Move over, Sandy. (Too soon?) America has a new sweetheart, and it’s Betty White. Her new show “Hot in Cleveland” just got picked up for Season 2.

This time, Betty gets to be the Blanche. Me OW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lilo (girl needs to change that nickname, stat!) will be taking FIVE prescriptions with her to jail.

Don’t worry... I'm sure they're actually for Michael anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Worst. Headline. EVERRRRRRRRRRRR.

I'd like to award this a giant honorary Fail Whale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drama with Mel continues: Oksana claims she secretly recorded him admitting to hitting her.

"That's what happens to douchebags," said the devil, as he removed his boot from Mel's ass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kendra may have just released her book, “Sliding Into Home,” but apparently, her new hubby’s sliding intro strippers.

So, last night B and I are deep into our newest television fling, Rescue Me…

Love these boys.

…and the firemen are sitting around having an old-fashioned “We are men! Measure my penis!” shoot-the-shit kinda conversation, when one of them says this:

“That’s the thing with older vs. younger women. Older women are more skilled, but they’ve done it so many times, it’s mechanical for them. Younger women may come up short in the talent department, but they’re so eager to please.”

*contemplative pause*

Another fireman responds:

“If only there was a way to combine the two, to find a happy medium.”

First fireman:

“Oh, there is… 26, my friends. 26? Is the sweet spot.”

At which point I looked over to B, and yell

“HEYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

because whoa!, I am 26, so that’s pretty awesome, right? Lucky man!

And my darling dear, he eyes me carefully, and he says…

“So, how many months you got left?”


P.S. Obviously this is a rather ridiculous notion. I just thought it was awesome because they said 26 and hey, it’s kind of an obscure age. We don’t get much else.

Also, excuse to post a picture of hot firemen? Yes and also please.

~Hey! Are you reading this in a Reader? That’s cool… don’t want the man to see you being lazy, for sure. But do me a wee favor and click here, just for a second, if you don’t mind… *vague and mysterious ftw*~

Well, it finally happened.

I knew it was going to. I could have stopped it. I could have prevented it, if only I had taken a precious few seconds of my life to think before I acted.

Ok, wait. Let’s back it up. (Ha. That will be punny in a moment.)

Every once in a while, I have to pee. Consequently, I will, at times, use a restroom. Sometimes I even do it at work.

But, see, here’s the thing. I have this really bad efficient habit of, um, “getting ready” before I enter the stall. “Making preparations,” if you will.

Must’ve been all those years of Brownies.

(And by years, I mean one. One class. Brownies freaking blew.)

So, yeah, without fail, I begin the pulling-down-of-the-pants, or the pulling-up-of-the-skirt, before I am actually within in the confines of a specific cube of bathroom privacy.

Which means that anyone walking in said bathroom would unwillingly be privy to a sneak preview of my bathing suit area.

Given that this is A) a women’s restroom and B) a place of work, I’ll go out on a limb here and say that none of the potential viewers want a piece of that.

And I KNOW this. I think about it every time I go to the bathroom, and think,

“Damn! I did it again! Moron… one of these days it is gonna happen, and it’s not going to be pretty. Check yoself!”

But I still do it every. damn. time.

And yesterday, Wile E. Coyote finally caught the Road Runner.

Or something.

Basically, I mooned my boss.

I'm slightly better looking.

No, that’s not accurate, actually…

I mooned my BOSS’ boss.

Is there a someecard for that?

Last Friday, we had a little whine ‘n cheese party for a colleague who’s retiring. Which is nice and all, if you’re into forced smalltalk with a group of lawyers who constantly ask a) when you’re going to law school (never?); b) when you’re getting married; and c) what did you do last weekend so they can live vicariously through you.

But seeing as it was FRIDAY!!!!! and we’d been given permission to leave at 2 pm for the holiday weekend, I listened to the head honcho give his speech, bobbed my head knowingly at the appropriate moments, and then made like a tree back to my office cubicle wide open desk in the middle of a room where every single person can see my shit.

Hmm. I really need to stop looking at stuffonmycat.com.

Anyhoodle, I had work to finish, and hot damn if I was gonna be in the building even a minute after 2. (I am nothing if not a dedicated employee. …Dedicated to getting the fuck out of as soon as possible, that is.)

People were filtering in and out from the party while I worked, but I was as one-track-minded as a 13 year old boy watching Basic Instinct for the first time.

It was 1:53 and the clock was ticking down. Jack Bauer had nothing on me as I furiously printed, copied, emailed, and TPS-reported my way towards the deadline.

As I began the requisite preparations for my departure (starting with the change to flipflops under the desk, and working my way up to the more obvious “I’m OUTTAAAAAAAAAA HERE!!!!! turning off of the computer), my nostrils were very suddenly assaulted by an extremely pungent odor. The scent of a sweaty man’s gym socks punched me in the face, while an eau de Jersey Turnpike gave me a one-two uppercut to the nose.

Dazed and confused (FAH Q!), I quickly looked down at myself in horror. Was it even possible for a human being to smell that way?? I hadn’t worked out, I’d showered that morning, I have no history with any sort of BO (no, this does NOT count)… in fact, I’d NEVER smelled anything so horrible emanating from any living creature (well, other than kitten diarrhea) in my life.

Just as I was devising an emergency plan of action to get down to the office gym showers jump out the window out of pure mortification, I happened to glance over at the table to my right, aka our office’s “dumping ground” for all things edible, be it holiday treats, party leftovers, etc.

Sitting there, with those wavy lines in the air literally enamating from the source, was a plate of the moldiest, stinkiest cheese this side of the Atlantic.

(Gotta give the Frenchies their due. I’m sure they’ve come up with something smellier. But I never, ever want to meet it.)

After I wept tears of relief that I was not to be the new poster child for Smelly Kids Anonymous, I grabbed my bag and checked out a whopping five minutes early. I figured I’d earned it.

