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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.

Hiya! I’m back from Narnia the woods, alive and well save for a few (dozen) bug bites. It may not have been my ideal vacation on paper, but it actually turned out to be the perfect week of relaxation.

I agreed to go into the wilderness if I had four walls, a bathroom we weren’t sharing with strangers, and… a jacuzzi. So, yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call it “roughing it”… but if we hadn’t had said jacuzzi, then our friends Ken and Laura (and the bears, of course) never would have been treated to B’s and my very, very loud (and hopefully moving) duet of Disney’s “A Whole New World”. So there.

B and Ken have been getting into trouble together the best of friends since they were wee lads, so one nice thing about the trip was getting to know Laura a lot better. Since the boys were frequently off in the canoe playing “Vikings of the Shenandoah” and lighting things on fire, we had a lot of time to drink wine and talk and drink wine and watch “The World’s Fattest Man” and drink wine. And it was a grand old time, save for one small detail: while we did try desperately to bring everything we thought we might need in the wilderness, Laura and I managed to let down ourselves, the boys, and most importantly, AMERICA by forgetting the single most essential camping item…

S’MORES.

The first night, as the boys were building a fire (um, sidebar- men are OBSESSED with fire- wtf?! See below…), Laura and I looked at each other in horror as we realized our huge, gigantic, shameful misstep in planning. We simply HAD to fix the lack of s’mores in our life before the last day; a camping trip without s’mores would make us no better than common Commies.

We remembered seeing some graham crackers in one of the cupboards, so one of three bases was covered, at least. The next day, as we were out and about visiting Luray Caverns and getting creative at a few wineries, we made the guys pull over at every gas station and 7-11 we saw searching for marshmallows. We could only find the miniature kind, but we went for it, thinking that was as close as we were going to get. The Hershey’s was of course up front with the candy, so we would have to make do.

That night as we made dinner, I skewered mini marshmallows onto satay-style sticks. Later, as the fire was roaring, it was time to put the s’mores into action.

Let’s see how that went:

1. Those skewers? Are very, VERY tiny when you’re thrusting it into a molten lava hot fire (twss). Just sayin.

2. Once our marshmallows were cooked (in some cases burnt to a crisp; in mine, just above lukewarm), we cracked open the Hershey’s, which we all assumed would be the best part of the whole thing. I glanced down at the chocolate as I opened it…

Me: Um… there appears to be some sort of plastic on the bottom. Hold on… *tries to tear off* Oh… okay… apparently that’s just what the chocolate looks like. It’s kind of… white? Crusty?

Laura: What does the expiration date say? Is that… holy shit. It says 2001.

All of us: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3. The graham crackers were beyond stale, as were the marshmallows, but shockingly enough, the Hershey’s took the cake as far as the worst ingredient to our horrible disaster makeshift s’mores. Fail, fail, fail, HUGE freaking FAIL.

And yes, we all took a bite because we were drunk and had to make sure they were really that bad. Well, except Ken, because he smelled it first, and I would say that makes him the smartest one in the bunch…

If he hadn’t thrown his shirt in the fire moments later, “just because”.

We’re a special bunch. But honestly? I can’t wait to do it again.

I have a rematch with those goddamn s’mores.

P.S. This is what it looks like when two men obsessed with fire finally, well, get to build a fire:

Re. Dic.

Mama said share.

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

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

On the couch, completely and totally out of the blue:

B: You know what our problem is?

Me: What?

B: Neither of has ever bought the other person a wolf. (reflects) You should probably get on that. My birthday’s in August.

Me: ……………

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

While watching “The Gates”, a horribly-acted, completely tween-tastic, but still mildly entertaining wanna-be True Blood:

The Sheriff on the Gates: (talking to his wife) I killed that man… I knew he didn’t have a gun, he raped and killed those women, he was gonna walk… and I thought, what if it were you? Or our daughter? And I killed him. I shot him.

Wife: (after a long, drawn out, super-judgy pause) … We’ll… we’ll figure it out.

