Bambi On Ice

As you can imagine, when I find myself in these crazy situations, I usually have a sidekick there with me, either laughing or experiencing the moment with me. My hilarious bestie, Beth, not only is one of the greatest storytellers I know, but she also, like me, finds herself in situations and sometimes asks herself, “Who Else But Beth?” Since she may appear in my blog more than one time (her and I have an intense rendition of “Shoop” by Salt-n-Pepa that we like to bust out at parties, weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, etc.) I figured that I would share one of my favorite stories that she has ever told me. 

Beth and her husband, Kris (also one of the funniest people I have ever met), were at The Counter in Century City for dinner on night. The place is usually packed and that night was no exception as there were screaming children, full tables and hustling waiters doing circles around Beth and Kris as they waited to be seated.  Beth had just bought a new pair of adorable strappy wedges and was excited to break them in on date night with her hubby. Once they were seated at the table in the corner behind the column, Kris immediately got occupied by some app on his cell phone as Beth announced that she had to use the restroom.

As Beth began to make her way to the opposite side of the restaurant, weaving her way in and out of the other patrons, she noticed that her shoes were not taking to the floor very well and she began to slip a little with each step. As Beth walked around a certain baby’s high chair (we won’t point any fingers here but let’s just say that a certain mom wasn’t very good at picking up after her baby and there was water and fruit roll-up all over the floor) she began to slide even more and her impromptu “Bambi on Ice” performance at The Counter began.

We have all seen Bambi, correct? Well, picture that scene when he and Thumper take to the ice for the first time and Bambi’s limbs go one way while his body goes another and he can’t regain control as he dramatically crashes, legs sticking out in all directions. Now, picture that but in heels, in a crowded restaurant. Beth’s feet were slipping and sliding all over the slick floor as she was trying to grab onto something to help her with her balance. When she grabbed for a chair, it didn’t stop her, it became a prop in this musical number and went up and over her head as she continued to dance around clumsily. Finally, after what I am sure seemed like a lifetime for Beth, she came to a halt in a half split position, face red, hands clammy and armpits moist with sweat.

Embarrassed and not making eye contact with anyone, she got up and tip toed to the bathroom where she lingered there wondering how she was going to come back out in front of everyone without them noticing that she was the girl who fell. Sneak out a window? Do the Army crawl? Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak? Beat up the girl in the stall next to her, tie her up and steal her clothes? Unfortunately, none of those options were appropriate or available, so she had to put on her big girl face and walk out, acting like nothing happened. She felt the stares and saw the head turns when she came out of the restroom but carefully half marched, half tiptoed her way back to the comforting arms of her husband where for sure she would be consoled. When she sat down at their table, happy to be in the ‘safe zone’ but still mortified, Kris looked up from his phone and said, “Babe, did you see Facebook is down another ten points today?” Yup, out of everyone in the restaurant, the only person who didn’t have the pleasure of seeing “Bambi on Ice” was Beth’s husband. Figures!

Shoeless in Los Angeles

Yesterday after a great day with my boyfriend, Anthony, and my friends, Nicole and Ray, in Manhattan Beach (note- there was day drinking involved, which we all know leads to trouble) we headed back downtown for an intense game of Uno and dinner at Yard House. On our walk to the restaurant, along the streets of downtown L.A., where the homeless make their homes and the hooligans come to play, my flip flop broke. After suffering an intense flash of panic and a few yards of scuffling along the sidewalk trying to pull off the “my flip flop is broken but I’m trying to act like nothing is wrong while I ‘glide’ gracefully on the street so my boyfriend won’t notice” look, I decided to let it go…Goodbye my left Dollar Store flip flop, you’ve been so good to me! And thank you my right Dollar Store flip flop for sticking with me until the end. So there I was, a few feet back from the pack, one shoe on, one shoe gone- my brain churning, trying to see if I could pull this off without anyone noticing and hobble into the guaranteed “no shirt, no shoes, no service” restaurant without the host noticing, when my boyfriend turns around, looks at my bare foot disgusted (he has a touch of OCD which I’m sure killed him even more), then looks at me with horror on his face that I am indeed walking downtown, barefoot and yells, “Erin, where is your other flip flop?” I couldn’t lie and I couldn’t deny, so I simply lifted up my bare foot and posed for a picture, which Ray was quick to flash. Then I remembered that I had a pair of flats in my purse- thank God! Although, I wish I would have thought of that earlier and my plan to escape barefoot embarrassment would have gone off without a hitch…Damn you, Dollar Store flip flops!

