Bullet time!

~ Yesterday’s comments were pretty amazing- if you haven’t weighed in yet, I’d love to hear what you think. Saved by the Bell is involved.

~ My sister, who is young, talented, gorgeous, way funnier than me, and incredibly intelligent (she totally kicked my ass in the SATs), is in need of a job in the Boston area. If you know of any professional openings, please drop me a line here and I’ll put you in contact. Also, I will forever be in your debt and send you cookies like, at least twice a year. For a year.

~ My butt buddy Jenn, who is young, talented, gorgeous, lit-rally BUCKETS of fun, and too damn smart for her own good (in the “you’d-love-her-to-work-for-you” kinda way), is ALSO in need of a job… in D.C. My people in the District, rise up and come forth and all that! Shoot me an email and I will have her send you her (impressive) resume faster than a Democrat losing the key Senate seat in Massachusetts.

~ ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!

~ After the 20-hour headache that was putting together the (awesome-and-totally-worth-it!!!!!) Love Harder video, I have officially decided I need a Mac. Anyone selling a laptop? That they will promise on pain of my ripping them a new one on this blog is totally legit and will not die on me? BECAUSE IF ANOTHER COMPUTER DIES ON ME I WILL GO ALL STABBY ON A STRANGE CHILD and no one wants that.

~ I’ve got a guest post over at Middle Aged Waitress today, in which I recount my First Day Ever of being a waitress. Suffice to say, it did not go well…

~ Thought I’ve said it all over the interwebs, I have yet to officially say Thank You, so much, to everyone who voted for me in the 20SB Bootleg Awards. I walked away with more than my fair share, and I could not be more honored. I knew I had “Most Awkward” in the bag, but “Best Female”? “Funniest”? Y’all blow me the freak away. (More awesome news to come re: me and 20SB later this week… WOOT!)

~ I have a copy of TFLN to give away! The book is a comprisal of all the best “Texts No One Remembers Sending”… and it is one hawt mess. Just leave a comment here to be entered! (Winner announced Friday.)

Sorry. The “aughts” was just such a great name. It’s going to be hard to let go.

Anyhoo. I think resolutions are for quitters, or something, so I’ll be doing these MY WAY.

Which is, of course, totes different from the way I ever do anything else.

(B, I can hear you laughing.)

My (Not-So-Resolution-y) Resolutions.

1. Start wearing more bling.

I’ve never been good at wearing accessories, be it of the sparkly/shiny, nail polishy, or badass hat/scarf/insert other French thing here. I HAVE them, it just never occurs to me to WEAR them. Matching is hard, yo. Most mornings I’m just trying to remember to wear a bra and some mascara, never mind make sure I have my brown watch on with my gold earrings, or whatevs. But I could probably stand to look a bit more, ahem, put together.

Either that, or start working from home and never, ever wear pants again.

God, option two sounds GREAT.

2. Call my sister more.

She’s pretty awesome. And she’s the only one I’ve got. And she gives me MAD SHIT when she calls me and I don’t answer and then email her back a month later with a link to some tardy cat video. I know, redic. Fine, woman. I will call you every damn day and ask you alllllllllll about your JOB SEARCH (holla? Anyone in Beantown hiring a genius, incredibly funny 23 year old?) and your LOVE LIFE and your BOWEL MOVEMENTS until you’re screening my calls because you don’t want your friends to hear me yelling about your stools. So there.

Love you mean it.

3. Never, ever, ever drink Firefly sweet tea vodka again.

No, really. NO, REALLY. I am still hungover from Saturday. That stuff rips me up. Firefly going in, FIRE coming out. Just sayin. *dies of death*

In fact, I think I may take January off from drinking, in honor of both shrinking my ass, and this awesome Scottish dude I used to work with in a Maggiano’s who always did it “just to make sure he still could”. I’m pretty sure Scottish dudes are wise, or something. Especially ones with as many awesome “this guyyyyyy!!!!!” jokes as he had.

4. FOUR? Whoa, whoa, whoa, little overachiever. Let’s take this slow. Mama’s still hungover, remember??

Happy New Year, lovers.

