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.

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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.

Money.

Delicious, envy green, key-to-all-things shoes and pedicures and cute Betty Draper-esque dresses money.

We’ve had quite the love/hate relationship for as long as I can remember.

Hate because I’ve never had much of it.

Love because it’s shaped my closet, my friends, and most of all, my life.

I took a job at the local TGI Friday’s when I was 16, because my father thought I should “earn” all the silly clothes I wanted from Express and The Limited (back when The Limited actually made cool clothes, and not just uniforms for middle-aged women trying to repress their sexuality). Basically, my dad was the father from Calvin & Hobbes who was always telling me that dealing with annoying things like “wearing a sweater instead of turning on the heat” and “camping” and “getting a job” would build character.

(Love you, Pops.)

Little did I know that was the beginning of a decade I would spend in restaurants, and that the way I earned that money would determine the kind of people I surrounded myself with for the rest of my life.

Those TGIFs folks are my oldest friends. When I went down South to UNC Chapel Thrill, I actually joined a sorority, mostly for shits and giggles (and a place to live on campus). Those girls didn’t become my friends. I probably couldn’t tell you one of their names.

The people I worked with at the Carolina Brewery, at The Weathervane, and at multiple restaurants around Southpoint mall… those are my college friends who’ll be at my wedding, who I can’t live without seeing every year, whose baby!!! I couldn’t be more excited for.

And finally, here in DC… my friends may be young professionals, but most of them worked in the service industry at some point. They learned the value of a hard day’s work, they fight with me over the bill when we go to lunch, and they always leave a healthy tip for our server.

It is a culture that’s shaped my financial values, my friends, and the way I live my life.

I may have scored a 49 on Charles Schwab Community Services‘s new handy dandy financial fitness check-up tool, but I’m pretty sure that’s mostly because I’m forgetful about bills sometimes, and I’m not great about saving for a rainy day. (I bet Chuck can help with that.)

I'm pretty sure this is a "meh".

Overall, I’m pretty darn content with the impact that money’s had on my life.

Because yes, Dad, I’ll say it… YOU WERE RIGHT.

It did build some goddamn character.

Mama said share.

This WYR Wednesday brought to you by my listening to Wale’s “Center of Attention“… on the treadmill. Because that’s where I do my best only thinking.

What? I'm gangsta.

And also, because I’m actually curious what you would answer.

So, Would You Rather…

1. Receive a million dollars $300 thousand (you were all choosing this one- too easy!) absolutely free and clear, but know you will never, ever be famous in your lifetime… for anything?

2. Receive zero financial gain for it, but become famous for something awesome, like an Olympic medal or curing cancer. (Let’s assume in this scenario, for some reason curing cancer did not give you any cash money. You didn’t do something awesome and give it to orphans or anything, you just never got any money for it.)

3. Be filthy rich AND famous, but you have no control over what your fame is for. Like, you could be the Cloon… or you could be Octomom. You don’t know til it happens.

vs.

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***By the way, don’t forget to put this Friday’s Happy Hour on your calendar! Vapiano’s in Dupont! Woot!***






Yes, this is an ad. Mama is poor, yo:

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Mama said share.

So, you may have noticed that I’ve added some very shiny new buttons over on the sidebar recently. Over there, under the title “Pretty, Pretty Things I Wouldn’t Kick Out of Bed For Eating Crackers”… yeah, that’s the one!

Anyhoodle, these lovely stores represent all things that I find shiny and fun… jewelry, photography, sex toys…

Well, see for yourself. The holidays are lurking, after all!

Click the shop buttons to check out their purty stuffs and things!

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Alex ”recycles vintage and resale jewelry into fresh and {new} pieces”… and they are absolutely beautiful. Fun, flirty, and overall divine…

See?

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Rachel’s stuff is so classic and chic… I just want it all to be mine. How bad ass is this?

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Tanya, the artist of Aardvark Silver, also offers you guys a discount: “Livit Luvit in the coupon code box will get you 25% off from now until Dec 31st! Hurry as all items are One Of A Kind. Shipping is by registered Air Mail and takes up to 2 weeks so make sure to order earlier rather than later so it gets there in time! You can use the coupon as often as you would like.”

Gor-jus…

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I want to NOM this ring in the face. Right in its pretty, pretty vibrant blue face. Beth Cyr’s shop is FULL of gorgeous gems like these…

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I have a special place in my heart for this shop, and not just because she sent me a totally bad ass steampunk necklace that I absolutely adore. DRYAN327′s gorgeous things include “Vintage Charms, Pendants, Lockets & Steampunk”… emphasis on the steampunk, peoples. I mean, how freaking cool is this??

I KNOW.

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Jess is a Chicago-based jewelry artist, and I truly mean it when I say her stuff is breathtaking. Chic and classic, you’ve got to see it to understand…

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Here’s the blurb from Diva Loves Silver’s gorgeous shop… “Welcome to Diva Loves Silver! We feature UNIQUE and ONE OF A KIND silver jewelry: flower bracelets and flower pendants, as well as keepsake pendants and other animal-featured pendants, just to name a few of our high-quality, unique design of silver jewelry. We also feature lovely dangle earrings and stud earrings, along with silver necklaces to complement your profile.”

