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Now, hear me out, before you get out your pitchforks made of rainbows and CareBears.

Much like you can’t truly love until your heart has been broken (says every cheesy chick flick ever, and probably Journey, I don’t know); I don’t think you can appreciate the things and people you love in life unless you routinely experience the things and people that you despise.

Think about it. Hating bonds strangers together in a way nothing else really can. You wanna make a friend? Rip on that jagoff you both just saw cut in the Starbuck’s line to a neighbor. (Just kidding, that would never happen, because DOOD WOULD BE SHANKED.)

Hating on things is also funny. One of my favorite activities is a bottle of wine, a busy corner, and a friend who can keep up with my snark. How often have you laughed yourself into hysterics over something kind, thoughtful, or otherwise benign? Oh, that’s right, NEVER. (Unless there was a cat involved, probably.) But keeping tabs on that horrific first date in the corner? The one where you’re pretty much positive he hasn’t showered in three days while playing internet bingo and she’s clearly a spoiled brat who is going to totally balk when he asks for her half and OH GOD I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THAT MOMENT?

That is hilarious, and also strangely satisfying.

Now, please note I am in no way glorifying cruelty here. Haterade is best (and healthiest) when dealt out in private whispers, and preferably about perfect strangers who will never be the wiser. This is not a license to talk about friends behind their backs; everyone knows those kinds of things should only be said to the offender themselves, and after a lot of drinks have been imbibed. (Also prime for optimal mockage are: faceless corporations, celebrities, and yourself.)

In some ways, hating is actually very constructive. When someone/thing pisses you off by lacking in a certain area, it helps you to identify the things and qualities that you value in services and in people, and therefore, to appreciate them (and hopefully, to cultivate them in yourself). If it drives you nuts that a friend is perpetually late, you value punctuality, and will make an effort to be more on time yourself. When you’re fuming as you watch a 30 year old man sitting down on the metro while a pregnant lady hangs on to the ceiling handles for dear life, it makes you more aware of your surroundings and considerate of others. When some asshat takes the last serving of macaroni and cheese from the Au Bon Pain soup tureen and ALL YOU WANTED IN LIFE WAS A GLOB OF ARTERY-CLOGGING CHEESE TODAY…

Well, maybe not that last one.

I also find it to be super cathartic to go on a good rant, kind of like an ugly cry. But that may just be my own very deep-seated issues. MOVING ON.

My point is, hate is not your enemy. A little anger, a passionate rant, even a festering sense of malice towards Subway for never, ever putting enough of those stupid cheese triangle thingies on your sandwich… these can all go a long way towards making a new friend, getting something toxic out of your system, and maybe, just maybe, being a better person.

Mama said share.

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I am not really one for the schmoop. Generally, I prefer sarcasm and bonding over self-deprecating jokes over talking about our feeeeeeeeelings. If and when we do discuss our emotions, we better be a bottle of wine (or three) deep, ya dig?

But this time, I can’t help it. The past weekend was one of the best of my life, and I just want to scream it from a rooftop, like I was an Italian lover with a heart full of song, or John Cusack in the 80s. (Or John Cusack ever, who are we kidding.)

I spent the better part of last week in Vegas at Bloggers in Sin City (#BiSC), surrounded by 50+ of the kindest, sweetest, funniest, friendliest bloggers this side of the US border. (Yes, that includes Canada, Brandy/Simone. See what I did there?!)

Listen, I’ve been to a lot of meetups, tweetups, and other “let’s take this party offline” festivities in my day – I’ve even put on a few (dozen) of them myself. But let me invoke the power of Sinead O’Conner for a moment, and just tell you that nothing compares to this.

Everyone was just so OPEN and ready to really get to know each other. And we were at an immediate advantage with this, because we’ve all been stalking each other online for months in anticipation. As Nico so eloquently put it in his video recap, “instead of feeling people out and starting from scratch, a lot of these friendships just kind of hit the ground running.”

