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As the weather in DC has recently gotten beauti-freaking-ful, we’ve started using our bedroom AC window unit at night. While I am a huge fan of a gentle breeze while sleeping so I can snuggle up under the blanket, I do not so much enjoy the fact that said breeze blows directly. onto. my face.

My side of the bed is directly next to the window and in the immediate path of the churning cold air, which means that I cannot let so much as a finger poke out of the comforter if I hope to wake up sans frostbite in the morning.

But I endure, because otherwise the bedroom would be eleventy billion degrees and we wouldn’t be sleeping at all. Also, I am just super tough and awesome like that.

Until one evening this week, when I came home to find this:

B had fashioned a piece of cardboard to funnel the cold air away from me. See?

Chivalry is not dead, I say. All it needs is a little duct tape.

/schmoop

Happy weekend!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

~So. Remember that time I promise you an amazing surprise today? Um, well…

I lied.

Not on purpose, trust- no one is more disappointed than me that we have to wait… but it’s only a couple days, chickadees. I promise by the end of this week, you shall be privy to my fantabulous news… 

*cue suspenseful music, slash, me feeling like a total ahole* ~

Anyway, back to our regular programming for the time being…

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says.” Woot!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

B’s friend K is over and showing us his stylish new glasses, or as he calls them, his “FIRIN’ GLASSES.”

Firin' glasses.

K: Do you guys have glasses?

B: Yeah, I had glasses once. But then I lost them so I never got them again. They make your eyes weaker. Fuck that noise. I’m a MAN!!!

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As I’ve mentioned, this Friday is our two-year anniversary. My present for B is stashed in my closet, but his present for me hasn’t come yet. Not being someone who can ever wait for anything, I’ve been begging him to let me give him his since it arrived…

Me: Pleeeeeeeeeease can I give you your present?

B: No!

*We’re watching Tosh.0, as they feature a video mocking homeless people*

B: Did you get me a homeless person?

Me: No, but that’d be AWESOME. Then we’d have a dishwasher!!!

I know. So wrong. Blame it on the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-alcohol…

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A smelly B arrives home from his soccer game, and I have a flashback to the last time he came home, which somehow resulted in his vile soccer socks being draped over my (yes, still unpacked) luggage bag from Vegas.

Me: Don’t you put your dirty soccer socks on my suitcase this time!!!

B: *shrugs* I can’t help it, baby, that’s the Drying Place!

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Trying to find a new show on Netflix Watch Instantly, we stumble across “Satisfaction,” a series featuring the working gals of an Australian brothel.

Me: Um, I’m not so sure about this one.

B: You’re always so against me wanting to see 18 year old shirtless girls! You never support any of my hobbies!

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My present better be something amazeballs.

Mama said share.

B and I don’t fight often.

But when we do, it’s almost always about something entirely insignificant, like who has to go downstairs to get the takeout from the delivery guy. (We’re really big on Not Wearing Pants in our house, which clearly, this interferes with.) And 99 times out of a hundred, any argument- or negotiation, really- is entirely in jest. Unless of course it’s my week to “attract vampires,” and then not only is it dead serious but I am 100% right and NOT AT ALL BATSHIT CRAZY, no matter what the situation is.

Duh.

But the other night, we got INTO it for once. And it was bad.

You see, I am a Fall Asleep With TV On (FAWTO) person.

B, on the other hand, is an incredibly selfish Fall Asleep With TV Off, Because For Some Strange Reason He Can Turn Over, Sprinkle Some of His Magic Fairy Dust He Hides From LiLu On His Eyes, and Be Dead to the World Within 2.0 Seconds (FAWTOPBFSSRICTOSSOMMFDIHFLABAW2.0S) person.

Look, as we’ve established round these parts over the past few years, I am probably not the most “stable” person on the planet. The thoughts whirling around inside my head at any given moment are akin to what it would look like if Peter Griffin, Chelsea Handler, and a unicorn had a baby and it was ribbon-dancing a la Will Ferrell around inside my brain.

See? Scary stuff.

Anycrazypants, my point is that I simply cannot fall asleep unless my loco-ass mind is distracted. I have to trick myself into caring about the Kardashians’ latest baby scare, or Alton Brown’s ceramic potted planter BBQing technique, or whose makeup is the most atrocious on Jerseylicious (it’s Olivia, FYI), just so that I can put my own mile-a-minute thoughts aside long enough to go unconscious.

B, on the other hand, prefers to fall asleep in this very, very unnerving thing he calls… dum dum dum… 

“QUIET.”

I know. Go figure.