Oh, how I want that wee elephant to be mine…

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This store is so damn FUN it’s ridiculous. They’re the cutest little hats you ever did see, and just in time for Fall…

WANT!

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If you don’t know Diana’s photography, you must be blind, because it’s everywhere in the blogosphere… and with good reason.

Here’s my favorite print, which is hanging on my fridge at home right now:

But I’m also especially partial to this one:

No idea why…

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And last but not least, the ADORAMABLE vintage store Some Like It Vintage. Hands off, ladies (and Ben). This bad boy is MINE.

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Disclaimer: Yes, these fabulous people/shops/etc. gave me some “incentive”- heh, heh- to post their buttons. BUT I sought them out and inquired with them, specifically because I love their stuff, so consider this endorsement whole-hearted, my friends!

Happy shopping!

Mama said share.

You remember how I thought I owed the Feds $1,000?

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

I went to H&R Suck yesterday to see if they could help. I figured I HAD to be doing something wrong.

The lady plugged all the same numbers into her computer exactly as I had… and even managed to find an extra tax I’d forgotten to pay. Thanks, lady.

According to them, I owe Obama THIRTEEN hundred dollars. Not 1K.

THEN, she wanted $250 for all her fine work. Which was exactly what I had done, except, yanno, clicking another button that added $300 to my debt.

Needless to say, I grabbed my W2′s and RAN.

Straight to the pharmacy, where my anti-anxiety/panic attack pills were waiting. (Because life just makes too much fucking sense sometimes.)

And then stopped off at my neighborhood Mexi-mart for wine and 79 cent burritos. Since that’s all I can afford now. You gotta have priorities, after all.

As I write this, I am holding an enormous glass of vino, watching Turk airband to “That Girl Is Poison” on a rerun of Scrubs, and an exceptionally handsome man has promised to rub my feet later.

I mean, how does this NOT make you feel better?

I truly have the greatest friends, all across the country, one of whom I am going to lay on a beach with in Charleston all weekend. Another of whom I had a textual “I fucking love YOU man” with last night, and totally meant it when I said she’s going to have to be in my wedding someday. My family is amazing and loving and healthy, and I’m 25 years old with three grandparents still going strong.

Incredibly awesome, caring and talented people from all over the world send me gross and funny tidbits here in the comments and in emails every day. They think of me when they see Smittens and Poof toilet drops and Snuggie bar crawls and it makes me happy. They get me through the work week, and they have no idea how much they really mean to me. [Ed. note: THAT'S YOU.]

Finally, B came home last night, not even knowing yet about my taxes, and handed me an envelope with my name and our address on it… which makes this just that much cuter:

Text: Dear(est) LiLu: I was writing “thank you” notes for that briefing last week and thought of you. Thank YOU for being lovely, and sweet, and sticking with me. You’ll never regret it. I love you more than anyone else ever in the history of the world (or at least my own personal history). I was going to mail this… but ran out of stamps- I’m stamp poor but rich with love for you! Yours, B.

So, $1300, huh?

Fine. Take it. Cause my life? Is so definitely worth that.

Mama said share.

Last Friday, I was fortunate enough to have a couple drinky-poos with the ever lovely and talented Katherine of Who Invented Roses. Since both of us had neglected to eat lunch due to insanely busy and stressful work days, the 2.5 beers we each had hit us like a rock. A very wonderful, drunkity-drunk rock.

Remembering that we still had to “get home” without “getting hit by a car”, we attempted to close out our tabs at the now extremely busy Mackey’s. The flustered bartender closed out about five tabs at once, which should have been my first clue, but noooo. I drained my last swig, signed my $6 tab, put my BoA card in my purse, and left.

Since this was Weekend on the Couch ot Nine, I didn’t pull out my wallet again until Monday morning for a much needed coffee. And then at lunch for a much unwanted-but-necessary salad courtesy of Fat February. And then on Tuesday for some breakfast… and a few hours later for some lunch.

“Denied,” the cafeteria man said, handing the card back to me as though it was an envelope full of anthrax.

Impossible, I thought. This is one of the few times of the month I actually have money in there; got paid, rent check hasn’t gone through… he tried again.

“DENIED,” he said with disdain as a particle of his spittle flew directly into my eye. I gave him a credit card and slunk away to the library to check my account balance. Everything looked normal, except that I had been WAY overcharged at the bar last Friday. I pulled my card out, and finally, after five freakin’ days, noticed that IT HAD SOMEONE ELSE’S NAME ON IT. As in, not my card. Not my card at all. Frantic, I searched my company’s database for the gentleman’s name, hoping there’d been a simple mix up at the coffee stand that morning. No luck. Now about an 8 on the “Totally Freaking Out” scale, I googled his slightly unusual name, thinking there was a chance in hell… Boom. One hit. (Google, I swear I’m getting you one of those fancy $5 cards for Valentine’s Day this year. I might even put a ten spot in it. You don’t know.)

