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

*shame

*wait no

*quite awesome, actually.

Mama said share.

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.

Mama said share.

Last night, as I was buried in George R. R. Martin’s third book of his “A Song of Fire and Ice” fantasy series, B looked over at me- from his iPad, no less- and said:

“Look at you. I’ve officially turned you into a nerd.”

Of course I balked, because I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Dork than a Nerd, but upon reflection…

He’s right.

As the all-knowing Urban Dictionary says,

vs…

We watch Legend of the Seeker, Merlin, and Avatar: The Last Airbender religiously. We laughed and cried through all of BSG, mostly when it ended.* I’ve read Ken Follet’s The Pillars of the Earth, World Without End, and three of the George R.R. Martins, all in the past year or so, which are each a THOUSAND pages… when my vacations used to be peppered with US Weekly and Charlaine Harris.

I may not really understand (or care) about the difference between sci fi and fantasy (is it dragons? It’s totally dragons, right?), but apparently my dad did the job instilling the nerd in me all those years ago when we father-daughter bonded over every episode of The Next Generation ever. (Lex, the first man to give you “a funny feeling you didn’t quite understand” was Jordan Knight? Well, mine was Captain Picard.)

So, I guess I’m both now, dork AND nerd. And I’m totally cool with that. I just think it’s hilarious that now B’s the one on the couch with a computer on his lap, and I’m nose deep in a 1000 page book about kings and wights and dragons and catching myself saying things like “folly!!” and “you craven!!” in everyday conversation. (I’m a blast at the office, truly.)

I guess it’s just proof of what sharing two years of fart jokes with someone will do to a person.

I just hope we don’t start to look like each other…

Le sigh.

*Duh! How could I forget BSG and the consumingly-awesome Edward James Olmos?? Thanks, Kev!

P.S. Have you voted on a date for DC Happy Hour yet??

P.P.S. And while we’re District-ing it up around here, check out my round up on DC Blogs.

Mama said share.

I am a bit, how shall we say… terrified of getting older.

I know, I know. No big shock, right? So’s your mom.

But here’s the thing: it’s less about actually aging and drooping and having mortgages and breaking hips and shit than it is about…

Not being cool.

You know… with it. In vogue. Streets ahead, and so on and so forth.

I know what you’re thinking:

But LiLu, you’re already the biggest dork we know! For Pete & Pete’s sake, you’re obsessed with your cats and an anime Nicktoon…

Don't hate. He's the world's very LAST Airbender!!!

 and frankly, we didn’t want to say it, but you’re a little bit loco in the cabeza with the Always Sunny references… AND the twss jokes.

*You duck in anticipation of my flailing-arm protest*

The thing is, I KNOW all that. I’m well aware of my Reigning Dorkdom. And what it boils down to is, I basically don’t stand a chance of being hip in my golden years. And that scares me.

You see, this weekend at the wedding, I met the World’s Coolest Lady.

(No, seriously. I’d present her with a sash that said so if I thought she wasn’t too cool to wear it.)

The lovely bride put together a meet and greet for the families on Friday night; we gathered around a fire pit to bond over far too much just the right amount of vino. From the moment Aunt Theresa walked in, I was in awe.

This woman was Helen Mirren with a side of Meryl Streep, all wrapped up in a healthy dose of Bea Arthur’s ‘tude.

Redic… wait for it… ulous.

Statuesque and sophisticated at NINETY, (and never without a cocktail in hand,) she regaled me with tales of her life, her travels, and her four marriages (one in her 30s, 40s, 50s, and 60s). “Oh, you grow,” she told me with a casual wave of her hand, the mark of a person who’s not only experienced, but accepted life.

At the reception, I continued to hassle her (in between showcasing my White Girl Dance Moves) for the secret to rocking it at almost a century year old, until B came to subtly rescue her from my drunk clutches.

The next day at the airport, B and I were nursing our Awesome Wedding Hangover with some hair of the dog when I turned to him.

Me: She was just so freaking cool! I wonder what the secret is to never getting lame…

(pregnant pause, B begrudgingly turns one eye towards me from ESPN)

Me: I guess… I guess it’s just not having kids, so you stay rich and thin and can travel the world and be fabulous all the time?

B: *laughs* Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty much it.

Le sigh.

Aunt Theresa, I raise my glass to you. You are 90-some years old, and cooler than I could ever hope to be.

Mama said share.

There is a long and growing list of ridiculous things that the dork inside of me just freaking loves. See: Legend of the Seeker, Vampire Diaries, photoshopped videos of Standing Cat in Boots, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and abusing tourists on the National Mall, to name a few.

(Well, okay… sometimes it’s the 13 year old girl in me. WHAT’S YOUR POINT.)

One of these ridiculous things that makes my heart go squeee! are colloquialisms.

So, like a TRUE dork, I’ve started keeping a list of the most awesome sauce ones I hear. (I have to admit, the list has gotten a fucking lot of a cocksucker better since we started watching Deadwood, though Life on Mars, The Wire, and my newest love, Southern Fried Stings account for quite a few as well.)

I just plain adore them, be they southern, foreign, or just plain old-fashioned.