B: What the hell? Stop being so melodramatic! Oh, I killed an evil monster in the line of duty who was going to rape and kill innocent women! Wahhhh, poor me!

Me: Seriously. If you said that to me I’d high five you. Hell, that could be my Valentine’s Day present. You killed a rapist! And you did it for me? You get a pass this year for Christmas!!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other day, B was waiting in line at City Sports. He noticed a cute old woman standing just off to the side, and wanted to make sure he wasn’t taking Frontsies without asking.

B: Oh, I’m sorry, are you in line?

Bemused Woman: No, sweetheart… I’m just watching you dance.

Turns out, my love had been inadvertently tapping his foot along to George Michael’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go“… and made the mistake both of telling me about it, and of letting me share it with you.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

B’s new thing is to cover a “cat-designated” Yuengling box with about 40 ounces of catnip, and watch them go batshit around the apartment, before collapsing into a drug-induced kitty coma.

Me: Honey, go easy on the crack!! This much can’t be good for them!

B: Why do you have a problem with our cats being crackheads? What, they gotta go to WORK in the morning?!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And on that note, much thanks to @jojozaff for bringing this into my life:

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.






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Mama said share.

Hey kids, it’s time for a third round of responses to B’s new advice column!

(Past editions here, or for more B, check out “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says” here.)

Things to know:

• I have in no way read his responses. Like at all. I lit-rally just copied and pasted here. So, uh… yeah. This should be interesting.
• I’m scared. (See above.)

And away we go!

Spleeness:  If someone’s new date takes them to a surprise concert, should their musical taste be considered, thus ruining the surprise?  Another question: how would guys celebrate Valentine’s day if they could do it anyway they wanted? Would it still involve chocolate?

I think a surprise concert date is a pretty cool idea.  So 10 points to him!  However, if the actual concert blows and his musical tastes are awful that’s a quick minus 9 points.  Clearly a net gain.  However he could have enjoyed the same benefits if he bought you a nice bottle of wine/movie and not disclosed his love of American Idol’s Fantasia.  If a guy could celebrate Valentine’s day any way they wanted they would not celebrate it at all. Fact. And that non-descript day would probably involve beer rather than chocolate.

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Amanda: If a guy is telling a girl that he loves her, misses her, wants to be with her, but the guy is dating another girl, what IS his deal? Is he worth waiting around for?

I am afraid the obvious answer here is NO!  If he loves this girl, misses her, and wants to be with her he WOULD be with her.  That said, I clearly know nothing about your specific situation.  Perhaps there are mitigating factors that suggest you should be a little patient.  But I doubt it.

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

Nikki: if a girl was going to propose to her boyfriend, what kind of proposal would knock his socks off?

I wonder what the protocol of a woman to man proposal is?  For instance, should she call up his mom and ask permission?  I don’t know (probably not).  From what I can tell, the driving force behind a big over-the-top proposals is so that woman can recite to everyone she knows what an amazing spectacle it was thus proving that she has the greatest fiancé in the world (I write fiancé because, without exception, she will say that word no less than 7.6 times a sentence).  Can you imagine a guy doing the same thing:

SCENE:

IN: PETE’S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Six guys sitting in PETE’S living room drinking beers around a folding table playing poker.

PETE: So, as I was saying, as the sun set across the ocean, we road our horses along the beach.  Bob, you can just picture my face when, off to the right, I notice a white linen tent pitched ahead of us – and no one around for miles.

Bob lets out a squeal as he lunges to hug Pete, spilling his beer in the process.

BOB: Ohmygod! Oh. My. God. I knew she was going to pop the question during your trip to Bermuda!  Tell him Raphael, I called it didn’t I!

PETE: Well, I’m glad at least one of us was surprised!  As we got closer, she helped me off my horse and pointed for me to look up across the ocean.  What do I see?  A plane– trailing the message: “Pete, I love you! Will you marry me – Sara.”

All the men in the room clap and high five one another.  Rob shotguns a beer in celebration.

PETE:  When I turned back around there she was–down on one knee–with the most gorgeous wedding band you’ve ever seen!

