One of the assistants I work with is newly knocked up. (Yes, it was on purpose, but using that phrase makes me feel like I’m fighting back- just the tiniest bit- against all the MIRACLE OF LIFE talk up in here since she announced her Baby On Board status).

This event, of course, has given every woman in our very large department cause to stop by, congratulate, and of course, share their own entirely-not-work-appropriate pregnancy and labor war stories. As I sit a mere half dozen feet away from said assistant, it has been my distinct displeasure to hear every. single. ONE of them.

And I sit at my computer and type away furiously, ignoring them as hard as I possibly can… that is, until yesterday:

Random Coworker: When I was pregnant, I had this big bump under my belly button. We thought it was the baby’s heel, so we kept telling it “oh, we love you! Look at your strong feet!” etc. etc… Then I went to the doctor for an ultrasound and she told me, “Oh, that’s a hernia.”

Preggers: Oh… my… um… what was it like?

Random Coworker: Oh, just this large, spongy tissue thing. I had surgery to have it removed afterwards.

Me: *VOMITS*

Let’s break down how I felt about that, a la GIFs that @elizabethtalks sends me all day at work to cheer me up:

First, it was a whole lotta this:

And then a hefty side of that:

Topped off with a healthy dose of this:

And, from now on? I will be taking an unscheduled pee break whenever someone comes by and sing-songs How ya doooooin’?? to Preggers. Because, frankly, I like my lunch to stay in my stomach.

Also? Someone PLEASE to find me a new job. Seriously. Email me. … Preferably before we enter the third trimester.

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

Mama said share.

Okay, people. I know you want your Vegas. Get the fuck ready, cause I’m not holding back. 

My ten favorite most memorable things that I wish I could scrub from my brain with a razor blade, a la Vegas… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

1. Whenever Maxie, RS27, Lbluca77, Shine, Mary and I are in a room together, someone’s going to get hurt. (Pride not included.) Also, this only makes me love them more, which is scientifically impossible but still true. 

RS27′s arm after battling Maxie’s curling iron: 

Maxie managed to keep a picture of her head wound from being taken, but… 

And finally, this is my own UDI (Unidentified Drunk Injury): 

That’s what happens when you snuggle Maxie too hard, I suppose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

2. Doing a party dress fashion show (fashion show! fashion show! fashion show at LUNCH!) that involved me changing multiple times in what I did not know was an entirely see-through closet. In a hotel room full of people. And none of them TOLD me. 

Also see: me asking Shine to zip up one of said dresses. “No, really. Go ahead. Just pinch me if you have to! PINCH IT!!! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

3. Finding these shirts in Wisconsin: 

Words clearly not necessary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

4. Discovering the art of fake retweeting friends on twitter. See Exhibits A through E. Okay, and F. (Btw that last one totally backfired on her, because some dude DM’d her “Not to be dirty… But the footjob tweet was f*cking hot! ” 

Ew ew gross get me a shower holy vomit in my hair GROSS. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

5. Sharing raunchy sex stories in one of the hotel rooms with some two dozen ladies… and RS27. 

That's about right.

My own submission? Walking in on my grandparents doing it. 

God, I’m great at parties. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

6. Surprise Trust-Falling Rachel into the pool. And by trust-falling, I mean surprise dive-bombing. She’s a sport, y’all. I did at least asked if she minded getting wet first. I did not, however, wait for an answer before shouting “TWSS!!!!!!” and launching our bodies into the air. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

7. Friday night dance party was the most magical thing ever. Two things everyone from Vegas now knows about me: 

A. If you put me in the center of the dance circle, the grand finale of my repertoire will probably be flashing the girls at my love bunnies, Katelin and Vixations. 

B. If a guy from a group of creepy straight boys passive aggressively unpops the collar of our favorite gay because he has the jealousies, I will bitch slap him upside his head. That is all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

8. Maxie, RS27 and I dancing through the hotel singing the Always Sunny Dayman and Troll Toll songs from start to finish. Like, a dozen times. How did we not get beat up, bozos??? 