I didn’t walk into that first happy hour on Thursday to a crowd of strangers. I walked in and was immediately embraced, figuratively and literally, by 56 friends (and more than a few life-size cutouts of Donny Osborne. That shiz is everywhere in Vegas.) And while I am lame and old and wasn’t really drinking (since by midnight I literally felt like I had been roofied from exhaustion - DAMN YOU, EST INTERNAL CLOCK!!!!!), the party didn’t stop until the moment I left on Sunday morning.

Nicole (our amazing organizer), you are like a fairy godmother who sprinkles vodka and hair tinsel and condoms down on us all. My life is approximately 529% better for knowing you.

Chelsea, take care of that piece of my heart that you stole because I AM BROKEN WHEN YOU ARE NOT AROUND. Jenn, Doni, Katelin, my life is cold and gray without you in it. New pact to never go a year without seeing each other EVER AGAIN, cool? Cool.

Jenny, I’m so glad we got to spend serious QT together this year. Welcome to the club of “My Favorite People on Earth”. (It comes with a gold star.) Ditto Molly – your bubbliness is infectious, and I don’t do bubbly, so this is saying something.

I want to list every single person I met but A) I’m lazy, and B) we’re too busy chatting in our top secret Facebook group anyway. #nerds #loveit

Suffice to say I love each and every one of you, and will continue to stalk you on the internet now that we are apart once more. (Tear.)

And now, I will finally shut up about how great my life is, and let the pictures speak their thousands of ridiculous words.

To everyone who was there, face licks and hashtag dances and slash scoops forever. I can’t wait to see you all again next year.

Mama said share.

If you’d told me a year ago that while in the throes of a horrible job search, I would jet off for a weekend to the crunchiest, hippiest, patchouliest, most adorable town on earth to spend two days with a couple girls I’d only met a handful of times…

Well, let’s be honest. I probably would’ve shrugged and said, “Yup, that sounds like me.”

And it does, because I did, and honestly? It was just about the most perfect girls’ weekend in the world, wrapped up in a big “cutest town EVER” bow.

I don’t think I stopped laughing from the moment I climbed into the periwinkle blue 4-runner with Doni and beelined for Boulder to meet Chels for a much needed hair-of-the-dog lunch. Three grilled cheeses and a strawberry-bourbon shake later, we were well on our way, and it didn’t stop until the moment I boarded the plane home.

There was Girl Talk and pizza and SO MUCH BOXED WINE. There was a VHS viewing of Britney live in Vegas, and choregraphed singalongs to boot. There were talks about Those Heavy (But Important) Things you can only discuss with kindred spirits (preferably over one too many glass of bubbles).

There was traispsing through an adorable saloon-style town with hippie boutiques where our tarot card reader told us we were not, in fact, drinking too much booze. (Hefty tip much??)

There was a spider in a brunch plate that bolstered our ability to consume many, many mimosas… instead of the eggs said spider had been drowning in. There were street performers and skipping tipsy through the streets with Ashalah and gigantor moose statues…

…and Christmas tree lightings…

…and tigers, oh my.

And while at times all the hippie-ness was just a tad overwhelming for a jaded city girl like me, and more than once I just wanted to just stand on a park bench and scream “I EAT OFF PAPER PLATES AT HOME!!!!!!!!”…

…Saturday was an absolutely lovely day of brunching, pregaming and bar hopping, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Especially when, at midnight, it seemed only logical that we should descend on the local strip club to put the debaucherous cap on our evening. Many singles and quite a few motorboats later (hey, at least they asked our permission first?)…

Afterwards, Chels and I headed home for some late night beers with a past Top Chef winner, who shall not be named. This was just lovely for me, as an avid TC fan, and through talking with him I discovered that a) said Top Chef winner is totally not a douchecanoe, despite the way the show portrayed him, b) Tom is truly as kickass as he seems and my chefetish is entirely justified; and c) Alex absolutely did NOT steal that English pea puree. (While this winner appeared on an earlier season, I asked his professional opinion as someone who’s been in that environment, and he confirmed that there is NO way that could have happened without the cameras seeing it. And also that a freaking pea puree takes about two seconds to make. Well, Alex, my official apologies. But despite that, you still are a douchecanoe, IMHO.)