END SCENE

My point is, I imagine what would really “knock his socks off” is something that is truly from the heart.  Tell him why you want to marry him (he’s wonderful presumably) and why spend the rest of your life with him (fill in the blank).

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

Sherryrose: Should the sex be had on a first date to find out if the whole mess is worth a second date? or should the third date rule be followed? seems like it would be a shame to get to the third date, tag it, and find out you were wasting your time on the other two dates… (either way…if it’s good you should have been having more of the sex, if it’s bad, you should have been long gone).

I am a very very firm believer that most dating “rules” are utterly stupid.  Use some common sense of course—don’t call the person 6 times the day after meeting—but waiting 73.5 hours is just as dumb.  That said, there is an unfortunate double standard when it comes to men banging on the first night and women banging on the first night.  I guess it depends on your read of the guy:  If you like him enough (or think he’s hot enough) to bang – have at it regardless of the number of dates.  If the sex is awful or he’s judgmental then at least you won’t waste any more time.  But always remember – wrap it up.

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That Kind of Girl: If you’re at a bar with a jukebox and only one dollar, what song is the most likely to start a spontaneous singalong?

It will vary by bar and regionally.  Boston (and anywhere there are asshole Red Sox bandwagoners: Sweet Caroline—Neil Diamond.  Texas (and at line dancing bars: Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy—Big and Rich.  Gay Bars: Tiny Dancer – Elton John.  There are a only few songs  that will work regardless of location: anything by Michael Jackson, and the Ghostbuster’s Theme Song.  Who you gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS!

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

Kelly: So B… I was wondering what the protocol for staying in touch with an ex that already has a new g/f. Do guys want to keep in touch with there exes? is friendship really attainable post-break-up? I get that his new g/f would not be a fan of our friendship, but is there a way to make this transition easier?

My advice is not to keep in touch.  At all.  Especially if this was a recent breakup.

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MsDarkstar: Dear B, who in your household takes care of kitty waste related chores? In my household it’s me & I just want to know if it’s a dude thing to not change/scoop kitty boxes. And, you’re a dude, so I am getting your opinion. Thanks!

LiLu: For some reason, my darling dear missed this question, but I will tell you here and now that while it was SUPPOSED to be 100% my duty, as part of the contract for letting me even get the cats he was allergic to… he now will absolutely help out in that department. A good egg, I tell ya… a good egg.

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You wanted more B, you’ve got him, my friends! Ask your questions here for Round 4 of Life Advice from B.

Mama said share.

Hey kids, it’s time for the second set of responses to B’s new “advice column”! There were nearly 100 questions asked, so we’ll have to break this up a bit. I’ll be posting the responses on Tuesdays until I run out. Easy enough, no? (Last week’s edition here, or for more B, check out “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says” here.)

Things to know:

• These aren’t necessarily in the EXACT order they were asked. Don’t worry, I’ll whine remind him politely until they’re all answered.
• I have in no way read his responses. Like at all. I lit-rally just copied and pasted here. So, uh… yeah. This should be interesting.
• I’m scared. (See above.)

And away we go!

Em: “Question: how do I finally get my 3-year-old son potty trained?”

The entirety of my potty training knowledge concerns kittens.  Though I’m sure most of it is transferable to children.  Make sure your litter box is covered (you put babies in litter boxes right?).  Use clumping litter!  If that doesn’t work just shake the child until it understands.  Lord knows that works with girlfriends (joking, joking).

Dani: “I’m moving to a brand new city in May and I really don’t want to go back to selling pants for a living after busting my hump to get this damn Masters. What can I do in the next 4 months to make myself more employable…

Obviously prostitution or sexual favors is the best way to get ahead.  You mentioned your  history of “selling pants,” I assume that’s a synonym for you know what…(wink wink)

…besides providing sexual favors on job interviews?”

Oh. Well, if you’re taking all the commonsense ideas off the table I’ll have to think a little harder.  I would simply suggest networking and meeting as many new people as possible (principally through drinking).  In finding a new job, knowing the right person will be more beneficial than any four month stint on a resume.

