Ladies and germs, come on dowwwwwn to the Greatest Show/Hot Mess/Birthday Party/Epic to End All Epicness in the World!!!!

This Saturday I, along with my co-birthday gals Maxie & Liz, most of DC, and friends from California to Colorado to Pennsylvania to New York to Chicago to Seattle will be coming together to celebrate the amazing, the awesome, the helluva hot mess that is

We’ll be launching the PARTAY (hey! ho! hey! ho!) at Sign of the Whale (18th and M, Farragut North) at 8pm this Saturday evening, with no end in sight. Put on your big girl panties, your drinking hat, and come on out for a Grand Ole Time. Just say “PB and Tuna” at the door, and they’ll usher you into our top secret back room area, where we will enjoy $3 domestics, $3 rail drinks, and $4 SWEET TEA VODKAS, YO.

For more where/when/who info, and to RSVP (not required, but your mama raised you right, yes?)- please just click that big disgusting PB & Tuna button up there. For more reasons to show your pretty face and for pictures from last year’s event, check out my lovely lady Maxie’s post.

Can’t wait to see you all!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

People who are always right are really, really annoying… but you’d do well to surround yourself with them. Maybe even listen to them. (Once in a while.)

As much as I want one, having a job that didn’t require me to wear pants would probably not end well. For anyone.

There can never, ever be too many silly cats on the interwebs.

I don’t care if it’s immature. I will celebrate my birthday until the day I die. (And so should you. Be there.)

I take people who’ve never worked in a restaurant, or at least customer service, with an enormous grain of salt.

You CAN have too many friends… quality vs. quantity, y’all. Sometimes you need to snip snip.

Mock Jersey Shore and those who watch it all you want… what they say may at times sound stupid or simple, but more often than not, it’s just the naked truth.

 


***Despite the above statement, I’m never averse to making new friends. So, if you’re in the Chicago area, please come out and say hi this Saturday night when B and I are in town! Details here.***

Mama said share.

…To surprise your GBF for his birthday.

SURPRISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

65 and sunny? YES. And also, PLEASE.

Some fancy mansion where they were "filming". No big deal.

The effects of juice box wine take hold.

Because it's LA, and this shiz just happens.

Ladies represent.

The other besties!

Three pitchers of margs. I mean, uh, dinner...

I love you, Tommy. Happy Birthday baby!!!!!

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{{Hey, did you know Project Love Harder now has it’s own blog and merchandise store?? Things are flying off the shelves and old-fashioned donations are still more than welcome as we try to reach our NEW goal of $5,000. Please to check them out… after all, what could be more perfect for Valentine’s Day?? JUST SAYIN.}}

Mama said share.

When I moved to DC, I was positive I was one of the so-called “transients” my parents warned me about. You see, they actually lived in NoVa when I was born, and moved up to Massachusetts when I was almost 2. They loved it here, but constantly saying goodbye to friends who were just passing through for an internship or to work on the Hill for a year, it broke their hearts.

I was afraid of this when I moved here after UNC, but at the same time, I figured I probably was one of them. That it’d be a year or two in DC before I craved a taste of NYC, or jetted across the pond to bartend in London.

I liked- even loved- the District as a city, but that didn’t make it “home.”

And then I met Lexa.

My relationship with B was a just few weeks old at the time, and growing fast… but a man doesn’t make a place home. B and I could move anywhere, if need be, and would still be US- our togetherness doesn’t depend on where we are.

But friends. Real Friends, that group of people you can count on…

…to turn your shitty days into jokes that end with a beer…

…to love your quirks instead of hate them…

…to despise and deprecate the people who’ve crossed you a thousand times more than you do yourself.

For me, DC didn’t become that place, didn’t become my home, until I met Lexa. We had lunch one day, and, well, I think it was probably the shoes she was wearing, but I just knew she would be incredibly important in my life.

