has fallen to the ground, been parched dry, over watered, and ignored and yet every time it looks like he's on his way to meet his poinsettia cousin in houseplant heaven: he revives!

Who speaks limited French, has two thumbs and both of them are green?

This moi!

This Towel/Cape:

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Last weekend Brian and I went to a wedding on Long Island (was nottttt joking when I said it's all weddings, all the damn time round these parts) and it was too close to merit a hotel, so we decided to just rent a zip car and zipped on over. We got sandwiches for the ride up and Brian, ever resourceful, was worried about getting food on his suit so he tossed a towel in the back seat.

He ended up being too focused to drive to get any time to eat and even worry about this problem, but true to form, his ever worthless co-pilot had nothing but time and mayonnaise on her hands, so I spent the hour drive wrapped up in a towel a la so.

Cute right?

Brian may or may not have eaten his bagel in the vestibule of the Catholic Church, sorry  JM&J (Jesus, Mary and Joseph, obviously), but it was all worth it, as we managed to both dine on the go and keep our clothes in immaculate form. Here is a gratuitous, nauseatingly adorable photo to prove it:

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Sexy and we know it!

This Mess:

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That, friends, is NOT dirt, but a pile of cinnamon on my kitchen counter. Why, you ask? Good question! We have a minor ant problemo in la cocina and, ever the naturalist, I've been trying to get rid of them sans chemicals. Apparently ants are very averse to a number of herbs including but not limited to: cinnamon, cloves, cayenne pepper, bay leaves, black pepper and garlic. Cinnamon smells the yummiest of these spices, so I poured it all over the problem areas in the kitchen and voila! Problem solved!

No ants, no harmful chemicals buttt in we do have giant piles of cinnamon all over the place so I don't know how great of a trade-off this is...

This Bathroom:

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This is the door to the men's room at a VERY divey dive bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn called The Turkey's Nest. They are right next to the park in that neighborhood and have some deal with the devil/city that they are able to sell booze in GIANT styrofoam to-go cups that patrons can carry into the park and get good and outdoor crunk. Their specialty is margaritas... hellooooo disaster!

Anyway, we hang in this park every 4th of July before catching the fireworks from a pal's roof nearby and always make frequent stops into the T-Nest to refresh our margs and use their facilities. WELL, on this particular day, the ladies' room (labeled "Turkettes," really guys?) was backed up so I decided to declare my independence from waiting for women to take their sweet time going to the bathroom and use the empty Turkey's room.

The room is pretty run-down - just a solo toilet and a sink and a bunch of rolls of toilet paper all strewn about and the lock on the door was rickety, at best, but I felt confident that it had locked solidly behind me.

You know how this ends.

I'm mid-stream when the door swings open - I scream, throw one hand to close the door and the other to cover my Va-J-Lo and the befuddled gentleman backs his way out the door.

I run out to tell my friends the hilarious story and learn they've already heard it: the unsuspecting intruder was no other than my friend Peter.

Sorry Petey!

Now for a confession: My embarrassment was NOT about being barged in on bottomless, no. Rather,I was mortified I'd been caught texting on the john.

And don't even TRY to tell me you've never done it because hi, your pants are on FIRE.

Speaking of bathrooms...

This Sink:

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I went to happy hour the other night and before we left I met my co-worker/friend (no, friend first, then co-worker!) on the floor below mine and I decided to use the unfamiliar third floor bathrooms on my way out the door. Afterwards, I went to the sink to wash up and was at the middle basin between two other women. I turned on the warm and a little bit of the cold, washed my hands and...could not turn off the water.

I turned the spouts left, right, side-to side. I turned them in unison and one at a time. I could not, for the life of me, get the water to turn off. I tried to play it cool, but the caught the eyes of the gal to my left, who I know very casually from working on some projects together and she was doing her best not to crack up. I looked to my right and sho nuf, the girl there was holding in her laughter.

It ended up kind of cute, we all giggled about it and eventually one of them manged to help me  shut down the faucet but OH! there was that one, painful moment before the laughter broke when I thought: this is it. You've done it, Liz. You've broken the office bathroom sink and EVERYONE saw it was you and now you have to quit. Just grab your purse, head for the door and never return.

Mildly dramatic, I know, but that's the way I do it!

And that was that! My week! How was yours?

Now I'm off to get my Tikka Masala ONNNNNNNNNNNNNN. Sorry in advance, Jay & Ami!

