If you will remember from yesterday’s post about how kickass my fave local band Redline Addiction is (are you following them on the Tweet yet? Liked them on Facebook? Bought their albums??? GET ON IT!)- there’s another very important part to this Challenge; the “Personal” aspect.

Personal: What three musical moments have impacted your life most?

Let’s do this.

Moment The First!

When I was still a wee Masshole in the 4th grade, I got my very first CD. I played it over and over and over and OVER until I’m sure my parents wished I’d never heard of that hot new band…

ACE OF BASE!!!!!

Not only did I have the album on repeat for the better part of 1994, my teeny bopper pals and I choreographed an entire dance routine to “The Sign”- a very, very literal one- and performed it at my elementary school’s talent show for all the world to see.

Even as a munchkin, I knew not what “embarrassment” was. And I’m about to prove that I remember every. last. move…

It was cuter when I was 10. Promise.

(The crimped hair, BoSox t-shirt, and super-flared jeans are all throw backs to my years as a 90’s kid in New England. Wicked pissah, right??)

Moment The Second!

When we made it to middle school and decided that Swedish pop bands weren’t cool enough for us anymore, my super edgy friends and I dove into the swing and ska phase that swept the nation. (I guess we weren’t so edgy after all, huh.)

I’ve always loved the old school big bands and brass boys- Glenn Miller, Duke, Dizzy, Benny Goodman, Louie Armstrong. But with the arrival of Reel Big Fish, Less Than Jake, and the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies (whose album my father refused to buy me- ha!)- my love of horns suddenly had a modern place in my life.

When The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, my MOST FAVORITE BAND EVER IN THE WORLD WORLD AT LEAST THIS MONTH ANYWAY I’M A TEENAGER AND I’M FICKLE, YO!!! came to town, I begged and begged and begged my parents to let me go to my very first concert, unsupervised, on New Year’s Eve, with a pack of 14 year olds. They said no approximately 4,389 times… and then relented just in time for a very convenient Christmas present.

We were having an okay time at the Worcester Centrum, but we wanted to get down to the floor where the actual skanking was going on! Only problem was, you needed a very fancy (read: expensive) orange wristband to do it.

So, we did what any kid would do. We bought king-sized Reese’s cups (orange!), and folded the wrappers into “bracelets.”

I don’t think we fooled the guards for one second, but they must have felt sorry for our pimply little faces, because they let us onto the floor, where we proceeded to have the Best. Night. Ever. Of our pathetic adolescent little lives, anyway.

I still have that Reese’s wrapper.

Moment The Third!

Throughout my life, whenever someone has asked me who my favorite artist of all time is, I’ve not once hesitated. It is, without question, Billy My Main Man Joel.

As long as I can remember, his songs have moved me like no one else’s. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant, She’s Always a Woman, The Entertainer, Piano Man, Captain Jack, We Didn’t Start the Fire, The Longest Time, Uptown Girl… (well, okay… ALL OF THEM, basically).

And yes, especially “Only the Good Die Young,” even though I will never forget this moment; my father and I were driving home listening to it (Hi, Dad!), and at the tender and awkward age age of 16, I proudly belted out every last word. He pulled into the driveway, stopped the car, looked at me, and said,

“Do you know what that song is about?”

OHMIGOD OHMIGOD WE ARE SO NOT HAVING THIS TALK RIGHT NOW EFFFFFF MY LIFE!!!!!!

Somehow, that moment passed without me dying. And years later, when I finally- finally- got to see my musical hero live in Madison Square Garden… that is a night I will never, ever forget.

It is, undoubtedly, one of the very biggest checks on my Bucket List.

LOVE YOU BILLY, you musical genius you!!!

Bonus Round!

I promised to RickRoll a bar if y’all got me to 3,500 followers on Twitter, and by George, you did it. So last Friday at our DC Amazeballs Happy Hour, I dragged the crew over to one of my favorite spots in town, Fado, who not only allowed us to partake, they supported me throughout with Tweets and Facebook posts. You guys are the best!

Karaoke has always been one of my favorite extracurricular activities, and the Ginger’s is often my go-to song… so in short? I’d say we rocked it.

Update: So, I just watched the Ace of Base and Rick Astley videos and succession, and I realized that my skills as a choreographer are currently EXACTLY the same as they were when I was 10.

Like the post tag says, it’s a good thing I make a mean martini. (And a mean tweet. There’s no dancing in tweeting, right, MTV?!)

So, I’m stoked about the MTV TJ’s first challenge! Here it is in a nushell: 

(Help, help! How did I get into this nutshell!) 

Ahem. 