In truth, I know it’s probably not exactly healthy to rely on cable network to lullaby me to sleep, but it’s been my way for over a decade now. The thought of going to bed and lying there, staring wide-eyed at the blank white ceiling with nary a Jon Stewart joke to snap me out of all the inane worries that wash over me is, well, terrifying.

And so, friends, I am at a loss. Perhaps the time has come for me to give up my late night affair with The Soup reruns and a plethora of Real Housewives dramz. It breaks my heart to say goodbye…

Let’s just hope it doesn’t break my mind.

Mama said share.

Last night, as I was buried in George R. R. Martin’s third book of his “A Song of Fire and Ice” fantasy series, B looked over at me- from his iPad, no less- and said:

“Look at you. I’ve officially turned you into a nerd.”

Of course I balked, because I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Dork than a Nerd, but upon reflection…

He’s right.

As the all-knowing Urban Dictionary says,

vs…

We watch Legend of the Seeker, Merlin, and Avatar: The Last Airbender religiously. We laughed and cried through all of BSG, mostly when it ended.* I’ve read Ken Follet’s The Pillars of the Earth, World Without End, and three of the George R.R. Martins, all in the past year or so, which are each a THOUSAND pages… when my vacations used to be peppered with US Weekly and Charlaine Harris.

I may not really understand (or care) about the difference between sci fi and fantasy (is it dragons? It’s totally dragons, right?), but apparently my dad did the job instilling the nerd in me all those years ago when we father-daughter bonded over every episode of The Next Generation ever. (Lex, the first man to give you “a funny feeling you didn’t quite understand” was Jordan Knight? Well, mine was Captain Picard.)

So, I guess I’m both now, dork AND nerd. And I’m totally cool with that. I just think it’s hilarious that now B’s the one on the couch with a computer on his lap, and I’m nose deep in a 1000 page book about kings and wights and dragons and catching myself saying things like “folly!!” and “you craven!!” in everyday conversation. (I’m a blast at the office, truly.)

I guess it’s just proof of what sharing two years of fart jokes with someone will do to a person.

I just hope we don’t start to look like each other…

Le sigh.

*Duh! How could I forget BSG and the consumingly-awesome Edward James Olmos?? Thanks, Kev!

P.S. Have you voted on a date for DC Happy Hour yet??

P.P.S. And while we’re District-ing it up around here, check out my round up on DC Blogs.

Mama said share.

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says.” Woot!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In bed, Axe Murderer is within grabbing distance…

B: Hey, grab me a cat!

I snatch her up and try to cat-wrangle her, but fail… and she jumps away, using my left boob as a platform.

Me: Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

B: That’s what you get for grabbing her.

Me: You told me to grab you a cat!!!!

B: Psssh. If I told you to jump off a bridge would you do it?

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On gchat…

Me:  I don’t want to work out tonight. I’m periody.

B:  I dont want to work out either… I’m sympathy-periody.

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While watching Dexter; the main character is having a hard time assisting a friend suffering from lung cancer with suicide…

Me: Would you kill me if I was suffering like that?

B: Totally.

Me: You WOULD?

B: Sure. {All tender and shit} You know, if you really wanted me to.

Moments later, the conversation turns to the notion that Murray and Axe Murderer will, in fact, pass on one day.

B: Stop! No! They’ll never leave us!!

Me: OH. So you can cavalierly discuss going all Kevorkian on me, but the mere mention of our cats dying someday is unthinkable?!

B: Pretty much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we’re about to watch Vampire Diaries…

B: Ready for some VD?!

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Domestic bliss, my friends.

Mama said share.

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says.” Woot!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In bed, contemplating the next round of our workout program…

B: Maybe you can do a real pull up tomorrow!

Me: {skeptical glance}

B: C’mon, it’ll be useful- you know, if you’re ever in a big hole! Or a well. A well with a bar in it. … {ponders introspectively…} It would suck to die in a well.

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On the couch…

Me: You’re breathing loudly over there. Are you mouth breathing?? You know what they say about mouth breathers.

B: That they breathe better because mouths are bigger than noses? Is that what they say?!

***Ed. note: B is NOT a mouth breather. This was a fluke, hence why I commented on it. Gross.***

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Watching the furbabies fight, and for once, Murray is winning…

Me: Axe Murderer’s getting fat, man.

B: {all defensive and shit} She’s not fat! She’s just pleasantly plump.

Me: *skeptical side-eye glance*

B: Well, she’s not pleasant… so that kind of rules that out, huh? I guess she’s just plump.

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After brunch with the girls, I arrive home on Sunday to find B lounging on the couch… with a towel rolled up behind his neck.

Me: Um. Why do you have a towel rolled behind your head?