The rest of the crew fell into place over the next year (the crowning jewel being us convincing Maxie to MOVE from West Virginia), and now I am humbled and grateful to say I have the most amazing, close-knit group of friends here.

I am that asshole who has it all. And don’t I know it.

All thanks to you, Lex. So Happy freaking Birthday, my love…

Now don’t you ever go transient on me.

Love your face.

Mama said share.

That’s right folks. The infamous birthday/#pbandtuna wedding is finally here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ll be honest, folks. I have been super stressed and freaking out all week.

But now that the big weekend is actually here, I have NOTHING BUT EXCITEMENT churning in my loins.

To everyone who’s coming from out of town:

I am going to lick your faces so damn hard, oh my gaw. You are amazing and totally rock my socks off. Look, they’re totally across the room. (Everyone IN town: you are 9/10 as awesome but don’t feel bad. They really had a leg up on you on this one.

…TWSS.)

To my blushing bride, who wrote the sweetest vows EVAR and made me cry before 8am on my birthday when I read them…

Just you wait until I give you your present today. REVENGE IS A BITCH.

In all serious, I love you so much, Maxie. I don’t know how I existed before you came into my life. You are one of the kindest, funniest, warmest, cuddliest people I have ever known, and I am seriously lucky to call you a friend. (And lovah.)

Tonight we shall snuggle Murray together and it will be GLORIOUS.

All right, y’all. I have a shit ton of stuff to do to get ready, so I’m off. But please to enjoy the one video on the interwebs that makes me happier than anything else in the e-world. It’s an oldie but a goodie…

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

(I am *so* doing these dance moves tomorrow.)

If you’re in DC, don’t forget… the bash is tomorrow at Stetson’s (upstairs) at 16th and U Streets. We’ll be there at 8 sharp to stake it out…

Woot!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

I am so freaking sick of SHOULDS.

Hitting my mid-20s, a lot has changed. Lemmonex and I talk openly about coupons for the grocery store, for chrissakes… and we’re not making fun of little blue haired ladies who use them. B and his friends in the financial industry discuss their retirement plans… and they actually have one. My doctor has started to nag me about extra calcium and weight training, because apparently I will perish into a pile of dust at 42 without said things.

Isn’t just making a home cooked meal every now and then enough? Isn’t making it from paycheck to paycheck without having your account fall into the negative enough? Isn’t cardio four times a week enough?

Because it’s a helluva lot more than I was doing at 21 or 22. But no, apparently… it’s not enough.

It’s never, EVER enough.

I am a big girl now. Officially, whether I like it or not. I have a home with a man and we have things and bills and living creatures that we pay for all by our bigass selves.

And it’s taken it’s toll… I feel it every day, in little ways. I feel guilty when I forget to take my multivitamin. (And simultaneously, like a dork for having them sitting on my desk at work.) I feel guilty when I realize I went a whole weekend without flossing. I feel guilty every time I walk by my company’s credit union where I really should open a credit card and transfer my high interest balance from the evil that is Capitol One… but it’s been almost a year that I’ve been walking by, and I’ve never made it inside.

These are all things I wouldn’t have dreamed of worrying about just a couple years ago. And now little “responsible” things like this weigh me down just a little more, every day.

“We are old,” Lemmonex and I say to each other once a day, whether we’re getting excited about a cheap homegoods store she found online, or the fact that we wanted to shoot ourselves in that bar Saturday night when we were elbow to elbow with all the “kids”.

We used to be those kids…

Now we’re wondering “if anyone still says that” and why on earth they don’t know what Hammer Pants are.

I wrote this post not so long ago about “Doing the Splits into Grown Up World”…

Looks like I’ve taken one more biiiiig, slippery step down this slope into “adulthood”.

Oh, well. I plan to undo at least half of the new “responsible me” I’ve discovered next weekend as my birthday present to myself.

Life is hard.

Mama said share.