CHALLENGE: 

Description: The MTV TJ needs to be self aware and self assured. It is important that we see how the TJ candidate expresses their own identity, but also how they use their social aptitudes to unite and bring people together. With this challenge, the TJ candidate will be asked to tell their personal story through a digital medium of their choice, and to boost their network of followers on Twitter. 

Personal: Who are you? Answer using any form of media available to you. Examples include text, images, sound, or video. 

Social: Using your social skills and promotional abilities, increase your Twitter following (!!!!!) by as many users as possible. 

So, yanno, feel free to tweet the following… 

RT @LivitLuvit Pledge: So if I can hit 3500 followers by July 8 midnight, I will film myself rickrolling a bar and post it. BAM #zyncMTVTJ 

(Also, you can just click here to share my plight with your friends on the ‘Book. Love you long time. SMOOCHES.)  

Well, I’ve got something amazing in the works a la vlog to answer this burning question of WHO AM I, but in the meantime, I’d like to introduce my new followers to LiLu via my internet faves. If you want to know me, my sense of humor, what I love and what I’m about, you need to know about these… 

1. Hampster on a Piano, (Eating Popcorn on a Piano) 

Oh, Hampster and I. We go way back. Since the first moment I saw this video, about lizzed myself, and immediately tried to make it my ringtone, I knew we would forever be as one. 

2. SNL – Don Draper’s Guide to Picking Up Women 

Yes, this is partly because he’s the second sexiest man on earth next to B, but also because A) it’s one of the few truly greats to come out of SNL in the past decade, and B) OH EM GEE, THE AWESOME, IT IS OVERPOWERING. 

Also? C. Funny cause it’s true. 

3. Kitten Mittons – Always Sunny in Philadelphia. 

(Yes, mittons. Not “mittens.” You’ll see.) 

I laughed. I cried. I almost convinced myself to learn to crochet. And then I remembered I prefer drinking beer. 

But the video still kills me, each and every time. 

4. Where the Hell is Matt? (2008)

For the Schmoopy McSchmooperson in all of us. I’ve seen it over and over and over, and I still can’t get through it without tears welling up in my eyes. I once said here that one of my greatest fears is the knowledge that I’m going to live my life without meeting even a billionth of the people on this earth. That remains true, and I think it’s why this video touches me so much… the man had a mission, and while making this video, he lived out my dream of meeting so many new people. 

5. One of my own: “Surprise Trust Falls: Abusing Tourists on the National Mall”

(inspired by my lover @danieltosh over at Tosh.0 )

I’ll say it. I’m just damn proud of this one. Make sure you make it to the happy ending!!!

Honorary mention: Kids re-enact Little ‘Jersey Shore’

Because hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha YES.

(FYI? This was entirely out of the blue, around 3pm yesterday. We had not spoken all day.)

Lil Sis: OMG I was just in the work kitchen for like 5 minutes, and I just sat back at my desk, looked down, and I had gotten like a gallon of sauce on my khaki pants.
      Now that I’ve washed most of it off, I of course look like I peed myself.

Me: *dying laughing* You are SO my sister.

Lil Sis: I still have a suspicious orangey patch. I can’t wait to go home where I don’t have to be hampered by all these clothes!

Me: Omg stop, you are making me laugh OUT LOUD. … (That’s “lol” if you’re a cool kid.)

Lil Sis: LOL I HATE CLOTHES THEY ARE TOO MUCH WORK

Me: I go through this every morning. If I didn’t have to dress myself every day, my life would improve by 50% betterness. Fact.

Lil Sis: I can handle shirts.

Me: See, I’m a dress girl. It’s the onesie for adults.

Lil Sis: I just don’t understand why there are any situations in life where jeans aren’t appropriate!

Me: Agreed. It’s 2010 people! Obama’s getting rid of the tie, for God’s sake, let’s GET RID OF THE PANT.

Lil Sis: Well first of all, if I wear a dress there’s no place to clip my badge so I’ll be getting locked out all day.

Me: I just make a place- bunch a little bit of it. It’s extra sexy.

Lil Sis: But most importantly, to wear a dress I have to have freshly-shaven legs. And that’s more work than clean pants!

Me: Says who? No one really looks. You just can’t go out in the sunshine. Vampire ftw!

Lil Sis: Says my white skin and dark brown hair. This is why jeans are heaven… never wrinkled, never look dirty, no exposure. Mmmmmmmmm jeans.

Me: I’m with ya. Preaching to the choir here. … Except that it’s been 100 degrees for a month.

Lil Sis: Well, clearly clothes are the devil.

Me: With that, sweet sister, I concur.