So, all in all, it was the absolute perfect weekend escape, and if I ever decide to go Mormon, you can bet your ass Doni and Chels are the ladies I want at my marital side, singing karaoke Carrie Underwood at the top of our lungs in the living room over a box or three of wine every night.

Amen, prospective sister-wife. Amen.

Mama said share.

Beliefs I hold, for better or for worse:

That a great pair of boots can turn around an entire week.

That zombies are the new vampires.* (Disclaimer: NOT in the sexy way. Purely in the “new black” way.)

That the excuse of “temporary insanity” is not valid as a legal defense.

That just because you can physically get it on your body doesn’t mean you should wear it.

That both celebrating and drowning sorrows should be done in the same way: with lots of booze and good friends.

That it’s a tragedy we lost men in hats, and I hope against hope that we never lose men in ties.

The hat: BRING IT BACK.

That an action can only truly be expected to have a great reward if you’re more than a little bit terrified of doing it.

That I inevitably take on way too much, but it appears as though I’m happiest that way.

That the flu shot is malarkey.

That sometimes I just want to say things like “malarkey”.

That there is incredible power in a new beginning.

*Walking Dead?? UMMMMM AMAZINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

P.S.Speaking of new beginnings, you may notice- if you click through- that I’ve been cleaning up the old web design a bit. The only thing I’m stuck on is the header. That picture IS me, it IS this blog- I don’t want to lose it, but I also don’t know how to incorporate it into something new. Any and all ideas, suggestions, criticisms and general solicited advice-givings are welcome.

Mama said share.

If you’ve been to this corner before, even for a second, you’re probably aware that I have what science would refer to as “a sick and twisted” sense of humor.

I tend to lean towards the darker side of things. If it can be snarked, I’ll do it. If something annoys me, I’ll mock it.

Jokes and jokes and jokes and jokes.

I get the whole “positive outlook” thing, but it’s just not me. I’d rather laugh in the face of a problem than throw rainbows and reflection and personal growth (twss) at it.

See?

Honestly, I can’t help it. I bleed sarcasm.

Fact:

I will never do yoga for meditation purposes.

I will never make a “vision board”.

I will never go on a retreat, of any kind.

I will never sit in a circle jerk talking about my feeeeeeeeeeeeeelings with a bunch of strangers.

(That’s what good friends, a lot of wine, and Diane Lane/Lifetime/cheerleading slash dance movies are for.)

To clarify, I don’t look down on these things. Truly.

I just look sideways at them. With a bit of a squinty eye.

If they help you, if they clear your head, if they set you on the path you want to be on, power to you. Revel in your sunshiney happy place. Own it.

Pink elephant says blow it out your what?

But it just ain’t me. I’ll be over by the bar, people watching while I channel my inner Daria/Always Sunny/Seinfeld cynic…

And, quite frankly, loving every second of it.

Mama said share.

Move over, Sandy. (Too soon?) America has a new sweetheart, and it’s Betty White. Her new show “Hot in Cleveland” just got picked up for Season 2.

This time, Betty gets to be the Blanche. Me OW.

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Lilo (girl needs to change that nickname, stat!) will be taking FIVE prescriptions with her to jail.

Don’t worry... I'm sure they're actually for Michael anyway.

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Worst. Headline. EVERRRRRRRRRRRR.

I'd like to award this a giant honorary Fail Whale.

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The drama with Mel continues: Oksana claims she secretly recorded him admitting to hitting her.

"That's what happens to douchebags," said the devil, as he removed his boot from Mel's ass.

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Kendra may have just released her book, “Sliding Into Home,” but apparently, her new hubby’s sliding intro strippers.

Mama said share.

Hey! Have you tweeted yet today? (If you don’t know what this is about, please to clicky here!)

Follow @LivitLuvit, my favorite contestant in the @MTVTJ search for MTV’s first Twitter Jockey! #zyncmtvtj

(Feel free to modify, the above suggestion is just for your copy & paste convenience. Cause I’m good like that.)