Though thankfully, there were no battle wounds odors to prove it.

So.

It’s that time, friends. That sit-on-a-rooftop-and-drink-beer-with-dear-friends-and-a-few-strangers-but-no-one-who’ll-rape-you-time!

Disclaimer: Does not apply to cuddle-rapes.

Second disclaimer: Yes, I know rape’s not funny.

Third disclaimer: Unless the word “cuddle” is in front of it.

DONT FIGHT THE IRONY, AMIGO!!

Anyhoo, if there’s one thing in this world I’m good for, it’s bringing strangers together. In the biblical sense.

Wait. No.

Sexy-friendsical sense?

Let me try that on.

*shakes it out*

Sure. That’ll do.

What I’m trying to say here, is that I’d like to see you. Your face. And your legs. And even your hugging arm. (It’s your left. No, your other left. Just make the “L” with your hand, goddammit!! We don’t have all day.)

Wait, yes we do. We’re at “work”.

Bwahaha! Take that, The Man!

So, if you would like to see me, and all the awesome people who are going to comment here to let us know they’re coming, be at Vapiano’s in Chinatown (map) at 6pm on Friday, June 4th, a la your vote.

Spread the word, y’all. Spread it like herpes at Woodstock.

Dirty hippies.

Steal this button if you’re coming!

Copy and paste the code in your own blog:

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/2010/05/because-apparently-i-didnt-get-enough-to-drink-in-vegas.html"><img class="aligncenter" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3382/4641327737_8457fb1000_o.jpg" alt="DC HH June 4" width="300" height="370" /></a>

For some inexplicable reason, there are those of you out there who would have me tell you what to do with your life.

I find this completely baffling, entirely awesome, and am ready and willing for the challenge.

Therefore, I give you what may be installment #1 of a Clusterfuck of Advice from LiLu & B.

Dear Lilu,
 
My dating life is… complicated. Add that to a habit of sabotaging myself and you’ll have a lovely string of wonderful, kind, and just not for me men in my wake.
 
However, there is a someone. We’ll call him by his call sign: Token. Now, I have known Token since high school when he was sweet, geeky, and too shy to ever ask a girl out. Four years at the Naval Academy followed by pilot training (hence the name Token), he is still sweet, geeky, but wildly outgoing. As a military brat I cannot help but be drawn to men in uniform and it turns out pilots often don’t wear anything under the jump suit. (Think about that the next time you watch Top Gun.)
 
We’ve been mutually interested in each other for nearly eight years, but the timing never really worked out. However, it seems the universe has finally decided to align and given us the chance to try this thing out in July.
 
There’s just one teeny problem.
 
He grunts.
 
You know, during the s. e. x… he grunts. Now, if it was at the end then I could totally not giggle but with every little push there’s a “UGH!” and then “HOUGH!” followed by another “UGH!” and this weird throat thing that sounds like growling which prompts giggling from my part of the process. Not exactly a moment made of sexy between the giggles and the grunts.
 
So, now that I’ve breached the information barrier: Advice? Any advice whatsoever?
 
Sincerely,
Little Fish
 
P.S. You have permission to post this email, especially if you give good advice.

BWA hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I’m done now. Swear.

Sorry. Couldn't be helped.

*giggle*

Dear Little Fish,

My immediate response was, there’s no way. In my experience, men are super duper sensitive while boning. I mean, you call a guy by your ex’s name ONE TIME while you’re downtown in Bangtown, and suddenly he’s curled up in the fetile position, crying in the corner of the room.

That was an uncomfortable nine hour ride back from Jacksonville, FL.

Ahem.

BUT, I thought, maybe you could, sort of, you know… suggest alternative noises that turned you on. Lead him towards some dirty talk, maybe. As long as you keep him too busy to punctuate his dirtyisms with the grunts, maybe they would just sorta… fade away?

And then I turned to B, and read your quandry to him.

B: She should just tell him.

Me: What, like, straight out??

B: Yeah. Definitely.

Me: Won’t that be… awkward? And what if he can’t stop? Then it’s all he’ll be thinking about! It’ll ruin their sexy time!

B: No. It won’t matter at all. He’s a dude. The only thing he’ll be THINKING is “I’m getting laaaaaaaaid!”

So there you have it, amiga. I say try to wean him off of it if you can… but the man says just lay it all out there.

They are simple creatures, truly.

Thoroughly Entertained,

LiLu

Please y’all, feel free to give Little Fish your own 2 cents. Or, if you have a question of your own, shoot me an email and we’ll see if we can’t help you out.

And happy freaking FRIDAY!!!

Okay, so.

A lot of you probably already know about this, but I wanted to wait to announce it here until it’d taken off a bit… and it sure as shit has.

If you’ll remember, earlier this month B and I embarked on a new and quite X-treme!!! fitness journey, which is going very well. Many of you asked me to keep you updated on our progress… but I’ve decided to do you one better.

One way, WAY better.

Last Tuesday when I was pounding away on the treadmill, it came to me. Like Smee in Hook, “lightning… had just struck my brain.”

BAM. Within minutes, I was the proud new owner of InItToGymIt.com.

I moved forward quickly- I knew exactly what I wanted this place to be. A little web design, 80+ contributors, and more than 30 posts (from as many people!) later… In It To Gym It was born.

Our ‘About‘ page:

We’re all In It for different reasons.

We have different things we need to share, different goals, different pant sizes.

This is a place to vent, to despair, to support, to be unbelievably corny.

This is a place to do whatever we have to in order to hold ourselves accountable, be it record calories, exercise, feelings, insults, ambitions, poundage, or ugly cries.

This is not a competition. This place is simply meant to help each other facilitate those goals, whatever they may be. To create a community of support and motivation, no matter how silly or trivial a complaint or worry or bitchfest may seem.

(And, um, to add a little thing called accountability in the mix? Don’t hurt a thing.)