Just another Xmas in the LiLu household.*

*Disclaimer: My sister is insisting I inform you that these sweaters were donned ironically. Well, DUH.

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

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 get creative, the above suggestion is just for your copy & paste convenience. Cause I’m good like that.)

The actual VOTING will start on July 7, 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!!!

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 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!

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

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.

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.

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

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.

~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*~

Well, well, well. How fast time flies when you’re having fun. 

Or telling each other fart jokes. 

Accentuated with actual farts. 

What? 

Point being, next weekend will mark two years of B and I thoroughly entertaining each other (and, hopefully, you as well.) 

Unfortunately, I am an asshole, and managed to book a trip home to Boston for Father’s Day without realizing the other anniversial special occasion.

(P.S. June 17th? Gonna be in Beantown? HIT ME UP YO)

Fortunately, a) B and I always end up doing presents a week early anyway, because I’m too impatient to wait, and b) now he has a freebie in the bag for the next time he screws up. 

Fair’s fair. 

So! I have spent the last couple weeks scouring the interwebs for something original. Thoughtful, even. At the very least, something I can enjoy as well. (What?) 

And I’m here to tell you, e-friends… do NOT Google “anniversary gift for him.” Just don’t do it. 

Because this is what you’ll get: 

Once he finished laughing, we would never hold hands again.

Do you get to "park" your penis if you land on Park Place?

Right. I'm totally going to spend 20 bucks on a fucking SILVER FORTUNE COOKIE. I'd rather have a $20 gift certificate to the Dollar Store.

Vom, vom, vom, vom in my hair, VOM.

This is a "pocket keepsake." It'd almost be worth it to see the look on our friends' faces when he accidentally pulled it out.

"And every year, we drink a bottle of rosé, do our Love Puzzle, and then punch each other in the face."

Love Throw Pillow. Alternate title: "An Excuse to Never Have Guests at Your Home Again."

Okay, okay. Clean the proverbial barf off yourself and let’s get down to business. I knew a traditional google search clearly wasn’t going to cut it, so with the help of Twitter (you guys are freaking awesome, bee tee dubs), we collaborated and came up with the following actually respectable anniversary gifts for a dude. 

And so, I give you: 

“A Realistic Anniversary Gift-Giving Guide for a 20-Something Dude”

Always Sunny in Philly approved Dick Towel! No explanation necessary.

It's up! It's down! It's... confusing, yet awesome.

What dude WOULDN'T want his very own pub sign?

Mini kegerator? Just change my name to "B's hero" already.

My favorite meaning for the phrase "I'm packin'."

Night vision goggles. Just cause I can't see a dude NOT getting excited over these.

A shitload of meat. (DUH.)

Um. Does this come in His and Hers? Because YES and also PLEASE.

And no, I didn’t ruin the surprise, because what I actually got him is even more bad ass than all of this. 

(No pressure…) 

Know of something else awesome to give a dude that doesn’t involve the word “snuggling”, matching lockets, or something so corny even his mom would laugh at it? Leave it in El Commentos!

*And just in case anyone’s not familiar with the Love Fern…

Last Friday, we had a little whine ‘n cheese party for a colleague who’s retiring. Which is nice and all, if you’re into forced smalltalk with a group of lawyers who constantly ask a) when you’re going to law school (never?); b) when you’re getting married; and c) what did you do last weekend so they can live vicariously through you.

But seeing as it was FRIDAY!!!!! and we’d been given permission to leave at 2 pm for the holiday weekend, I listened to the head honcho give his speech, bobbed my head knowingly at the appropriate moments, and then made like a tree back to my office cubicle wide open desk in the middle of a room where every single person can see my shit.

Hmm. I really need to stop looking at stuffonmycat.com.

Anyhoodle, I had work to finish, and hot damn if I was gonna be in the building even a minute after 2. (I am nothing if not a dedicated employee. …Dedicated to getting the fuck out of as soon as possible, that is.)

People were filtering in and out from the party while I worked, but I was as one-track-minded as a 13 year old boy watching Basic Instinct for the first time.

It was 1:53 and the clock was ticking down. Jack Bauer had nothing on me as I furiously printed, copied, emailed, and TPS-reported my way towards the deadline.

As I began the requisite preparations for my departure (starting with the change to flipflops under the desk, and working my way up to the more obvious “I’m OUTTAAAAAAAAAA HERE!!!!! turning off of the computer), my nostrils were very suddenly assaulted by an extremely pungent odor. The scent of a sweaty man’s gym socks punched me in the face, while an eau de Jersey Turnpike gave me a one-two uppercut to the nose.