P.S. Did you vote for me yet in the 20SB Bootlegger Awards? You totally can. Til Sunday. I won’t even get mad. Swear.

My arrival to Boston last Thursday coincided with the following tweets…

“I’m on a plane to SEE him and my dad is still emailing me tardy cat videos. God, I love my family.”

“Well, hello, Bahstun. You’re looking very white. (Double entendres are fun!)”

“Just saw a cab in Boston called “The Ride”. I wonder if that was its Jersey Shore generated nickname.”

My dad and sister picked me up, and we sang holly jolly Christmas carols the whole way home… until a rendition of Silver Bells stopped us up.

Me: Hmmm. Is this Stevie Wonder?

Dad: No, it’s a woman singing.

Me: No way. It’s definitely a black man.

Dad: Listen to it, it’s absolutely a woman!

(we listen for a few moments…)

Dad: Actually… I think it’s Michael Jackson.

Me: So we’re both right!

We continued to battle the Mass Pike and finally made it home, where I was greeted at the door by this.

Clearly, this is the family from whence I came.

Love.

We had some of my family’s oldest friends over on Christmas Eve, where my mother shared her all-time FAVORITE joke with us… at the dinner table.

“What’s brown and sticky?”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“A stick.”

I won’t lie. I snarfed my meatball chowder at that one.

So, Christmas at my house has always been… a bit of a spectacle. I don’t know when or how it started, but every year, we have a “theme” of some sort. One year it’s sock monkeys, another it’s flamingos… you get the idea.

This year? It was ugly Christmas sweaters… and the most ridiculous hats my mother could find.

Trust me... it's a blessing that it's blurry.

The stockings, "by" the chimney with care.

Embracing my roots... however they may emerge.

Rocking my champagne, klassy style.

Just a little casual civilized chatter on Christmas morning.

This was from four people. FOUR. My family is insane.

All in all, it was the most perfect day in the world… just like it is every year.

/Schmoop.

Other tweetings through the weekend…

“I AM WATCHING JULIE AND JULIA WITH MY FAMILY AND GAIL THE SNAIL IS IN IT AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. The pain. It is PALPABLE.”

“My father just referred to me as their (four pound) dog’s “big sister”. Apparently, I have some Yorkie in my bloodline I was unaware of.”

“My mom just downloaded Chumbawumba to her new Droid as a ringtone. … ‘Nuff said.”

“There is a girl who looks like @clevelandsaplum’s doppelganger across the restaurant. Trying to resist the urge to squee and hug her silly.”

“I feel like Blair Waldorf with my headband in this awesomely dirty Worcester bar.”

“Me, to sis: “Wanna go to Target?” Sis: “Mehhhhhhh… let’s go to WalMart instead… so I don’t have to put on pants.”

“THE DOLLAR TREE JUST RICK ROLLED ME. Love it!!!!”

Hope yours was just as- well, maybe HALF as- ridiculous as mine.

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

Announcements:

1. I did the round-up for DCBlogs.com today! Check it out.

2.I won’t be doing a TMI Thursday tomorrow, as no one’s really around… but we’ll be back in full force next week with another Post Secret version. Keep sending ‘em in!

3. Hey… did you get a chance to vote for me on 20SB yet? Just sayin.

***To all my Mama Bears out there, I am totally kidding and I love YOUR little angels and they are completely different from all the other little devilish spawn on the face of this earth. Besides, who are we kidding… just for writing this, I’m probably going to get knocked up with quintuplets. Karma is a cruel mistress…***

1. At night when they were all scared and look at me with their big puppy dog eyes and say, “Mommy, Mommy! Can you check for monsters under the bed??” Yeah. My answer would be hell to the no because I am totally still afraid of the dark. I can’t even sleep with a foot hanging over the bed. Also, why should I get eaten instead of you, twerp??

2. Rumer Willis: Proof that two rights can totally make a wrong.

3. I’m not exactly “green”, so not adding to the population problem? Perfect for putting a check in that box. Heaven, here I come!