He was an architect on Connecticut Ave, about five blocks away. I called the company’s number and was talking to him within minutes.

Yes, he had only noticed the switch himself that very morning. He had gone to a BoA in Maryland and turned in my card, and cancelled his own. He had been at Mackey’s last Friday, and realized that they had charged me for his $60 bill as well as my $6 one. He would be more than happy to meet me in 15 minutes on his lunch break, and pay me the difference.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I met him in front of Mackey’s, ironically enough. I gave him his card, apologized for not noticing sooner, and he handed me $52, which he “hoped was all right, as he owed me $51.81 for his bar tab” (minus the coffees and such I had since purchased with his).

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I told him that honestly, it was the bar’s mistake for mixing up our debit cards (though I’m not saying it never happened to me when I bartended…), and I had printed out my bank statement with the charges and would be happy to go in with him and explain the mistake if he’d like. He kindly waved me off, clearly of the mind that it was money he had meant to spend anyway. We shook hands and went on our way.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, Mister. You just took good samaritan to a Whole. New. LEVEL.

Dear Universe:

Inherently, I knew when I said “karma’s a bitch“, what I meant was that karma will give you back whatever you deserve, good OR bad. And look, I know I can be a little… evil, sometimes But when it comes to the Big Things in Life, the really important things that determine whether you are a good person or not, I honestly think I do pretty darn well. And you could have screwed me with this whole ATM card thing, you really could have. Yesterday could have been a lot more HEART ATTACK inducing, rather than just an annoying, and a short trip during my lunch break. Sure, I don’t have a debit card for a few days, but my bank account hasn’t been emptied out the day before my rent check was going to be processed.

So thanks, Universe, for proving me RIGHT for once. ‘Preesh, seriously. And can I just say this shade of white is dazzling on you? The snow is such a lovely touch. You are so lovely! No, YOU are. YOU are!

Thanks much… and I promise to try and pay it forward.

XOXO,

LiLu

Mama said share.

Go without new shoes for (at least) a month.

I jest, you say? Perhaps you’ve forgotten about THIS:

Now, I know I’ve blogged about my problems with spending before. In fact, that was what, not even a month ago? But the post was, in reality, a sign that I had been recognizing the perils of my impulsive spending, and I’ve since tried to be better about it. It helps that I have a very charming man frowning at me whenever he can tell I’m thinking about making a frivolous purchase.

And then we decided to move in together. And found the most perfect apartment, ever, in the whole world. No really, look:

Don’t be jeal. I know. It’s the mack daddy of sweet apartments.

BUT, it has also meant that money is unbelievably, incredibly tight, i.e., not exactly existent so much as it is non-existent. I am fine with this, we made the choice. And although I (we… okay, he) was/were worried, I’m actually really proud of (read: astonished) how well I’ve done at NOT spending any money.

It’s been interesting, to be sure. I’ve always prided myself on being up for anything, at any time (and thanks to bartending, usually had the funds to do it). But things are different now, especially because, for the first time in half a decade, I am not bartending. (It couldn’t have come at a worse time, but it’s been a blessed 40 hour work week, to be sure. ONE job?? I’m in heaven, even if I am poor.) I’ve had to say “No.”

No, I can’t go to Happy Hour with you. (This can only said through gritted teeth, and a stoic visage that refuses to let the tears out.)

No, I can’t go to that awesome 80′s concert on Monday night. (But my hot pink scrunchie and leggings did their homework and everything!)

No, I can’t go get pre-gaming Friday night drinks at that swanky restaurant’s bar in Dupont Circle. (This is sort of a wash, as the Improv really does require a much more filthy sort of pre-gaming to get in the mood.)

No, I can’t go out for restaurant week. No, we can’t get a hotel for an extravagant night out in Boston. No, I can’t afford wine more expensive than Franzia. (JUST KIDDING… of all the things I’ll sacrifice, the booze just ain’t one of them.)

Honestly, I think it’s been really good for me. I’ve started to see a $20 bill in a very different light. That’s not a manicure anymore… it’s a choice between a happy hour with some great friends, or maybe a festival on a Saturday, or even better, just effing save it until something comes along that I actually need it for.

I’m not saying I’ve undergone any magical transformation, but I do really feel like, for the first time in my life, I actually sort of get what my dad was talking about when he said “blah blah blah VALUE OF A DOLLAR blah blah HARD WORK BILLS TO PAY blah blah CLOSE THE DOOR THE A/C’S ON AND I’M NOT PAYING TO COOL DOWN THE OUTDOORS!”

I am no longer a capricious young girl of 24 years, superfluously ordering expensive shoes on a whim of ostentation, simply because they make my eyes sparkle (and give me legs for days). Obviously, I have magically matured into a fiscally responsible, almost-25-year-old (snort) who has everything figured out.

But don’t worry, ladies and gents. My footwear may become slightly out of style, but I will never, ever, wear crocs. No matter how hard they try…

Mama said share.