This post is sponsored by Cipo and Baxx Clubwear.

Last night, I had the pleasure of meeting a plethora of lovely DC ladies IRL for the first time. I immediately fell in love with Noe, as we chattered about our adorable awkwardness as human beings, the nerdalicious books we’re reading, and pondered why people are by and large unable to accept compliments from strangers.

(Preach.)

There were a two lovely girls behind us, enjoying each other’s company at the bar as they split a cheese plate (yes, I noticed because it was CHEESE. What’s your point?)

Suddenly, a deep voice boomed behind me, clearly directed at one of the girls:

“Excuse me, miss, but are you from Tennessee?”

Startled, I heard her hesitate.

“Um, no…”

“Well that’s funny… because you’re the only TEN I see!!”

Noe and I immediately doubled over with secret guffaws, shoulders shaking, clutching each other’s hands in a desperate attempt to control the peals of laughter.

It was a magical moment. I mean, this really HAPPENS? Even with my back to him, I could tell this guy completely deadpanned this. He wasn’t making a joke, or trying to be kitschy – he was 100%, in for a penny in for a pound, go big or go home, completely and totally serious.

Men of the world, please, please don’t do this. Cheesy pick-up lines – even if you ARE making a joke – are just not funny. You know what you should try? One of my all time favorites:

“Hi. I’m ____.”

Oy.

Mama said share.

Unsurprisingly, I often end up in discussions about social media with people. It’s what I love, it’s what I do for a living- it’s an ongoing supplement to nearly everything in my life. No matter how much fun it was, an event didn’t really happen until it’s been tweeted, “liked”, and checked into.

(If mimosas are consumed, but no one twitpics it, did brunch ever really happen?)

So, yes, social media is a big part of my life. And in my conversations with people about it- especially clients- we often end up talking about the different platforms, what they’re for… and which is my favorite.

If you know me at all, you know I’m a Twitter gal. I get my news from Twitter. I make friends on Twitter. Twitter brings me Charlie Sheen jokes and endless cat pictures/comics/videos/accessories on the daily. If it wasn’t for Twitter, I would never have seen this:

Or this:

Hell, I think in Twitter. I absolutely love the challenge of trying to fit a entire witty, intelligent, informative, hilarious, or otherwise complete AND interesting sentiment into 140 characters. Less, if I can. It’s like a never ending game where people are constantly forced to share only what really matters if they want to get their point across.

If only real life was like Twitter, with everyone forced to be efficient with their words! There’d be no more long-winded, boring, redundant explanations from bosses. No more horrible phone calls where you’re trapped and can’t get a word in edgewise to say goodbye.

Guys. Guys!!!!

THERE WOULD BE NO MORE SMALL TALK.

Think about it. On Twitter, you’re surrounded by a world of veritable strangers. Most of them are simple, beloved e-friends- people you share a love of the West Wing or bears wearing hats with- nothing more.

If I read something on Twitter that’s not interesting to me, I simply don’t engage. You only talk about the things you want to, with the people who want to… and even then, only in short bursts.

I. Freaking. LOVE it.

No one on Twitter ever says “hey, what’s up?” just to say something, like they do in real life, on the phone, in emails- even on Facebook. On Twitter, someone only @’s you to say: “Look at this cat wearing a monocle!” or “Honey badger don’t care! Honey badger don’t give a sh*t!!!”

And this makes me very, very happy.

P.S. Yes… I realize this entire post makes me sound like a female Ron Swanson. Well, just call me Ronnette. Now where are my cornrows??

(Though I do think Ron would appreciate the Sheen Pyramid of Greatness…)

Mama said share.

We all judge.

And if you say you don’t, you’re lying. “Judging” based on first appearances, preconceived notions, and God forbid, STEREOTYPES- are skills we have developed over the evolutionary years of our existence to streamline the overflux of information that is forcibly pushed onto our senses, and must be neatly and efficiently categorized by our tired brains every single day. It’s science.