60+ contributors and growing, posting whenever, whatever, they need to.

The only rule is play nice.

The name of the game is get in shape, girls and boys…

Therefore, we are:

IN IT TO GYM IT.

As DC Blogs* called it last night…

And it’s all ours.

Thank you so much to everyone who helped with it’s creation, who jumped on board, who reads, who comments, who supports and helps motivate. That really is the name of the game, after all.

Sidebar: Want the IITGI button for your sidebar? Here’s the code:

<a href="http://inittogymit.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1020.photobucket.com/albums/af321/liluspics2/gym-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="In It To Gym It"></a>

Twitter, Facebook, 20sb, and our Google Group. Okay, swear I’m done!

So from now on, any fitness-related notions or updates of mine will be over there. If that’s your bag, check it out! The bigger the community the better, right?

If not, rest assured that THIS place, the LiLu you’ve come to know and (hopefully) love, won’t be changing a smidge. It will be cat antics, self-deprecation, the shiz B says, and other ridiculous business as usual.

So wherever I see you around, whether it’s here, there, or everywhere, thanks for being there. You fill my heart with butterflies, rainbows, and cats wearing silly outfits.

*Speaking of DC Blogs, I am honored to announce that I will be taking over the Tuesday round-up as a regular gig from now on. So make sure to always post your best stuff on Mondays!

Wait, what?

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

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Every now and then, we have to go and see these things called doctors.

Wait! Don’t go! I promise this isn’t about healthcare!

(But by the end, you might wish it were.)

Ahem.

I had a simple physical scheduled last week. Unfortunately, it turned out to be an incredibly busy day at work, but appointments can take weeks to get at my doc, so I sacrificed my lunch hour and prayed it wouldn’t take much longer than that.

As I was rushing out of the office, I realized that although I’d had my morning coffee, I had NOT had my morning TCOB. There was no time, however- never enough time, Zack!!- so I mentally shrugged and raced to the doctor’s, hoping for the best.

By the time I was verifying my insurance at the front desk, I was dancin’. You know what I mean… the pee pee dance with clenched cheeks? Prairie doggin’ it? Turtle heading?

Yeah. That.

I did a jig while the desk clerk slowwwly processed my co-pay, and slumped into a chair in the waiting room to assess my options. Finally, I spotted the bathroom across the room…

Of course. A onesie.

Sigh.

I had a brief internal struggle, but my body quickly beat out my mind in the “over matter” battle. Trying to look casual, I sauntered over and nonchalantly closed the door behind me… and went into action.

A cool minute and a spritz of Lysol later, I emerged as calmly as I’d gone in, and innocently plopped back down in my chair, hoping to appear engrossed in the May 2007 edition of GQ.

Approximately 30 seconds later, a very proper and professional looking middle-aged man set down his coffee and headed for the restroom.

Say it with me, in “Legend of the Seeker“-style slow-mo:

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

Alas, there was nothing to be done. As I waited anxiously for his inevitable departure and judgmental stare, I pondered escape routes and prayed for my name to be called.

And then, from the heavens above… a miracle. An elderly man got up and swung the bathroom door open before any of us spectators could say a word.

An exchange so uncomfortable I can’t quite put it into words ensued, as the flustered old man decided to hold the door open while he apologized profusely, rather than, um, CLOSING IT.

Somehow, I managed to hide my smile, but inside I did a happy dance of epic proportions. The last thing anyone would be thinking about now was what the girl in the cute purple dress had done in there. Upon the man’s departure, instead of me receiving the Judgy Eye? I gave him one of pitying sympathy…

And all was right with the world.

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Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Classy in Philadelphia’s TMI Thursday- The Time I Had No Idea How He Got Naked

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who wins at restrooms forever (TMI Thursday)

Mary’s TMIT: The Most Shameful of Walks

Ella Unread’s TMI THURSDAY – SENIOR DOGS FART AND BURP

P’s TMI THURSDAY: THE FACE LICKER

confessor69’s TMI Thursday: Things You Should NEVER Do in Your Closet

Floreta’s Head Lice 

Heather’s TMI Thursday: A Different Kind of Pee Pee Dance

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Blister in the Sun

Torn’s TMI Thursday–Is that Pee?

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: Spice up the Marriage

Meleah’s Public Service Announcement – TMI Style

Bev’s TMI Thursday: Why I Don’t Drink Gin

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: The Joys of Running, Part V: I Forgot What?

Lisa’s Dear Mr. Echo

Cleveland Poet’s Tmi Thursday: The bj and the scab

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which i should have said nothing at all

Brainless’ TMI Thursday: This post is NOT politically correct

Kernut’s My First Brush With The Law

Last evening, B and I had our nightly battle in which he attempts to convince me to scratch his NAKED back, and I wail and protest and squirm and add multiple syllables to words in true five-year-old whining fashion. I will not go gentle into that good night!

Now, I’ve talked about this before- twice- I just cannot STAND the idea of all those dead, flaky skin cells cropping up underneath my fingernails. It makes me own skin, well, crawl. (Ew.)

When first confronted with my dead skin phobia,* he maintained it was worth my suffering because then if he ever murdered me, I’d be fortunate enough to have his DNA under my nails to prove it was him. Which doesn’t really work out because then I’m A) dead, and B) he is a tricky bastard and we’ve watched all five seasons of The Wire, so I’m pretty sure homeboy knows how to get rid of a dead body by now. You just don’t watch Stringer Bell operate without picking up a thing or two.

Mmmmmmmmmmm.

Anyhoo, this was his new and improved argument last night:

B: {rips off shirt}  Baby, will you *please* scratch my back??

Me: Gross!! You know I hate that!

B: {puppy dog eyes}

Me: Fine. Put your shirt back on and I will.

B: {heavy sigh}  Then I can’t FEEL anything! Come on, think about it. That’s like asking someone to put pants on before they bone you!!!

