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.

Mama said share.

Housekeeping: As you may know, I am now at WordPress! While my url will still be http://livitluvit.com, the one problem is that if you subscribe to my posts via Google Reader or whatever, they ain’t going to show up no more.

So let’s fix that, here and now. Simply click the button below to subscribe to my NEW home via your Google or other favorite reader… thanks, lovies!

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There was a time when I thought I might want to be an event planner.

And, of course, anyone I mentioned this to immediately asked one question…

“Are you detail oriented?”

“Sure!” I always replied. I just kind of assumed that being able to run a zillion tasks in your head and the accomplish them at once (i.e., being a bartender/waitress) was pretty much the same thing.

It ain’t.

Years later, after working in fields other than food service, I have realized that I am, quite possibly, the LEAST detail-oriented person on the planet.

In the past month alone, I have made approximately 183 conflicting plans with friends and family, some of which involved very important things like Planned Trips Out of Town and B’s Parents Coming to Visit. It’s become a running joke among my besties.

And by “joke” I mean, they’ve sort of wanted to kill me a lot. Hardee har…

Sometimes I forget to WIPE, for chrissakes. (Okay, kidding. But I HAVE forgotten to flush at a few key moments… Can’t you just smell a TMIT?)

I am 25 years old, and I am already so absent-minded, if I was 80 they’d put me in a home.

And, yes, to my credit, I can do a thousand things at once… but I’ll do them completely out of order, and probably forget at least one of them.

But, here’s the thing. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and, well…

I’m okay with it.

Sometimes it’s definitely annoying, like when I take the garbage and let the door close behind me and am totally wearing booty shorts and no bra because it’s my day off and SHIT now I have to ring the neighbors’ doorbells and pray someone is home to let me in…

And of course it’s the totally straight and awkward guy from downstairs, not the charming gay guy from UPSTAIRS, who would just be all “Oh, aren’t you a hot mess!” and not try to score a peek at my blouse bunnies.

*Deep breath* So, yeah, even though stuff like that is irritating, I’m cool with it. Because I’d rather be a little scatterbrained and able to laugh at my crazy ass self, than be totally organized and pinchy-faced when things don’t go according to plan, or, yanno, so anal-retentive that I poop diamonds.

(I’ll take the diamonds, though. Sans poop, if possible, but whatevs.)

Besides, if I had my shit together… well, this blog wouldn’t be very entertaining, now, would it?

Yeah, that’s it… I’m doing it for you! I am such a giver.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Now, has anyone seen my sunglasses?

Mama said share.

All right, if everyone’s done judging me for yesterday’s TMI Thursday (I keed, I keed), let’s move on, shall we?

It’s my Friday off and my girls and I did it up right at Wonderland last night, so you all know what that means… it’s time for The Shiz My Boyfriend Says!

Here’s some precious little nuggets from the last couple weeks…

If you read yesterday, you know I’ve been a little “irregular” lately…

B: (Calls to me in the bathroom) What do you want for dinner tonight?

LiLu: Don’t talk to me when I’m on the toilet! You know I don’t like that!

B: Baby, if I didn’t talk to you when you pooped, when would I talk to you??

Minutes later, on the couch, I walk over and straddle B…

B: Ahhh! You’re sitting on me and you’re all poopsy!

While laying in bed one night…

B: Rub me! I rub you so much more than you rub me. You won’t even scratch my back for more than two seconds.

LiLu: I hate getting skin under my fingernails! It’s gross.

B: But THEN, if I ever murder you, my skin cells will be under your nails and they’ll catch me! Win!

LiLu: Oh, FINE. But only for the autopsy.

On gchat:

B: east bound and down has been renewed for a 2nd season
praise be to baby jesus
i’m so happy i’m going to finger you with my penis tonight!

Seeing that he took my laundry out of the dryer and threw it on my dresser:

LiLu: Asshat.

B: Cuntlicker.

LiLu: You WISH.

B: I do wish. (Contemplating…) Well, maybe not full-time. That would suck. Maybe part-time, like a hobby.

LiLu: Like instead of blogging? You wish I ate pussy?

B: No, you blog every day. That’s too much. Maybe as often as you do laundry.

LiLu: Once a month?

B: Sure. (Looks down) Maybe as often as you wear two matching socks.

LiLu: That’s never.

Literally five seconds ago:

B’s phone alarm goes off next to me in the living room, scaring the everlivingshit out of me. He strolls in from the bedroom, wearing a white T shirt… and nothing else.

LiLu: What the…?

B: My pants were too hot!

He turns, and strolls nonchalantly back to the bedroom. (Cute butt though.)

Oh, how I love this man.

A couple of sidenotes before you skip off to your merry weekends!

First off, if you’re coming out for Happy Hour tonight, see you there! If you’re not, your mother was a hampster and your father smelt of elderberries. If you’d LIKE to but you don’t know what the eff I’m talking about, email me at livitluvit at livitluvit dot com and we shall remedy that immediately.

Second, mucho mucho grande thanks to Maegan from …Love Maegan, Bon Don from “Who Throws a Cupcake? Honestly,” Muppet Soul, The Rambling Diva from C’est What??, and LUCKLYS!!! (I’M SORRY I FORGOT!!!) from how lucky we are for bestowing some kickass awards on me this week! These awesome ladies all ROCK MY WORLD (and not just cause they love me, snort), so go check ‘em out, stat.

Happy weekend, chucklefucks!

Mama said share.

It’s lazy hungover Friday! And you all know what that means…

That I gagged a little bit when I brushed my teeth this morning.

Oh, no? That’s not what you were thinking? Well, okay, fine. I guess we’ll just move on… to another installment of The Shiz My Boyfriend Says! (He had some big-deal-thingy on the Hill this morning, so this can be my congratulations present to him when it goes well.) (Hopefully it goes well.) (And I’m not even sure if he likes these or not.)

Anyway! Here we go…

Contemplating one of the first weekends we spent together, watching all three seasons of Arrested Development…

B: Maybe we should have another AD marathon, like when we fell in love.

LiLu: Yeah! I let Fearless borrow Season 2 though…

B: You gave half our love away!?! How could you!

One morning in bed…

LiLu: Your breath smells like spoiled milk.

B: What??

LiLu: No, seriously. You just breathed out on me and I swear, spoiled milk.

B: Your FACE smells like goat asshole! (Mutters under breath) Goaty-ass bitch.

On the couch, B notices that I’m wearing a USMC shirt.

B: Marines? Where did that shirt come from?

LiLu: Ummm… (knowing very well it came from Parris Island where my HS boyfriend was at boot camp)… but it’s my most comfortable T-shirt!

B: You slut! Fine. I’m wearing UNDERWEAR that an ex-girlfriend gave me. After she wore them… AND pooped in them! I’m wearing someone else’s poop. THAT’S fucking intimate.

LiLu: My tummy hurts.

B: Fart it out.

LiLu: I’m trying…

B: Don’t push too hard… don’t poop the bed!

LiLu: Would you still love me?

B: A little less… but yes, I would still love you.

Later that day, walking home from the grocery store.

LiLu: *Burp* Do you love me less?

B: No, baby, I love you the same.

LiLu: But you’ll love me less if I poop the bed?

B: What? No, I won’t love you anymore if you poop the bed.

LiLu: But this morning you said you’d only love me a little less!

B: Nope, that’s a deal breaker. I’m changing my mind.

LiLu: There’s no take-backs!

B: If you poop the bed you’ll be out on your ear. Without a bed to poop in.

LiLu: Did you just say “out on your ear”? Who even says that?

B: Me. And old people.

Happy Friday, my little loveducks! Stick it to someone tonight:

Mama said share.