Letting B Take the Wheel. Like Jesus, But Funnier.

FRIIIIIIIIIIIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, now that I’ve got that out of my system, a little housekeeping.

Per Wednesday’s contest to “Guess WTF Is Going On In This Video Footage From Our Trip to NYC”, the winner is…

Alexa from Cleveland’s a Plum! Congrats, pretty lady! You were the first person to guess that it was A) Maxie snoring AND B) Forgetting Sarah Marshall in the background. You even threw in there that we had just eaten some stolen McDonald’s (yay drunk twittering!), so true to my word, I will dance to any song of your choosing, dressed however you like. And as you just so happen to be coming to DC in a week, I suppose it’s only fair that you actually get to do the videotaping yourself.

I’m scared.

And now, friends, on with the real show. You were all kind enough to throw questions of all shapes and sizes at my darling B on Tuesday, when I called a Switcheroo to let HIM air our dirty laundry for a change. He has written a response, which I have not looked at or read… I am just going to copy, paste, and click publish.

Hold me.

And awayyyy we go!

A Response, by B…

As I sat Tuesday, hunched over my computer furiously scribbling away notes, my employer must have thought I was one again (finally) working hard. But no dear (LiLu’s) readers, instead I was busy reading, categorizing, and contemplating your thoughtful/retarded questions.

My first reaction after reading LiLu’s “switcheroo” was, “Really? The girl who purposefully thrust her hand in her own shit is worried about an embarrassing revelations from me?” But after careful consideration I am confident I can expose a little more light on LiLu, me, us, life, etc…

First and most importantly, to those of you (BowChicaWahWah, Fiona, Miss Nobody, Chele…) who commented that I am amazing, great, funny, etc:

I couldn’t agree with you more. You have excellent taste and I can tell you’re going to go far in life. Keep it up.

Next, to the sophisticated readers (rs27 & Narm) who asked why rs27 is so awesome:

Because that’s how Jesus/Buddah/Kali–most likely, created him. Awesomeness is born, not cultivated. To the mothers reading this, remember that advice. If your first child is underachieving, cut your losses and pop out a winner.

Many of you (Jen-Tsk, notyourplainjane, Blondie, SoMi’s Nilsa, Kellie, and Katelin) asked about LiLu’s TMI’s and bowels. Way to keep it classy ladies. I’m proud of you. But I’m nothing if not a good sport and will indulge your fecophilia (Go ahead, Google it. But DO NOT image search!)

Without doubt, the most shocking/disgusting/break-up-able TMI Thursday was the one where she knowingly touched her own shit. That was because, unlike most posts, I had not been forwarned. After reading it I was racked with questions: “Did she touch me later that night? Did we hold hands? Should I poop in her pillow for revenge?” You know, the norm. Though generally speaking we are pretty liberal on our pooping policy. We each keep the door closed, but will still high five for great shits and gnarly farts—they do indeed smell (SoMi).

Regarding the TMI’s: Honestly, there is nothing she’s holding back. She willingly puts all her (and my) business in the streets. Regardless, if I had a great story and spilled it here she’d kill me for wasting valuable blog fodder.

On the subject of disclosure: (Shelly, Katelin, Jules, and Kylie) asked about what LiLu has yet to share (on topics not relating to bodily fluids).

Honestly, and fortunately for me, the only thing she holds back is what a total asshole I can be/am as well as the details of our occasional fights. Though I haven’t asked for this consideration, I surely appreciate it since as a result I am now getting marriage propositions. Which leads me to…

Baking With Plath asked if she and I can get married (noting that LiLu has already married another woman–Maxie).

BWP: Yes, and YES! One of my most cherished aspects of mine and LiLu’s relationship is the combination of alcoholism and offensiveness. F

rom what I have read, you may be her match in this regard…in the good way. Though, perhaps the four of us should just move to Utah, get a little “Mormon” and die of cirrhosis of the liver by age 35.

I also think that answers the questions about swinging (los_tartist, Brian).

Amandaaa: asks “how many licks would it take YOU to get to the center of the tootsie pop?”

I am not entirely clear on what this means, but it seems vaguely sexual—and so do I. However, the answer to your question is 57 licks. No One Can Deny This.

WickedCourtni asks: 1) Does LiLu pick her boogers–I think I’m a day late for this question, 2) my biggest pet peeve, and 3) have I ever made her cry after really good sex?

1) Oh yeah, she’ll dig for gold. 2) Having to wait for her while she gets ready—though I’ve come to the conclusion that this is an epidemic spread throughout all women. 3) LiLu nor I would ever reveal to the world what happens during our intimate….oh wait, never mind. Yes, in fact! I hit that like a fucking champion.

Both Velvet and prettylittletangents asked about the night we met: my first thoughts, and was I really a “quivering bunny” later.

My first thought was she is incredibly gorgeous. I still remember the outfit she had on that night and whenever she wears that skirt we have some good fuckin’ (remember, I hit that like a champion). you should know, picking up girls at the bar is not my thing (I can be a little shy, but no ‘quivering bunny”). But something about LiLu compelled me to say hello. Though I do take issue with her account of the evening: that by the sheer force of will and an eye-fucking-tractor-beam she forced me to walk over. Bullshit. I made that choice and what a decision it was. In the interest of full and fair disclosure, our next meeting I was actually a scared little pussy—hurray for beer muscles!

Captain Dumbass asks: When LiLu gets infected by the zombie plague, would I finish her off, or keep her alive with table scrps/neighbors?

I appreciate that, like me, Captain has had the foresight to anticipate the coming zombie apocalypse and plan accordingly. I love LiLu too much to kill her (even if she is a flesh eating zombie). Also, as everyone knows, there’s nothing crazier than zombie-sex.

Moooooog35 and G inquired if I would consider whoring LiLu out for between $50 and $1 million dollars. A pretty wide range gentlemen…

Like a true gentleman I’m going to have to say ladies choice here. After all, I’d be quite the hypocrite if, after eloping with BWP and swinging with los-tartist (see above), I denied LiLu a little shoe money (purchasing somewhere between 1 and 1,000 pairs–to be exact).

Lastly, to the many of you (Racquel, Marie, Miss Rambles, Fiona, Amandaaa, Connie, Kelly, Lady Jane, Megan, etc…) who requested sappy/sweet/marriage information. I saved this for last hoping that most readers would have moved on prior to my typed-castration. What do I love about LiLu, a few thoughts in no particular order:

LiLu typically wakes up about an hour earlier than me. She knows how much I hate when there are dirty dishes sitting in the sink–even if they were left there by me. So what does this wonderful girl do? At 7:30 AM on a Monday morning I’ll hear her cleaning up before she goes to work. Not for any type of credit, but just to make me a little happier. That’s fucking awesome.

Whenever she goes out for brunch with the girls–as I lay my lazy/hungover ass on the couch–I can guarantee, without asking, she’ll stroll through the door carrying a burger and beer for me (so I don’t have to put on pants). On a side note, I appreciate that most of what we say about our relationship somehow involves alcohol. Healthy? Not a chance. Fun? You bet your sweet ass.

Though perhaps not a reason why I love her, but an indication of how much: I’d honestly rather just enjoy a lazy weekend on the couch with LiLu than do (insert fantastic activity) with (insert fantastic person). Her company is all I ever need for an amazing time.

As far as marriage: None of your business. But perhaps I’ll propose to her via blog. Just like she told me about our kid/immanent-abortion.