Jaxie: “How do I tell my oldest friend (oldest as in we’ve been friends for 24 years) that she generally sucks as a friend and needs to make time for people, without hurting her feelings?”

Firstly, I avoid the phrase “you generally suck as a friend” in the conversation.  Perhaps tell your friend that you’re going through a rough time, impress upon her that you value her friendship, and say you’ll be leaning on her and hope she can make the time for your friendship.  Something like that. Or you could just save your time for less shitty friends.

Skylers Dad: “You are probably in the same boat as me, gifted with huge junk. How do you handle those awkward stares in the mens room?”

Now THAT’S a good question.  I try to keep in mind others are less fortunate and that I should try to be as discreet as possible with my enormous wang.

brookem: “my manfriend and i are planning to cohabitate this spring. this is new territory for me. while we spend almost every night together now, LIVING TOGETHER is so totally different. will you give me some tips on what to expect and how to cohabitate in peace?”

Two words: closet space.  I remember before our move-in being truly baffled and scared about where we were going to put all our stuff. I truly had sleepless nights over this.  Also, try to knock out the inevitable IKEA furniture shopping and assembly in one day.  Nothing stresses a relationship like IKEA’s god damn furniture instruction. All your screw pictures look the same IKEA! Use words you Swedish bastards!  I had to get that off my chest.  Pick an apartment near your friends and in a fun area so that you both might get out of each others hair once and a while.

hanako66: “how do i make my pug (jager) stop eating my fuzzy dog’s (bailey) poop? you see, a few weeks ago he threw it up in the middle of the night, i went to the kitchen to get paper towels and carpet cleaner… when i came back, he was eating it again. and i threw up. all. over. the. nightstand.

AWESOME! I just threw up too! I could tell from the start we had a lot in common.

I cannot have this happen again as it was very disruptive to my sleep, plus i swear my husband hasn’t looked at me the same since, so please PLEASE tell me how to make him stop eating her poop. ps i hope that animal feces is your area of expertise.”

First, no more licks from that dog.  Second…ummm, I’m at a loss.  I would suggest spraying “otherdogs” shit with something that would make it less appetizing.  But what could make shit less appetizing?  Mushrooms?  That’s all I’ve got.

Saratogajean: “How can I get the neighborhood degenerates to stop smashing their empty 40s on the sidewalk outside of my house?”

Easy. Buy them a 30 pack of beer CANS.  I can not stress the aluminum can aspect of this plan strongly enough.  This will provide you with “bum friends” — the best kind of friend — and more likely than not crushed beer cans on the sidewalk outside your house.  I figure that’s better than broken glass.  Additionally, this community outreach will make you 23% less likely to be assaulted by crackheads. WIN WIN!

HannahBlue:  “How do I deal with co-workers who are driving me crazy? (Since my husband will be a future lawyer, murder is obviously not an option).”

I look at your situation in the opposite way.  Your husband will be well situated to act as your defense in the subsequent trial.  But short of murder, I’d suggest reaching out to your coworkers (on an individual basis), doing them a favor to make their day a little bit better, and hopefully they will return the favor–if they’re not total assholes.  I have found that being passive aggressive at the office never works and you find yourself being paid back in kind.

BeckEye: “Eff, marry, kill: Rosie O’Donnell, Rosie Perez, and Perez Hilton.” 

Kill: Perez (painfully), Eff: Rosie O. (with my eyes tightly closed all the while humming Row Row Row Your Boat), Marry: Rosie Perez– White men can’t jump Rosie, but I’ll show you what we can do! (hint: its sexin’).

Belle/Elizabeth Marie: “How do I wait 3ish more years to get married and start having babies when I want them NOW but my boyfriend is in law school/is a commitment-phobe/is financially supported by his father so it doesn’t really make sense to do now? Love, Trying to be a cool non-pressuring girlfriend.”