Dazed and confused (FAH Q!), I quickly looked down at myself in horror. Was it even possible for a human being to smell that way?? I hadn’t worked out, I’d showered that morning, I have no history with any sort of BO (no, this does NOT count)… in fact, I’d NEVER smelled anything so horrible emanating from any living creature (well, other than kitten diarrhea) in my life.

Just as I was devising an emergency plan of action to get down to the office gym showers jump out the window out of pure mortification, I happened to glance over at the table to my right, aka our office’s “dumping ground” for all things edible, be it holiday treats, party leftovers, etc.

Sitting there, with those wavy lines in the air literally enamating from the source, was a plate of the moldiest, stinkiest cheese this side of the Atlantic.

(Gotta give the Frenchies their due. I’m sure they’ve come up with something smellier. But I never, ever want to meet it.)

After I wept tears of relief that I was not to be the new poster child for Smelly Kids Anonymous, I grabbed my bag and checked out a whopping five minutes early. I figured I’d earned it.

Though thankfully, there were no battle wounds odors to prove it.

…but that doesn’t mean I didn’t leave you a little sumin sumin.

Check it out here.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last weekend, I was home alone with the cats, and I sent B this picture…

His response?

“Cute… if I ignore the fact you took that while on the toilet.”

Uhhhhhhh…. quick, distract them!

Don’t forget to check out my round up on DC Blogs today!

A man walks into a pharmacy, and wanders up and down the aisles.

A sales girl notices him and asks if she can help him.

He replies that he’s looking for a box of tampons for his wife.

So, she directs him down the correct aisle.

A few minutes later, he arrives in the checkout line, and deposits a huge bag of cotton balls and a ball of string on the counter.

She says, confused, “Sir, I thought you were looking for some tampons for your wife?”

And he answers, “You see, it’s like this. Yesterday, I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes, and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rolling papers; cause it’s soooooooooo much cheaper.

“So, I figure if I have to roll my own………..

“So does she.”

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

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On Monday, I was actually feeling pretty good.

Sure, I knew five days of work were ahead of me. Yes, I had a bit uf da sniffoos. And having twisted my knee during p90x kickboxing was not making for a pleasant sensation.

But still, I felt all right. It’d been a great weekend, I’d slept well, and hey, first world problems, yanno?

So I got my tea and breakfast and settled into my desk, chatting with a coworker about all our other colleagues before they got to the office (and could defend themselves). It was fixing to be a decent day.

And then.

I reached up to open a cupboard over my desk, and…

Well, let’s play this out in slow mo, shall we?

1. The cupboard opens, and I realize that something was leaning against the inside of the door. I don’t know how, since this wasn’t an airplane and “the contents of the overhead bins” should not be shifting during any flights.

2. Said object tumbles out onto my desk. Quite angrily, if you ask me.

3. It becomes apparent that said object is on a collision course with my cup of scalding fucking hot English tea.

4. Like the grand finale in MouseTrap, said object strikes cup, cup tips over…

5. And spills its entire 460 degree contents into my lap of very tender, ohsopink Scotch-Irish skin.

And so. In a matter of a very horrible 2 seconds, I went from being “that quirky, mildly entertaining girl who sometimes doesn’t think before she speaks but hey, she gets her stuff done” to “that weirdo who scalded this shit out of her VAGINA at work.”

Awesome sauce.

My coworker stared in shock and disbelief for a few moments, before she shook her head with a deep sense of pity, and said:

“Go home.”

It was meant to be a gesture of compassion, but I could see the disdain in her eyes. I gathered my things silently, including my seemingly urinated-on crotch, and slunk out of the building to head home to my non-judgy cats and a very soothing Tori and Dean marathon.

When I got back to work on Tuesday, we didn’t speak of The Incident. I walked in, sat down, and simply said:

“Do over?”

“Do over,” she replied. And I turned to my computer, and began answering emails. Because, like it or not…

Me and my scorched vagine?

We’re in this klutzy-ass life together.

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

Other awesomely bad TMIs…

citygirlblog’s Rimming it

Classy in Philadelphia’s TMI Thursday- The Time I Had The Most Awkward Planned Hookup Ever

Mary’s TMIT: Brokeback Meowtain

LivingWicked’s TMIThursday’s: Masturbation 101 by Dr. Dumbass

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: We’re talkin about a queefolution…

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who has probably watched Deep Throat too many times (mega TMI Thursday and pics NSFW to boot!)

Zan’s TMI Thursday: Mah Pussay is Broke!

Floreta’s Anal Lube Giveaway (NSFW)

Lisa’s TMI Thursday: I’ll Tumble For Ya, But Only for Five Minutes.