The actual VOTING will start on July 7th, and it will be via Facebook. (I know, the irony…) Anyway! You will only get to have to vote once, so make sure we’re Facebook friends and I’ll send ya a reminder! WOOT!!!

And now back to our regular programming…

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Understandably, MTV wanted to give their viewing audience/interwebbers a change to get to know us 20 candidates a little bit better. So, they sent us an impossibly long Q&A. I’m not sure if I should be proud or ashamed of what I put forth, but it is what it is… (here’s the second half).

LiLu’s Q&A with MTV – Part II

How do you go about getting followers? In your opinion, what is it about you that makes people follow you?

My preferred method for attracting followers has always been simple: “Try to write stuff good.”

Where that fails, I go on the offensive, sharing intimate and humiliating details from the dark corners of my world that no self-respecting person ever would, generally with a healthy side dish of profanity.

And yes, I’ve already puffy-painted my handbasket to Hell. There’s an empty seat or two on my bus if you’d like to come along. There’s going to be a karaoke machine and we’ll all be drinking tequila.

How does pop culture influence your life? What about pop culture do you love/hate?

Pop culture, which in this day and age (to me) means awesomely bad reality TV, is my absolute favorite of everything that ever existed. I get more and more excited as it grows increasingly trashier with each new show. There is no program so terrible I won’t watch and thoroughly enjoy it. Bret Michaels, Tori Spelling, Janice Dickinson, the Bad Girls Club, teens who are pregnant, teens at fat camp, and my greatest pop culture love of all, Jersey Shore. The endless blog and twitter fodder they all provide is simply priceless.

Even better than these blissfully entertaining atrocities are the comedic geniuses who have full-time careers mocking them. Joel McHale, CALL ME. Smooches.

What inspires you to publish yourself in the online social media space?

A blatant need for attention, and also it helps to get the voices out of my head.

Meeting new people is pretty okay too, I guess. (And by “pretty okay” I of course mean my favorite part of life, ever.)

Is there such thing as TMI? When do you say when? From your personal experience, describe an instance of someone you know (or follow, etc) going over the line in the digital realm.

As the creator of blogland’s TMI Thursdays, I’d have to say I don’t really believe in “saying when,” on the internet or otherwise. Life’s much more interesting without things like boundaries and filters and shame.

For me, the only thing I can’t stand hearing about online is schmoopy relationship crapola. Look, I get that we all need to shout from our respective rooftop every once in a while… but on the reg, notsomuch. Oh, you love your boyfriend/hubby/Uncle Stan who’s not actually your uncle but calls himself that while he tries to grab your butt? That’s great. Here’s your medal. You are SO UNIQUE.

/rant.

How do you feel the role of the TJ will differ from that of the traditional VJ? How are they the same?

TJ was bigger than VJ. You know… around.

Wait. I think I misunderstood the question. Do over?

Ahem. I feel like both a TJ and a VJ bring information to the public, but the benefit of being a TJ is that it would be so much more of a two-way conversation. Mano-a-mano, and all that jazz. Me likey.

Who are your favorite Tweeps and Twitterers online? Why?

Well, I’m pretty sure it’s not actually Mickey Rourke, but whoever’s running that timeline is hands down my favorite of all time ever Amen. … They also owe my boyfriend an explanation in regards to my sudden and urgent desire to own a cockatoo.

Also, Kenny Powers (NSFW) always makes me snort awkwardly, usually in public. I’ve gotten really good at making it look like a sneeze, albeit a messy one. (New season of Eastbound and Down September 26th, wahoooooooo!)

Why are you perfect for this job? What makes you the ideal candidate?

I am, quite frankly, the bee’s knees. The cat’s pajamas. The dog’s tuxedo. The ostrich’s ascot.

In all seriousness, my favorite thing in life is interacting with people; turning strangers into friends, for lack of a less corny way to put it. With this job, the opportunities to do that would be endless, and frankly, it makes me a bit moist in the pants.

If you are selected as the new TJ, what would be the first thing you tweet? What aspect of the job would you be most excited about?