“Stage freeze!” “Don’t SAY stage freeze, just do it!!!” 

This is how you dooo iiiiiiiiiiit. (This is how you do it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

9. Face-licking the hell out of Chelsea the moment I met her. I mean full-on tongue, to the ear, people. AND YOU ALL THOUGHT I WOULDN’T DO IT. 

Also, she rocks. See? 

No drop of beer shall go undrunk! Undranken? My head hurts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

10. Zomg, I’m still hungover. I quit. Here’s a bunch of pretty pictures. 

We're on a PLANE!!!

Proof that Maxie is an elf.

Proof that I need a helmet.

Look! I'm normal sometimes!

Jay kaying, jay kaying. Never normal.

Adam Lambert, I mean RS27's boyfriend, I mean Ben.

Apparently, Ben thinks I should inform you guys that this was a theme party. LIKE YOU DON’T WEAR THAT EVERYDAY. Not buying it.

GIVE ME YOUR HAIRRRRRRRRRRRR (ps love you Katelin!)

Bottle service. YES WE ARE THAT BADASS. Bishes.

Finally, I have my own Ebony to my Ivory!

Me OWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Airport french fry breakfast. And yes, my shirt says "Bayside High Technology Team." You may judge me for neither.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Everyone who came, it was a blast meeting all of you. I only wish we’d had more time and less tequila. 

LOVE YOUR FACES. 

Now excuse me while I go throw up.

UPDATE: Yes yes yes Maxie has surrendered a picture of the head wound!!! Here it is in all its purple glory…

Mama said share.

It’s bad enough that everyone is posting about being  So Excited! About! Fall! The only reason I’m even slightly glad it’s getting colder is because I’ll reallllllly enjoy being in Costa Rica in a few weeks. After that? Hell. Frozen over HELL until what, May? As much as I try to convince myself that winter’s all about snuggling under a quilt from Gramma with the one I love, giving each other Eskimo kisses while we sip hot chocolate next to a fireplace…

It’s freaking NOT.

Winter sucks. All of it. At least in Massachusetts we could pretend to go skiing on one of our “mountains” every once in a while, which in no way made up for five months of ice/snow/sleet/hail/freezing rain, but at least flying down a hill on a Sno Tube while you fear for your life and the possibility you might lose an eye in the woods at the bottom is kinda fun.

(What can I say. I live dangerously.)

But here in the District, there’s no snow to speak of. It’s just gray and mush and God’s frozen tears covering the land, while I try not to get plowed (twss) by the 42 bus on the walk to work. Because, yanno, the busses are always FULL when it’s cold and gross out, so there’s no point in waiting for one to zip by you.

At least they’re heavier when they do kill you, so it’s over quicker, I’d imagine.

But none of these things account for why I truly hate the weather getting colder. These things are a nuisance, to be sure, but I am a Masshole, after all. I will live.

No, my friends. The reason I REALLY hate the chill of the months that end in ‘Ber, is because of my one true nemesis…

EL PUMPKIN.

I can just hear it mocking me… it and its little green ghouls!

The evil, evil pumpkin and I go way back, to the time it made me hurl an entire Thanksgiving dinner at the tender age of ten. And I ask you to consider, my friends… what was the last thing I’d eaten?!

That’s right, my friends. PUMPKIN PIE. All I saw for the next two hours of food poisony vomiting was that cinnamon-speckled orange goop, mocking me as I prayed to the porcelain gods.

Now the very smell of those repulsive, stringy, George Hamilton-colored innards make me gag and run for cover. I’d rather sit in John Goodman’s fart stank cloud than be in a room with El Pumpkin.

I spend every holiday meal in fear of the end, when an evil convert of El Pumpkin may try to voraciously foist their master’s gelatinous pie form upon me, banking on my good manners that I will be unable to refuse. The pie is the most offensive of El Pumpkin’s pulpy shapes, but not the sneakiest. Oh no, my friends. That honor belongs to the one and only…

PUMPKIN SCENTED CANDLE.