Just Linda’s Why husbands shouldn’t be allowed to have the cameras:

Losing It’s TMI Thursday: Oops, I crapped my pants

StarGazer’s T.M.I… read with caution!

P’s TMI THURSDAY: SOME UNMENTIONABLES

Torn’s TMI Thursday–The Pontoon Boat

Lucy’s TMI THURSDAY: WISHING I Could Change the World!

Spleen’s epic backfat fail

Sean’s TMI Thursday: End of an Era

shine’s TMI Thursday – A tale of two poops.

GCK’s TMI Thursday #4: The Cooch

Heather’s TMI Thursday: Masturbation and Anal Glands

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: can a vagina puke?

Bev’s TMI Thursday: The time I lacked Poise.

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: The Joys of Running, Part VI: My First Marathon

Nickie’s TMI Thursday: On How I Burned It. (You Know..)

angel’s TMI Thursday… Memaw’s spells

ClevelandPoet’s TMI Thursday: The pantless edition

Rachel’s TMI Thursday: It really can get stuck

Vixation’s TMI Thursday for YOU: The List

RachelSmiles’ TMI Thursday: I have sleeping problems

verybadcat’s TMI Thursday: Walk of Shame

Vittoria’s TMI Thursday: Drunk Sex is Best! Except when it’s not.

Wonderful’s The Importance of Locks

amber murphy’s tmi thursday: in which my job almost went down the toilet

Courtney’s TMI Thursday: Kids Say the Darndest Things

Coffeypot’s TMI Thursday – A Dump At School

Patti’s Thursday, Thursday

Last week, B and I had drinks with a couple of friends from his hometown. We always have a good time with them, but this outing was particularly lovely, because they bestowed upon me the greatest idea anyone has ever had in The History of Ever.

“If we get married,” they told us, “We’re going to register at…

“SKY MALL.”

Ohnoyoudidn’t.

People, answer me true. Is this not pure, unadulterated GENIUS? Every time I’m on an airplane, I spend an hour or so looking through this goddamn ridiculous magazine, and by the time I reach the end, I’ve spent approximately $56,391 in my head.

And here’s why.

Head Spa Massager ($50)

 I’ve always thought I’d make a great cylon.

Original Backnobber II

 I would totally get this for B to solve yesterday’s dilemma… if only it didn’t so closely resemble an anal probe.

Camo Mini Binoculars ($25)

 They’re camo! And mini! All the fun of Jurassic Park without any of the Jeff Goldblum stutter!

Wrist Cell Phone Carrier ($30)

 As someone who is convinced she’s lost her Blackberry 98.7% of the time… I might actually need this. It’s the cell phone equivalent of putting your kid on a leash.

Big Foot Garden Yeti Sculpture ($100)

 I don’t think any words are necessary here. (If they are, we probably can’t be friends.)

Jumpin Jammerz – Polar Fleece Footed Pajamas ($65)

 Creepiest. Slumber party. EVER.

Stainless Steel Wallet ($90)

 Free with any purchase of nunchucks from Chuck Norris R’Us.

Cat Toilet Training System ($59)

With a name like “Litter Kwitter,” this just can’t lose.

Seriously, guys. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want every last thing here.

YOU CAN’T DO IT!!!!!!

So, eventually, when I do get hitched, you better believe I’ll be registering at Sky Mall…

Because I’m klassy like that.

Today, I leave my District bubble and head down South to celebrate the first of my Carolina Girls’ bachelorette parties.

Mere, we knew you’d be the first from the moment we met Shawn. (Are you preggers  yet? How bout now? Now??)

Anyhoozle, I can’t wait to get down there and have a couple Very Klassy Evenings out with my ladies…

*coughcough*

Savannah ain’t gonna know what hit it.

My Sweet Carolina Girls - Best in the World

And that’s a threat… not a promise.

(Remember the Dominican, y’all?…

Uh huh.

Let’s DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear ladies in the OFFICE BUILDING gym locker room,

Tatas. Hoo-has. Heinies of all shapes and sizes.

We’ve all got ‘em, to be sure. I’ve seen a boob or ten in my day, and I in no way oppose nudity. I am no Charlotte York; a good skinny dip never hurt anybody. (Unless you can’t swim. Then why the hell were you skinny dipping, idjit??)

But. As Jerry Seinfeld explained to us, there is “good” naked… and there is “bad” naked.

Good naked?

Making pancakes for your significant other on a lazy Sunday afternoon in just that cute little apron. (Not ME, Mom. Like, in movies and stuff. Yeah…)

Bad naked?

Having a ten minute chat with a fellow employee- or God forbid, ME- with the poon just haaaangin out there, waving at me all the while.

(P.S.? If you can braid it, it’s TOO LONG.)