Pop Goes My Physique

Okay, so I am an adventurous girl when it comes to working out and am willing to give anything a shot. I take Cardio Barre classes, have tried yoga, hike almost every weekend, been to my share of hip hop classes and have even done a little pole dance workout. But when I got only a few minutes into my Pop Physique class on Third and Fairfax, I thought I was going to die. Literally, right there on that pink mat, next to the Lulu Lemon clad chick on my left. But die in a good way- with rock hard abs and an ass to kill for. I don’t have any kids, but the pain you endure while kicking and squeezing and lifting in this class is comparable to child birth. I’m sorry to all the mothers out there who are laughing and rolling their eyes at me but it’s the only thing that I can imagine is more painful. And at the end of this class, you don’t get an adorable baby to take home with you- you get sore thighs and stinky armpits. The workout is an hour long and consists of fast paced, high tempo moves that isolate your arms, your legs, your abs and then your booty. You use weights, a small pink ball, a strap and a ballet bar. I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to kick their own butt into shape while listening to great music and is dreaming of a booty like the one on the Pop Physique ads. I’m only two classes in but I’m starting to spend a little more time looking at my backside in the mirror every day, and I like what I see so far! I definitely wouldn’t be able to do the class with anyone I knew though, because I would probably pee my pants laughing so hard at the hip thrusts and awkward positions you find yourself in. I know for sure that if my little sister, Grace, was in the class next to me I would have to add a number four to my “situations when I pee pants” list: 4) Pop Physique.

Too Much Sake Is Never Good...

First post on my new blog and I’m more excited than the Team Edward fans from Twilight after hearing Kristen Stewart is a cheater! 

Last night my girlfriends and I went to Happy Hour at Katsuya in Brentwood for “one drink and one fish” as Lynda put it. Cut to 8:00 pm and we have strawberry jalapeño shots, a bottle of sake and vodka sodas lined up in front of us. Compliments of the handsome bartender of course because technically we were only going to pay for “one drink and one fish,” right Lynda? Suddenly, we were the loudest girls at the bar. I think my Scranton girl, Kim, just wanted to get Andy from The Office’s attention (he was dining nearby) to ask him for a picture. That quickly failed when his daughter fell asleep in his arms and he left with his wife. Kim thought it would be a tad bit rude to interrupt his dinner and say, “Hey ‘Andy,’ can my drunk friend, Erin, hold your baby while I put my arm around you and Lynda snaps a pic for my Facebook page? Come on, I’m from Scranton!” Thank God she realized that was not a good idea or we would’ve ended up on TMZ.

So there we are giggling, boozing and putting the cucumbers from our water on our eyes like we were at a spa, when Kim sees her friend, Stephanie. She turned around and called out to her friend, who didn’t respond. “Stephanie!” She yelled again. The girl, who she was staring at, answered, “I’m not Stephanie but people mistake me for someone else at least once a day. Seriously, I get it all the time.” Kim apologized and turned around, embarrassed and red in the face. Five minutes later Lynda turned around, looked at that same girl and said, “Claire?” I almost peed my pants right there in Katsuya. (Note- for those of you who don’t know me, there are three situations in which I am guaranteed to pee my pants: 1) Sledding, 2) Playing Hide-n-Seek and 3) Participating in a three legged race). After drying the tears from my eyes and telling Lynda that I was not going to turn around and call that girl ‘Melody’ in five minutes, we decided to write and produce that situation for You Tube. That idea snowballed into various other ideas for skits and even talks of starting our own production company. Gotta love drunken chatter!

Stay tuned for that video, friends- it will happen and it will happen on ‘Who Else But Erin?’ Sometimes too much sake not only brings you a bad headache in the morning and an apparent fight with your boyfriend, it brings you creative ideas that could become as big as ‘David After Dentist!’ Fingers crossed.