Me: ………………………

Too-shay, my dear. Too-shay.

He may have won last night. But he can’t come up with these forever.

Can he?

*cringe*

*This is no way applies to peeling off sunburned skin flakes. That, of course, is pure awesome.**

**I NEVER CLAIMED I MADE SENSE. Shuttup.

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is time… for the tenth installment of TMI Thursday, a la Post Secret! If you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know what Frank Warren’s GENIUS idea is, click that link to be amazed. People from all over the world send him anonymous postcards, of anything they want, so long as it represents their own personal secret. And that’s what we’ve decided to do here, from our OWN little bloggy community… TMI style. (Click here for all the past entries.)

Please continue to send your picture TMITs in, any time. You can use the top secret anonymous email account to send it in (Gmail, username tmithursday, password tmit1234), and send them to me at heylivitluvit at gmail dot com. I suggest the free photo editing website Fotoflexer to make it super duper easy.

All righty, then. And away we go…

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Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Stephanie’s TMI Thursday: For Serious, I Am Too Busy Gagging To Even Come Up With A Decent Title For This One

Insomniac Lolita’s TMI Thursday : The Incident Down Under

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Whose nasal hygiene is a marvel of prestidigitation (TMI Thursday)

Wendy’s TMI Thursday: Would you, could you, in a tree?

grilledcheeseandketchup’s TMI Thursday #2: Sham-poo

miss*H’s TMI Thursday: The one with the cottage cheese you would not like to eat!

LivingWicked’s TMIThursday: What? You Didn’t Get The *gag* Memo?

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: The Joys of Running, Part IV: I Can’t Hold It in Anymore!

Spleen’s So THAT’S where all the food went. Evil roommate.

Travis’ TMI Thursday: The First Person To Say, “Sounds Like You Had A Shitty Day,” Is Going To Get Donkey Punched.

Sebastian’s What men do in the shower, or ‘Seb sells out and gets naked on camera’

Cammy’s TMI Thursday: The Time I Crapped My Pants

Heather’s TMI Thursday: Poopie Party

Tricia’s TMIT: That Time I . . . Cried . . .

Amy’s TMI Thursday: To Wax or Not To Wax

Manderz’s TMI Thursday

Torn’s TMI Thursday – many small TMI confessions

Wonderful’s TMI Thursday: I have to pee

Cleveland Poet’s An autbot almost threw up on me or TMI Thursday

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: isn’t that a ring on your finger?

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: leftover pot roast

Simply T’s TMI Thursday: Bathroom Wars – Men Vs. Women

Vittoria’s TMI Thursday: Road Trip!

Vixations’ TMI Thursday: Group Masturbation

Brainless’ WAAAYYYY TMI Thursday

MJenks’ TMI Thursday: This Shit Has Got to Stop

Aurora’s TMI Thursday: Misplacing the V-Card

Ten years ago, the best long distance runner on our track team was jealous of MY legs, and I was competing with the shot putters to see who could do more push-ups during calis.

Yes, it was ten years ago. Yes, I was 16 and didn’t yet have a curve to my name.

I don’t care.

I want it back.

I want that feeling… that strength. That swagger.

I want to rock it at my girl’s wedding. I want to make this look goooooood in Vegas.

Now, I am not a big girl by any means. I know this. 

But I am SOFT, y’all. I’ve gone from sharp chedder to a ripe brie… and I’ve had enough.

I am sick of feeling weak. I am tired of feeling self-conscious.

It is time for a real change. It is time to get EXTREME. 

And so, my friends… with the power of B by my side, an absolutely insane hour-a-day training program, and a devastating lack of cheeseburgers from my life… I will do it. I will get it back, with a side of Michelle Obama arms to boot.

Please and thank you.

Three months, six days a week.

Half the booze, none of the fried.

(Somebody shoot me.)

Dear ladies in the OFFICE BUILDING gym locker room,

Tatas. Hoo-has. Heinies of all shapes and sizes.

We’ve all got ‘em, to be sure. I’ve seen a boob or ten in my day, and I in no way oppose nudity. I am no Charlotte York; a good skinny dip never hurt anybody. (Unless you can’t swim. Then why the hell were you skinny dipping, idjit??)

But. As Jerry Seinfeld explained to us, there is “good” naked… and there is “bad” naked.

Good naked?

Making pancakes for your significant other on a lazy Sunday afternoon in just that cute little apron. (Not ME, Mom. Like, in movies and stuff. Yeah…)

Bad naked?

Having a ten minute chat with a fellow employee- or God forbid, ME- with the poon just haaaangin out there, waving at me all the while.

(P.S.? If you can braid it, it’s TOO LONG.)

And then. Then when you finally wrap up said chat about your boss (gross) or your children (grosser) or your I-can’t-hear-you-because-I-just-stabbed-myself-in-the-eardrum-with-one-of-the-free-tampons-just-to-make-it-STOP, then…

You cavalierly saunter over to the sink, and begin to blow dry your hair…

With daddy long leg vadge and pancake boobs swinging proudly, for all to see.

*………..*

Look.

I am not a particularly modest woman.

I feed the cats in my birthday suit every morning as I get ready for work. I’ll pee in front of any woman I’ve known and adored for at least five minutes. I’ll happily discuss an interesting bowel movement- “It looked like prepubscent Jesus’ beard!”- with, well, anyone who’ll listen. (And preferably, chime in with a battle/glory story of their own.)

And so, dear ladies at my office gym, I say this to you. If I, of all people, find your utter lack of modesty offensive…

May the heavens above have mercy on your naked ass soul.

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***What are you doing for St. Paddy’s Day? I know I’ll be rocking out at Shamrock Fest, March 13th at RFD Stadium. Booze, live music (including LMFAO what!!), and an excuse to wear a ridiculous hat? I’m there. Hopefully you will be too!***

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So. You perhaps may remember that I went to visit my GBF Thomas in NYC a few months ago.