So admit it, my darling dears. You judge. Maybe you even like it. (For everyone who says they enjoy “people watching”? Yeah, that’s just a fancy name for judging.)

And I’m here to tell you that it’s okay. Look, I’ll even go first.

Yes, I judge. I judge without shame, and with reckless abandon. And here’s when:

If you…

Use more exclamation points and smiley faces than you do periods.

Hate animals. (Severe-allergy-inspired hatred not included, Lex.)

Declare Ari Gold your personal hero. (Million Dollar Listings, I’m looking at you.)

Try to push your faith or opinions on other people, rather than simply expressing them. (There is a BIG difference.)

Are a flake.

Are a liar.

Genuinely believe PajamaJeans are a great idea.

Make your ultrasound your Facebook profile picture.

Can’t handle the heat and won’t get out of the kitchen.

Refer to yourself as a “social media guru”.

Speak when you don’t have anything to contribute. Your voice isn’t that pretty.

Start every sentence with “My boyfriend says…” (I am hanging out with you. Not him. Don’t care. Not sorry.)

Take everything personally.

Take everything (too) seriously.

Don’t nostalgically adore (and can quote) the Princess Bride.

Walk on city sidewalks with a golf umbrella.

Call yourself a ‘foodie’. (All my friends who could *actually* be considered food experts? Despise this word.)

Are 25+ and still get sloppy drunk on the regular. You are an adult. Handle yourself… because I’m not going to do it for you.

Never day drink. (Just don’t get sloppy.)

Are willing to redefine rape, but not marriage.

So go on, now. Don’t be skerred.

What makes you unapologetically judgy?

Mama said share.

One of the assistants I work with is newly knocked up. (Yes, it was on purpose, but using that phrase makes me feel like I’m fighting back- just the tiniest bit- against all the MIRACLE OF LIFE talk up in here since she announced her Baby On Board status).

This event, of course, has given every woman in our very large department cause to stop by, congratulate, and of course, share their own entirely-not-work-appropriate pregnancy and labor war stories. As I sit a mere half dozen feet away from said assistant, it has been my distinct displeasure to hear every. single. ONE of them.

And I sit at my computer and type away furiously, ignoring them as hard as I possibly can… that is, until yesterday:

Random Coworker: When I was pregnant, I had this big bump under my belly button. We thought it was the baby’s heel, so we kept telling it “oh, we love you! Look at your strong feet!” etc. etc… Then I went to the doctor for an ultrasound and she told me, “Oh, that’s a hernia.”

Preggers: Oh… my… um… what was it like?

Random Coworker: Oh, just this large, spongy tissue thing. I had surgery to have it removed afterwards.

Me: *VOMITS*

Let’s break down how I felt about that, a la GIFs that @elizabethtalks sends me all day at work to cheer me up:

First, it was a whole lotta this:

And then a hefty side of that:

Topped off with a healthy dose of this:

And, from now on? I will be taking an unscheduled pee break whenever someone comes by and sing-songs How ya doooooin’?? to Preggers. Because, frankly, I like my lunch to stay in my stomach.

Also? Someone PLEASE to find me a new job. Seriously. Email me. … Preferably before we enter the third trimester.

***Don’t forget to check out my DC Blogs round up today!***

Mama said share.

Because it’s just so… well… ME.

via my favorites @ChelsTalksSmack and @LordWilliam

600 freaking posts… it’s been quite a ride. One that made us throw up sometimes, but hey, you knew what you were getting into when you started coming round this corner of the interwebs.

Happy three day freaking weekend, y’all.

Mama said share.

If you follow my tweets, you know I’ve been in the great outdoors for the past few days. While we are “cabin-ing”, not camping, with a couple friends in Shenandoah, it’s still been much more nature-y than I’m used to.

When we walked across the lawn- yes, lawn- for the first time, heading down to the river with our canoes (who am I??), I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt a whole plot of grass under my feet. At least, one not littered with the homeless and stray chicken wings.