B: So I don’t have to hold my head up to watch TV! DUH!

Me: ……………………………

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 I guess we really do need one of those ridiculous neck contraptions from SkyMall.

Don’t forget to check out my round up today on DC Blogs!

Mama said share.

Last evening, B and I had our nightly battle in which he attempts to convince me to scratch his NAKED back, and I wail and protest and squirm and add multiple syllables to words in true five-year-old whining fashion. I will not go gentle into that good night!

Now, I’ve talked about this before- twice- I just cannot STAND the idea of all those dead, flaky skin cells cropping up underneath my fingernails. It makes me own skin, well, crawl. (Ew.)

When first confronted with my dead skin phobia,* he maintained it was worth my suffering because then if he ever murdered me, I’d be fortunate enough to have his DNA under my nails to prove it was him. Which doesn’t really work out because then I’m A) dead, and B) he is a tricky bastard and we’ve watched all five seasons of The Wire, so I’m pretty sure homeboy knows how to get rid of a dead body by now. You just don’t watch Stringer Bell operate without picking up a thing or two.

Mmmmmmmmmmm.

Anyhoo, this was his new and improved argument last night:

B: {rips off shirt}  Baby, will you *please* scratch my back??

Me: Gross!! You know I hate that!

B: {puppy dog eyes}

Me: Fine. Put your shirt back on and I will.

B: {heavy sigh}  Then I can’t FEEL anything! Come on, think about it. That’s like asking someone to put pants on before they bone you!!!

Me: ………………………

Too-shay, my dear. Too-shay.

He may have won last night. But he can’t come up with these forever.

Can he?

*cringe*

*This is no way applies to peeling off sunburned skin flakes. That, of course, is pure awesome.**

**I NEVER CLAIMED I MADE SENSE. Shuttup.






Yes, this is an ad. Mama is poor, yo:

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Mama said share.

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says.” Woot!

(Oh, and bee tee dubs, I’ve had about a zillion requests for another round of Life Advice from B… so go ahead and ask your questions today! I’ll post his answers on Tuesday, if I can get him to do it by then. Tell him how handsome he is or something for encouragement.) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

While watching an ITT Tech commercial, the happy couple’s children are bouncing away on a trampoline behind them… 

Commercial: “We didn’t know WHAT we were going to do when John got laid off…” 

B: And now we’re trampoline rich, bitch!!! 

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B is a lover of all things chicken wing. Last week we ordered some and they happened to come with the buffalo sauce on the side. As I watched him slowly, tenderly, smother each wing in two different kinds of hot sauce, I couldn’t help myself… 

Me: So… you gonna make love to it or what? 

B: It used to be a GIRL chicken! Heyo!!! 

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As our kitchen is roughly the size of Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs, it is rather hard to prepare anything without the cats being ALL up in our biznass… 

Me: Axe Murderer! Goddamnit! I will slap your face off your FACE if you don’t get out of here! 

B: Baby, it’s raw hamburger! What if someone was holding raw internet in front of you?! You’d be interested too! 

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While waiting for the elevator in our building… 

B: You know what I hate? I hate when you’re already waiting for an elevator, and someone comes up behind you and pushes the already-lit button AGAIN. Because basically, what you’re saying is you think I’m too dumb to push the button. Like I’m actually stupid enough to think my scent is going to call the elevator to me. So pretty much, that means I should punch you in the face. Bam! 

Me: ………….. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ahhh, men. 

Don’t forget to meet us out for Happy Hour tonight! 6pm at the Vapiano’s at 18th and M. I’ll be wearing my Love Harder shirt – FTW!

Yes, this is an ad. Mama is poor, yo:

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Mama said share.

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says”! (Click for past “Shizzes”.)

(Duh.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Axe Murderer has developed this little habit of jumping on B’s lap and rubbing her face on his. Which, as someone who’d never owned cats before, freaked him out a bit the first time…

B: What the… what is she doing?!

Me: Cats have glands on their temples that secrete a scent… basically, she’s marking you as “her property”. Like when a dog pees on a fire hydrant. You should be honored.

B: Oh. Okay. (pause…) But little does she know I’m banging other cats all the goddamn time! Take THAT!

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On the couch. Per yoosh.

B: Name any problem in the world, and I’ll cure it with taking your pants off.

Me: Okay… Hitler!

B: Easy… take his pants off and no one will take him seriously.

Me: Okay… lupus!

B: Damn… that’s hard! You couldn’t give me AIDS or something!?

Me: Um, you could cure AIDS with “taking off pants”?

B: Sure… don’t do it! BAM!!!