I did not blog this then, because I thought perhaps I’d gotten away with it and he hadn’t seen me. Win!

Except, then I went out to LA to surprise him for his birthday.

And, over a perfectly drunken brunch, it was disclosed to me that he had totally seen me, and possibly even (lovingly) mocked me, and, well, ain’t no point in keeping it under wraps anymore!

The scene:

We started out drinking tall boy PBRs in the Village at, oh, noon? We moved from bar to bar to Five Guys to his apartment for a boozy Rachel Zoe marathon to bar to club to bar, drinking all the while.

Little known fact about me: I am old. No, seriously. I may love to drink with friends, but we have to start EARLY because I inevitably crash at 11pm. Not kidding. My body just goes all, BEDTIME!!!! ZOMG WHY ARE YOU VERTICAL RIGHT NOW?!? FIND A CAB IMMEDIATELY AND GET US OUT OF HEEEERE!!!!

Also? I can no longer take shots. At all. Even a little. (Maxie, for the love of the 8 pound 6 ounce baby Jesus, please accept this statement. I am begging you.)

ANYHOO. It’s now 2:30am and my soul is dying slowly as Thomas drags me into yet another fabulous gay bar. At this point, I may love him dearly, but we’ve been drinking for 3,214 hours and BED. GIVE IT TO ME NOW. IN THE FACE.

We pull up to the bar and I hear my darling dear say,

“Two beers… and two shots of tequila, please!”

My stinkiest of eyes did nothing to deter him and his desire to relive our nostalgic Chapel Thrill-tequila-drinking ways.

And I’m a fucking trooper, y’all. So I downed it.

But, you know how sometimes your body just flat out rejects the idea of something? You know… physically.

So it was like that, and that damn shot of tequila was sitting in my throat and I knew I had less than 30 seconds to decide WHERE to direct the imminent ejection.

My options were grim. The bar was wall to wall gay boys, with no possible passage to a probably occupied unisex bathroom. My beer was full, leaving no room for excess fluid and obviously, I was incapable of drinking any of it to make room. And, of course, there was the matter of discretion to consider.

With the clock ticking down (I’m like the Jack Bauer of puking), I covertly sloshed a fair amount of my beer onto a nearby counter, “took a sip”- AKA expelled the tequila impatiently resting in my gullet, and set what looked like a full beer once again on the counter.

I can only hope no one mistook it for their own drink.

But, um… at least it was Patrón?

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Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Virgin alert! Chelsea Talks Smalk’s TMI Thursday; Strippers and such. Sorry Dad.

Cheddar’s TMI Thursday: Dating Tips

confessor69’s TMI Thursday: If Flubbery Isn’t a Word, It Should Be

The Solitary Panda’s Free Massage

Sebastian’s Harry Potter soundboard, with a hint of slash fan fiction

Living Wicked’s TMIThursday: A Hole Surprise

P’s TMI THURSDAY: THE ONE WITH THE NOTE . . .

Adam L’s TMI Thursday: The Joys of Running Part II: The Fire Between Your Legs

Beverly’s TMI Thursday: How I Dented My Derriere

Just Linda’s I like YOU, Internet, because YOU know I’m just joking…

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Winter-1 Sean-0

Another virgin! grilledcheeseandketchup’s TMI Thurday #1: Ireland

MiMi’s Did you know…TMI edition

Dani’s TMI Thursday: hey lady, your vanilla is showing…

Lisa’s TMI Thursday: Taking a Break from the Serious

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: The Mistress

Heather’s TMI Thursdays: The Thong Song

Jeney’s TMI Thursday: One Girl, One Cup (Not like you would think…)

ClevelandPoet’s TMI THURSDAY: When coughs attack

Agy Talks’ TMI Thursday: Deperate Guys looking for Girls

Jane Marie’s TMI Thursday: Things no one tells you about labor and delivery.

Vixations’ TMI QUESTION TIME!

City Girl’s My PSA: Buy the Turbo 8

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which i won’t tell you about that.

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: fecal matter kills

Simply “T”s TMI Thursday: Twins, Basil. Twins.

Dominick Bonny’s TMI Thursday: The tale of the tesicle

So, I know I’ve been slacking on the Weekend Doses of Fugly. What can I say, life happens.

BUT during the commercials before Avatar tonight (my 140-character thoughts on that subject are here and here),

THIS happened.

I guffawed, people. GUFFAWED.

Well played, Old Spice.

Well. PLAYED.

***Don’t forget “Life Advice from B” questions are still live. Ask ‘em now!***

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

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This is a short-but-sweet, my friends.

Well, maybe “sweet” isn’t the right word…

Short-but-PUNGENT, perhaps?

You’ll see.

Yesterday morning, I made a pot of coffee before B got up, so that he could wake up to fresh coffee. There are few things that excite the man as much, and I really should do it more often, if only to hear his squeals of joy.

An hour later or so, he looked over at me tenderly, and said this:

B: “Baby?

Me: “Yes, dear?”

B: “I need to go T.C.O.B.“

Me: “Uhhh. Okay… thanks for the status update? We have Google Buzz for that now, though.”*

B: “Well, I was just wondering if you needed to pee first.”

Me: “Awwwwww. No, I’m good. You go right ahead. But thanks.”

Now that is what I call true love and consideration for one’s partner.

(This story brought to you by Two People, One Bathroom Productions.)

*I didn’t really say that. But it would have been a GREAT one, no?

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Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

Classy in Philadelphia’s TMI Thursday- The Time I Accidentally Made Out With A Freshman

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who spills the bloody details

PQ’s TMIT: Frosbitten Indecent Exposure

The Sassy Seminarian’s TMI Thursday: Dining Hall Dash

Jenny DB’s TMI Th: anything but anal

P’s TMI THURSDAY: GONE TO THE DOGS/HORSES/SHEEP/GOATS/INSERT OTHER ANIMAL HERE . . . NOT LITERALLY!!!