That’s right, people. As if the pumkin pie and the pumpkin cookies and the pumkin bread weren’t bad enough, now El Pumpkin has found a way to infiltrate my BREATHING AIR. He’s gone biological warfare on me, folks.

But alas, it doesn’t end there. As one final grand insult to injury, the corporate demon Starbucks has joined forces with The Dark Pumpkin Lord, and somehow devised an evil potion that has all of the people nearest and dearest to me constantly singing the Pulpy Prince’s praises! The Facebooks and the Twitterings are haunted by one deadly phrase… Pumpkin Spiced Latte. It would seem that only a few strong souls are able to resist its nutmeggy charms… and we are so overwhelmingly outnumbered, the fight ahead of us seems impossible.

But somehow, some way… I must rid the world of the mind controlling chemical “Pumpkin Spiced Latte,” and free my friends from the control of the evildoer, so that we may live our sad little wintery lives in peace once more.

Mama said share.

I want to write a recap. I really, really do.

But honestly… there is just no way I could EVER do this weekend justice. It would be impossible to truly capture. But, for you… I’m going to try.

Use your words…

My favoritest things about this past weekend, a la bullets.

• Maxie admitting she likes 30 Rock.
• All 50 of us bursting into song at Stetson’s. “You say she’s just a friend, but you say she’s just a friend OH BABY YOU!!!!!!!!”
• Actually, all of us bursting into song all weekend long.
• Finally at long last convincing f.B and B to perform “Ebony and Ivory” at karaoke. And by “convincing” I mean “writing their names on the list so they had no choice in the matter”.
• Meeting all the people I’d never groped in person before.
• Stealth-salting everything and everyone in sight.
• Someone shouting “INTERVENTION!!!!!!!!” every 30 seconds.
• Lexa going rampant on people’s heinies all Saturday.
• Much needed brunches and bacon Bloody Marys at Matchbox and Bar Pilar, with a side of laughing so hard it hurt… the entire time.
• Getting awesome and hilarious presents like a pictoral collection of cats wearing wigs, children’s Pooping Instructional books, a penis ice luge, “dirty” Mad Libs, Firefly sweet tea vodka, a pet Snuggie (box altered a la Sharpie to be for a cat instead of dog), a plastic guitar I can drink out of, engraved goblets with our wedding date, some Spanish pornos, an “I Love Jesus” shot glass, some Flava Flav-esque bling, and way, WAY too many vodka and sodas.
• The bartender’s t-shirt at Stetson’s that said “I heart peeing”.
• B treating me like a pretty, pretty princess on my birthday weekend.
• Not vomiting once. (Well, at least not until MONDAY morning… it counts!)
• The sombrero that mysteriously appeared and danced its way over the heads of all #pbandtuna participants.
• Epic dance offs all over the goshdarn place.
• Little lip-liner hearts appearing on people’s chesticles throughout the evening.
• Me going absolutely POSTAL on a strange man who tried to kiss me and pretty much every girl there… and terrifying him to the point that he actually left the bar within about 10 seconds. Do not fuck with me on my special day, Creepy McCreeperson. YOU WILL LOSE.

Our fabulous wedding guests were…

(I hope to Chuck Norris I am not leaving anyone out. PLEASE let me know if I do and I will fix and give you a free dumpster baby or a Tootsie Roll pop or something as reparations.)

12 Minds, A, Alice, anoukange, B, Cavy, Cleveland’s A Plum, Deutlich, dmb5_ libra, DMBosstone, Dysfunction Junction, f.B, flippy, Ginger Mandy, jenniferalaine, JerzeyGrrl, JP, Just A Girl, KassyK, Katertot, Katie Rose, Late- Night Drama Queen, Lemmonex, Lusty Reader, M (Only One Way Down), Malnurtured Snay, Marie, Maxie, Mr. 5280, Pithy Comments, PQ, Rachel Smiles, Restaurant Refugee, Shine Out Loud, Suburban Sweetheart, thebestmichelle, Urban Bohemian,and last but certainly not least, What A Grand World. 