Watch and re-watch that scene from Knocked Up where Katherine Heigl is crowning.  With that burned into your memory, you’ll hopefully be less inclined to get preggers.  If that fails, consider how happy your commitment-phobe boyfriend will be helping you with 3AM changing during finals (constructive receipt, 1035 exchanges, and baby shit–now we’re partying!).  Get engaged and enjoy that time, travel, do the sex (with birth control!!!), and relax. 

Repliderium: “How do I tell the fat person that I work with that every time she squats down beside my desk to talk all that I can smell is vagina & sweat?”

I truly do not know how to express that politely.  In particular since you will probably be smelling sweaty vag when you’re having this chat.  The societal implication of the Jersey Shore, the merits of prostitution, and lost love I can handle.  Sweaty vagina is beyond my depth.

You wanted more B, you’ve got him, my friends!

Mama said share.

Hey kids, it’s time for the first set of responses to B’s new “advice column”! There were nearly 100 questions asked, so we’ll have to break this up a bit. I’ll be posting the responses on Tuesdays until I run out. Easy enough, no?

Things to know:

• These aren’t necessarily in the EXACT order they were asked. Don’t worry, I’ll whine remind him politely until they’re all answered.
• I have in no way read his responses. Like at all. I lit-rally just copied and pasted here. So, uh… yeah. This should be interesting.
• I’m scared. (See above.)

And away we go!

cavy: “B, i would like to know your thoughts/opinions on the possibility of Avatar porn, the Oxford comma, and Meryl Streep’s newfound status as a “sex symbol for the 50+ generation.”

I am fully supportive of innovative pornography–though I don’t look forward to the thought of giant penises blasting out of the TV screen towards my face (I get enough of that Tuesday nights). 

I am a very strong proponent of the Oxford (or serial) comma.  Consider how one would say this list if spoken: “I enjoy sex, beer, and football” NOT “I enjoy sex, beerandfootball.” 

Meryl Streep naked: something I don’t want to see in 3 or 2 dimensions.

Lemmonex: “B, how can I get rid of this uncomfortable itch?”

Penicillin cures all that ails. Except AIDS (isn’t AIDS a drag?)

Ashley: “Why does Axe Murderer not have a wig yet? Don’t you believe in having a stylish cat?” On a related note, Shannon asks: “How do I make my cats love me more than my fiance??”

I DO believe in having a stylish cat.  Though I’ve ceded  to Lilu sole responsibility for outfitting our cats in embarrassing/uncomfortable costumes.   As it turns out Shannon, while costumes do make for a stylish cat, they also result in an angry cat.  Suggest to your fiance that he dress the cats up….to prepare him for fatherhood.  This will have one of two outcomes: 1) He will leave you (now who’s the cats favorite), or 2) the cats will despise him (leaving you as the cats favorite and with an emasculated fiance–TWOFER!).

Nickie: “How do I know if a man is truly into me?”

I guess there’s no absolutely certain way to know.  Does he enjoy your company and prefer to be with you rather than apart?  Does he still play stupid relationship games (i.e. let’s be childish and wait X-days to call, and only see you Y-days a week)? Is he banging other women?  Has he relaxed around you to the point he shares those embarrassing/dorky aspects of his personality (for instance he is a sci-fi nerd, wears woman’s underwear,  cries during Disney movies, etc…)?  You’re probably looking good if the answers to those questions are: Yes, No, No, and Yes.

Alex Roda: “Now how do I become a billionaire? I kinda already used my credit card to purchase a private jet…..”

Alex would later, on his own, come to the correct conclusion that prostitution is his best option.  Someone tell ME, a situation where prostitution isn’t the best option.

Additionally, Paula asks: “I’m always running low on funds. How can I make extra money at night without, you know, becoming a hooker?”

If for some reason you don’t want to be a prostitute try being a bartender: it’s the flirting, listening to stranger’s personal problems, and money of prostitution without the penetration (usually).

PQ: “How can I get the dog to stop sniffing my crotch?”

Go through menopause (Yay, hot flashes!) or shower often.

Jackie: “How can I make sure my boyfriend doesn’t cheat on me when he’s in Canada next week on a “mancation”?”

