My Leaning Tower Of Clothes

When I moved in with my boyfriend a few months ago, I gave up my giant closet and had to squeeze all of my stuff into his little space with all of his clothes. This was not going to work. My solution? I was going to go to Target to get one of those double hanging racks and put all of my stuff on it. Perfect! I bought the rack, put it together and started loading on my stuff. In my head, I was thinking how great this would be- Anthony could have the whole closet to himself and I would put all of my clothes on the rack...he wouldn't even know I was there! But in reality, I didn't read the weight requirements on the rack and literally put my entire wardrobe onto this thing. I was even hanging things I had never hung in my life, like t-shirts, because hey, I had a double hanging rack!

Although Anthony wasn't a big fan of having my entire wardrobe in our bedroom, out in the open, he was dealing with it. He knows not to say anything negative about a woman and her clothes. And I felt like a model getting ready for the runway every morning with my new hanging rack. Everything was just fine in the Gudin-chak household. Until, I went home to Maine on Easter weekend. While I was gone, my hanging rack decided to misbehave.....

I got a text from Anthony that Saturday morning while I was enjoying breakfast with my parents telling me that my hanging rack was done. Kaput. Huh? Here's what happened: Anthony came home late from work that night, or should I say that morning, around 4:00 am  to find my entire wardrobe on the floor and the bed. The hanging rack split in two, marking up the walls and spewing my clothes all over the bedroom. Groggy and tired, he naturally thought someone robbed our place and had a mini panic attack. When he figured out what had happened, he just picked up all of my stuff, threw it on the kitchen table and left it for me to deal with when I got back to LA. He was not happy.

What did I learn that day? I learned that you must read directions when buying a hanging rack because you can't just put everything you own on it (I even put my necklaces and bags on it) and that Mr. Clean Magic Eraser works wonders on black scuff marks on the wall. I did manage to save the bottom half of the rack (above) with some electrical tape but it leans a lot toward the right....my lovely leaning tower of clothes!

My Marilyn Moment

Have you ever had one of those moments that is so mortifying yet hilarious at the same time, that you just don’t know what to do? I had one of those yesterday- my Marilyn moment.  Anytime I wear a dress or skirt to work, I am weary of the wind and make sure if I step outside on my lunch break, I hold my skirt close so it doesn’t blow up and expose my skivvies….

Yesterday, I was walking out of the building to my car at 4:00 pm, after the workday was over. I was in front of an older gentleman in a suit and tie, whom I rode the elevator down with. He was a few steps behind me, so when I got to the door leading outside, I held it graciously, waiting for him to catch up. Just as he reached the door and thanked me for holding it, a huge gust of wind blew my dress up and I could feel the breeze blowing on my legs and butt. I scurried to release the door and hold down my dress but it was too late, I was already exposed. I glanced at the man behind me, laughed to myself and told him “you’re welcome” for holding the door (acting like he didn’t just see my butt). What I wanted to say was, “you’re welcome for the show!” Whoopsie Daisy…

Stalking In Sin City

I won't name any names, cite any exact dates or even admit that this is true (wink wink) but I am going to indulge you in a story of a little trip I called 'Stalking in Sin City.' This girl I know, we will call her Karen, was totally in love with this boy at her college and although they had a few classes together and said hello to each other in the halls, Karen never made it to the next level with this boy. I'm convinced it was because Karen gained the freshman thirty which didn't leave her body until after her senior year, but who am I to say why this relationship never blossomed. It wasn't me after all....

A few years after graduation, Karen and her friends moved out to Los Angeles and one day while at work aka stalking her college crush on My Space or AOL Instant Messenger (this was pre-Facebook) Karen found out that he was going to be in Las Vegas that weekend with his friends. Karen told her best friend about this situation and her friend, let's call her Felicia, convinced Karen that they had to drive to Las Vegas and 'bump into him." As Felicia put it, "what do you have to lose?" After Karen answered, "my dignity," she told her that this may be her last chance to see him, while he was single and while Karen was skinny. Shallow girls, I know. But who knew? Maybe this was fate (not stalking) and it was meant to be?