And now, I share them with you.

“He’s madder than a bear with a bee in its ass.”

“He’s so full of shit his eyes are brown.”

“I been makin’ this gumbo since Michael Jackson had a nose like yours.”

“Opinions are like assholes, some are just louder and smellier than others.”

“I’m hotter than a popcorn fart.”

“I ain’t never seen a bird fly so high it didn’t have to come down some time.”

“Ain’t no need for a dust up way I see it.”

“It’s colder than a fart in a dead eskimo.”

“She’s so ugly you’d hafta hang a pork chop around her neck to get the dog to play with her.”

“Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one gets filled the fastest.”

Love. It.

Happy Friday y’all!






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Mama said share.

One of the reasons- the main one, most likely- that I feel like I relate to so many of you, IMHO, is because I unabashedly share every teeny, tiny, weird little oddity from all the quirky corners of my personality… and you probably relate to at least ONE of those. I’m winning you over with a numbers game of weirdness!! *evil cackle*

Ahem. Anytwaffle, one of my strange and nonsensical hobbies is, (somewhat ironically,) that I actually keep a running record of all the less-than-normal *coughbatshitcrazycough* things I do. Seriously, whenever I do something and worry about how it would look if someone saw me/heard me/knew WHY I was doing it, I immediately think, “I should probably share that with the whole internet.”

So here we have it, folks. A collective running list of all the things I do that make me weirder than your average bear, purely for your enjoyment.

You’re WELCOME.

LiLu-isms, (For Only Me) To Live By…

I have a secret ‘code of conduct’ rule with myself on airplanes: I only put my seat back if the person directly in front of me does. Addendum: Or if the person behind me is especially obnoxious…

I absolutely DESPISE inner ear headphones. Can. Not. Do it. They hurt, they fall out, they just don’t fit… twss. Give me the big, klonky, nerdy “might as well be earmuffs” headphones any day.

I may or may not enjoy Christmas music year round. (Again, thank goodness for said enormous headphones… and personal iPods.)

I unabashedly love country music. And, I’m not even gonna justify by saying only I only listen to GOOD country, either, like Johnny Cash… nothing makes me happier than road tripping with my Carolina girl Kbo, belting out Trace Adkins’ “Honkey Tonk Badonkadonk“. DEAL WITH IT.

I have, have HAVE to brush my teeth before getting into the shower. There can be no exceptions. (This was never a problem before my cats got so damn sinky!)

Every. Goddamn. MORNING!

I cannot stand having multiple browser windows open. I would rather have 4,000 tabs open at once than two windows. Must. See. EVERYTHING at once!

Sometimes I leave corny comments on people’s posts when they’re of a serious subject matter, or I’m just not sure what to say. I then live in fear that Maxie will somehow see it and mercilessly make fun of me for it.

I get really, really excited whenever I make pasta and discover that I put in JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT of water when I add the noodles.

Speaking of my love for country music, I have to listen to Garth Brooks’ “Callin’ Baton Rouge” at least once every time I work out. I don’t know. It has a good beat!

Stop looking at me that way! We can still be friends, right? It’s not like I hate babies, or anything…

Oh.

Mama said share.

Few can deny the succulence of the potato. Its many and varied forms, as well as its ability to grow in nearly almost any terrain and weather, make it one of the most commonly shared menu items cross-culturally. Its diversity is undeniable; its utter deliciosity difficult- nay, impossible to argue.

Be it mashed, fried, baked, homefried, hashbrowned, scalloped, cheese-i-fied, casseroled, McDonalds’d, or even vodka’d… the potato is a marvelous and majestic creature in any form.

There is one special hat the potato wears, however… one that a person of any age can appreciate, be it your first encounter with said unique form, or if it brings back the strongest sense of nostalgia for lunch ladies in hairnets doling out healthy portions of sloppy joe, or the joy that was the realization of the ever exciting “chicken patty day”.

I speak of course, my friends, of the potato’s most original and crispiest shape…

The Mighty Tater Tot.

I weep for the child who might live out his or her school days with nary a taste of this gem among lunch sidedishes. No one denies the revered deliciousness of the French Fry; truly, these are simply apples and oranges that happen to share the same “roots”. They are, if you will, the original two “brothers from another mother”.

But the French Fry is an everyday occurrence; we expect it to pop in and say hello. The Tater Tot is an unexpected delight when it appears, like a proud son coming home from war. We are at once overjoyed at its presence and relieved to know that despite our underlying fear of its disappearance from our lives forever, the Tot does indeed live on.

As a tribute to the great Tot, with its endless crisp and unparalleled ability to comfort even the most heavyhearted of souls, I hereby humbly submit to the District of Columbia a self-created map of all the saintly bars and restaurants who are smart enough to carry this magnificent creature on their menus. No longer will it be a shiny unicorn eluding us at every turn! We can now seek it out on those hungover Sunday mornings, and plan our Happy Hours around its holy presence.

I give you, dear friends…

The Map of The Great Tot.