And then. Then when you finally wrap up said chat about your boss (gross) or your children (grosser) or your I-can’t-hear-you-because-I-just-stabbed-myself-in-the-eardrum-with-one-of-the-free-tampons-just-to-make-it-STOP, then…

You cavalierly saunter over to the sink, and begin to blow dry your hair…

With daddy long leg vadge and pancake boobs swinging proudly, for all to see.

*………..*

Look.

I am not a particularly modest woman.

I feed the cats in my birthday suit every morning as I get ready for work. I’ll pee in front of any woman I’ve known and adored for at least five minutes. I’ll happily discuss an interesting bowel movement- “It looked like prepubscent Jesus’ beard!”- with, well, anyone who’ll listen. (And preferably, chime in with a battle/glory story of their own.)

And so, dear ladies at my office gym, I say this to you. If I, of all people, find your utter lack of modesty offensive…

May the heavens above have mercy on your naked ass soul.

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

***What are you doing for St. Paddy’s Day? I know I’ll be rocking out at Shamrock Fest, March 13th at RFD Stadium. Booze, live music (including LMFAO what!!), and an excuse to wear a ridiculous hat? I’m there. Hopefully you will be too!***

I woke up yesterday morning to an SOS message in my inbox.

“Dear Lilu…aka Karaoke Queen….

I have NEVER been….

I have been invited to go….

March 13….

Would you consider writing a blog post on HOW TO KARAOKE?

I mean seriously….how many drinks are involved?

Do you pick a song based on ease of lyrics or personal love?

I am intrigued and terrified at the same time.”

~ Donna

Well, Donna. Given that I know a little something about unabashedly crooning for strangers, particularly in seedy bars, how could I not help a sister out?

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

The Rules to PWNing Karaoke

First things first. You want to get there early and snag a table with an excellent view of the humiliations- I mean, performances. Choose a place that serves ginormous beers on the cheap so you don’t miss having your name called by the DJ while ordering a beverage. You should occasionally have someone bring a round of shots by to lube the wind pipes your dignity.

Drink heavily and with purpose. You need to be bordering on sloppy drunk but perform justbefore going over the edge. Timing is of the essence here, people.

Now, the venue. It’s preferable if the place is extra shady; things like poor lighting and the stunted walls of an acoustically-challenged basement can only help you here, folks.

Next, you’re going to need a group of friends to share the pathetic experience with you. More is better because it increases the chances of anyone remembering anything. Less is better because it decreases the chances of anyone remembering anything. Either way, you should definitely choose them from the “Will Have to Love You Anyway” pile.

Now it’s song choice time. There are a few basic rules to this:

1. Make sure you know either 50% of the words or 100% of the beat. Make SURE. Just because you rocked City High’s “What Would You Do” in high school doesn’t mean you can do it now, friend. Trust.

2. Choose a song the whole bar will want to sing. Unless you’ve actually got serious skills, class participation is key to making everyone forget that you probably kind of blow at this. Also? Nothing downer, unless it’s hilarious, like All 4 One’s “I Swear.” No one wants to hear you wail out to T.L.C.’s ”Waterfall” or, God forbid, Oasis’ “Wonderwall.” Save that for the car. (Not applicable when driving in Southeast D.C.)

3. DO NOT choose one of the most cliché karaoke songs ever. It makes the bartender groan because you are now that person that put on “Friends in Low Places” or ”Don’t Stop Believin’” for the eleventy millionth time . I don’t care if it reminds you of college and a time when you didn’t know what IBS was. Do not be That Guy/Girl.

(…Let someone else do it. Because I guarantee they will, and then you get to sing it anyway. God, I love those songs.)

Once you take the stage, which should be earlier on the night (you don’t want to have to follow anything awesome- you want to BE the awesome!)… anyhoo, you’re going to want to have a set of decent and/or ridiculous but wholly entertaining dance moves at your disposal. These will be helpful during musical interludes, places where you flat out forget lines or totally lose the beat, or to dodge items should they start, um… coming your way. (Remember the five D’s: dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge!)

There’s really only one word you need to know to give a unique and memorable karaoke performance:

COMMITMENT.

Don’t half-ass it, folks. If you suck, suck royally. If you dance, dance your heart out. If you don’t know the words, sing louder. OWN your time on that stage. Own it hard.

Whether you like it or not, friend, you’re putting on a show. You might as well make it epic… for better or for worse.

***Update!

Addendum: When coming to the grandiose finish of your performance, no matter WHAT song you’re singing, you must thrust your arms in the air in a “V for Victory!” fashion and shout, “KNIBB HIGH FOOTBALL RULES!!!!!!!!!!”