Dear Hostess From The Heights With Those Awesome Steve Madden Boots I Have Wanted FOREVER:

My boyfriend asked you about them for MY BIRTHDAY PURPOSES (coughcoughtwoweekscough). He was not hitting on you, hookerface. And *now* he’s not even getting them for me, probably because you were so weird about it all but possibly more because my stupid camera decided to break and obviously we can’t have my wedding/bday fiasco OR go to Costa Rica without a camera.

DUH.

Sincerely, I’d Rock Them Better Than You Anyway.

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Dear Girl Whose Crop Dusting I Had the Pleasure of Walking Behind This Morning:

I hope a toilet snake gets your evil, evil ass today.

Sincerely, Yes I Totally Ran In Front Of You And Squeezed One Out. REVENGE, MOTHA FAHKAH!

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Dear Old Lady in the Company Locker Room:

Is it really necessary to have an entire conversation in the middle of the room with your pancake boobs pretending to be Italian hands? Not every story needs THAT much accentuation. P.S. I can see your entire bush through your white cotton grandma panties, and I don’t think there’s a Korean in the world who could help you.

Sincerely, Please Keep Your Pubic Mound to Yourself.

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Dear Period I Knew Was Coming in the Back of My Mind But Kinda Forgot:

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shiiiiiit.

Sincerely, Less One Pair of Boyshorts.

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Dear Myself:

No, you are not a complete sell out for selling (just a little!) ad space to people and places you actually like! After all, Tonic DOES rock. Hell, they have karaoke every Sunday night! And you know how you love a good karaoke night…

Yes, that is Rick Astley. WHAT'S YOUR POINT.

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To Lisa (Albeit Belated) and Irish Lebowski:

Huge congrats on MAKING A PERSON. I can’t think of two people I would rather bring offspring into this world. Well, not together. With your hubbies. You know what I mean.

Awk…. ward.

Sincerely, Honestly Happy For You Even Though I Prefer Puppies and Kittens to Babies.

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Dear Sharky:

YOU ARE THE WINNER OF THE FIREFLY HALLOWEEN CONTEST!!!

Congrats, love muffin. Charlie and the Waitress it is. These have already been procured…

And I am already mentally preparing myself to rock some aqua skinny jeans.

If you need an idea for Halloween, click the contest link. You guys were The Awesome. Thanks so much! And if you didn’t win, don’t worry. Firefly and I have been talking and something is in the works… and the next giveaway winner won’t be subject to my whimsy, I promise.

Sharky, shoot me an email-

Sincerely, Wanna Split That With Me?

Mama said share.

***Update: Doods! My site caught swine flu and was down all day yesterday. It should be up and running fine now- vaccinate your children!- but do me a solid and let me know if you notice anything wonky, mmmkay? Xoxo***

Anyhoo. Today shall be a better day. My morning started like this:

Coworker: How old is your little sister?

Me: 21. No, wait, 22. CRAP, no, she’s TWENTY THREE!!!!

Coworker: (laughing at me) Oh, so you’re ancient, right?

(Actually, exactly what I’d been thinking was “Holy fuck, I’m OLD.”)

My baby sister turns 23 years young today. The hooker will always be younger than me, but somehow, I love her anyway.

Dear Sis,

I’m sorry for the time I dislocated your arm. (Accident! But still.)

I really miss making LEGO worlds with you.

I'm pretty sure it looked something like this. Boys drool!

I wish I’d let you play with the Barbies that still had hair more often.

Oh, and stolen less of, um, ALL your toys.

I love how ridiculously smart, funny, and compassionate you are. (Mostly the funny. You make me laugh like no other. But I can make you snarf milk through your nose, so we’re even.)

I’m proud of you for knowing yourself so well. You’re one of the few who never seemed to struggle with that angsty existential crisis so many of us do in our formative years.

(Guess I took on that burden for you…)

Ahem!

My only complaint about you? That you haven’t watched Always Sunny.

There’s a present for you in the mail… you have no excuse now, my dear.