Click to enlarge (twss)

 1. Tonic, Mt. Pleasant                              6.   Hamilton’s

  2. Tonic, Foggy Bottom                           7.   Sticky Rice

3. Bourbon                                                    8.   Bar Louie

       4. The Bottom Line                                    9.   Solly’s Tavern

            5. BLT Steakhouse                                     10.  Duffy’s Irish Pub

For those of you not in D.C., my deepest apologies that your hunt for Tatery Tot goodness must go on. But I urge you to take initiative, and help your fellow townsmen and women, so that they too might be able to enjoy the elusive yet most magical form of potato… whenever their hearts desire.

Mama said share.

I go and do something like THIS.

Happy Friday, my little ducklings.

Mama said share.

***SCHMOOP ALERT***

Yesterday, I decided to be brave and see just how many blogs I’ve subscribed to in my best friend Google Reader. So I pulled my Big Girl Panties (capitalized per request of Lusty Reader) up and peeked.

1,081.

I have over a THOUSAND of you hanging out in there.

(Everybody wave!. Group picture- say cheeeeeeeeeeeese. Hey- who yelled “war paint“!)

Anytwaddle.

Now, it’s not like I actually read all of those regularly. That would be impossible. Duh.

But if I like your stuff. If I LOVE your stuff. If you’ve said you like mine. If I’m on your blogroll.

In you go.

Yes, I have categories. My absolute best friends. My simply must reads. My most regular commenters. The fashionistas, the mommies, the funnies, the sexies, the foodies (who generally hate to be called foodies), and the hot messes (holla!)

I have a system, and I think it works. I try to pay my respects as often as I can to those who stop by my wee corner. I love seeing what everyone in my network is up to, what they’re thinking about, what they need opinions on. Lord knows I love giving an opinion.

(Fifteen of you just snorted. I HEARD THAT.)

The variety in my readership is absolutely insane, and I adore it. The fact that such a diverse group of people congregate here is both humbling and awesome.

Basically, I love you, man.

(If no one says “totes magotes” in the comments, we’re through.)

I love the angry open letters, the random yet hysterically funny, the omg my kid totally stuck his hand in his diaper and smeared it all over the wall, the classic run on sentence peppered with hilarious “Also?”s, a la Jenny the Bloggess. I love the Honest Scraps, the RANTS, the (creative) memes, and when tough people get mushy on us. I love when someone you’ve been reading forever reaches a huge life milestone and it hits you, you FEEL for them, because you actually know them through their words.

The other day, Maxie and I talked about whether we would retire anytime soon. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I really don’t think I’m going anywhere.

Obviously, there’s a selfish aspect to it. I won’t lie- there’s definitely a degree of validation involved. But more than that, it’s the interaction I crave. I post as frequently as I do because I miss you guys on the days I don’t. Lame, perhaps, but true.

So, sure, if no one was out there reading, I would post less. But I wouldn’t quit, because at the end of the day, this place is a chronicle of my twenty something years. I hope to mark all of my own milestones here. And having a record of my crazy ass life that I can look back on, reminisce, and shake my head at myself in 30 years? That, my dear friends, is absolutely priceless.

Mama said share.

You knew it was coming.

My contribution to Tiger Week, being hosted by the lovely Maxie and Jenn. Why Tiger Week? Well, as my fiancee says…

“Last week was Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. I hate shark week. Sharks are probably the lamest animals in the whole world. First of all, they’re a type of fish– I eat that shit for dinner– literally.  Fish blow.

You know what doesn’t blow?

TIGERS.

They are magestic and pretty and great lovers. Wait, what? Nevermind.”

Click their links to read all about why tigers > sharks.

And now, my own two cents about why fluffy, cuddly, whiskery tigers are OBVIOUSLY better than the soulless hell-beasts that dwell in the freaking ocean like cowards…

In one word? EVOLUTION.

Felines have branched out into a million awesomely ferocious creatures- TIGERS, lions, panthers, lynxes, cheetahs, fucking JAGUARS, you name it! Here’s what Wikipedia (aka God, because it is all omniscient and shit) has to say about jaguars:

The jaguar has developed an exceptionally powerful bite, even relative to the other big cats.  This allows it to pierce the shells of armoured reptiles and to employ an unusual killing method: it bites directly through the skull of prey between the ears to deliver a fatal blow to the brain.

Not only are the great cats incredibly BAD ASS-ER (Always Sunny fans click through) than sharks, they’ve even given us mini-thems that we can snuggle in a desperate attempt to feel like we have a little bit of tiger in our own houses! Sure, sharks have been around for a while, but have they produced any descendants that make your heart ache with love?!

Honestly. Which would YOU rather cuddle with this…

or THIS?

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Finally, as a real-world example of why tiger descendants are way more BAD ASS than sharks’, Murray agreed to help out in a demonstration of his own bad assery. (Please to excuse the jumpiness of the camera- it’s four years old and I think it’s finally kicked the bucket. CoughcoughbirthdayintwomonthsMomcough.)

You can still hear the “dialogue” though. (That’s what true thespians call it, right?)

So there you have it, folks. Murray officially PROVES that tigers > sharks!!!!!!!!! Viva la Tiger Week!

7rqhy3ted5

Mama said share.