The first thing I tweet would probably have the words “yeah” and “bitches” in it, except that I’m not sure if I’d be allowed to say “bitches,” but “suckas” is so 2003, you know? Oh, well. I’d make do.

I couldn’t possibly pinpoint what the best thing about the job would be… NYC? MTV? Interwebbing all day and getting PAID for it? Being able to sing along to Fergie’s “Glamorous” and not get depressed?

SIGN ME THE EFF UP, YO.

What would you want to accomplish if you got this job? What would be your key goals?

To show the world you don’t have to be cool to be cool.

Wait, did Aziz Ansari already beat me to that? CRAP.

What would you do with the money you make?

Reenact the Ferris Bueller parade through the streets of Chicago, Matthew Broderick and all.

I recall… Central Park in fall… you tore your dress, what a mess…

If you could meet one current music artist, movie star or TV celebrity through this TJ job, who would it be? Why?

Hmmm. Probably John Hamm, because he’s on my “celebrities I’m allowed to bone” list.

Or Chelsea Handler, although I’m pretty sure within minutes of being in the same room together, something would be on fire and we’d be riding around on alpacas while Chuy made us martinis.

I’ll go with Option B.

Predict the future! What kinds of technology trends do you think will affect this job? How do you think services like Twitter will evolve? What is going to be the next big social technology?

Scientists have proven that within five years… the internet will be able to fly.

Put on your party pants!

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P.S. Have you heard about 20sb‘s latest Blog Carnival, “Friends and Money”? You could win $100- just participate and send them your link by tomorrow night! More deets here.

Mama said share.

Hey! Have you tweeted yet today? (If you don’t know what this is about, please to clicky here!)

Follow @LivitLuvit, my favorite contestant in the @MTVTJ search for MTV’s first Twitter Jockey! #zyncmtvtj

(Feel free to modify, the above suggestion is just for your copy & paste convenience. Cause I’m good like that.)

The actual VOTING will start on July 7th, and it will be via Facebook. (I know, the irony…) Anyway! You will only get to have to vote once, so make sure we’re Facebook friends and I’ll send ya a reminder! WOOT!!!

And now back to our regular programming…

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

Understandably, MTV wanted to give their viewing audience/interwebbers a change to get to know us 20 candidates a little bit better. So, they sent us an impossibly long Q&A. I’m not sure if I should be proud or ashamed of what I put forth, but it is what it is… (here’s the first half).

LiLu’s Q&A with MTV – Part I

Give us some background on where you grew up (or where you spent the majority of your life). What about your hometown do you love/hate?

I had the luxury of growing up in Suburbia Shrewsbury, Massachusetts. The greatest thing about living there was definitely the sense of community. Like, when I was in elementary school, we needed a playground. So the whole town came out and volunteered their time to build us this enormous beast of a thing where you could play “Don’t Touch the Gravel” for DAYS. It was magical.

And then, a decade later, they decided it was giving kids splinters, and tore it all down.

So, that’s pretty much the ‘Bury in a nutshell.

Though we did get to underage drink in Chinese restaurants. And the birth control pill was invented there…

Hmm. Let’s call it a wash.

What would a move to NYC mean for you and how would it impact your life?

Moving to NYC would mean an endless diet of Gray’s Papaya hot dogs, learning how to stay up past midnight again, and regularly Skyping with my cats back here in DC.

Wait, scratch that last one. Um, I want to see the Empire State Building! Yeah, that’s the one… *hides*

NOM.

If you were to name your biggest flaws, what would they be?

I drink. I swear. I’m clumsy. I use (and adore) words like “toodles” and “poppycock.” I’m addicted to cheeseburgers. I’m probably a little insane. I have the worst case of “Foot in Mouth” the doctors have ever seen.

Oh, wait. Isn’t this the one where I’m supposed to say something that sounds negative, but is actually a positive?

Uhhh, scratch all that. I’m such a perfectionist! It’s totally a burden! I do work (said Rob & Big style) in my sleep, son!

Describe a few of your funniest and/or most embarrassing moments.

Well, there’s a few hundred of them on my blog. Since that’s pretty much what I do.

