So, you may have heard about this little “awards show” that’s happening on Sunday. I’m not allowed to mention it by name for top secret legal reasons I don’t understand (see sponsored note below), but I’m pretty sure y’all know the one I mean. The one about all the TV shows, with the prizes that are shiny orbs, and most importantly, they brought one of my favorite Brits BACK to host again after he brutally trashed nearly all of America’s Hollywood royalty last year. Which, let’s be honest, I thoroughly enjoyed every second of.

So this year, I plan on backing Ricky up with some cutting witticisms of my own on the tweets, with the help of my three new sassy gay roommates. WATCH OUT.

Why? Because Lean Pockets is hosting a Twitter party for their Live Famously Sweepstakes during the show this year, which means that myself and a bunch of other lovely ladies will all be live tweeting the awards, AND giving away free swag to you all to boot. Each of us will be raffling off a Live Famously swag bag full of all sorts of lovely, shiny things (most notably a $50 spa gift card, what what!)

Even cooler, the #LiveFamously Twitter party is merely a taste of the actual Sweepstakes, which are being hosted by one Perez Hilton and involves a grand prize of a trip to Tinseltown to hang out with him. (NBD.)

The winner and a BFF will be flown to LA to, quite literally, “live like a celeb” for a day. This involves ridiculously fun things like a swanky hotel stay, car service, a $1k shopping spree, a $250 spa experience, and a special concert experience, all hosted by Perez. Imagine how much celeb dirt you’d hear? Answer: ALL OF IT.

The promotion goes until March 31, so you have plenty of time to win one of their daily prizes as well – just head over to their Facebook page for all the deets.