Yesterday was spent touring a few of the local wineries, which was delightful… at first. By the time we got to the third one, we were running out of adjectives with which to pepper our banter with the taste-givers. Let’s face it, you can only say the words “bold”, “earthy” and “full-bodied” so many times before even you start to hate yourself. So, we decided to branch out from the average descriptions and make things a little more interesting.

I believe I started it off when I declared a light red table wine “whimsical and flighty”… and it just plain snowballed from there. (I believe the increasing ridiculousness would most likely directly correlate with the number of tastings ingested. Shocking, I know.)

Some of the phrases we quite seriously deadpanned at our poor taste-givers, as well as a few brainstormed around the fire last night:

“naive, yet playful”

“reclusive, with hints of confidence”

“the finish has a sense of immortality”

“positively existential”

“dirty… even sinful”

“starts out with a bit of agony, finishing with a sense of euphoria”

“slightly prepubescent at first…”

“a note of spoonerism in the nose…”

“very cosmic… gives a real sense of animalistic sensuality”

“the nose cajoles you to drink more”

“very boastful!”

“almost iambically diabolic.”

“claims your palette with a hint of dirt”

And finally, the crown jewel from B:

“No wine is an island unto itself.”

Mama said share.

You all know this game by now. Time for another installment of “The Shiz My Boyfriend Says“…

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On the couch, completely and totally out of the blue:

B: You know what our problem is?

Me: What?

B: Neither of has ever bought the other person a wolf. (reflects) You should probably get on that. My birthday’s in August.

Me: ……………

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While watching “The Gates”, a horribly-acted, completely tween-tastic, but still mildly entertaining wanna-be True Blood:

The Sheriff on the Gates: (talking to his wife) I killed that man… I knew he didn’t have a gun, he raped and killed those women, he was gonna walk… and I thought, what if it were you? Or our daughter? And I killed him. I shot him.

Wife: (after a long, drawn out, super-judgy pause) … We’ll… we’ll figure it out.

B: What the hell? Stop being so melodramatic! Oh, I killed an evil monster in the line of duty who was going to rape and kill innocent women! Wahhhh, poor me!

Me: Seriously. If you said that to me I’d high five you. Hell, that could be my Valentine’s Day present. You killed a rapist! And you did it for me? You get a pass this year for Christmas!!

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The other day, B was waiting in line at City Sports. He noticed a cute old woman standing just off to the side, and wanted to make sure he wasn’t taking Frontsies without asking.

B: Oh, I’m sorry, are you in line?

Bemused Woman: No, sweetheart… I’m just watching you dance.

Turns out, my love had been inadvertently tapping his foot along to George Michael’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go“… and made the mistake both of telling me about it, and of letting me share it with you.

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B’s new thing is to cover a “cat-designated” Yuengling box with about 40 ounces of catnip, and watch them go batshit around the apartment, before collapsing into a drug-induced kitty coma.

Me: Honey, go easy on the crack!! This much can’t be good for them!

B: Why do you have a problem with our cats being crackheads? What, they gotta go to WORK in the morning?!

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And on that note, much thanks to @jojozaff for bringing this into my life:

Mama said share.

Okay! So, MTV challenged us to show who we are, in any format we liked. Of course, being me, I had to get a little different with this.

I decided to take this challenge to the streets!!!… and let the good people of DC show you who I am, a la vlog.

That’s right, I went up to perfect strangers, and made them interview ME.

(Because it’s all about me, obviously. What?)

Actually, it is all about me… making an ass out of myself. With total strangers.

It’s LiLu, in a nutshell, baby. Much like this.

Enjoy!!! It may not be the fanciest, but it’s gotta be the ballsiest… (it’s a word!)

Mama said share.

Hey there, cowboy! Get ready, cause I’m about to crack an egg of knowledge all over your head.

And by “knowledge” I mean pure, unadulterated awesome.

My father is to thank for sending me this shitshow of awkward-yet-mind-blowing-hilariousity I’m about to drop on you…

It really is no surprise where I came from, is it?

Happy long weekend 4th of July, poodlekins! If that video’s not freaking American, I don’t know what is.