BigSis’ TMI Thursday: Feeling Crafty?

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: Skid Lake

Late-Night Drama Queen’s TMI Thursday: Martini Mayhem

Living Wicked’s TMIThursday: Barfy Valentines Day, Honey!

GregoryJ’s TMI Thursday – Moon over Lake Erie

Sebastian’s Dirty real-time Formspring

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Cabin Fever

Cleveland Poet’s TMI Thursday: Wrong bloody bathroom lady!

Beverly’s (My First) TMI Thursday: Carlos Rossi

Vittoria’s TMI Thursday: Snoverkill Cabin Fever

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: People of ……

UNITEDSTATESOFBOHICA’s UNITEDSTATESOFBOHICA.COM: Apparently it’s TMI Thursday…

Ashley’s If Yasmine takes the pictures, it’ll be the pup-arazzi

vixation’s Two Thank You’s and My Very First TMI Thursday!

Dominick Bonny’s TMI Thursday: I have a crush on Lindsey Vonn

JewliaGoulia’s TMI Thursday – 9th Edition

amber murphy’s TMI: because if you don’t read my blog on Thursdays, it’s your loss

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: fear becomes reality

Ms. Terri’s TMIT – At the Expense of a Child

Just A Girl’s (Not Really) TMI Thursday

Just Linda’s From the department of women’s underwear management…

Confessor69’s TMI Thursday: Cat hair, boobs, and massive blood-loss

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today’s TMI Thursday comes from one of my Midwestern besties… and it is reason 4,519 why I freaking LOVE HER FACE. There are no words… well, actually, there are. They’re just hers, instead of mine. Please to enjoy!

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well hello kids, i’m alexa and i write the blog cleveland’s a plum.

now i love my blog in all its plum glory but i’m not exactly how you say, anonymous. and while i have little to no shame about the story i’m about to tell, it’s way too TMI for me to be able to post it on my own blog.

enter lilu, who when i told her this story on sunday graciously invited me to take over her awesome blog today. and much like when maxie let me take over her blog in september for my first TMI thursday this post involves some antics with the opposite sex.

let’s set the stage – this incident occurred just this past saturday night when i threw an absolutely crazy girls night out sponsored by Dove where the cocktails were a flowing to say the least.

so much so that my roommate needed to go home early, but alas she forgot her keys at home…. alexa to the rescue.

“don’t lock the door steph, don’t forget. remember, don’t lock the door or we won’t be able to get in!”, i repeated over and over.

cue two hours later and i’m rolling with a crew six deep to come back to my apartment to eat pepperoni bread. but of course she forgot to leave the door unlocked and was in such a deep pass out state that she didn’t wake up.

you knew that was coming right? well how about there’s also some video proof of said lock out posted on my friend allison’s blog – classic.

but this isn’t the point of the story.

you see because of the lock out my hook up location plans needed to be changed. thankfully my old friend who i was planning on yada yada yada-ing with was in town for a wedding and conveniently had a room at a very nice downtown hotel a mere few blocks from my apartment.

a cab was hailed, clothing was removed, much sexy time was had, and then the pass out portion of the evening ensued.

the next thing i remember i was when i “came to” in the hallway of the hotel – i.e. NOT in the hotel room, and was completely naked other than a pair of black underwear.

NAKED! as in no bra, big boobs, NAKED!

as i groggily try to figure out what the hell i was doing in the hallway of a nice hotel with no clothes on i start to freak out. i have ZERO idea what room i came out of and how the eff did i end up out there anyway?

my only guess is that i mistook the hotel room door for the bathroom door. but regardless of how i got out there, all i knew was that i needed back in the right hotel room stat.

i’m stumbling around for what seems like forever in what seems like circles in the hotel hallway without a single plan of action, when i hear someone walking down the hall.

i sneak around the corner hoping he won’t see me with no such luck. next thing i know he’s standing in front of my asking if i’m ok to which i reply, “oh yes, i’m totally fine, heading to my room right now” – as i’m holding my ginormous boobs in my hand.

he buys it and begins to walk towards the elevator.

but that interaction puts me in full out drunk panic mode, almost on the verge of tears, because i simply can’t go down to the lobby in just my underwear.

i start looking for a throw rug, or a potted plant, or curtains or something to cover myself up. i start trying to open random doors to no avail until a miracle happens.

i find an open utility closet – with stacks and stacks of table cloths.

i quickly grab a circular white linen table cloth, wrap it around myself like a towel and B line it for the elevator.

thinking back on it now i SO should have turned it into a toga – next time.

as i saunter through the lobby of the hotel like i own the place, barefoot and only half naked now, i’m happy that it’s 5 (?) in the morning and only a handful of people are mulling about.

i head to the front desk, inform the gentleman behind the counter that i’m locked out of my friends room and ask if he could please give me a key and while he’s at it remind me of what exactly the room number was again…

as he made the key he couldn’t stop giggling, and right before he handed it to me he asked, “you don’t have any identification on you do you?”.

no smart ass, i don’t.

after quite the epic naked ordeal i finally get back into the hotel room with ease, strip off the table cloth and crawl back into bed laughing to myself as if i was never gone.

if ever i’m given the opportunity, i would do inappropriate things to get my hands on that surveillance camera footage.

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Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who catches an eyeful in the men’s room

Mary’s TMIT: Treasure Chest

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: Barf-o-rama

Kellyansapansa’s TMI Thursday: Smooth Operator

the iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: My Flower, Devoured

Daffy’s I’m Over the Moon – grab a square and take a seat

latenightdramaqueen’s TMI Thursday: That warm sensation

Sebastian’s Fetishes of the far east

P’s TMI THURSDAY: THE ONE IN WHICH I ANSWER MY OWN QUESTION AND OUTDO MYSELF . . .