I could not have asked for a better group of people, for reals. And so, as a very special (shameful) treat, I’ve decided to make your ears bleed with a video of the song I serenaded my fiancee with at karaoke on Friday night… there are no words. Please to enjoy.

I’m so ashamed, yet strangely proud… how is that possible?

PB and Tuna is obviously going to be a recurring event. How could we not, after its complete and utter awesome-icity?

Pencil in your calendars, folks. October 23rd, 2010… it’s all going down, AGAIN.

Mama said share.

That’s right folks. The infamous birthday/#pbandtuna wedding is finally here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ll be honest, folks. I have been super stressed and freaking out all week.

But now that the big weekend is actually here, I have NOTHING BUT EXCITEMENT churning in my loins.

To everyone who’s coming from out of town:

I am going to lick your faces so damn hard, oh my gaw. You are amazing and totally rock my socks off. Look, they’re totally across the room. (Everyone IN town: you are 9/10 as awesome but don’t feel bad. They really had a leg up on you on this one.

…TWSS.)

To my blushing bride, who wrote the sweetest vows EVAR and made me cry before 8am on my birthday when I read them…

Just you wait until I give you your present today. REVENGE IS A BITCH.

In all serious, I love you so much, Maxie. I don’t know how I existed before you came into my life. You are one of the kindest, funniest, warmest, cuddliest people I have ever known, and I am seriously lucky to call you a friend. (And lovah.)

Tonight we shall snuggle Murray together and it will be GLORIOUS.

All right, y’all. I have a shit ton of stuff to do to get ready, so I’m off. But please to enjoy the one video on the interwebs that makes me happier than anything else in the e-world. It’s an oldie but a goodie…

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

(I am *so* doing these dance moves tomorrow.)

If you’re in DC, don’t forget… the bash is tomorrow at Stetson’s (upstairs) at 16th and U Streets. We’ll be there at 8 sharp to stake it out…

Woot!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

When I first started this bloggy thing here, I was all, “memes are lame. I’m never doing one.”

Then I got drunk and was hungover one Friday and decided that maybe I could do one, especially if I threw in a little Rick Astley… no one would notice. So I did, and actually, it turned out to be one of my weirdest/favorite posts.

Then one Monday I got lazy and someone challenged me to be even more honest-er than I usually am on here… and I’ve never been one to turn down a CHALLENGE! (Love you, Bill Cosby, you tap-dancing fool.) So, I buckled and did another one.

THEN, a few days ago, my interweb future-BFF C.J. Koster (no, seriously, go read his shiz… now!) tagged me in yet another meme (additional thanks to the fun, amazing and talented Jane and Sevi, who also saw fit to tag my lazy ass).

I was all set to ignore (I keed, I keed), but then I noticed that he had also tagged my hero, Jenny the Bloggess. I got so excited that my name was within 1 internetty inch of hers that I decided to go for the glory.

So, here we have it, folks… my THIRD and probably-not-final meme. And I promise not to say “I won’t do memes anymore.” My word is my bond, a la Hook.

• Waking up to find a kitten curled on my chest. Even if they do fart down my throat sometimes…

• Making fun of people on the street in my head. Like the guy I saw this morning who bent over and his pants had a clear discoloration in the middle of his khakis from YEARS of farting.

• When totally awesome people come visit from out of town to drink with me in person.

• Stand-up comedy, namely, seeing Judah Friedlander live on June 19th at the DC Improv. You should come. (Click the link for a taste of his amazingocity.)

• When B is inebriated and physically can’t go more than 30 seconds without telling me he loves me. Seriously, it’s like the cutest little case of Tourettes.

• FINALLY getting a friend’s new blog template fixed and making them squealishiously happy (meaning, they want to buy me drinks).

