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As it turns out, something fairly simple, actually…

Maxie on the left, Jenn on top, mine on the right.

This week while at the beach, we finally got the “hashtats” we’ve been talking about since we dreamed them up in Vegas. And before you try to tell me that Twitter won’t last forever (insert Captain Obvious joke here), this symbol isn’t about my favorite social networking site. It’s representative of everything wonderful in my life I owe to social media, most importantly, the two BFFs who got it with me (soon to be three, Cara!!) - friends I never, ever would have met without blogging, the tweeter, and all the rest. I think my girl Meghan said it best…

“	#FF to @rachaelgk and @ihatesomuch for proving in ink this week that the friends you make on the Internet sometimes last a lifetime xo
	PirateMeghan June 24, 2011

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It’s cute, it’s teal, it makes me smile every time I see it, and it looks hot in heels.

I? Am in love.

Mama said share.

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I am not really one for the schmoop. Generally, I prefer sarcasm and bonding over self-deprecating jokes over talking about our feeeeeeeeelings. If and when we do discuss our emotions, we better be a bottle of wine (or three) deep, ya dig?

But this time, I can’t help it. The past weekend was one of the best of my life, and I just want to scream it from a rooftop, like I was an Italian lover with a heart full of song, or John Cusack in the 80s. (Or John Cusack ever, who are we kidding.)

I spent the better part of last week in Vegas at Bloggers in Sin City (#BiSC), surrounded by 50+ of the kindest, sweetest, funniest, friendliest bloggers this side of the US border. (Yes, that includes Canada, Brandy/Simone. See what I did there?!)

Listen, I’ve been to a lot of meetups, tweetups, and other “let’s take this party offline” festivities in my day – I’ve even put on a few (dozen) of them myself. But let me invoke the power of Sinead O’Conner for a moment, and just tell you that nothing compares to this.

Everyone was just so OPEN and ready to really get to know each other. And we were at an immediate advantage with this, because we’ve all been stalking each other online for months in anticipation. As Nico so eloquently put it in his video recap, “instead of feeling people out and starting from scratch, a lot of these friendships just kind of hit the ground running.”

I didn’t walk into that first happy hour on Thursday to a crowd of strangers. I walked in and was immediately embraced, figuratively and literally, by 56 friends (and more than a few life-size cutouts of Donny Osborne. That shiz is everywhere in Vegas.) And while I am lame and old and wasn’t really drinking (since by midnight I literally felt like I had been roofied from exhaustion - DAMN YOU, EST INTERNAL CLOCK!!!!!), the party didn’t stop until the moment I left on Sunday morning.

Nicole (our amazing organizer), you are like a fairy godmother who sprinkles vodka and hair tinsel and condoms down on us all. My life is approximately 529% better for knowing you.

Chelsea, take care of that piece of my heart that you stole because I AM BROKEN WHEN YOU ARE NOT AROUND. Jenn, Doni, Katelin, my life is cold and gray without you in it. New pact to never go a year without seeing each other EVER AGAIN, cool? Cool.

Jenny, I’m so glad we got to spend serious QT together this year. Welcome to the club of “My Favorite People on Earth”. (It comes with a gold star.) Ditto Molly – your bubbliness is infectious, and I don’t do bubbly, so this is saying something.

I want to list every single person I met but A) I’m lazy, and B) we’re too busy chatting in our top secret Facebook group anyway. #nerds #loveit

Suffice to say I love each and every one of you, and will continue to stalk you on the internet now that we are apart once more. (Tear.)

And now, I will finally shut up about how great my life is, and let the pictures speak their thousands of ridiculous words.

To everyone who was there, face licks and hashtag dances and slash scoops forever. I can’t wait to see you all again next year.

Mama said share.

Well, Merry belated Festivus to me! I woke up this morning to find out I’ve been nominated, along with a host of other awesome twatterers, as one of the Washington Post’s “DC Top Tweeps 2010″ in the (very appropriate) category of “Favorite Social Butterfly”.

(There’s an enormous trophy involved, right? I don’t think I’ve ever won a trophy other than for “being on a soccer team when I was 12″ so that would be really nice. Especially after watching The League for two seasons, I’m convinced that our apartment is tragically empty without a Shiva.)

Anyhoodle, as someone who dearly loves this fair city, and the time I spend hanging out with friends new and old in it, it would be an absolute honor to be recognized for my adoration of DC and to know that love is returned. Either way, it’s thrilling just to be nominated, and it just makes me love this city- my HOME- even more.

Anyone can vote (it takes just a few clicks and there are zero log ins required), so if you’d like to (yay!), just click the picture or link below:

D.C.’s Top Tweeps 2010: Voting is OPEN!

(thru midnight on New Year’s Eve, winners announced Monday, January 3rd- also my first day at my Shiny New Job!!)

My group is the last one, so check out the awesome categories before mine and the deserving people (like @LexaLemmy for DC Area Blogger!) in those as well, on your way to my Social Butterfly category.

Aaaaand enough about me. What’s new with you? How was your holiday? Did any of your relatives get drunk and humiliate themselves? Do tell.

Mama said share.

My world is absolutely insane lately. Everything is changing, but it’s all things that are out of my control. I feel entirely overwhelmed, a little bit hungover, and a lot bit lost at all times. I can hardly catch my breath, and when I do, I use it to agree to one more thing I probably shouldn’t, for my mental health’s sake. I’m trying to be in charge of it all, to be a part of everything, and because of that, I feel like I’m accomplishing nothing.