GregoryJ’s TMI Thursday

Jess Perreca Jr’s Very First TMI Thursday (Unsuccessful Courtesy Flush)

Travis’ TMI Thursday: And Then There Were Three…

Spleen’s Bring me your wretched masses yearning for cashes

Hillbilly Duhn’s When Size Matters – TMI Thursday

kate’s TMI Thursday – Buffet Style

Wynn’s WARNING: NOT for the faint of heart.

Vittoria’s TMIT: Would you like some oatmeal?

Angie’s TMI Thursday–Naughty Catholic Boy

Insomniac Lolita’s TMI Thursday : C**ch In Front Of My Face

Cleveland Poet’s TMI Thursday is that a spit up or are you just happy to see me

confessor69’s Happy Annivers….Oops!

Tricia’s TMIT: My First Time

Mikael’s TMIT ~ Lick My What?

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which I am long winded but it is worth it in the end

JewliaGoulia’s TMI Thursday – 8th Edition

CageQueen’s Eeeeeew!

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: guess what’s in my pants

City Girl’s The intimacy of anal

Simply “T”s TMI Thursday 2/4/2009

L’s TMI Thursday: Two valuable lessons

Just A Girl’s TMI Thursday: RIP Dr. Piven

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is time… for the ninth installment of TMI Thursday, a la Post Secret! If you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know what Frank Warren’s GENIUS idea is, click that link to be amazed. People from all over the world send him anonymous postcards, of anything they want, so long as it represents their own personal secret. And that’s what we’ve decided to do here, TMI style. (Click here for all the past entries.)

Please continue to send your picture TMITs in, any time. I will make sure every last one is posted. You can use the top secret anonymous email account to send it in (Gmail, username tmithursday, password tmit1234), and send them to me at heylivitluvit at gmail dot com. I suggest the free photo editing website Fotoflexer to make it super duper easy.

All righty, then. And away we go…

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Other awesomely bad TMIs this week…

heischic’s TMI Friday

moog’s Seeing Red – An Awful TMI Thursday

jenniferalaine’s tmi thursday: i kissed a homeless man.

Ex Hot Girl’s TMI Thursday: Butts and Cats.

Living Wicked’s TMIThursday: A Little Extra SAUCE w/ Her French … Kiss.

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: A few of my hated things

Cheddar’s TMI Thursday: Mommy?

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who micromanages your mucous

P’s TMI THURSDAY: HOW MANY BEANS ARE IN THERE???

coffeypot’s TMI Thursday – The Double Date

Sebastian’s Pride & Prejupenis

Mary’s TMIT: Gay BFFs?

JewliaGoulia’s TMI Thursday – 6th Edition

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Why Is Michael Phelps Swimming to the Winter Olympics?

GregoryJ’s TMI Thursday – The Rest of the Story

Ashalah’s first one! TMI Thursday: The Uniballer

Griffin’s TMI Thursday – Basic Training Deformity

the iNDefatigable mjenks’ TMI Thursday: Hair Soap

Travis’ TMI Thursday: It’s Been A Big Week…

Tricia’s TMIT: I Get a Kick Out of You

Jeney Peney’s (Mini)TMI Thursday : Underpants

Tania’s TMI Thursday

Another virgin! Angie’s My First TMI Thursday Post – The Birth of My Son

And ANOTHER! Dating is My Hobby’s TMI Thursday: Why I’m the best girlfriend

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: I’ve Lost That Loving Feeling!

ClaireMontgomeryMD’s tmi thursday: how jean found herself in a vagina

Spleen’s TMI Thursday: you speak (and tell me about your embarrassing purchases)

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which i was born again

Just Linda’s Thank goodness for my lovely pashmina

Pat’s TMI Thursday – I came, I sat, I peed

Krista’s TMI Thursday, the first

Recently, I’ve been getting a lot of emails about finding one’s “voice,” a la blog.

(At least, I hope y’all meant blogs… I can’t help you with your press releases and such. I before e, mofos.)

Anyhoo, they send me these emails because- get this- they seem to think I’ve found MINE.

I know. I know.

And every time I get one of those, it sort of takes me aback. “Did they send this to the right person… Do they really mean MY little mess of a corner?”

This is all a bit odd for me. Now, I don’t deny that I am- currently- one big bag of personality. For better or for worse, ya love me or hate me. Holy Hell… I’ve become a Kardashian!!

But, my dear friends, and you knew there was a “but”… ’twas not always this way.

{insert shimmery “Saved by the Bell”-style fade out to a time long ago…}

dee dee dee dee, dee dee dee dee… okay I’m done.

Confession: When I was in 7th grade, I used to lock myself in closets and cry, because I thought I was so…

wait for it…

BORING.

(Sidebar: Sorry for that time at Steve’s house when you all really thought I was dead, Mom. I think I fell asleep. They must use fancy fabric softener or something.)

You see, I was part of a group… and we had the “funny” friend. The “tomboy” friend. The “boy-crazy” one, the “good-at-sports” one and the “smart” one.

And none of them were me.

I couldn’t figure out where I fit in. I was like a gay boy at a Texan high school with no musical theater program through which to find my true calling.

To be fair, this was also SEVENTH GRADE, when I’m pretty sure everyone and their mom felt like that. Or at least felt shitty about themselves in some way. Maybe you should all send me junior high pictures of yourselves so I feel better. Please?

God, this is turning into a therapy session. Okay, out of the Trust Tree and back into the real world. (Just not Real World DC. They really are boring.) The point is, eventually I found my goddamn voice or personality or chi or whatever the fuck you want to call it. And it took three things…

1. Time. As in growing up (and into my big ole nose) and all that.
2. Taking risks, like moving to the south, or getting a Brazilian. And lastly,
3. Putting myself out there. NOT IN THE SEXY WAY, you pervs. Like, metaphorically, and shit.

