Save 83% on a Sports Illustrated subscription for 56 issues.

Or, rather, it’s time to share it with YOU, because I already did that shiz. Check it out:

Our winner is: SkylersDad! I’ll be sending you an email so you can pick out your favorite cookies.

And as an aside, my very first post is up on iostudio’s blog – my 2 cents on Google+ thus far. Check it out!

Mama said share.

This post is sponsored by Official Streetwear Shop

When I was in the magical land of Bloggers in Sin City last month, our fearless leader Nicole put together the most ridiculous swag bags for us all (emphasis on ridiculous, as they were full of hair tinsel, condoms, panties, and more).

There were a lot of treats in that bag, but you all know I am first and foremost a sucker for anything delicious, so one of my favorites was without a doubt the custom-iced cookie from Bitter Baking Co. Now, the cookie was good – real good – but it’s the company I fell in love with, and here’s why:

Happy Birthday, Asshat

Glad we're getting hitched, we could use some new stuff.

I hear prostitution is recession proof.

I'm thrilled you're going to be gay in public.

Happy Birthday. It's awesome you're still trying.

I wanted to apologize about the sex.

No one thinks you're a slut, lots of people have herpes.

Please enjoy this gift that you cannot sell for drug money.

They just… GET ME.

And from what I know about my readers, they get you, too. So I was stoked when they offered up a batch of cookies of YOUR choice for a giveaway. You can choose from their Snarky Cookies, mix cookie themes, or make your own (including custom photo cookies). So yeah, it’s pretty much just plain awesome.

Comment with your favorite cookie from their site, or an IDEA for a hilarious cookie below to enter! Tweet or share this post on Facebook for an extra entry (please comment that you’ve done so).

Winner will be chosen randomly on Tuesday, July 5, so check back then. Anyone in the US or Canada can enter. Woot!

Mama said share.

*drumrolllllllllllllll*

And the winner of ONE YEAR’S SUPPLY of Lean Pockets is….

THAT KIND OF GIRL!!!!!!!!!!

Congrats, lady friend. And no, your Lean Pocket full disclosure was not for naught. (See what I did there??)

I’ll put you in touch with my people and we will get your your 185 boxes of cheesy-oozy goodness in no time!

Mama said share.

***Update: Contest is closed! Winner announced here***

Lean Pockets!!!

*cue Jim Gaffigan* “hoooooooooot POCKETS”

Like a few of my favorite gals (and guy) across the blogosphere, I was recently given the opportunity to throw a “Wrapped in Goodness” party to showcase the Lean Pockets new Culinary Creations to some of my besties. They not only provided the grub (in delicious Pocket form), they also gave each of us our very own Snuggie, provided a gift card for “party supplies” (read: LOTS O BOXED WINE), and oodles of coupons for free Lean Pockets for my guests.

Seeing as this party was a triple win from the start, it really couldn’t have been a better night. I asked all the ladies to bring their favorite chick flick and themselves, preferably in PJs- and nothing more. B disappeared to a friend’s house for the evening and the girls’ night kicked off promptly.

(Now, trust when I say that, even though it’s been a while since I was a single gal, the stereotype of the convenient “for one” meal + Snuggie was not lost on me. To this I say, who cares? Free food/booze/blankets with sleeves, all of which are things I individually adore! But, just so you know I’m not completely oblivious. You guys know me better than that.)

Delicious Snuggies forrrrrr meeeeeeeeeeee (us), I *guess*

Bubbles and carbs FTW!!!

Just in case you weren't excited yet. And yes, my shirt *does* say "purrito".

This is what's called a "fancy table". Just FYI.

You can tell exactly how lazy I am by the fact that I bought cute “winter” cups to disguise the fact that they weren’t actually wine glasses, meaning I wouldn’t ACTUALLY have to do dishes. Whatevs. That snowman is way cute!

A Q&A game they sent us. Answer to whether my friends are veggie paninis or corndogs: Everyone in my life is a corndog. Duh.

Getting Snuggilicious with it.

Ain't no party like a Maxie party.

I love my friends.