And don’t forget to hang with me at the Twitter party (PANTS OFF DANCE OFF!!! – you know, since we’ll all be at home on our couches in our adult onesies, amiright?) starting this Sunday, 7pm ET! There will be snark and snark and FREE STUFF (and more snark) galore.

~~~~~

FYI! This post (and my pending tweets on Sunday) are sponsored by Nestlé/Lean Pockets. Yes, they totally gave me money for this, but all opinions are very much my own, as is the sass they come with.

Mama said share.

You will succeed with our business magazines.

Whenever I come across someone who it would be beneficial for me to know more about, I turn to the Goog to see what kind of profiles pop up for them. Where do they work, and what professional connections might I have to them? (LinkedIn.) Who are they having conversations with, what are they talking about, and what would a tiny snapshot of them look like (e.g., what’s really important to them)? (Twitter.) What friends or groups do we have in common, and how much do you opt to share with the public on your profile? (Facebook). Never mind what happens AFTER we become Facebook friends…

And this is just “new person” stalking. I also have my routines for general passive stalking, natch. I look through wedding photos of those high school friends I don’t talk to anymore (mostly to see who got fat, since generally my entire high school is AT said wedding. Very few of us make it out of Worcester, Massachusetts, y’all).

I get notified from the Job Change Notifier when you change job titles on LinkedIn. I follow your conversation threads on Twitter to see who or what you’re passive aggressively tweeting about. I ponder your hopes and dreams on Pinterest, what you think is funny on Tumblr, and now thanks to Instagram, I know everything there is to know about your pets.

My point is this: I do all of this without having a vested interest in you. Do you really think someone looking to HIRE you wouldn’t do the same?

I’ve had a few alarming conversations with people lately who still think that privacy on the interwebs is a real thing. Kids, that time has come and gone. If you put it in e-print, it’s officially Out There. The possibility for anyone, anywhere to see it now exists, no matter how tight on lock down you think you’ve got it.

{read the rest of this post on my new Gen Y and social media blog, “Get Connected”}

Mama said share.

Shop for cheap magazine subscriptions on sale every day.

As it turns out, something fairly simple, actually…

Maxie on the left, Jenn on top, mine on the right.

This week while at the beach, we finally got the “hashtats” we’ve been talking about since we dreamed them up in Vegas. And before you try to tell me that Twitter won’t last forever (insert Captain Obvious joke here), this symbol isn’t about my favorite social networking site. It’s representative of everything wonderful in my life I owe to social media, most importantly, the two BFFs who got it with me (soon to be three, Cara!!) - friends I never, ever would have met without blogging, the tweeter, and all the rest. I think my girl Meghan said it best…

“	#FF to @rachaelgk and @ihatesomuch for proving in ink this week that the friends you make on the Internet sometimes last a lifetime xo
	PirateMeghan June 24, 2011

powered by Storify

It’s cute, it’s teal, it makes me smile every time I see it, and it looks hot in heels.

I? Am in love.

Mama said share.

Today is a big day, friends. Today is the day I retire my @livitluvit twitter handle for something more grown-uppy and profesh. (Does being an adult mean I can’t use the word “profesh”? Probably. LE SIGH.)

It is with a lot of relief, actually, that I leave behind @livitluvit, which kind of sounds like a 7th grader’s AIM screen name (KIT! LYLAS!!!)… for the much more mature and adulty:

@rachaelgk.

Doesn’t it sound like that person probably has fancy scarves, and knows how to wear them? She probably never forgets to cut off that thread-thingy on the bottom of skirts and jackets. I’m sure she doesn’t swear in front of children at brunch, and she’s probably never told a bathroom joke to a complete stranger in her life.

Well, I don’t know how many people I’ll fool into thinking I might be that lady, but you can’t blame a girl for trying. (And if you do happen to see my tag sticking out, thereby alerting you to the fact that my shirt’s on inside out… let a girl know, hmm?)

P.S. If you’re a lady in or just out of college, let me know in the comments if you wouldn’t mind answering five very QUICK research questions! You’ll be doing me a huge favor and… well basically, that’s it. But that counts for something, right? **HUGS**

All good on the survey front! Thanks so much for all the help!

Mama said share.

Save 66% on an Us Weekly subscription with no auto renewal.

Now, I can dress myself. Rather well, I might add. BUT.

I am, like most of the female population, one of those girls who never has anything to wear. I can barely get into my walk-in closet thanks to all the crap in there, and this is still the case. I buy pieces that I love, but have trouble turning them into outfits. It takes me twenty minutes just to pick my clothes in the morning, and I generally go through five outfits before I find something I don’t hate.

This should not be the case.

So when I saw the opportunity to have a “strategic shopping” session with Kaarin Moore of Closet Caucus that promised to help me sort through my wardrobe woes, I was curious. And after I googled a bit, I decided that she sounded legit (and just lovely to boot), so why not give it a shot?

(She’s also on Twitter, which automatically makes me like any company about 50% more.)

Before our session, she asked me a zillion questions about my style, personality, and what I liked to do. (Me: “Does ‘mimosas’ count as a hobby?”) So when we met up in Georgetown last week, she already had a solid idea of where I was coming from and what I needed to accomplish. We spent a while discussing what I had in my wardrobe already (thereby determining which staples we were on the hunt for that day), and discussing strategies for optimizing my closet as a whole, so that my pieces would all easily fit together and I’d never be left struggling with that WHAT TO WEAR?! question again.

Next, we hit the streets. First, I needed the perfect Little Black Dress, as I hate the 10 or so already in my closet. About five minutes later, we walked out of White House Black Market with an absolutely perfect, high quality, flattering LBD. You’ll probably see it on me at the next happy hour, so get ready, y’all.

After that, JEANS. We headed into Levi’s (Her: “Levi’s has been doing great things lately…” Me: “I don’t care what the label says, as long as they make my ass look good.”) and headed upstairs… to see 4,294 pairs of jeans. I trembled in fear, while Kaarin marched me to a dressing room and returned in five minutes with three pairs.

The first fit well, but wasn’t quite IT.

The second was so perfect, I didn’t even try on the third.

Yes, that’s right. Homegirl found my Cinderella Jeans in TWO. TRIES.

We hit a few other stores where I found some perfect summer dresses for my weddings and conferences I have this summer, a couple adorable cardis, and more. The whole time I was completely comfortable – shopping with Kaarin was honestly more like shopping with a BFF who really knew her shit. (I didn’t hold back – she got the full Rachael… and she didn’t bat an eye. This chick? Is cool.)

The one thing I couldn’t find was the perfect black blazer. A few hours after our session, Kaarin emailed me a link to the exact kind we’d been looking for.