That is all.***

Today, I am at the office.

It is, thanks to snOMG, the first time since last Thursday.

All week, I’ve heard growing moans of despair as the District announced snow day after snow day.

To the moaners I say… What. The. Fuck. Is wrongwithyou???

Every night this week, B and I waited anxiously to be granted yet another day of heaven in our cocoon of cat, food, booze, not showering, and Netflix on demand. We rooted for the Impossibly Corny Newscasters as though they were announcing the lottery, and exploded with high fives and fist pumps every time the Federal Government’s roulette coin landed on “snow day – white.”

Every night, we were rewarded.

Until last night.

I know it was greedy. I know it was selfish. I know people out there were without power or internet or their sanity and I sympathize with them- I do.

But for me? This week was a gift from the ancient gods. Something so magical it would never have occurred to me to do, and therefore all the more special…

A ONE-WEEK STAYCATION.

Followed by a long weekend.

DC may know it as the Snowpocalypse of 2010… I will remember it as the week all my dreams came true.

Oh, and also the week we learned that Axe Murderer barks at squirrels when we’re gone all day. First Murray fetching, now this? I guess I was wrong when I told B he couldn’t turn the cats into dogs…

(Hopefully you can hear the audio- my work computer’s speaker isn’t powerful enough. But if you can’t, isn’t she preeeeeeeeeeeeeeetty?)

.

.

.

P.S. My lovely friend Stevie in Seattle’s brother is currently serving America the Beautiful in Iraq, and soon he will make a lucky woman his bride. Please click here to read their story on Stevie’s site and vote for him and his fiance to give them the wedding of their dreams!!!

Recently, I’ve been getting a lot of emails about finding one’s “voice,” a la blog.

(At least, I hope y’all meant blogs… I can’t help you with your press releases and such. I before e, mofos.)

Anyhoo, they send me these emails because- get this- they seem to think I’ve found MINE.

I know. I know.

And every time I get one of those, it sort of takes me aback. “Did they send this to the right person… Do they really mean MY little mess of a corner?”

This is all a bit odd for me. Now, I don’t deny that I am- currently- one big bag of personality. For better or for worse, ya love me or hate me. Holy Hell… I’ve become a Kardashian!!

But, my dear friends, and you knew there was a “but”… ’twas not always this way.

{insert shimmery “Saved by the Bell”-style fade out to a time long ago…}

dee dee dee dee, dee dee dee dee… okay I’m done.

Confession: When I was in 7th grade, I used to lock myself in closets and cry, because I thought I was so…

wait for it…

BORING.

(Sidebar: Sorry for that time at Steve’s house when you all really thought I was dead, Mom. I think I fell asleep. They must use fancy fabric softener or something.)

You see, I was part of a group… and we had the “funny” friend. The “tomboy” friend. The “boy-crazy” one, the “good-at-sports” one and the “smart” one.

And none of them were me.

I couldn’t figure out where I fit in. I was like a gay boy at a Texan high school with no musical theater program through which to find my true calling.

To be fair, this was also SEVENTH GRADE, when I’m pretty sure everyone and their mom felt like that. Or at least felt shitty about themselves in some way. Maybe you should all send me junior high pictures of yourselves so I feel better. Please?

God, this is turning into a therapy session. Okay, out of the Trust Tree and back into the real world. (Just not Real World DC. They really are boring.) The point is, eventually I found my goddamn voice or personality or chi or whatever the fuck you want to call it. And it took three things…

1. Time. As in growing up (and into my big ole nose) and all that.
2. Taking risks, like moving to the south, or getting a Brazilian. And lastly,
3. Putting myself out there. NOT IN THE SEXY WAY, you pervs. Like, metaphorically, and shit.

What do those three things add up to? That’s right, class. Say it with me: EXPERIENCE.

And so it shall be with your blog. There’s no escaping it- it won’t take off if you huddle in your corner of the interwebs wondering if anyone will notice you, crying in your e-closet. And Steve’s mom won’t be there to eventually find you, dry your eyes, give you a cookie, and call your mom to come get her bag of crazy-ass daughter.

Write. Write well, and openly, and as often as you can. Every time you hit “publish” your voice will become stronger, your direction more apparent. But that, of course, is only half of it.

GET OUT THERE. Think of the blogosphere as one big dating field. How will anyone know you exist if you don’t say “hi”? Then maybe they see your comment and come over, they say hi too… oh look, you even have stuff in common! Let me take you out for an e-drink, i.e. give you an “award” or tag you in a meme or add you to my blogroll, and then other people e-meet you too, and so on and so forth!

