Today, I’m off to see my GBF from college I have seen ONCE since we gradumated in ot six. He lives in West Hollywood, but is in NYC because his company is shooting a movie and he’s a baller like that.

To say I am a wee bit excited would be the understatement of the year.

Tommy, I lub your face and I can’t wait to have another man fondle my boobs for the first time in over a year. B already gave you clearance.

SEE YOU IN SIX HOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. I’ll be on the ‘berry, so if you’re in the area, shoot me a tweet or an email! Woot!

And that, my friends, is how it’s done.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off recovering until I’m 50.

AWESOME SAUCE.

(For an recap that actually uses ‘words’ and stuff, click here.)

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!

(Did you get to ask B a question yesterday? About me, us, his balls, footballs- anything! Just head this way…you have til Fri-dee!)

So, today is sort of a little somethin… it’s my 300th post. That’s right, folks, I have annoyed y’all with my writings, musings and atrocities in this corner THREE HUNDRED TIMES. Instead of writing some big recap, (since yesterday’s was sort of a collection of my least proud moments anyway, and what’s better than that?), we’re going to play a game.

It’s called:

Guess WTF Is Going On In This Video Footage From Our Trip to NYC.

I’d explain the rules, but… yeah.

The prize for guessing correctly, you may ask? Well, you have your choice. I will take a picture OR make a video using only your direction- have me dress like an idiot, serenade you, try to dance to a hip hop song- and I will send it your way to post as you see fit. The only thing I ask is that we leave the whole nudity thing out of it, as I know someone in my home who would probably not approve.

(The kittens, of course. They don’t need to see their mama whoring it up.)

All right, chillens… and awayyyyyyy we go!

(Youtube link here.)

Have at it!

Update: I’ll give y’all a hint for bonus points… there is a movie playing in the background. If anyone can guess what it is along with what’s happening, you win HARDCORE.

Second Update: Whoever gets the most specific (correctly), first, will win. Woot!

Final Update: Winner will be announced Friday!

(A real recap may or may not be coming tomorrow. Today, my liver has locked me in a hellish and headachey prison of my own making, due to two straight weeks of complete and utter debauchery. Therefore, today’s post will be short, sweet, and visual… but magnificent, nonetheless.)

So you may recall a few weekends ago when I discovered the amazingness that is Stephen Colbert’s music video from the cobwebs of 1986. If not, I will grace it with your presence now (watch carefully. This is vewwy important…)

The sweet ass dance moves, the “Friends fist bump FU,” the hair-band hair, the GUYLINER… it is GOLD, pure gold. Of course I had to show it to my dancing partner in crime, Maxie, and obviously her heart ached with a fiery, burning love for it just as mine did. So much so, in fact, that upon our arrival to the Big Apple on Saturday, the first thing we did was break it down to Mr. Colbert’s original creation of audible wonderment.

As you will see, we took our mission very seriously. Our camera woman, Lemmonex, did NOT, as you will be able to tell from her unsolicited laughtrack… although apparently we did make her “wet,” which is basically our goal at all times with all things we do.

Without further ado, please enjoy our rendition of “Charlene (I’m Right Behind You.)” Um, also, please make it through to the end for our version of his ‘dancing.’ You won’t be sorry.

(Youtube link here, if it’s choppy.)

Mr. Colbert, I hope we did your performance even the teensiest bit of justice, but I suspect our obvious unadulterated adoration might make up for what we lack in talent.

We’re here all week, people. In fact, we’re here all life. It’s what we do.

(Sidenote: I do just have to say that meeting my darling Cavy this weekend- i.e. drinking heavily, bootay dancing, and being spooned by her all night- exceeded even my highest expectations. Prepare to endure many more humpings in the future, my dear. You are officially on my list of People to Smother With Love, Tenderness, and Karaoke Serenadings. You freaking rawk.

As for the rest of you hookers, Lemmonex, Deutlich, and Maxie… I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you, and I have *definitely* never had that much fun during 8 hours in the CAR, nevermind the rest of the time. I love you, girls. Truly, I do. Wherever we’re heading next better put their big-girl panties on in anticipation…)