Even our crazy can't scare away the ferocious Murray.

SNUGGIE PHOTO BOMB!!!!!!!!!!!

Once everyone had settled in and warmed themselves with Snuggies and boxed wine and kitty faces, it was time to stuff our faces, like any respectable ladies’ night in:

Finally time to dig in...

Going... going... NOM.

The Lean Pockets lasted approximately 2.6 seconds before I had to put a second (and third) batch in the oven. We were especially fans of the Garlic Chicken White Pizza (well, actually, ALL the pizza varieties), and I had bought a couple sausage, egg & cheese pockets for my trip to NYC in the morning with Maxie and Cara that were surprisingly breakfast-sandwich-y delicious.

Cliff Raven 2009 Malbec and 2010 Torrontes

We were also fortunate enough to have  some samplings from Cliff Raven Wine- the malbec was spicy and delicious, while the torrontes was crisp and refreshing. (Thanks so much, @CliffRavenWine!!!)

While my guests certainly lucked out in the Snuggie and free food/booze department, fret not, dear reader, for you too can experience the convenience and nom-ity that is the Lean Pocket… for a YEAR. For free.

What WHAT?!?!!?

Simply by liking this post on Facebook right under my disclaimer below (and leaving a comment to tell me you’ve done so), you’ll be entered in a drawing to win a full year’s supply of Lean Pockets. You can get extra entries by tweeting this post, by liking Lean Pockets on Facebook, and by following them on Twitter (all separate comments, please.)

Basically, with the click of a mouse, you can make it rain cheese and chicken and Lean Pocket pizza up in your face ALL. 2011. LONG.

And that? Is all Imma say about that.

Contest ends at 11:59 pm on Tuesday, December 21. Winner announced at 10 am ET on Wednesday, December 22.

Disclaimer: I was totally provided with Lean Pockets for the night (and coupons for my guests), Snuggies, and gift cards both for party supplies and as a host thank-you. Despite this, y’all know opinions are my own. Boo yah.

Mama said share.

I was getting ready for my 2 mile walk home from the new job on Monday evening, and it had been a TERRIBLE day. Not anything to do with the job itself, which is going splendidly, thanks for asking (yes, despite the toner incident)- more a mishmash of health problems and the ensuing feelings of distress/anxiety/wanting to cry in my Cheerios- that go along with them. At an emergency doctor appointment in the afternoon (so much for a lunch break) I found out that I need oral surgery next week and pretty much can’t eat anything tougher than soup until then, unless it’s cut into itty bitty bites. Le funsies.

So yeah, I’d already had a rough day, topped off with the usual stressification of starting a new job and, yanno, having basically no idea how to do it yet. AND trying to do it while my mouth was throbbing. (I-66? Take it away.)

So when it was finally quittin’ time, I picked up a prescription at the CVS across the street… and walked out past the candy aisle. Now, I’m not a huge sweets person- give me french fries over a Snickers any day- but I do love me some gummies. So I grabbed a 99 cent bag of gummy bears to get me through the absolutely FREEZING half-hour walk home I had in front of me. I figured I’d earned it.

As I braved the cold streets of the District, picking little handfuls of bears out of my pocket and savoring them along the way, I stumbled onto an entrance to Farragut North.

“Hmm,” I thought. “I suppose I could take the metro to Chinatown and transfer there… it’d be annoying, but at least it’d be warmer.” Then I remembered the BAG OF GUMMY BEARS in my pocket. “Oh crap. I can’t justify eating some of half of an entire bag of gummy bears if I metro home instead of walking. I suppose I could throw the 85 cents of gummies left away… (hahaha, I can’t even pretend to take that seriously!)”

So I bundled up a little tighter and trudged past the Metro stop, determined to work off at least a few of the candies on the way home.

As EVERYONE knows, Red is clearly the best flavor of every “fruity” candy known to man. (Skittles, Twizzlers, Runts, I’m looking at you.) I was bored enough to twitter this (and also how I bit my cheek immediately thereafter). I neglected, however, to say anything about Orange being my nearly unconditional second fave. Apparently, Orange is a bit of an attention whore, because she got majorly pissed off and I made it through half the bag without finding a single Orange. Which is totally not cool because everyone knows that the Superiority of Red is made all the sweeter by the presence of the sporadic Lesser But Still Pretty Good Orange.

