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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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While re-watching “The Walking Dead” last weekend… (which, if you haven’t seen yet, you should remedy immediately. Just sayin.)

B: Just so you know, I would *totally* put you down if a zombie bit you. You know, before you turn.

Me: What?!?

B: Yes. It’s the humane thing to do. Don’t you think about what you’ll do when the zombie apocalypse comes? You wouldn’t put ME down?

Me: No! I don’t think I could do it.

B: That’s very irresponsible of you.

Me: *considering* Well, what if I was a vampire?

B: No, I would not put you down if you were a vampire.

Me: That’s something, at least.

B: It’s not the same! Vampires are awesome.

Me: So you wouldn’t care if I tried to turn you?

B: No, I would open my neck and be all GET THAT SHIT, because it’s bad ass.

Me: Okayyy, I get it. I mean zombies are all mehhhhhh whereas vampires are all insanely cool and, yanno, functional.

B: Exactly.

Me: Hmmm. Okay.

B: Now if you go wolfman, that’s a different story.

Me: What?!

B: Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t KILL you… but I’d chain you up for a few moons, wait to see how that plays out. You know, in case it’s horrible, like when you’re on your period.

Me: ….

B: But hopefully it WOULDN’T be like a period, and it’d be great. And I’d be all “wolfman me, baby!!” Cause let’s face it, Wolfmanning is a little below Vampire, but still way above Zombie.

Please tell me we’re not the only ones who discuss the hierarchy of monsters over dinner.

Mama said share.

So, yeah. I was in Chicago for a week, and some stuff totally happened there, and it was tons of fun and I had a blast at Saturday’s Goose Me Happy Hour, and got to see my BFF Kbo a ton, and B and I ate lots of food that was bad for us and probably even more booze, and Chitown is super fun and easy to get around and probably one of my new favorite cities ever. Da Bears.

But more importantly, today, @storm_search showed me an app where I can Jerseylicious myself.

So, yeah… that happened:

And then we had the even better idea of Jerseylicious-ing the CATS.

So, obviously… I did:

I hope the Jersey craze never, ever ends. And now I have a good idea of what our Christmas cards are gonna look like this year…

The most excellent Jerseylicious-ing app is here. Please feel free to share in los commentos*.

*Jersey Spanglish for “the comments”.

Mama said share.

me: this [potential new job] is scary man.
  what if i’m horrible??

Lil Sis: oh pfft
  you are a competent person.

me: I suppose.
  it doesn’t FEEL like it.

Lil Sis: it does when you are around other people and see how bad they are at things and think “I could do that better”

me: hmm. that does happen a lot.

Lil Sis: and this isn’t just that you could probably do most things better than most people, this is what you are ESPECIALLY good at.
  so you will kick ass.
  there will be sound effects when you walk into a bar.

me: and music?
  can i have theme music?

Lil Sis:  sure.
  it may have to be in your head, but that’s okay.

me: *hums Backstreet’s “Larger Than Life” at my desk*

Mama said share.

A couple hours ago, my mom sent me this crap (love you Mom):

Everyone loves Guns and Roses

I Will Cut You

Born to Rock

Sup, G?

Is that edible?

On second thought…

That’s right baby…I still got it.

Rice Cereal? I don’t need no stinkin’ rice cereal!

OH! Cold Wipes! Cold Wipes!

I can’t believe this place

Yeah.. I just farted

Tell me she did NOT just say that!!

My response:

They’d be funnier if they were cats.

Her response, two hours later:

Like this?

Everyone loves Guns and Roses

I Will Cut You

Born to Rock

Sup, G?

Is that edible?

On second thought…

That’s right baby…I still got it.

Rice Cereal? I don’t need no stinkin’ rice cereal!

OH! Cold Wipes! Cold Wipes!

I can’t believe this place

YOU just farted!

Tell me she did NOT just say that!!

Me: Holy… did you just MAKE that?!

Mom: Yes. Don’t tell anyone.

Me: You’re my hero.

Mama said share.

If you follow my tweets, you know I’ve been in the great outdoors for the past few days. While we are “cabin-ing”, not camping, with a couple friends in Shenandoah, it’s still been much more nature-y than I’m used to.

When we walked across the lawn- yes, lawn- for the first time, heading down to the river with our canoes (who am I??), I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt a whole plot of grass under my feet. At least, one not littered with the homeless and stray chicken wings.

Yesterday was spent touring a few of the local wineries, which was delightful… at first. By the time we got to the third one, we were running out of adjectives with which to pepper our banter with the taste-givers. Let’s face it, you can only say the words “bold”, “earthy” and “full-bodied” so many times before even you start to hate yourself. So, we decided to branch out from the average descriptions and make things a little more interesting.