• Playing “Would You Rather” chicken with Maxie for four hours on the way home from NYC, making Deutlich and Lemmonex vomit into their Cinnabons all the while.

• Making awesome dance videos with my mob partners in crime, Persivia Panchante, Caviandra Mersinago, and Lunimara Grivonelli. Rinochetta Parinsino here, waiting and very afraid to see what Alexa makes us dance to this weekend… stay tuned.

Okay, this is getting long, so let’s make it five from here on out. Cause I cheat like that.

• Pooped so much I decided to start a diet, just because I felt that skinny afterwards. How’s THAT for special?

• Got sent three lolcats from my Dad, like this one. Because he is that much of a schmoopy dork.

• Realized that my little sister is graduating from college in two weeks and HOLY FUCK I AM OLD.

• Inspired by BWP, admitted publicly that not only do I enjoy Dane Cook’s comedy, I’d probably do him. *Shields face from tomato throwers*

• Cried into my cheerios because I shrunk my used-to-fit-perfectly black pants.

• Sing like Mariah Carey. I know she’s a skeezy cradle-robbin hooker now, but “Always Be My Baby” still gets me every time. *Wakes up from 1995*

• Be as funny as everyone who’s funnier than me. You know who you are.

• Travel to every single country in the whole damn world. Except for Lesotho. Something about it just doesn’t grab me.

• Have a kajillion bajillion dollars. Or at least a banana stand lined with money.

• On that note, BRING BACK ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT. At least there is the movie to look forward to… and Year One, which I couldn’t be more excited for.

• Your mom. Just kidding. Unless she’s a tourist in DC and in my way when I am trying to, yanno, get from one place to another like a civilized human being with things to do.

• Sauerkraut. The very smell makes me want to vomit in the hair of whoever is eating that ungodly stuff. Just a heads up, friends…

• Having to “work” in an “office” to “get paid.” It’s for the birds, man, for realsies. One day the world will wake up and just send me checks for being me. I’m kind of like the guy on Jackass, except I don’t get paid. Do I have to go to rehab first? Then do I get my cut?

• Dutch-ovening B. (Oh wait… that’s one of my FAVORITE things. Wrong list.)

• Looking like a (low-class) hooker at work because my T&A finally decided to show UP in a big way so none of my old clothes fit and I spend all my money on booze and cat litter instead of grown-uppy things like “work outfits” and “practical shoes” and “rental insurance.”

(On a related note, p

lease don’t burn my apartment down.)

Phew. There you have it, C.J./Jane/Sevi and anyone else who tagged me that I was dick enough to forget about.

To everyone else… Your turn!

Mama said share.

First of all, everyone needs to head over to Marie’s site and demand to see pictures of her in her brand new Snuggie. They should be hilarious because I met her on Friday, and she is a delight, and also twee, and the Snuggie is twice as long as she is. (Also, THAT is last time I mention the Snuggie. For reals this time. No, really!)

Second of all, I am done drinking forever. Representing the Awesomest States of America to your Canadian friend in one short weekend is hard, boozalicious work. Last night I was so drunk that I openly proclaimed Step Up to be one of the most fabulous films I’ve ever seen. Actually, I must still be drunk, because it’s the morning and I’m kind of still thinking this to be true. Haven’t seen it? Think Save the Last Dance meets Center Stage, with a dash of something with drug dealers. At it’s best, it’s America’s Best Dance Crew with bad acting.

Wait a minute. B just informed me that there is a Step Up 2: The Streets! I know what I’m doing tonight…

Okay, okay. Simma down na. Moving on from bulimic ballerinas and leaving your gangster bros behind for some ho. (How could you, Tyler??)

Item Tres: I have officially had it with Blogger. When I guest posted over at Brookem‘s a couple weeks ago, I destroyed the last shred of blissful ignorance I had about the blatant superiority of WordPress over Blogger. Look, Google, you win EVERYWHERE else, but when it comes to blogging, you are sadly inadequate, and something must be done.