(Um, surprise?)

Happy Birthday, Lil Sis.

Pay no attention to the Kate Gosselin style highlights, please and thank you.

P.S. Moog, Mike, Narm, JP, and most other readers with penii… I am just waiting for you to make some joke about banging my sister. MY MOM READS THIS. Just a friendly reminder.

(Now they’re going to make a joke about banging my mom. Warning FAIL.)

P.P.S. If you’re a blogger in the DC area, you should be a member of the free Washington, DC Blogger Meetup group. The lovely Lexa and I are hitting up their Meetup tonight at Madame’s Organ around 7, and we’d love to see you there too.

Don’t forget to RSVP if you’re coming!

Mama said share.

Seeing as my lovah turned 21 for the sixth time yesterday, I think it’s only natural that we pay tribute with an installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says.”

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We’re walking home from work, and I’m hauling ass because the light at the end of the tunnel is Happy Hour. (Oh, who am I kidding… we all know I’m a competitive street walker.) Suddenly I notice B’s not at my side and turn to see him a solid three paces behind.

Me: Come on, baby, let’s go! [I pretend to tug on an imaginary string.]

B: I’m not on no leash! I POOP WHERE I WANT!!!!

Me: [blink.]

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It’s Sunday night, and B’s friends are coming over to steal our moving boxes and see the new apartment.

Me: Quick, baby, turn on the light so it doesn’t look like we’re sitting here in the dark boozing.

B: It’s okay! It’s not boozing… it’s HBO.

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Standing (sweltering) on the street in Boston, waiting for his parents to come down from their hotel.

B: We should move to the shady side of the street.

Me: We could just move over two feet to that patch of shade.

B: No no no. This is INTERMITTENT shade. I want PURE shade. You’ll see.

(As soon as we cross the street…)

Me: Ohhhh, you were right.

B: I know. I don’t know much, but I *know* shade.

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Sitting on the couch goofing off.

B: Look how steady my hand is. I’m like a goddamn surgeon!

Me: Oooo. You should give me a pedicure.

B: No way. I’ll give you an appendectomy if you want, but no pedicures!!

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Sitting on the couch goofing off… again. (Yes, this is 90% of what we do. What’s your point?)

B: The Eagles are playing tonight… you have some interwebbing you can do, right?

Me: Sure. (pause) What if I didn’t have something else I could do while you watched “smart TV” and sports? That would be bad, man.

B: I know. That’s why I was so supportive of the blog from the beginning.

Me: What? So you were guaranteed time to watch football??

B: Yeah. Totally. I even talked to Jill Pilgrim’s husband about it and he said the same thing. It’s genius.

Me: ………………

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Last night, you guessed it… on the couch.

Me: I love every inch of you. (Shuttup, it’s his birthday, I can be schmoopy.)

B: I love every CENTIMETER of you!!! Boo yah! One-upped you!!!

Me: You’re such a romantic.

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Happy Birthday, my love!

Mama said share.

Update: Date has been changed to Saturday, October 17th!!!

***Pssst, hey… have you updated my feed in your reader yet?***

Hey, bloggikins!

Guess what you’re doing on October 24th?

Let me crack an egg of knowledge all over your head…

When 2 Becum 1

Yes, that’s right folks. My Facebook lover Maxie and I are finally getting hitched, slash, celebrating our joint birthdays in one ENORMOUS shindig. It may seem early, but now none of you have any excuse not to be there OR be square.

We’ve already got the flower girl, MOH, Best Man, videographer, and of course, a to-be-ordained minister… what do you want to be? Ring bearer? Gift taker? Ice luge attendant?

Model for tequila shots to be taken off of?

Just make sure you’re there, lovelies… we’ll find something for everyone to do, even if it’s stand there and look pretty. Woot!

We’re going to get these guys for the entertainment… (Sort of NSFW, courtesy of my dear friend mn125…)

Late Night Special

EPIC.

Mama said share.