I believe I started it off when I declared a light red table wine “whimsical and flighty”… and it just plain snowballed from there. (I believe the increasing ridiculousness would most likely directly correlate with the number of tastings ingested. Shocking, I know.)

Some of the phrases we quite seriously deadpanned at our poor taste-givers, as well as a few brainstormed around the fire last night:

“naive, yet playful”

“reclusive, with hints of confidence”

“the finish has a sense of immortality”

“positively existential”

“dirty… even sinful”

“starts out with a bit of agony, finishing with a sense of euphoria”

“slightly prepubescent at first…”

“a note of spoonerism in the nose…”

“very cosmic… gives a real sense of animalistic sensuality”

“the nose cajoles you to drink more”

“very boastful!”

“almost iambically diabolic.”

“claims your palette with a hint of dirt”

And finally, the crown jewel from B:

“No wine is an island unto itself.”

Mama said share.

I keep my promises… without further ado, living proof my my bull riding experience at the The NYC 20sb Happy Hour… cape and all.

*shame

*wait no

*quite awesome, actually.

Mama said share.

Oh, BlogHer. I honestly don’t even know where to start.

*dives right in*

I got on a Bolt Bus Friday morning, anxious to meet my e-friend and roommate Elizabeth for the first time. I had an Expo/Party pass from the lovely Justine of Brand About Town, and two full days in NYC with only one specific thing on my schedule: the Saturday evening 20sb Happy Hour at Johnny Utah’s, where I had vowed to ride the hell out of their mechanical bull.

The bus took off and I was officially Excited In The Pants for all the things to come… until it broke down, an hour outside of DC. Like, electricity-off-broke-down… aka no A/C. So we suffocated on the side of the road until a new bus could be brought to fetch us. Finally, we were on our way again, and the trip was relatively uneventful until we were actually approaching NYC, and the bus was making unwieldy turn after bumpy exits after terrifying tunnel… and it was that moment I very urgently needed to pee.

Against my better judgment, matter won over mind, and I unsteadily made my way into the sliver of a “bathroom” at the back. Once inside, I was faced with a grave problem: there was no way to not fall over without supporting oneself against the walls, and yet there was no way I was touching those walls. I almost wish the next two minutes were on camera, as I was flipped around that 9 square foot space, using elbows and a few 1 ply squares of TP to try to keep myself from tumbling into the cesspool of a toilet, as well as relieve myself without decorating the restroom, or worse, myself.

Let’s just say by the time I made it out of there, I was fairly certain that mechanical bull wouldn’t be a problem at all.

We arrived without further incident, and I entered the Hilton New York in Times Square to see BlogHer here, there, and everywhere. We had taken OVER the place. Everywhere you looked were women chatting, sharing, promoting, exchanging, inspiring, laughing. By the time I made it up to my room, it was obvious that BlogHer had pwned the Hilton… and it was awesome.

I spent a couple hours exploring the Expo halls with Elizabeth, where sponsors handed out swag and chatted up their new products, but more importantly, were awesome people who actually wanted to hear what WE had to say. The number one question I was asked was, “Are you a blogger??” They were EXCITED to meet us, to share with us, to impress us. *cue “A Whole New World” music*

When my arms started to hurt from the bags o’ swag, I met the beautiful Kinsey for dinner at a pub around the corner from the Hilton. We’d met before at a happy hour in Boston, but it was so great to have some one on one time and really get to talk. She’s got some exciting things in store for you, Boston- be sure to watch that girl.

After a bit, my beloved Matt met up with us for drinks.

And drinks and drinks and drinks and drinks and drinks.

Kinsey took off for a Sex and the City tour with her girlfriends, so Matt and I did what any normal people would do:

Got even more plastered and found the nearest karaoke bar.

Shitfaced at some ridiculously pretentious strangely all-white basement club, we ordered our $12 drinks and looked at the song book. This choice was not to be taken lightly.

We had two requirements: first, it had to be a duet, and second, it had to be the absolute WORST duet we could possibly think of.

Please to enjoy…

Shortly thereafter (for obvious reasons), we called it a night.

In the morning, this happened:

Followed by this:

To be continued… (and, um… Saturday? Put Friday to SHAME. That is all.)

Mama said share.

Last night, I arrived home to a SNAIL MAIL PACKAGE!!!! from the marvelous @frickineh.

I tore into it to find… you guessed it… (wait, no you didn’t, because you’d never guess in a thousand years…

CAT FANNY PACKS!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, unshockingly, this was the best picture I could get of Axe Murderer in her shiny new red fannypack….

She is, ahem… not a fan.

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.