But let’s see… there was the time I apologized to an advertisement of Joy Behar’s show at a crowded bus stop. The time I surprise trust-falled (a la Tosh.0) a dozen unsuspecting tourists on the National Mall. The time my cat farted down my throat, and as revenge, I dressed our “family” up in holiday costumes for last year’s Christmas card.

Never a dull moment around here, I tell ya.

When and why did you decide to sign up for a twitter account?

Dude, I’m Gen Y. Twitter is MADE for my getting-shorter-every-day attention span. Why say something in eleventy billion words when you could do it in 140 characters?

*whispers* Plus, it’s kind of totally where I get my news from. Don’t tell anyone.

Do you feel like your online persona is any different from your real life persona? How and why?

Honest answer? Not a bit. Not even the tiniest iota. Ask anyone who’s had the experience (and I choose that word carefully) of meeting me in person: I am the very essence of “what you see read is what you get.”

I’m an immediate hugger, an over-sharer, a bit of a mess… and yes, I’d love to grab a beer sometime.

Why do you think some people take on different personas online?

Clearly, they weren’t hugged enough as children.

I keed, I keed. But it’s not really something I can comprehend, quite frankly. I could never be anyone other than myself. It’s a helluva ride being me.

What are the websites other than twitter and facebook that you can’t live without? Why?

Dlisted, Jezebel and Warming Glow for my snarktastic pop culture needs (mmmm, sarcasm… tastes so good), and The Bloggess/Ask the Bloggess for my funny bone.

Also, every single one of the “Cheezburger” sites: Failbook, Engrish, Lolcats… I love it all. I also use the word “nom” far more often than any grown ass woman has a right to.

Are there any new social media apps/websites etc. that you are excited about? Describe.

I’m honored to be part of the 20 Something Blogger Management Team, which is a group of almost THIRTEEN thousand- you guessed, it, 20-something bloggers, and it’s basically so awesome it must be built out of unicorn farts, aka magic. If you ever feel lost on the internets, trust me, just go there. It’s like the YMCA for gay dudes in the late 70s, only, you know… for bloggers.

That got weird.

What kind of new social media app would you love to see or invent if you could?

Teleportation.

What the French, Google? You give me the capacity to e-meet all these awesome people from all over the world, and then I can’t go grab a drink with them? Can’t bear hug them? Can’t make them feel uncomfortable when we’re getting lunch in a busy restaurant and I announce FAR too loudly that I put my underwear on inside out that morning?

Get on that already.

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More coming tomorrow, but how’m I doing? Are they getting the real LiLu, or what?

xoxo

P.S. Have you heard about 20sb’s latest Blog Carnival, “Friends and Money”? You could win $100- just participate and send them your link by Wednesday! More deets here.

Mama said share.

Liza Minnelli, living legend, aspiration for drag queens everywhere, and putting Beyonce to shame with her “Single Ladies” rendition in SATC2.

One of my most favoritest crazy birds in the world. From Arrested Development to making Michael Jackson the best man at her fourth wedding to her brilliant Snickers commercial with Betty White, this diva just won’t quit, and I freaking love it.  

But last night on Kathy Griffin’s premiere, the montage of Liza’s laugh… well… I guess you just had to be there. Nonetheless, this chick has been crazypants through the ages, and I just plain adore her for it.

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Britney Spears, just plain being Britney Spears.  

She hasn’t even done anything that batshit lately, but let’s be honest, she’ll forever have an honorary place on this list for our generation. Like 9/11 and Katrina, so too will this horrifying image forever be etched into our minds:  

Oh, Brit Brit. Please stop procreating. Xoxo, LiLu

Although apparently she has just been accused of “physical harassing” of one of her bodyguards… by nakedness.   

Never a dull moment with you, chica.  

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Kelly Bensimon, Real Housewives of New York.  

This one can’t really be explained in words. Mostly because she doesn’t know how to use them. At least, not in coherent sentences.  

Listen, lady friend… when Bethenny Frankel pities you, you’ve pretty much hit rock bottom. But never fear… I’m sure Dr. Drew’s already got a room prepped for you on Celebrity Rehab. 