I already have the dot com, so the website wouldn’t change or anything. The ONLY thing that’s been holding me back is the fact that the username LiLu is already taken, which makes me sad in my pants. BUT, I believe if we put our heads together, we can come up with something acceptable, NAY, even better! Which is why I have A) put a poll to the right requesting your input on my own meager ideas, and B) humbly solicit your genius and wittiness here in the comments. What you got, Willis?? Help a girl out.

And finally, HOW MUCH AM I LOVING THIS WEATHER??? Honestly, walking to work today, my heart kept singing and I had to tell it to shut the hell up because the construction workers were looking at us oddly. Hooray for outdoor drinking and margaritas and skirts and flipflops and sand and sun and barbequing and such!

Dear Spring: I am totally stoked for you. That is all. Love, LiLu.

Mama said share.

If you’re new here, you may not be aware of this, but in my former life (which would be, um… until last August), I was a bartender. A damn good one, too, to which many of my fellow bloggers and bloggettes can attest.

I may have retired from the hospitality biz, but the truth is, it still runs rampant in my blood. I can’t walk into a restaurant or bar without casing the joint; Who’s in the weeds? How pathetic a human specimen is the floor manager? Are the bartenders talented, and (less importantly), do they come with or without a side of attitude? How clean is the bar (looking UNDER the glass racks is key)? Are the servers openly talking about the shitty tip the Brits just gave them? What work needs to be done? And who just came in from a cigarette that’s supposed to be doing it? Are there dirty glasses to clear, silverware to roll, annoyed customers looking around for their checks? (Ow, my brain!)

I take note of all of this the moment I set foot in an establishment; I can’t help it. It’s something of a blessing, but more of a curse. It makes it much harder to enjoy yourself when you notice every TINY LITTLE THING your caretakers do wrong… because trust me, they do wrong much more often than they do right. (When they do, though, they’ve got a regular forever in me.)

As part of my ongoing education as a veteran bartender, I’m always interested to hear what concoctions my favorite drink-slingers have come up with lately. In the name of science, I made my way around to some of my neighborhood bars and their tenders these past weeks, and harassed my peeps to find out what they’ve come up with for the holiday season. And now, my dears, I pass them to you… use them for your seasonal party, to impress a date, or to get through a particular rough Tuesday morning… I won’t tell. In fact, invite me. You really should learn to share.

From Fado Irish Pub:

He hadn’t named it… maybe “Coffee and Tequila Holding Hands Around the Christmas Tree”?

As a shot/martini, or over ice (adjust proportions accordingly for larger/smaller)…

3/4 ounce Patron XO Coffee Liqueur

1/2 ounce Bailey’s Irish Coffee

1/2 ounce Triple Sec

splash Half ‘n Half

Shake, strain for martini or shot.

Sprinkle with nutmeg and slurp it down.

From Chef Geoff’s (Downtown):

Raspberry Chocolate Martini:

2 ounces raspberry vodka

1 ounce Godiva white chocolate liqueur

Shake, strain, drizzle chocolate sauce on top. (Duh.)

And rim the glass with cocoa if you wanna get all fahn-cee about it!

From Clyde‘s in Chinatown:

Winter White Cosmo

1 1/2 ounces of vanilla vodka

1/2 ounce triple sec

1 ounce white cranberry juice

Shake and strain.

Get crazy with some cranberries to garnish, or go trashy with a maraschino cherry.

Stolen borrowed from Sarah Jay over at PaellaPans.com, as an improvement on one of La Tasca‘s sangrias, which was watered down and terrible but I love the idea of a holiday sangria with peaches and cinnamon:

Holiday SangriaMakes about 1 quart.