So Karen and Felicia 'called out sick' from work the next day (Thursday), booked a room at the cheapest hotel in Vegas (Circus Circus) and drove four hours to Sin City that night, excited, nervous and trying to convince themselves that they weren't crazy. When they arrived at their hotel room (not the nicest in the city considering it was only $60/night) they opened the door and found the maid laying on the bed watching TV. Startled, he jumped up and said hello. "The room is just about ready, you can come in if you want!" he said as the girls looked at each other in shock. They decided to wait in the hall until he was done with his show, or rather cleaning.

Karen and Felicia learned that the boy was going to be at the Coyote Ugly bar in the New York New York hotel that night and as they got ready, Karen started to freak out a bit. What if he didn't remember her? What if he told her that she was a crazy stalker? Or what if they never even saw him? Nonetheless, Felicia told Karen that they didn't come out here for nothing, gave her a shot and told her to hurry her ass up. After about three shots each, the girls headed to Coyote Ugly, Felicia walking in front like the proud matchmaker and Karen dragging her feet behind like a kid not wanting to go to school on her first day of Kindergarten. Next thing they know, they are standing outside of the bar and Karen spots the back of her crush's head and naturally freaks out and hides behind a nearby puppet show. Don't ask...it is Vegas and there was a puppet show apparently...I wasn't there. Frozen like someone who just saw a ghost, Karen couldn't move and as Felicia came towards her she said, "this is like you taking me to the Grand Canyon and me not getting out of the car!" And although Felicia had a point, Karen was terrified and ran back to the hotel (or the nearest bar), never seeing her crush and never knowing what could have been. Although Felicia was mad, the two are still best friends and everything worked out for the best. Karen and Felicia are some crazy girls! I wish I could have hung out with them.... ; )

My Nail Rant...

Here it goes, my over-the-top nail rant:

Thanks to my friend Mary, who told me I should be a hand model, I have been overly conscious about my nails lately while I am trying to build my hand modeling portfolio. No joke- I have convinced my boyfriend that once he buys a nice camera, he is going to help me take all the pictures for the portfolio, you know- me holding a coffee cup, playing on the iPad, gently clutching keys to a Ferrari and holding a wad of cash- the typical posters you see in the nail salon! I am going to be JP Prewitt from Zoolander. I have always been good about doing my nails, keeping them well polished and making sure if I get any smudges or chips I re-do them immediately. But there a few things that no matter how hard I try, I cannot avoid!

• I always seem to do my nails simultaneously while doing laundry. I'm not sure why I think it is a good idea but I end up either having to mess up my nails when I switch my clothes from the wash to the dryer, or keeping my wet clothes in the washing machine too long while I allow my nails to dry that I have to re-wash them because they smell like mildew.

• Even if my nails are 100% dry because I painted them 2 hours ago, I still walk around, not touching anything because I am convinced they are still wet.

• No matter how hard I try to not touch anything during the painting process, I still manage to get that one tiny hair that came out of the cotton ball I used to remove the previous paint stuck in my nail polish and magically it dries quicker than the speed of light so I have to redo the entire nail.

• It is inevitable that if paint my nails on Monday, by Tuesday I will have at least one chip in my nail which I will try to fix but end up getting annoyed and repainting all my nails with a new color. And don't even get me started on the French manicure- those babies chip while I am screwing the top back on the nail polish bottle.

Head Over Heels

This is the story of how I lost a pair of heels that were very near and dear to my heart....this is a sad, sad story (don't be fooled by my smile in the picture). My friend Kari had a gorgeous pair of yellow heels up for grabs one day when Beth and I went over to her house for a BBQ last summer. The only catch? We both wanted them and they fit both of us nicely. What were we to do? Kari's Aunt Marge cleverly announced that we should have a walk off for the shoes. So, that was exactly what we did. Kari turned up the salsa music, everyone stood around and Beth and I each took our turn down the 'runway.' I confidently strapped on those heels, worked my hips to the salsa music, made people laugh and won those shoes fair and square. Don't listen to Beth when she says it was a tie and she generously handed them over to me!     ; )

I loved those heels. They were everything you wanted in a heel and more. Strappy, yellow, comfortable and pretty. I wore them to my sister's wedding, to my friend Mary's Bachelorette party in Las Vegas and to her rehearsal dinner in Palm Springs. Palm Springs- that is where they would meet their demise and I would have to bury them (but not their memory) and head back to Los Angeles without them.