The fantastic difference between dating and blogging is you can connect with as many people as you want. Um, I think I just compared blogging to polygamy… hmm. Well, how bout we just don’t tell B about that handie you’re giving me under the e-table and leave it at that?

Anyhoo, I think this place is kind of great. And if you think so too, and you want to be a part of it… make yourself heard. With time, your voice will develop, and who knows… you might just find the Zach to your Slater out here.

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.

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

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

Last weekend, B and a friend headed to the Leesburg outlets while I met the girls for brunch.

“Buy me something!” I yelled, as I left our apartment in search of bacon and champagne.

I know. I’m subtle like that.

A few hours later, we reconvened at home, where the proud little five year old in him showed me his shiny new toys; a lovely suit, a new tie, etc. And then…

“I got you something too!” He beamed, and tossed a bag onto the bed. I scampered over and tore it open, to find what seemed to be a pair of running shorts.

“Oh, thanks babe! You remembered I need new running stuff!” I shook them open and held them up to see what they were like.

And quickly realized that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. As in, too-much-material and no-leg-holes wrong.

“Um… did you just buy me a skort?” I asked accusingly, and immediately twittered.

It turned out to not be a skort, but a “running skirt” with underoo netting, which my running pro friend Kbo assured me was all the rage now in Charleston. So I packed it up the next morning, intending to give it a try at my lunch hour workout.

Noon rolled around and I begrudgingly headed down to the gym. I suited up in my workout attire, skirt and all.

It was (bulky) fuscia with running stripes… and I looked absolutely ridiculous.

But when has that ever stopped me from anything before?

Now, I’ve worked out enough where I know you’re better off using the restroom beforehand, rather than experiencing the need during. So, I popped into a stall, and delighted with the easy-access design of the skirt for the first time, I whipped it up, and, ahem, began to, ah,well… tinkle, if you will.

(Most of you probably won’t.)

Immediately, I felt that something was very, very wrong. And also my thighs were  kind of hot. And not in a good way.

I looked down, and realized that while the skirt did indeed flip up easily for accessibility…

The underwear netting beneath it certainly did not.

Awk.

Ward.

Sigh. All I can say is, if anyone asks me when the last time I peed my pants was, I’m totally going to lie… because I was NOT wearing pants. I was wearing a goddamn running skort that can go get the freaking swine flu, for all I care.

So THERE!

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

Were you expecting a “Post Secret” TMI Thursday? Well, I need more entries! You can use the top secret anonymous email account to send it in (Gmail, username tmithursday, password tmit1234), and send them to me at heylivitluvit at gmail dot com. I suggest the free photo editing website Fotoflexer to make it super duper easy.

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

Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who <3s sluts and hula hoops (TMI Thursday!)

LivingWicked’s TMIThursday: Eye Will Try Anything … Once.

spleen’s The ass is out of the bag. (TMI Thursday)

P’s TMI THURSDAY : AND THIS WEEK, TMI STANDS FOR . . .

Carissa Jade’s TMI: Vlog- I love deers and peeing

Sebastian’s Penises are not as great as you might think

Griffin’s TMI Thursday: When my phone decides to become a Fish

Just Another Momma’s TMI Thursday – Out Of Which End?

shine’s TMI Thursday – No, but really…this happened.

Daffy’s TMI Thursday: Jose Cuervo and Cookies

Lucy’s TMI Thursday:This is so wrong and yet so funny!

Travis’ TMI Thursday: Yes, I Have Balls That Can Write…

saratogajean’s Usually this would CLEAR a room

Mary’s TMIT: Kitchen Mishap

Dani’s TMI Thursday: There are some shames that cannot be washed away by cheap beer…

Hillbilly Duhn’s TMI Thursday – Anything you can do I can do better!

Lisa’s TMI Thursday: Uterus in Revolt

lnicole’s TMI Thursdays: I Hate Showering

Tricia’s TMIT: Up Close and Personal

Carol’s TMI Thursday

Insomniac Lolita’s TMI Thursday : Can I Get a “Chivas”?

Jeff’s i am a highly trained computer technician

the iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: The Shaking of the Bed

ClevelandPoet’s Jimi’s pussy twofer or TMI Thursday

Ms.Terri’s Guess what, cigarette butt? Mr. Sister is here!

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: peel the onion

Dual Mom’s TMI Thursday – Cougars On The Prowl

Joshua’s TMI Thursday: Full Of It

JewliaGoulia’s TMI Thursday – 1st Edition

Wendy’s TMI Thursday: I guess I’m just that approachable, even when naked from the waist down. Wait, that came out wrong.

the ikss’ tit for tat

lebombed1’s And she’s in charge of impressionable young minds…