Goodbye in Hindi,

Liz Ho(rrible American)

One Awkward Dance

I just got back from a delightful weekend in Savannah, a fact which I mentioned in my most recent post, a post which has now been deleted. In an attempt to write more for NaNoWriMo and what have you, I posted late at night about a fear I have of peeing on airplanes but instead of coming across in a quirky way, I felt my story got sort of gross and sexual in a way I didn’t intend it to and didn’t feel entirely comfortable with (in fact, instead of panicking about dying in the airplane bathroom, I spent the entire flight mentally editing my writing and wishing I could go back in time to improve it.) So I deleted the post and am re-working something better. Editing! Learning! Overwhelming anxiety! Writing is fun. If you already read that one, sorry it was so lame and if you didn’t, well, you better have a realllll good excuse for ignoring me or we are in a fight. Moving on! I’m putting together a full travelogue for The ‘Vannah (no one calls it that) but wanted to share one little tidbit from the trip. As I’d mentioned before, a big group of my college crew was in town for the wedding of one of our dear friends. It was one of the most heartfelt and intimate weddings I have had the pleasure of attending and – sacré bleu! – there were two grooms. All weddings make me weep, I can barely watch an episode of “Say Yes to the Dress” without sobbing into my afghan, but there was something about this one that really touched me. Just knowing the adversity that my two friends have had and will continue to have to face in a frequently cruel world makes my heart ache and seeing the love and support around them on their big day was miraculous. I defy anyone to witness these two dudes together or any other loving, committed same-sex couple, for that matter, and just try to argue that their love isn’t as deserving of equal rights as a straight couple. Come on, y’all. Love is love!

(Yes, I am aware that this is One Awkward Year not One Get Up On A Soapbox About Gay Marriage Year but I had to say it. I also know for a fact that Barack Obama reads this blog on the daily, so thought I’d put a little bug in his ear.)

Hi Barry! Say hi to Michelle for me.

The moving wedding ceremony was followed by an equally moving reception and after a southern-style buffet dinner (shrimp and grits in my face forever!) we took to the dance floor. The grooms danced their first together and then each shared a dance with their mothers. It was a beautiful, special, perfect night…until some clown had to ruin it all. I won’t name any names, but let’s just say that someone, no worries who, but a person ended up sprawled out on the dance floor with head under one of the groom’s grandmother’s formal ball gown.

Ok, I’ll name a name. It was me.

I think it would be an understatement to say that I don’t embarrass easily. I welcome embarrassment. I run headfirst into humiliation eager for the attention it can bring me but every so often even I, the Queen of Awkward Moments nearly die from sheer mortification (see also: the driveway incident.)  This was one of those moments.

The DJ had  just slowed it down after an up-beat number or two and put on the Lionel Richie jam “My Endless Love” which we can all agree is one of the Top 5 Most Romantic Songs Of the 80’s, 90’s and Today. It also happens to be the song that my friend’s parents first danced to at their wedding 30 years ago. They took center stage on the dance floor for a few beats before inviting the rest of the guests to join them. My friend Kevin and I took to the floor together but here’s the thing: slow dancing is the worst! I’m not just saying this because no one ever wanted to dance with me in Jr High or High School (basically had to pay my senior prom date) but unless you’re seriously crushin’ on the person you’re dancing with and drunk enough not feel uncomfortable doing what is essentially a stand-up, swaying snuggle in public, slow dancing is the pits. Let’s go full Footloose and outlaw it forever!

To fight the awkwardness, Kev and I busted out our full repartee of hilarious (“hilarious”) moves – we went full-on 8th grade, with hands on shoulders and enough room for the Holy Spirit, we spun, we tangoed, etc. We were already probably ruining the romance and sanctity of this whole sweet moment for our friend’s parents but then we really took it to the next level when we introduced The Dip.

Here is the thing about The Dip. Unless you are professional Dancers with the Stars, both members of the duo need to be VERY explicit about what is happening or else the dipper will dip too soon and the dipee will find herself suspended unsteadily half-way upside down. Eyes will meet for a fateful second before the dippee crashes to the ground, pulling her dipper down with her.

Oh yes, that happened. We were 12 minutes into the reception, WAY too soon for anyone to be laying on the dancefloor and there we were. Luckily, my dress didn’t end up over my head. Unluckily, someone else’s did. Somehow in our tumble, I ended up with my head directly between someone’s legs. I panicked to pull myself off of the floor, only to find my face stuck in a swath of black fabric. A friend of mine later kindly described the scene as “artsy” … here she is in the photo below reenacting the moment over a deep-fried breakfast the next morning. No one got photos of the actual moment, that I know of (!!) but fingers crossed we're spotted flailing about in the background of the wedding video.

And, oh yes. As I mentioned above, that lucky someone who found me climbing up betwixt her legs was none other than our friend, the groom’s GRANDMOTHER.  And don’t think this was one of those “oh, no one saw” situations. Everyone saw. Everyone. I have lived a lifetime of horrors but this one might take the cake. I wanted to throw myself into an active volcano. It usually only takes me 10-20 seconds before I start embracing my embarrassment as potential comedy routines but it took me a solid half hour to get over this one. I’m not sure which is bruised more, my ass or my ego.

My darling dancing partner Kevin (yes, LoCos, that Kevin) was even worse for wear, emotionally. Not a non-stop trainwreck like myself, he’s less accustomed to enormous public displays of humiliation. I was pretty certain he was going to run from the wedding, the state ofGeorgia, theUnited States and never, ever look back. A good friend might let him forget it, but a GREAT FRIEND would write a story about it for the internet, where it will live on for eternity. You’re welcome, bud!

If it makes you feel any better, you’ll now always be…My Endless Love.

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