She also sent me an invite to ideeli.com, which, after looking around there, means my wallet is in a LOT of trouble. (If you want an invite, let me know in the comments. I’ll make it happen.)

Now, I know this whole thing sounds like she paid me tons of money to write it.

She didn’t. Not a cent. But after telling a few of my besties about it, they all said they’d be interested in something like this, so I wanted to share. (She’ll also come over to your house and clean out your closet for you, which will probably be my next purchase…)

Anyway, the only thing I’m getting out of this writeup is a 10% discount for you:

Closet Caucus is a fashion and wardrobe consulting company located in Washington, DC. Stylist Kaarin Moore was inspired to start her own business when she found herself becoming the go-to shopping companion for her friends and their friends. Kaarin has a passion for helping clients, from those who are body conscious to clients who are completely uninhibited.

So go forth and fix your wardrobes, ladies. And do it under the guiding hand of Kaarin Moore. (Cinderella jeans. TWO TRIES. You just can’t beat that.)

Mama said share.

There are many different types of blogs in this world. Industry blogs, dating blogs, financial blogs, news blogs, pop culture blogs, mommy blogs… you name it, someone’s writing about it.

But what I consider this place to be, and the type of blog I relate to, are “lifestyle” blogs. People who talk about the interesting things that happen to them; momentous life events, hopes and dreams, funny stories, and the like. And if I had to wager a guess, the vast majority of posts from these blogs involve one little thing we can ALL relate to:

VENTING.

Delightfully exaggerated, unadulterated hatred for the minute, yet uncompromisingly annoying day-ins and day-outs of our lives. The endless atrocities that strangers, traffic, and small children commit against us each and every day. Dare I say, a lot of this very blog revolves around such things; in fact, if you click on my post category “hatred“, there are some 25 posts there alone. While I don’t think this is unusual, as writing is often a therapeutic outlet for frustration, I do sometimes worry that all you guys see of me is the haterade. It’s only natural- we as humans are much more likely to share a bad experience than a good one, because dammit, commiseration feels GOOD, yo. But I don’t want that to be the only side of me shown here.

Truly, I am a lover. I love LOTS of stuff. I love dive bars, wine, red meat, brunch, cats, rollercoasters, cheeseburgers, and- believe it or not- even a sizeable handful of people in this world.

(Sidebar: while we’re on this topic, are you one of those people who says you “love to laugh” in your social media bio? Because ZOMG YOU MUST BE THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD WHO LIKES THAT! You are so original. I bet you also don’t like having the flu, and that you prefer Fridays to Mondays! Let’s bond over our mutual affinity for being happy rather than sad together!!)

Whoops… a little venting fell out. Moving on!

So, to mix it up, here’s some of the GOOD in my life – those little things that will make me love you, almost as quickly as standing on the left side of the escalator will make me shank you.

What?

Things That Will Make Me Instantly Adore You:

(thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much!)

Making a “there’s always money in the banana stand…” reference.

Belting out a song in public, karaoke or impromptu. (Extra points as the song gets more embarrassing.)

Giving your seat on the bus to a lady, a munchkin, someone older, etc.

Being fully aware of, accepting, and openly discussing your flaws (not in a debbie-downer way; just a self aware, “I’m working on this” way).

Admitting when you’re wrong.

Giving me an honest opinion in the dressing room. I am depending on you to set me up for (booty) success, here.

Expressing a love for meat. (Extra points for meat wrapped in other meat.)

YES and also PLEASE.

Not being afraid to cancel our grandiose plans of sight-seeing or museums in favor of getting tipsy and people watching. (Also see: recognizing the inherent value in getting tipsy and people watching).

Showing up at my house with an awesomely bad movie and three bottles of wine… for the two of us.

Openly weeping tearing up at children’s movies. (Up, Wall-E, Toy Story 3, I’m looking at you.)

Getting me a wee present when you go on vacation, just because you wished I was there.

Knowing that women have a right to their bodies, and everyone has a right to get married.

Only judging me a little when I openly mock jeggings for months, and then maybe sort of buy a pair… (only for boots! I swear!)

Tipping the bartender… well.

Not having a ginormous stick up your ass. (This shouldn’t be as hard to find as it is.)

Surrounding yourself with quality people who are funny, welcoming, and also don’t have ginormous sticks up their asses.

Come to think of it, I may just change my Twitter bio to “I totally don’t have a stick up my ass, even if I did hypocritically buy a pair of jeggings.” Thoughts?

Mama said share.

So, I may have mentioned before that I’ve never seen Glee. And before you yell at me and tell me how zomg it is the amazeballs!!!!! - it’s not that I didn’t want to; I just missed half of the first season and I can’t stand starting shows halfway through YES EVEN IF IT DOESN’T REALLY MATTER FOR THE STORY (call it an OCD thing), and then suddenly it was season two and then two and a half or some shit and frankly, I have like 9 seasons of the Real Housewives to keep me occupied so I figured I’d just get around to it sometime, ya dig?

Well, I’ve recently discovered that A) you can rent awesome shows from iTunes and play them on your iPad for 99 cents, and B) 45 minute elliptical workouts are a hell of a lot better when you’re watching something that you adore and not freaking ESPN 8, a la Espanol to one side and C-SPAN to the other because apparently the people on either side of you at the gym prefer to be BORED OUT OF THEIR SKULLS on the treadmill. Maybe it’s a tactic to black out ever having gone at all, so you don’t remember how miserable it is? Either way, not my cup of tea.

SO. Once I put this magical possibility together in my head, I realized that Glee is available for iTunes “renting” and it is a glorious 43 minutes per episode. AKA the perfect length for a workout, and bonus- whenever I’m feeling extra tired, a musical number kicks in! THANKS KURT-AS-BEYONCE, I NEEDED THAT.

Now sneak attack back to the ring!!!

Mmmm hmmmmm. Work that sass, ladiiiiiiiiiies!

Anyway.

So yes, folks. I am officially a Gleek, and loving it. The hardest part is that I’m only allowing myself to watch it when I’m working out, so I foresee a LOT of gym hours in my future.

(Clearly, I’m not above treating myself like a five year old who wants a candy bar if it will get my ass on the treadmill. Only my Snickers is the Acafellas, and my Reeses is watching Sue Sylvester take you down a peg or eighteen.)

Oh and, sidebar… make sure no one’s around when you watch the scene where Kurt comes out to his dad. Because HOLY TEARBALLS, BATMAN.

If you like this post, I actually run a community blog called In It To GYM It with 100+ contributors, all… you guess it… In It To GYM It. If that’s your bag, feel free to check us out over there.

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.

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.

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?!)

Mama said share.