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And now back to our regular programming…

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Growing up, I spent my high school years working in a TGI Friday’s in Suburbia, Massachusetts.

I am a complete an utter cornball, but… they were some of the best years of my life.

The friends I made while working there are the ones I see when I go back home. They’re the ones I call when life falls to pieces around me, or when something so amazing happens I have to share it with the world (cough cough MTV cough). Being older than I, they taught me about the facts of life in ALL capacities, and more importantly, snuck me into bars underage watched over me like big brothers and sisters.

There is quite literally NOTHING like working in a restaurant. The, ahem, environment there is unlike any place on earth. You know that movie “Waiting“? … Let’s just say it’s like that, times a thousand.

(And if you haven’t seen it, please people, take this very, very important message away…

Don’t fuck with the people who handle your food!!!!!!!!!!)

Anyhoo.

You BOND with these people in a way you never knew was possible. I imagine it’s kind of like going to war. A very pussified war, to be sure, but you know what I mean… you’re in it together, no matter what the jagoffs (be it customer, manager or cook) throw your way.

And how do you get through it, day after day? JOKES. Jokes, my friend… with a healthy dose of (friendly) sexual harrassment.

One of our running themes was the theory of The Three Types of Dude. It goes like this…

The overall personality of a guy falls into one of three categories:

1. Panache: a grand or strikingly bold manner; showy; conspicuously dashing.
2. Mojo: charisma; sex appeal; personal magnetism.
3. Je ne sais quoi: having that certain “I don’t know what”… but damn if it ain’t good.

Now, a guy can certainly overlap a bit. He can be “mostly mojo, with just a hint of panache,” or “je ne sais quoi, with a streak of mojo.” But in general, nearly every (sexy) man on the planet can be clearly identified as predominantly having one of the three characteristics.

Let me show you it.

Josh Holloway

Mojo. Pure, unadulterated mojo. I think this is true of most hot Southern boys…

Ryan Reynolds

Super panache. Panache coming out his pores. Panache for DAYS.

Will Smith

An unlikely half and half mix of panache and mojo.
Oh, how our Fresh Prince has grown!

Don Dra- I mean, John Hamm

A purebred of je ne sais quoi. He needs nothing else to get the job done.
(The job being our panties = creamed.)

Alexander Skarsgard

Mojo, mojo, and more mojo. Pure goddamn MOJO… with a sneaky hint of panache when he wants to throw it in there.
(Tyra must have taught him how to smile with his eyes.)

Taye Diggs

Mojo with a side dish of je ne sais quoi.
How can you be that sexy AND that sweet??

Brad Pitt

Panache… with a very healthy dose of mojo. Wink for us, baby.

The Cloon

Oh, George. You are truly the ultimate in je ne sais quoi, but truth be told…
you have it all.

Sigh. Well, I just made MY Thursday better, anyway.

Who am I missing, and what would they be?

Also, gentleman: I challenge you to come up with a similar system for the ladies. Would it just be “cute, sexy, pretty”? You can do better than that…

Update! My friend Emil has risen to the challenge… what do you think, ladies?? Did he get us?

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Mama said share.

For this “Shiz My Friends Say,” I will be highlighting the Gchats I’ve had recently with Miss Lemmonex and Miss (soon-to-be-Mrs.) Maxie. Mostly because we chat for 7.5 hours every work day, and when you have absolutely no lines you won’t cross, well… things get interesting. (Past SMFS here, past Shiz My Boyfriend Says here.)

Let me show you it.

me: On Friday 
   I am not leaving my couch for anything
   I’m going to set up a beer cooler and a bed pan
   Yell “It’s open!” to the delivery guy
   Not apologize for the lack of bra
   And just bask in it
Lexa: hahah
   please do
   you can twitter me and maxie
me: Oh I will
   I’ll twit pic the hell out of it
Lexa: just not the bed pan pls
me: Oh it’s gonna be there
    But I’ll try to keep it out of the pic
   Just for you
Lexa: thats friendship

Maxie: I can’t wait till you see my makeup
   My eyeliner is out of control
me: hahaha
   i haven’t shaved since wednesday morning
   my vag is out of control
   tmi?
Maxie: Haha never
   I cut my taint shaving last night
me: okay cavy