4. I already have to wipe my OWN butt, every single day. If I’m not willing to do it for a Sim in digital land, I ain’t doing it for you, kiddo.

5. Children seem to have an affinity for bugs. Let the record show that I am not okay with this.

6. I would feel kind of bad about spanking it when it knocked over Mommy’s wine glass. But you gotta discipline, right?

7. Speaking of the wine, I’d have to drink at home all the time because people would get all judgey when I balanced it on my big, fat pregnant belly out at dinner. Party trick for the win!

8. Maxie said she would no longer be my friend if I pop one out. Unless I give it away. Dumpster Baby, anyone?

9. What if I had a girl? I am the only pretty, pretty princess in MY world.

10. And lastly, because of this. Which I did to my cats, purely for my own amusement. Can you imagine what I would do with mini human beings???

(Sad face… these pictures were lost in the great “almost deleted my blog” accident of ‘09. Just imagine Axe Murderer in a jester’s hat and Murray as a bumblebee, and you’ve pretty much got it…)

Wait! Don’t go yet…

EXTRA!!! EXTRA!!! Read all about it!!!

It just wouldn’t be the holidays if we didn’t all get together and booze it up, now would it? As such, I will plan on seeing all of you at Public Bar (halfway between Farragut North and Dupont Circle) for a Holiday Happy Hour on Friday, December 11th.

BRING YOUR GREEN HAT.

***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!

So. I had a positively scrumptious time this weekend in Beantown.

OBVIOUSLY.

And I am A) exhausted from the funsies and B) get to spend the day packing!!! Which, to B, means desperately trying to throw away sort through all of “my junk”.

Communist.

I wish I could put a camera up in the apartment for the day… this shiz ain’t gonna be pretty.

So for yous guyses, this means you get some pretty, pretty highlights. (Don’t worry, they’re the very expensive kind done by a professional gay man- no brassiness here!)

The scene: Dinner with my parents, B, my Lil Sis, and her boyfriend on Friday night. Fun fact: Lil Sis has been aching for a dog for months now, and had planned on getting one when she moves in with her bf in a month.

The highlight:

Mom: So what kind of dog do you want, Lil Sis?

Lil Sis: (As her face falls) We’re not allowed to have one at the new apartment.

Mom: Awwwww, so you’re not getting a puppy?

Lil Sis: No. YOU were the one who told me NOT to!

Mom: Well, no, you shouldn’t. It’s expensive and a lot of responsibility. But… puppy…

Lil Sis: Unbelievable.

LiLu: Oh, come on. It’s just like if your 16 year old daughter gets knocked up! You don’t WANT it to happen… but once the baby’s here, you’re still going to love it!

*crickets*

My poor family.

The scene: Meeting up with Boston’s most fabulous bloggers (and a few other travelers as well) at The Globe Bar for drunkety times. The crew: (if I forgot you, please to forgive, and let me know! It is so very early…) My lovely Julie, brookem, Pilgrim Jill, Hannah, Julie Q, Susan, Emrlds, Alana, A Super Girl, and in some cases, their justly terrified boyfriends, made it the best time any blogger could ask for.

The highlight: Jill Pilgrim double dog daring me to offer Susan’s virginity to a random guy hitting on her for the price of three goats. Which, obviously, I did in approximately 2.5 seconds… at which point we found out it was a friend of hers, and now we had to hang out with him for the rest of the night and be “Those Weird Girls” all evening.

Whatevs. The shoe fits.

Also? All of this happened.

Pretending to be classy. What?

You can’t see that I’m grabbing Jill’s bum.

In a word: FINALLY!!! <3

There is some hate sex in here.

Gawd, I love this woman. ALLLLL of her, apparently…

Tiger hands for Maxie!

Why I oughta…

We bloggers get friendly quick.

The boys entertained themselves just fine…

Sure. I mean, clearly.

Hiccups are a BITCH, yo.

Love you hookers.

Yeah. So. The awesomest of AWESOME. And that is all I have to say about that.

Except get all your asses down to DC so we can do it again soon. LUFF YOU BISHES!!!!!!

The scene: B’s sister getting mawwied!