Your first line of defense should be not to date an asshole would cheat on you while on “mancation” in Canada.  Or for that matter, take a “mancation” to Canada–but I’ll let that slide for now.  Though seriously, I think you’ll be fine. He and his buddies will get drunk, go to some strip clubs, watch football, and draw penises on whoever passes out first .  What you should not do is excessively express worries that he’s going to cheat.  Instead tell him “go have fun, ogle some strippers, drink with your buddies, and come home safe (safe is a euphemism for “not infected with AIDS).”  This should result in your boyfriend being so grateful at having the best-girlfriend-ever he will continue to be extra-faithful.

That Kind of Girl: “Question for B: How does one get over a great lost love?”

One doesn’t.  Sorry.  Just look back fondly on the good times and try not to completely gloss over the bad times/his negative aspects–people always seem better a few years removed.  As cold-hearted as it sounds, I’d also suggest a zero-contact rule with said “great lost love.” Lastly, you should: hang out with your friends, get drunk, hook up, and have some fun.

Carol: “Should a man with a small wang really wear a speedo? And if a man with a small wang wears one, does he think he has a big wang? Should he be informed that it’s not in his favor to wear a speedo?”

Maybe he’s a grower not a shower?

Masala Chica (Kiran): “What does it say about our society that 80% of the literate population in this country actually know who “Snookie” is?”

Just tell yourself its indicative of our society’s keen awareness of violence against women and MTV’s steps to bring light to this horrible problem.  All other alternatives are too depressing to consider.

Vie and T. The Destructor: How do you gather up the courage to tell your best guy friend (who also happens to be someone used to date and have dumped before) that you have developed strong feelings for him? Should I drink first?

Vie and Tiffani seem to be in the same predicament.  Drink before, drink during, and drink after the conversation (and if everything goes well the bang-time which is to follow).  However, I would urge caution before going through with the ol’ reverse breakup.  If you believe: 1) he feels the same way, or is at least open to the possibility, 2) you won’t change your mind about him again, at least in the near future, and 3) you really want a boyfriend…go for it.  As for the conversation itself, be straighforward about how you feel, let him know you’ve really thought it through, and I’m sure showing your boobs won’t hurt your cause.  I can’t think of many conversations that would not be improved by more boobs.

Carissajaded: “Are aliens real? If a guy watches girly movies by himself, is he gay? What is with the guys wearing sparkly shirts?”

1) Yes.

2) Watching girly movies by one’s self is the only way to do it.  Otherwise someone might see you tear up when, for example, that guy from Love Actually goes all the way to Portugal to profess his love to that chick (don’t judge me).

3) Wearing sparkly shirt = gay or a straight douchebag (see Jon Gosslin and the cast of the Jersey Shore).

Kendall: “How do I deal with blogging about a girlfriend? Figure you probably have a good perspective on that sitch.”

If how LiLu tricked me into revealing every offensive thing I’ve ever said is a road map it goes like this: Initially offer your girlfriend full editorial control regarding stories about her.  Next, publish innocuous/charming stories about her without her approval to lower her guard.  Then slowly push the boundaries and soon you’ll be telling stories about how she pees the bed and hates Nebraskans.

Jeney: “B, what is your opinion on pocketless jeans?”

They are awful.  Pocketless jeans make a great ass look dumpy and a dumpy ass look like you have stuffed your jeans with rotten pumpkin (why rotten pumpkin–I couldn’t tell you).  Pocketless jeans are as stupid as non-crotchless panties. See what I did there…

Jay: “How is it you maintain such tight control over your relationship with LiLu, yet she still clearly thinks she’s the one calling the shots? Is there simply some beautiful flaw in her personality that allows for this, or could you instruct me on how to achieve similar results with my significant other?”

It’s all about picking your battles (and being manipulative!). For example, LiLu will frequently go out to brunch, which turns into dinner, which turns into dancing and karaoke on Saturday or Sunday.  She feeling terrible about abandoning me all day. But I put on a brave face and tell her that I love her and to have a great time.  Meanwhile with nothing else to do, I’m forced to spend my day on the couch in my boxers watching football, drinking, and playing video games.  Tough break for sure, but I somehow manage.