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In bed, there is suddenly an audible *toot*…

B: Wtf was that?!

Me: It was the cats!

B: No it wasn’t! I saw it on your face! You pushed that out!

*toot*

B: You’re STILL PUSHING!!!

Me: It COULD be the cats!

B: Stop spreading fart rumors!!!

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While stopping at Tonic for Happy Hour, B interrogates me as to which super power I’d rather have.

B: Okay. Being super fast vs. talking to animals. a la Doctor Doolittle.

Me: Well, super fast. Because then I could get to work and ANYWHERE in no time.

B: WRONG.

Me: What??

B: That is incorrect. You’d hit a million bikes on the way.

Me: But I’d move too fast for them! You said super fast! I’d just blink and I’d be at work.

B: I didn’t say TELEPORT. How dare you make the assumption you can bend space and time. I said nothing about that. Next. Ability to be a fly on the wall, or teleport?

Me: Teleport.

B: Thank goodness. You got one. Next. Be able to read people’s minds, or teleport.

Me: Teleport again. I can travel anywhere that way!

B: (sighs) Wrong again, but at least you gave reasoning this time. *shakes head*

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Happy Humpday, mofos.

P.S. Vote? (Sorry.)

Mama said share.

In light of the fact that I single-handedly deleted my entire 450-posts blog yesterday, I think we should all take a minute to hold hands and do some sort of earthy-crunchy breathing exercise. Maybe we can all go around the circle and say something “unique” about ourselves? Play the name game? I’ll be “LiLu Lamebrain”. Go!

I’m sorry. I just had a veryscary moment where I thought I might have lost all of you, this place, forever…

It did not feel good.

(And btw, the fact that it DIDN’T happen is a Christmas miracle courtesy of my dear friend Shauna, who originally set me up over here at the WP. She is up to her ears in customers already, but send some love her way via her blog or Twitter for me, mmmmkay?)

Anyhoo, I’ve decided to celebrate my further abomination on the interwebs blog existence with an installment of everyone’s favorite feature, The Shiz My Boyfriend Says (click for past Shizzes, obvs).

Commence!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the show Tool Academy, one of the contestants expresses his belief in the necessity of acting “aloof”.

From other side of couch…

B: Oh, hey… I didn’t see you come in there.

Me: You mean, to the couch we bought together… in the apartment we live in together?

B: Yeah. You been there a while? At least you look comfortable, that’s cool I guess. As long as you’re here, you might as well get me a beer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

)A special thanks to B’s work wife Jill for sharing this with me.)

At B’s work Holiday Party, they were playing some sort of trivia game…

Announcer: Which organ, taken from the sperm whale, was the largest organ to ever be removed from an animal?

B: (jumps up and shouts) PENIS!!!!

Announcer: Penis! I have Penis over here. B was first to answer with the response of “penis”!

Everyone Else: [fucking DYING of laughter]

FYI? The answer was “brain”. Nice, darling. NICE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As has become our routine, B sets down his beer next to my side of the couch to pass to him after he then stealthily acquires a cat for his lap- in this case, Axe Murderer. He settles in with her and then looks over at me…

B: Hey, look at her tail![Her tail is up, and I am, therefore, looking directly into the "eye". YOU know what I mean.]

Me: Aw, come on!

B: Hahahaha I made you look at her butthole! Pound it, girl cat! [He tries to "pound it" with Axe Murderer, who merely looks annoyed.]

Me: It winked at me, you a-hole!

B: Hahaha. [Notices the one great flaw in his evil plan...] Hmm. Maybe I should have asked you to hand me my beer BEFORE doing that…

Me: [Evil grin, BIG swig.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the lazy snowed-in weekend, I managed to convince B to watch part of Step Up 2: THE STREETS with me. The premise: Unruly girl from “the streets” of Baltimore must go to hoity-toity arts school in order to stay with her foster mom, and is forced to choose between her “old crew” and the “new crew” she finds at said school. Then, obviously, the crews dance-battle it out in THE STREETS. While it’s pouring rain. Duh.

Me: I know this is horrible. You can change it if you want…

B: Naw… I relate to this, cause I actually broke up with 3 or 4 chicks because they told me they were going to school. I don’t need my women knowing how to READ and shit.

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And, in light of the fact that Maxie actually just GOT me a Bump-It for Christmas, I just had to include this gem…

(Commercial for the Bump-It comes on…)

Me: Why haven’t you gotten me that?!

B: I was hoping you’d get it for yourself! Why don’t you take some goddamn pride in your appearance. You’ve NEVER bumped it up!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sighhhhhhhhh. And everything is back to normal… just the way I like it.

Mama said share.