The highlight: Everything. Jewish weddings are so much more fun! There was breaking of stuff, chairs in the air, a dancing train through the entire room, and incredible view, and a few speeches that even moved my cold dead hooker heart.

A sample from the mother of the groom’s toast:

“When my boys were little, I always changed the descriptions of the princesses in fairytales to say “kind” and “intelligent” instead of “beautiful”. I am so incredibly glad that my son has chosen to share his life with a woman who is kind and intelligent… as well as beautiful.”

*cue heartwrench*

All in all? Best. Weekend. Ever.

And now, we pack…

Sigh.

I had, let’s see… I think the technical jargon is “A BOMB” dropped on me this weekend.

The lovely woman that I call “Mother” stumbled- entirely innocently- onto this little corner of the interwebs.

The best part? She was worried when she found it… yeah, she was worried, about ME being upset, that I would feel like my privacy had been violated.

Now that’s a great Mom.

But you all know that- I’ve told you before how amazing the ‘rents are, and how lucky I am.

I’ve watched a few of you (Desiree, shine) go through the mess of the parents finding you out. How could it not make me think about what I would do in the same situation?

And I’ve always said I would stand by this place. I’m not ashamed of anything on these pages. The good, the bad, the sexy, and the ugly… it’s all true, and it all made me the lovable crackpot you see here today. It’s the story that brought the people I love into my life.

Besides, I started out reading the fascinating blogs of a couple “working” or otherwise sex-i-fied women… And their parents supported them. (Though I bet that discovery was a lot more painful than my own…)

I am proud of what I’ve done here. Honestly, I would have preferred to share it from the start. But asking my mother to keep a secret from my dad never seemed fair, and there are some things a father should never know about his little girl.

So what did Mamakins say? What was her reaction when I called her?

“I’m glad you’re writing.”

Best. Mom. EVER.

So, everybody say hello to the woman (partially) responsible for the TMI Thursday-ing (Mom, don’t click that) crazy pants LiLu you know and hopefully love. She is going to be stopping in from time to time, WHEN I TELL HER SHE CAN. Because she is awesome, and for some reason, she wants to see the mess her baby girl has created on this little slice of the internets.

(Besides, now when Maxie and I finally make it onto Stephen Colbert, it won’t be a shock when you see me dancing to Charlene on national television. That was gonna be your Christmas present!)

So wave with me, y’all;

“HI, MOM!!!!!!”

(Hey, ladies, did you enter my giveaway for an enormous purple sex toy yet? No? You have til tonight- click here! (I typed ‘lick’ the first time I wrote that. Snort.)

This Friday, I travel home to the great state of Massachusetts.

Ask me why.

(Why, LiLu?)

My baby sister is gradu-matin’ from college.

My… BABY… sister… is GRADuating…

Nope. No matter how I say it, it still just is completely, totally and utterly unbelievable.

My sister is amazing. She gets Indie music, and I don’t even know if “indie” should be capitalized. She has style, when the best I can do is look at a mannequin and go “Yes” or “No”. She decided she didn’t need sex, drugs and bartending to experience life, whereas I… well, yeah.

And, most notably, she is about ten times funnier than me. Seriously, I can’t go out people watching with this girl because I will be physically unable to hide that I am laughing at them. Her commentary of life always has me holding my sides, begging for her to stop.

Last night I received an email that reminded me of A) just how much I freaking love her, and B) the fact that we are so, SO definitely sisters. Let me show you it… and let’s all reminisce just for a minute about how much we DON’T miss college dorm life, while we’re at it.

From: Lil Sis
Subject: Ouch, My Life

Oh. My. God.

So I left the library because it’s late enough that I can use the cluster office computer and actually have a little peace and quiet. As I’m walking back to the building, I think maybe first I’ll take a nice hot shower to relax. MMMmmm.

The exact moment I enter the bathroom, the troll from next door saunters on in for a niiiiiiiice poop.

This poop literally lasted for the entire duration of my shower.