It all began the night of the rehearsal dinner. Everything was going well- I was getting many compliments on the shoes, they were still comfortable and I was having fun. I thought my shoes were also having fun but I was wrong. Dead wrong. As I walked arm in arm to the shuttle with my fellow bridesmaid, Lety, I felt a weird wobble on my left foot and I sunk down a few inches. What the hell? I looked down and my heel had snapped clean off the shoe. I screamed, held the heel up in the air like Mufasa did to Simba in The Lion King and cried out, "has anyone ever met someone who lost a heel like this?" Just as I expected, everyone in unison answered, "who else but Erin?"

RIP Yellow Guess heels. You will be missed.

Dwight Yoak-whom?

This was the third year in a row that Beth and I made our way out to the desert for the Stagecoach Country Music Festival. It is one our favorite times ever and this year was no different. Although it was the hottest weather we have ever experienced, we still braved the climate, slathered head to toe in sunscreen, intricately placed our Shark Skin flasks in our pants and/or bras and headed to the Empire Polo Club in Indio. Besides tailgating in the parking lot, trying to stay hydrated while sweating to death and finally crossing through the security checkpoint with our free booze in our pants, we ultimately love to see the bands. This year on the Toyota Mane stage we saw Toby Keith, Lady Antebellum, Thompson Square and Dierks Bentley to name a few. Between the big acts and our annoying trips to the steaming hot and smelly port-a-potty’s, we did make our way over to the side stages to see a few other acts. Like Dwight Yoakam. Or at least who we thought was Dwight Yoakam…

We were a little drunk when we made our way over to the stage to see Dwight and when we got there, he was already performing. We joined the rest of the crowd, singing and dancing along to his legendary music. We kept commenting on his tight, black leather pants, his dapper ascot and his slicked back poofy helmet hair and wondered if he had any plastic surgery. What did it matter, though? This was Dwight Yoakam and we certainly were enjoying it.

The next day, while we were eating at Subway, we decided to ‘Google’ Dwight Yoakam just to see how old he actually was and if he had gone under the knife. We were surprised when the numerous pictures that came up looked absolutely nothing like the Dwight we had seen. We were confused. Did we see Dwight Yoheim? Yight Doakam? Shmight Schmoakam? We looked at the lineup again and saw that Dwight did in fact play from 5:30-6:30 on one of the side stages. Huh. But we also noticed that Marty Stuart played from 5:30-6:30 on one of the side stages as well. We ‘Googled’ Marty Stuart and to our surprise we saw that shiny haired, ascot loving smile glaring back at us. Dammit.

Say Cheese!

I am usually a very outgoing person and don’t mind small talking with strangers but sometimes I just need ‘Erin time.’ Like today, when I was enjoying my salad outside Trader Joe’s in the warm sunlight. Just as I took a bite of my grilled chicken salad with rice noodles, a guy sat down on the bench next to me. This was completely normal at this hour, as many people frequent the benches outside Trader Joe’s for lunch. I didn’t think anything of it, until he asked me how the salad was. I quickly responded (mid chew) that it was good, hoping that our brief conversation was over. Nope! He then proceeded to tell me about all the different salads that he has tried from Trader Joe’s and began to embellish on his vegetarian lifestyle. He asked me if I ever tried to be a vegetarian and I told him I was a vegan momentarily but missed cheese too much. Well, I must have been talking to a cheese connoisseur because it was as if I was talking about shrimp with Bubba from Forrest Gump the way he responded to my comment.  

The guy starts asking me what my favorite cheeses were, told me which ones he preferred, how blue cheese contained penicillin, how parmesan was surprisingly easy to cook with and how swiss was not…blah blah blah blah….I thought someone was playing a trick on me. As he got more and more excited on the cheese topic, I just nodded in disbelief that I was actually “having a conversation” with this guy during my ‘Erin time’ and wished I could just walk away. But oh no, Erin is too nice and sat and listed to every last minute of Cheesy McCheddarson’s speech until my lunch break was over. As I was walking back to my office I surprisingly had a craving for a mozzarella cheese stick….