While contemplating this existential crisis en route to my apartment, I realized that: a) walking is really boring when your cell phone’s dead and you forget your iPod, B) I might be a little crazy, and C) you really can blog about anything, huh?

Happy Humpday, lovahs. Don’t forget tomorrow is TMI Thursday!

Mama said share.

I like bananas. I like them better smathered in peanut butter. (Chunky, obvs.)

This morning I was about to enjoy said items, when I remembered that my doctor (who looks and acts EXACTLY like this, bee tee dubs) told me I needed more calcium. I used to drink milk by the big, tall glassful when I was growing up (my grandfather was a dairy farmer, after all, and cows and I have a long and complicated history), but lately it’s been a whole lot more booze, and less sweet Holstein nectar. (And by lately, of course, I mean the last eight years.)

“Aha!” I thought to myself. “There are few things in this world better complimented by milk than peanut butter!” Oreos are a worthy contender, of course, as are their slightly messier cousin, the chocolate chip cookie. Pastry for breakfast seemed a bit much… but fruit, peanut butter and a cold glass of milk? Sign me up.

Patting myself on the back for my ingenuity (satisfied craving AND a healthy dose of calcium? SMARTEST WOMAN ALIVE) I trotted to my little Korean deli place across the street (you know, the breakfast/lunch bar types they have on every corner) and scoured their drink items for milk. After wrestling with my inner child who tried to convince me that really, chocolate milk is the same thing, it just tastes better! It’s even low-fat, it’s good for you!!!, I opted for the lone, sad little carton of skim milk, shoved behind all the chocolatey goodness.

Probably should have been my first clue.

Judgment clouded by thoughts of moral and health superiority, I pranced back across the street (what? I’m wearing zebra flats today. They demand to be pranced in) and upstairs to my desk, where I readied my mouth for the explosion of flavors. (Sorry, can’t help it: That’s what she said.) I took a delicious, peanuty-goodness-enriched bite of banana, used my amazing one-handed reflexes to open the wee 5th-grade-cafeteria carton of milk, and enthusiastically took a large, satisfying swig. I swallowed.

The smell hit me before the taste did.

How do you describe spoiled milk? The word Yellow comes to mind, as does Curdled, Goat Urine, and OMGMyStomachIsChurningAndI’mGoingToDie. With a side of, IReallyHopeIDon’tVomOnMyComputer.

Ah, gluttony… you sadistic whore.

Methinks this afternoon warrants a CVS run to stock up on pink stuff, and calcium vitamins. Because frankly? I’m not sure Milk and I are going to be able to work through this and still be friends. And it’s totally NOT ME, it’s YOU.

Moral of the story?

When your inner child says CHOCOLATE!!! ?

You listen.

(Video Warning: Just kidding. It’s a freaking puppet. Handle it.)

Mama said share.

B and I had a stupid, drunken tiff Friday night. We were in a 7-Eleven and had been arguing about something so dumb I can’t even remember what it was. He snapped at me, so I told him I’d be waiting outside and strode out (5-year-old style).

A few minutes later he emerged, and we bickered for a block or so before apologizing for our mutual drunken idiocy, and he took my hand. As we walked home together, he said something I’ll never forget…

“I bought you a taquito.”

As he handed me the warm and delicious Mexican delicacy, I knew in my heart that this truly was love. Even though he was furious with me, AND I’d stormed out of a Kwik-E-Mart on him, he still knew that soon enough, everything would be fine, and expressed this faith in our relationship through the procurement of a spicy buffalo chicken wrap.

I’ll always buy you a taquito, B.

Mama said share.

So, I finally made it to Top Chef Spike’s much-hullabalooed-about burger joint last night after a few failed attempts (due to hangovers, unexpected drunken evenings, cancellations, etc.)… and honestly, it was great. Anyone who knows me is well aware that I will gladly juggle kittens on fire for a killer cheeseburger and fries, so I went into this with relatively high expectations, and I’m glad to say that overall, it delivered.