Lexa: my mom calls nipples ditters
   its weird
   i just thought of that
 me: HAHAHA
 Lexa: i remember being like 12
   when she said it
    i was wearing a white unitardy shirt
 me: it’s like a hoo-ha
 Lexa: lexa, i can see your ditters
 me: omg.
 Lexa: EWWW
 me: i just died. DIED.
 Lexa: i am loling
 me: hahahaha
 Lexa: dittterrrr
  AGH
 me: now i keep thinking of little mosquito bite nipples
   and then i feel like a pedophile
   THANKS LEX

Maxie: i just answered the phone and it was the governor
   random
 me: hahaha
 Maxie: i didn’t know they used phones
 me: i know
   don’t they have “people” for that
 Maxie: exactly
  he must be in the bathroom or something
 me: haha
  the kids don’t drop themselves off at the pool
  actually, he probably has people for that too
 Maxie: or he just gets a colonic every day
 me: exactly
  that way he doesn’t have to push
  and can play sudoku at the same time
 Maxie: i’d miss the pushing

me: http://steammeupkid.blogspot.com/2009/09/connecting-with-your-blog-readers-alt.html
  she is seriously one of my favorite funny bloggers
 Lexa: lemme look
   fuck you
   i loled
  you are gonna get my ass fired
 me: hahaha why
  oh
  “raped”
  right
 Lexa: ha
 me: details.

Happy Humpday, my lovelies. Consider this your public service announcement to not say “rape” at work.

Well, unless someone’s raping you.

Then I’m pretty sure it’s okay. You better check with HR.

Mama said share.

(Originally posted as a guest post for a 20SB Blog Swap Day…)

Well, hello there! It’s 20SB BLOG SWAP DAY! Which is why you’re stuck here, reading me, LiLu of Livit, Luvit. But don’t worry, I plan on keeping y’all entertained.

You see, I have a little problem I’d like to share with y’all.

My darling and ever-patient boyfriend, B, and I have been very happy since we met last June, fell insanely in love in about two weeks, and were living together by the end of August in downtown Washington, DC. (I actually wrote about the night we met the day after it happened, which is kind of cool now looking back, if you want to read it here.)

Were (are) we crazy? Most definitely.

Has it been anything short of perfect? Absolutely not.

Okay, then, now we’re all up to speed. Glad to meetcha!

[pic]

Blissfully happy, right? Cutish, and all that? Sure. Whatevs. Not the point.

The point IS, while everything is basically hunky dory peach keen and all that, we do have one problem.

*Whispers*… You know… with THE SEX!!!

You see, my darling boy… well, he is a morning-sexer. He’s ready for a romp first thing in the morning NOMATTERWHAT. If we drank a bottle of tequila apiece the night before, it would not stop this man from trying to put his P in my V the very first moment he is conscious.

Which is flattering and all, it’s just, well…

NO.

My babymaker wants absolutely zero, as in NO PART OF a peen until she has had a few solid hours to adjust to the idea. In fact, she cannot imagine anything worse within the first hour of waking up (factoring in that I am mostly talking about the weekends here, which means I am usually HUNG over).

And I sympathize, I do… I understand that he usually wakes up, ahem, “ready to go”. (Gettit? GETTIT? I’m talking about MORNING WOOD! Tee hee!) But that doesn’t change the fact that Sexy Time generally, to me, sounds like the Worst Idea Ever In The Whole World until, oh, about noon. Then, all of a sudden, my mini-LiLu is all, “Hey, you know what’d be a good idea? That thing we do sometimes, you know, we’ll call it ‘dancing.’ Lemme get some of that.”

Which should be fine and dandy, right? Except by then, B has generally gotten into ESPNing or Xboxing and he’s all, “Whoa, where was this four hours ago? I’m not your sex monkey!” And I’m all “YES YOU ARE! Take off your pants!” But it’s too late and just like that, we’ve missed the precious window.

The Window of Sexin’.

Bet you didn’t see that coming.

So now we both watch the clock steadily on Saturdays and Sundays and joke about 12:30 as “the witching hour”…

If you text me round then on a weekend, you best be prepared to wait.

Cause, you know, we’re probably Having the Sex.

And now you know waaaay too much about us! Le awesome. So come over to my place, say, tomorrow for the infamous TMI Thursday, and share something about yourself!

Mama said share.