1 bottle dry red wine
1/4 cup sugar, more or less to taste
2 Tbs. rum, more or less to taste
1 orange, squeezed for juice
1 orange, washed and cut into thin slices
1 lemon, washed and cut into thin slices
1 peach, washed and cut into thin slices
1 stick cinnamon
1 1/2 cups club soda, chilled
Ice cubes for serving

Pour the wine into a large pitcher or a punch bowl. Add the sugar, rum, and orange juice, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Add the orange, lemon, and peach slices and the cinnamon stick. Chill the sangria for 8 hours, or overnight. Just before serving, add the club soda and ice cubes.”

There you have it, folks, all the makings for a rambunctious festive Tuesday morning Holiday party!

Happy Weekend! I’ll be sitting on the couch all day feeling sorry for myself e-Christmas shopping, since I caught the malaria that’s going around. Teh awesome.

Mama said share.

Update on this:

I just bumped into the big HEAD HONCHO of my department on the way up to work.

I said hi.

He saw it was me and cracked up laughing, shaking his head.

Let’s hope that was good laughing…

UPDATE on the Update:

I just got this in my email:

“Dear Colleagues,

Please visit the new web site for sharing departmental social activities! Enjoy the first batches of party pictures that have just been uploaded:

http://www.insert_terrifying_link_here.com

Regards,

Your Office’s Resident Gay”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared to click…

Mama said share.

The upcoming holidays are warm and wonderful and jolly and candy-caney in all their very own and special ways, but there is a problem. Not everyone celebrates the same ones.

Our Canadian friends were celebrating Thanksgiving back in October, while down in the US, we were busy whoring ourselves up for Halloween.

Last Thursday, many of us stuffed ourselves full of poultry slathered with gravy in the company of people who drive us to drink, but some of us actually remembered WHY we do these things, and, being of Native American descent, very rightly chose not to participate (and was hilarious about it in the process).

Looking forward, there is the obvious distinction between those who prefer 8 days of wee presents, and those who like to get it all over with one Big Bang (oh wait, but they don’t believe in that, right? KIDDING) on December 25th. I speak, of course, of the endless mêlée between Hanukkah and Xmas. (Read that in Hulk Hogan’s voice, please. Before his wife castrated him in front of America by leaving him and taking up with a 19 year old, that is.)

No matter what your own preference/personal belief system/traditions that were imposed upon you by an overbearing mother, the fact remains that there is no holiday EVERYONE can gather round the fire for and tip a glass back, thankful for our lives and friends and the joy we have brought into each other’s lives. (I know, I know, you’re saying, “Actually, that sounds a lot like the days that end in “Y”… true enough, my friend. But wait for it…)

I propose that there is one grand holiday we can ALL get behind. One momentous and notable occasion we can all raise a glass to, and really mean it.

And that, my friends, my interwebby cohorts, my many and varied partners in crime…

is Repeal Day.

December 5th of each year marks the anniversary of a very special date upon which, in the words of The Brew Site,

On December 5, 1933, the states ratified the 21st Amendment, repealing the 18th Amendment, thus ending 13 years of Prohibition in America. At the 21st Amendment Brewery, the repeal of Prohibition means we can celebrate the right to brew beer, the freedom to be innovative, and the obligation to have fun.

And December 5th of THIS YEAR, my friends, marks not only the anniversary of said repeal, but it is, in fact, the 75th anniversary of that occasion. I hereby propose that this may be about the only thing we can ALL agreed is worth celebrating, at the exact same moment, no?

Also, it’s Friday, which just works out perfectly for my drinking schedule. Truth be told, I haven’t thought beyond this post, (what with starting a new job today and already having my hands full with the organizing of the Bloggerational Ball), but maybe we couldashouldawoulda put a wee something together? Perhaps an 8pm toast, at a central DC bar somewhere, to Cheers! the ever-so-lovely repealment of one of the most horrific amendments of our time? (Well, okay, not OUR time, but yanno. To honor our ancestors who suffered through bathtub gin, and all that.)

Ah well, just a thought I had dancing around my head this weekend. Holler at a girl if you think it’s a good one… (and if not, at least send me some good thoughts/karma/e-hugs on my First Day at the New Job!)

Mama said share.