You wanted more B, you’ve got him, my friends!

Mama said share.

Dear friends, lovers, and cohorts in crime…

Give me some room.

I’ve had an idea.

*hush goes over the crowd. or, wait… that sounds more like… stunned silence… and disbelief?*

Asshats.

MOVING ON.

Many of you have mentioned from time to time how nice it would be to hear more from B. A guest post, perhaps, or even a vlog (preferably drunk). Though I’ve tried to get him inebriated enough to agree to something like that many, many times, it has been to no avail.

Until now.

Let me ‘splain.

Although my darling dear has many talents, like walking cats on leashes, one of my favorites is his ability to give advice. Let me rephrase that: really, REALLY good advice. Whereas I am a tad impatient, and perhaps even a bit, oh, impulsive (oh, did you all just snarf your coffees? SO SORRY)… he is generally calm, cool, and collected. He, what’s the phrase… “thinks things through.” Yanno, before acting.

Me? Notsomuch.

As I’ve said before, the man keeps me balanced. He stops me from popping off… he checks myself before I wreck myself. And so, I’ve decided to share his sage wisdom with you, in what will hopefully become a recurring sort of advice column. And yes, he has agreed to this, because A) he is pretty damn good at giving advice, and B) he gets to be all judgey, right? And what’s more fun than that.

So bring it on, my dears. Ask him about your friends, your relationships, money… friends who’ve stolen your relationships or money. Question him on sports, that pesky rash, or who will next get punched in the face on Jersey Shore.

The man does it all.

Answers will be posted on Tuesday (or over a couple days if necessary).

Happy Weekend, my friends… and I leave you with my favorite thing that happened to me this week… (thanks to @peteypumpkin for sending it to me, and to @Bboudreau for sending me five more just like it).

The only problem is that now when I listen to this song on the treadmill? I have to literally refrain myself from doing their dance moves.

Sexyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Update: Okay, I think he’s got more than he can handle! I’ll post the answers in a few installments, maybe every Tuesday for a couple weeks. If you had a question you wanted to ask but didn’t get to, don’t worry, I’ll make him ask him nicely do this again. Woot!

*10 points to anyone who gets the movie reference. And by points I mean, go buy yourself a cookie.

P.S. Voting ends this Sunday… love you?






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Mama said share.

Technically not posting today, BUT you may want to check out my newest youtube additions… if you’re into cat videos.

I know. We are SO freaking lame.

Mama said share.

So, I realized that I never posted any of our Halloween pics, mostly because I’m lazy and they were on Maxie’s camera and she’s always going on about having dial-up in West Virginia or something.

All I can say is, THANK GOD YOU ARE MOVING TO DC, WOMAN.

Anyhoo, for anyone who enjoys some Always Sunny in their life… at least you’ll get this. No one at the bar did.

B and I went as “Charlie and the Waitress”…

Here’s what they look like:

And here’s us:

You like the hair? Apparently the Waitress has an 80′s mullet. At least I had the apron and coffee karafe going for me. And you can’t see it, but the shirt says “Philly has the best crack”.

Mom, aren’t you proud?

How about now?

Ahem. We also saw some other adventurous people out at the 4P’s in Cleveland Park… let me show you it.

Tobias Freaking Funke as a Nevernude!

Inspector Gadget FTW

The Bubble Boy!

Creepster McCreeperson McNoSeriously,ThisGuyWasTheCREEPIEST.

He wasn’t even wearing a costume… he just had on a silver mini skirt and HOVERED with a capital H around all the other groups of people having fun. Yanno, cause he was COMPLETELY ALONE. I wish you could have seen his face… to look into his eyes was to KNOW he has eaten a baby at some point in his life.

So all in all, a rousing success.

We’re getting back from Costa Rica tonight, so unless we didn’t pass Customs I will be back in action tomorrow. See y’all soon!

Mama said share.