And guess how many times she had to flush the toilet. I’ll tell you. This was not your run-of-the-mill one-flusher, nor an “ick my poop is stinky maybe I’ll add in a courtesy flush” two-flusher. Nor was this even a not-beyond-the-realm-of-imagination-for-those-with-intestinal-disorders “oh my god that burrito is disagreeing with me on a deep and personal level” three-flusher.

She had to flush the toilet FIVE. TIMES.

The industrial-grade, intended to service thousands of college students for decades upon decades toilet could only handle one-FIFTH of that poop at a time.

And it smelled like it.

I am so glad I took that nice satisying, cleansing shower.

From: Big Sis
Subject: Re: Ouch, My Life

Please, PLEASE tell me I can post this. Yanno, after the tears stop streaming down my face from laughing.

From: Lil Sis
Subject: Re: Re: Ouch, My Life

The world needs to know. (Scrubs body frantically.) I want everyone to know. I WISH you had heard the death-gurgle that poor toilet made for flush #3. Curiously enough, it seemed to get a second wind by numero four and was surprisingly violent in its attempts to purge. By the end, which is to say the FIFTH. FLUSH I can only assume her foul ass sewage had slowed because it was back to normal. I think the worst part though is that there are two toilets in our bathroom and I have no idea which one I should NEVER USE AGAIN.

I cannot wait to go home this weekend. I fucking love you, baby sis.

Even if you are old as hell now. ZING!

(Joke’s on me, I spose, since I’ll always be older… oops.)

P.S. Please, PLEASE do something with that Journalism degree. The world needs you. I could probably put in a good word with Stephen Colbert. We’re tight now.

**Written on Christmas Eve and scheduled for Christmas morning. And yes, I know it’s supposed to be TMI Thursday, but some things are more important than poop. Yeah, I said it. Merry Freaking Christmas, y’all.**

Right now, I am surrounded by my amazing and hilarious family in my grandparents’ house. This is the house that means Christmas and family and warmth and happiness to me, more than any other place in the world. I am getting choked up watching the man that I love converse with my grandfather. I am reveling in the opportunity to help my grandmother put dinner on the table. There is way too much food, the stockings are overflowing, and the presents are growing exponentially underneath the impressive tree.

Laughter echoes throughout the bustling rooms. Every corner of this house radiates with my family’s history; where I come from, and how I came to be what, where and who I am.

This is one of the last of many, many Christmases I have spent in this remarkable house, and I’m frantically trying to savor each minute… to sear into my brain every detail of her mannerisms, every nuance of his movements, for safekeeping.

Because it won’t always be this way. They’re in their eighties, and I know at some point the inevitable will come to pass. It has to, as unimaginable as it may seem today, as I walk around the home they’ve spent a lifetime in together. They are my childhood, my history, my genes. They created the chances that I’ve had. They made my life possible. They made it amazing.

Today, I am grateful that I get to share this experience, this enormous part of who I am, with the man of my dreams. I am grateful that he will see it and know it and understand when I make demands about traditions and the way things have to be over the next 50 Christmases. I am grateful that I ever had it to begin with, as I know so many of you out there come from families who struggle over the holidays, or even ignore them entirely, rather than relish every second of the schmoopy togetherness of it all.

Believe me, friend… I know how goddamn lucky I am.

This evening, my grandmother turned to me in the kitchen as I relished the opportunity to help her prepare hors d’oeuvres (and wine, of course).

“He’s a good one,” she said, pointedly. “You hold on to him.”

“I know, Gram. He really is.”

“I have a good one too,” she said thoughtfully, my Papa shining in her mind’s eye.

“You sure do,” I smiled. “So does my mama [her daughter].”

“She does,” my grandma agreed.

“But honestly, with such amazing role models, how could I settle for anything less?” I asked, meaning every word of it.

“That’s true. You couldn’t,” she agreed. “I’m just so glad…” She trailed off, but we both knew what she meant… I’m so glad to know that you found that Special One… while I was still around to see it.

So am I, Gram. And thank you, so much, for showing me what that kind of love really means.

Merry Christmas, everyone… I hope you enjoy yours as much as I will mine.

XOXO,

LiLu