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Hey! Have you tweeted yet today? (If you don’t know what this is about, please to clicky here!)

Follow @LivitLuvit, my favorite contestant in the @MTVTJ search for MTV’s first Twitter Jockey! #zyncmtvtj

(Feel free to get creative, the above suggestion is just for your copy & paste convenience. Cause I’m good like that.)

The actual VOTING will start on July 7, and it will be via Facebook. (I know, the irony…) Anyway! You will only get to have to vote once, so make sure we’re Facebook friends and I’ll send ya a reminder! WOOT!!!

Mama said share.

Liza Minnelli, living legend, aspiration for drag queens everywhere, and putting Beyonce to shame with her “Single Ladies” rendition in SATC2.

One of my most favoritest crazy birds in the world. From Arrested Development to making Michael Jackson the best man at her fourth wedding to her brilliant Snickers commercial with Betty White, this diva just won’t quit, and I freaking love it.  

But last night on Kathy Griffin’s premiere, the montage of Liza’s laugh… well… I guess you just had to be there. Nonetheless, this chick has been crazypants through the ages, and I just plain adore her for it.

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Britney Spears, just plain being Britney Spears.  

She hasn’t even done anything that batshit lately, but let’s be honest, she’ll forever have an honorary place on this list for our generation. Like 9/11 and Katrina, so too will this horrifying image forever be etched into our minds:  

Oh, Brit Brit. Please stop procreating. Xoxo, LiLu

Although apparently she has just been accused of “physical harassing” of one of her bodyguards… by nakedness.   

Never a dull moment with you, chica.  

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Kelly Bensimon, Real Housewives of New York.  

This one can’t really be explained in words. Mostly because she doesn’t know how to use them. At least, not in coherent sentences.  

Listen, lady friend… when Bethenny Frankel pities you, you’ve pretty much hit rock bottom. But never fear… I’m sure Dr. Drew’s already got a room prepped for you on Celebrity Rehab. 

Wow. Just… WOW. 

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Megan Fox, Passion Play, kicked off of Transformers, and new possessor of a “tribute to Mickey Rourke” tattoo.  

I almost didn’t include her, because I’ve always felt she’s so desperately trying to be old-school Angelina (you know, Billy Bob Thornton boning, vial-of-his-blood carrying, make out with your brother Angelina). But then I saw faux-Mickey’s tweet re: the tattoo, and frankly, it’s worth it just to share that:  

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Miley “I’m Not Trying To Be A Slut” Cyrus, Hannah Montana, musical artist, and posing all sexy-like with her dad.  

It's Miley!

“I’m really comfortable with my body,” she says. “I feel more comfortable dressing with a little less, which is just how I’ve always been. Now I’m able to do that a little more freely and, also, I’ve just grown up to be this way too.”  

via Zap 2 it  

At least it's a onesie?

That’s fine, little lady. I honestly have no problem with a gal wanting to whore it up every once in a while; every girl has her “promiscuous year” in college. (Except me, Mom. What’s a penis?)  

All I’m asking is that you OWN it. Go all Xtina: The Dirty Years on us! Stop worrying about what everyone thinks and just admit you’re slutting it up for a while, even if it is only musically.

Can’t cheat on daddy, after all.  

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Danielle Staub, Real Housewives of New Jersey.  

Every week, I think this crazy ass bitch can’t get any crazier. And every week, bless her heart, she proves me so very, very wrong. To the point where I took a “Which Real Housewife of New Jersey are you?” quiz, and B told me, quite seriously, that if I got Danielle… we were through. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t even blame him. (No worries, I’m Dina, apparently. Though I kind of see myself as more of a Caroline. *shrugs*) 

Just watch as much as you can stomach… you’ll get the idea.

Danielle, I hereby crown you Crazy Ass Bitch of the month. We salute you!

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Honorary mentions: Speidi and the Gosselins, who have blessedly somehow disappeared from the news lately. Maybe there’s hope for your souls yet!  

…NAHHHHHHHHHH.

Mama said share.