Wow. Just… WOW. 

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Megan Fox, Passion Play, kicked off of Transformers, and new possessor of a “tribute to Mickey Rourke” tattoo.  

I almost didn’t include her, because I’ve always felt she’s so desperately trying to be old-school Angelina (you know, Billy Bob Thornton boning, vial-of-his-blood carrying, make out with your brother Angelina). But then I saw faux-Mickey’s tweet re: the tattoo, and frankly, it’s worth it just to share that:  

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Miley “I’m Not Trying To Be A Slut” Cyrus, Hannah Montana, musical artist, and posing all sexy-like with her dad.  

It's Miley!

“I’m really comfortable with my body,” she says. “I feel more comfortable dressing with a little less, which is just how I’ve always been. Now I’m able to do that a little more freely and, also, I’ve just grown up to be this way too.”  

via Zap 2 it  

At least it's a onesie?

That’s fine, little lady. I honestly have no problem with a gal wanting to whore it up every once in a while; every girl has her “promiscuous year” in college. (Except me, Mom. What’s a penis?)  

All I’m asking is that you OWN it. Go all Xtina: The Dirty Years on us! Stop worrying about what everyone thinks and just admit you’re slutting it up for a while, even if it is only musically.

Can’t cheat on daddy, after all.  

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Danielle Staub, Real Housewives of New Jersey.  

Every week, I think this crazy ass bitch can’t get any crazier. And every week, bless her heart, she proves me so very, very wrong. To the point where I took a “Which Real Housewife of New Jersey are you?” quiz, and B told me, quite seriously, that if I got Danielle… we were through. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t even blame him. (No worries, I’m Dina, apparently. Though I kind of see myself as more of a Caroline. *shrugs*) 

Just watch as much as you can stomach… you’ll get the idea.

Danielle, I hereby crown you Crazy Ass Bitch of the month. We salute you!

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Honorary mentions: Speidi and the Gosselins, who have blessedly somehow disappeared from the news lately. Maybe there’s hope for your souls yet!  

…NAHHHHHHHHHH.

Mama said share.

~Hey! Are you reading this in a Reader? That’s cool… don’t want the man to see you being lazy, for sure. But do me a wee favor and click here, just for a second, if you don’t mind… *vague and mysterious ftw*~

So! My (23 year old) baby sister joined the rat race a few weeks ago. Though we both built character worked through college, she was in restaurants and bank teller-ing, so she’s never had the full-fledged “Office Space” experience before.

It’s been beyond hilarious for me to witness her (via many gchat conversations) discover all the horrible things that come along with the cubicle farm environment, like crotchety old coworkers, bathroom trials and tribulations (the stand-off!!!), pretending to looking busy, avoiding getting dragged into a “lunch group,” etc. etc.

One of the biggest things we both despise about working with people-we-didn’t-choose in a professional setting is, of course, the small talk.

OH GOD, the small talk. If I could banish its existence from this world, I would. I would make everyone’s mouth disappear the moment they tried to talk about the weather, or their kid’s birthday party, or their irritable bowel syndrome.

It would be magical.

But alas, I have no unicorn to speak of, and so we must suffer through it.

Anyhoo, as she was mocking her coworkers yesterday for their endless droning on about insignificant stuff ‘n things, the following conversation ensued…

Lil Sis: seriously, they’re talking about fucking BJs right now
  like literally what things cost

me: who!

Lil Sis: work people

me: *silence*

Lil Sis: You can get 14 bars of Lever soap for like $7!

me: OH
  oh my god.

Lil Sis: RIGHT?

me: um… NOT what i thought you meant when you said BJs.

Lil Sis: ooooo hahahahaha

Apparently, I’ve been away from Massachusetts so long, I’ve forgotten that BJ’s can also mean this:

I kill myself.

Also, now I’m kind of wondering about what they cost.

And not the wholesale kind.




P.S. Thanks to DC Blogs for the shout-out to my neon orange Jersey Shore tribute/condemnation yesterday!

(I’m probably bipolar.)

Mama said share.