What do those three things add up to? That’s right, class. Say it with me: EXPERIENCE.

And so it shall be with your blog. There’s no escaping it- it won’t take off if you huddle in your corner of the interwebs wondering if anyone will notice you, crying in your e-closet. And Steve’s mom won’t be there to eventually find you, dry your eyes, give you a cookie, and call your mom to come get her bag of crazy-ass daughter.

Write. Write well, and openly, and as often as you can. Every time you hit “publish” your voice will become stronger, your direction more apparent. But that, of course, is only half of it.

GET OUT THERE. Think of the blogosphere as one big dating field. How will anyone know you exist if you don’t say “hi”? Then maybe they see your comment and come over, they say hi too… oh look, you even have stuff in common! Let me take you out for an e-drink, i.e. give you an “award” or tag you in a meme or add you to my blogroll, and then other people e-meet you too, and so on and so forth!

The fantastic difference between dating and blogging is you can connect with as many people as you want. Um, I think I just compared blogging to polygamy… hmm. Well, how bout we just don’t tell B about that handie you’re giving me under the e-table and leave it at that?

Anyhoo, I think this place is kind of great. And if you think so too, and you want to be a part of it… make yourself heard. With time, your voice will develop, and who knows… you might just find the Zach to your Slater out here.

First things first, chickadees. If you haven’t read yesterday and Loved Harder yet, please make sure you do. Thanks to all who posted, tweeted, donated, or just watched us make singing fools out of ourselves. You really have made a huge difference!!!

Now on to the TMIT mayhem!

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Steal this button and put it in your post just by copying and pasting the html code in the box below, or just link back to the hub with this link, so your readers can read ALLLLLLL the TMI glory, and I’ll make sure to link to you.***

<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" alt="TMI Thursday" /></a>

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a short one today because frankly, this week has wiped. Me. OUT. Between #loveharder and the 20SB awards, I have been working so hard and feeling so much that, well, yesterday just could never be topped. So I’m gonna take it easy today, if you don’t mind, and say a simple THANK YOU, thank you so much, all of you, for everything. Except for making me cry. Which didn’t happen. No it didn’t. No it didn’t! (But if it had, you’d all be in a lot of trouble.)

Enough schmoop! Without further ado, here is your TMI nugget for the day.

I occasionally have Fridays off from work, which is just freaking lovely, let me tell you. The one problem with this is whereas I’m usually the one getting up early and clunking around making noise while B tries to sleep, on these particular Fridays, the role is reversed.

And apparently, last week, he decided to get his revenge.

After letting his alarm go off 9,367 times, he finally crawled out of bed. He clomped around the room, gathering clothes and shoes and coats and hats and nuts and berries and I DON’T KNOW, BUT IT SEEMED LIKE A LOT OF CRAP.

Finally he left the room, and I listened to him roll around with what must have been two full grown tigers as he led a Siegfried & Roy routine around our living room, throwing jingle balls for Murray to fetch (which he DOES- wtf??) and dodging Axe Murderer’s murderous blows.

By the time he got to the bathroom, I’d given up. After he relieved himself, I went to do the same while he climbed into the shower, and…

Me: *sniff sniff* “Baby! Did you fart while you were peeing??”

B: “Of course I did. I always get in a good morning fart when I pee.”

Me: “SO WHAT YOU ARE SAYING TO ME IS THAT I AM SITTING IN YOUR FART CLOUD RIGHT NOW?!!?!?!”

B: “I didn’t tell you to sit there.”

Me: “You also didn’t tell me NOT to!!!”

B: *evil chuckle*

Sigh. At least I spent the rest of the day in nopants on the couch while he suffered at work.

I’ll take it.

Other awesomely bad TMI Thursdays…

That Kind of Girl’s TKOG Who rips her hair out (omg TMI)

Zan’s TMI Thursday: I’m Not a Size Queen, but…

Griffin’s TMI Thursday: Karma…yup, it’s a B*tch

Lucy’s TMI Thursday: The First Date Excitement

The Solitary Panda’s Scars

Carissa Jade’s TMI Thursday: The time it got stuck (not what you’re thinking)

Saphhyre’s TMI Thursday #6- the infamous oral fixation night.

JewliaGoulia’s TMI Thursday – 5th Edition

Jeff’s the cure to what ails you

Sheila’s Go-in to the Gyno…and we’re…gonna get a pap test (Sing that to: ‘Going to the Chapel’)

Cleveland Poet’s TMI Thursday: One man’s trash.

spleen’s TMI Thursday: strangest group of unrelated things I ever purchased

Sean’s TMI Thursday: Clogging Toilets

Travis’ TMI Thursday: My First Look At Real Boobs.

Tricia’s TMI Thursday: Drain Soup

Sebastian’s The school shower room

Lauren’s TMI Thursday: I Sincerely Thought That Would Work

Jeney’s TMI Thursday : Crapping my Pants

Wendy’s TMI Thursday: Walt Disney causes gender confusion in a toddler

ExMi’s TMI Thursday

amber murphy’s TMI Thursday: in which we weigh the melons

City Girl’s Sex during that time of the month

Life on Idle’s TMI Thursday

Dame Nuisance’s TMI Thursday: Mye Kwo Fffown

So, apparently, yesterday was National Delurking Day.

See?

I’ve always wanted to do this, and then of course, I missed the deadline.

But then, it just wouldn’t be me if something about it wasn’t slightly *off* about it, now, would it?

So come forth, my invisibles. Show your e-faces! How/why are you here? Tell us a little bit about yourself. Preferably something odd and intriguing. Like you ask your cat theological non-rhetorical questions, or you gave birth to Pauly D (no judgment!).

Or, yanno… just say “hi”.

Either way…

I’d like to meet you.

Please?

*fist pumps*

P.S. Also? I did THIS. It is my baby, and I am in love. Go check it out and tell cavy (me) how pretty it is. No, really… do it!