Spike was actually the first thing we saw when we walked in- he was working the part of the counter closest to the door, crazy fedora and all, and popping out every now and then to chat up the crowd. He seemed super friendly and genuine, although obviously LOVING the attention, but hey, who wouldn’t? He was like me bartending, putting on a show and loving every second of it. Especially the star struck drunk girls, which I was most definitely not one of. Shut up, B. (I’m sorry, but it is totally weird/cool to see someone in person that you’ve been watching on TV for months.)

B and I took the plunge with my new friend Caitlin and her chef boyfriend, who introduced themselves to Spike (read her absolutely hilarious and historically accurate account of it here). He was warm and receptive- they exchanged numbers and I witnessed the beginning of a beautiful friendship. It’s always fun to watch fellow chefs consort, they have their own little club complete with secret handshake, I swear. Oh and yes, Caitlin, the frozen scallops should definitely NOT have been in freezer!

Since we had visited a good friend of mine bartending in Union Station for some pre-dinner lubrication, I was feeling exceptionally warm and fuzzy by the time we got to the Good Stuff Eatery. We were absolutely famished (and yes, I am aware that both of these facts most likely deepen the hue of my rosy-colored ravings, but it is what it is. And what it is was good).

I will say that the line of people there was super douchey (think Gtown trying-too-hard-on-a-Wednesday-night sundresses, salmon short-shorts, and popped collars galore. Is this normal for Capitol Hill? I’m not really familiar with it yet)… but this wasn’t about them. It was about red meat in my belly. And frankly, it provided endless amusement/material for mockery while we waited, very impatiently, to get to the front of the line. On the way there I tried to make eyes at one of the cooks in an effort to get our burgers more quickly (I dunno, made sense at the time?), but he just thought I was making eyes at him. Damn the prowess of my eye-fucking. I need to be more careful when I unveil their sexy power, I suppose. I just sort of thought he would realize the man next to me I couldn’t keep my hands off of was most likely my primary love interest, and that perhaps I was after something other than what was underneath his Good Stuff apron… like some moo-cow… but whatevs.

So we’re finally at the counter and we order A LOT; the Farmhouse Bacon Cheese, the Coletti’s Smokehouse, both the regular and the Village fries, and the Toasted Marshmallow shake. The only problem I had was that they don’t take temps?!? I was told they were all cooked medium (unless you wanted it charred.) I will say that the prices, however, were extremely reasonable- all that was only $23.

We grabbed some stools at the counter near the front door to people watch (and because there was barely a seat available in the house), and just a few (very hungry) minutes later, our buzzer went off.

VERDICTS:

Farmhouse Bacon Cheese: even though it was medium (and not bloody like I like it), the burger was juicy, the bun was squishy (and we all know from Lem’s experience elsewhere how important that is), the bacon was thick and crispy, and the cheese was melty and everywhere, just like it should be. Snaps for the ‘special sauce’ as well.

Coletti’s Smokehouse: B’s looked just as delicious as mine, with vidalia onion rings and bbq sauce to boot.

Fries: Both were kind of disappointing, actually, which normally would break my heart. They were kind of soggy, but I think if they had just come out of the fryer they would have been pretty damn good (they’d clearly been sitting out for a few minutes). The Village (rosemary) fries weren’t exactly revolutionary, but hey, who doesn’t like rosemary?

And the reason the fries didn’t break my heart (besides the fact that I was chin deep in a delicious bacon cheeseburger):

Toasted Marshmallow shake: This thing was good. Like unreal good. Like, someone-literally-milked-a-cow-and-immediately-made-fresh-vanilla-bean-ice- cream-from good. Mama like. There were two (toasted! Get it?) marshmallows on the top and the boys didn’t stand a chance… guess we’ll have to go back.

Mayo: We also tried the Old Bay and Mango mayos, thumbs up on both.

So yes, I will go back, armed with these two troublemakers and ready to let the Milky Way shake steal my heart.

Mama said share.