I’m running on ice with socks on. It doesn’t work very well.

The job hunt continues, but without a specific direction. I know I don’t want to be an assistant anymore, and I know now the things that I enjoy doing- AND I even have experience doing them!, but it’s so vague a world I can’t for the life of me figure out the path I should take to get there. Or what the destination is.

Shit, y’all, I really don’t know shit.

I miss my family, and friends who are too far away, but I’m exhausted from traveling. I desperately want to get back into an exercise routine, but I can’t get my ass out of bed in the mornings. I’m determined to stop eating like shit and cook dinner, but we’re out half the nights of the week. I’m sick of side projects and never being able to relax, but I’m broke as a joke. I love that my social circle is expanding, but hate growing apart from friends. My clothes don’t fit, my apartment’s a mess, and my bathtub looks like the swamp thing because it’s so backed up with cat hair. (Sink cat’s not so damn cute now, is it?)

(Ok, yes it is.)

So, yes. Things are a bit crazy.

But in truth, I’m fine. Absolutely, 100%, A-OK. Sure, a bit stressed, but I know it’ll work out in the end.

And here’s why:

Happy Birthday, darling. You’re cute and funny and thoughtful and you cook and you make up songs for me and the kitties AND you keep me (somewhat) sane, so you’re a hero in my book. I love you.






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Mama said share.

Welcome to Part Dos of my BlogHer experience! (Numero Uno is here.)

I nursed my hangover by donning my keyboard cat shirt (play him off, Keyboard Cat!), which is scientifically proven to cure all ailments:

If there ever was a crowd to appreciate this shirt, it’s BlogHer. Trust. (Aren’t we all just crazy cat-lady bloggers on the inside, after all? I thought so.)

After some more Expo Hall swag-gathering, I met up with my darlings from Bloggers in Sin City: Katelin, LaceyBean, and Jessica B.for some good old-fashioned s’mores making.

No, seriously:

(photo via Diane Bondareff Photography)

Down the hall in the Serenity Suite, I finally got to meet the has-no-right-to-be-that-gorgeous-with-three-munchkins Kate from The Big Piece of Cake. (Never mind the fact that she lives, oh, two miles from me, and this is the first time we were able to meet.) Heart you, lady!

Then it was time to Swag Swap with Katelin, Lacey and Jess; AKA get rid of five pounds of stuff I didn’t need (read: couldn’t fit into my suitcase), and pick up a few choice items other people had decided to leave behind.

Imagine my Complete and Utter Joy when we discovered…

A FEATHER BOA AND CAPE, casually discarded like someone’s holey (not holy) granny panties!!! I instantly knew they were meant for me to give them a good home.

After we got all touristy with it, traipsing around Times Square (boa and cape included, of course), it was FINALLY time for…

The NYC 20sb Happy Hour!!!!!!!!!!!

I would love to list everyone who was there, but I would undoubtedly forget someone near and dear to my heart, so this will have to suffice:

(Click through to see those who RSVP'd)

(Shamelessly swiped from Katelin’s flickr stream)

Johnny Utah’s was a fantastic host to us 20sb-ers. I have no words for the amazing sauce of this evening… but I can show you it.

(Shamelessly swiped from Doni’s TweetPhoto stream)

(Shamelessly swiped from Katelin’s flickr stream)

Heart you, @missheidi !!!

Then we made our way back to the Sparklecorn and Cheezburger parties at BlogHer for epic dance parties and… well… other things that must be seen to be believed.

(Shamelessly swiped from Katelin’s flickr stream)

And because it’s just too good not to share:

So, yes… I had a Fucking Lot of Fun.

But more importantly, going to BlogHer and spending time amongst all these beautiful ladies (and the two Matts!) made me want to write again, which is something I haven’t really felt since all that MTV jazz began and I didn’t have time to think, breathe, eat or sleep for a month. It reminded me of all the great people I’ve met, people I’m proud to know and call friends, from all over the country, America’s hat, and beyond, who I desperately want to stay in touch with.

BlogHer, to me, wasn’t about the sponsors, or the lectures, or the swag. It was about meeting people, making new connections and reaffirming the old… the very reason I started this goddamn blog in the first place. I feel like through BISC and 20sb and BlogHer and PB AND TUNA ON OCTOBER 23rd!!!! and gchats and grabbing a drink when we’re in town, we’re really and truly friends. And that, that is a fantastic feeling.

P.S. Bull riding pics/video to come tomorrow…






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Mama said share.

Last week, I glanced at my wordpress dashboard and something caught my eye.

Posts: 493

Wait. What? That must be counting, like, 100 drafts, right??

Nope. It is true, my friends. Today marks the day I have poisoned the interwebs with my drivel Five. Hundred. Times.

After I got over the initial shock, it dawned on me that something clearly must to be done in order to celebrate this ridiculous and entirely self-asborbed milestone.

A BLOG ROAST!!!!!!!!!!

After all, I spend so much time on here making fun of MYSELF… let’s give you all a chance for once, eh?

So a few of my closest friends and bloggy cohorts have given us these Roasty Tidbits so we can have a big old laugh at all things LiLu.

Thank you so much, each and every one of you who wrote something below, all of you who comment around these parts, every last one of you who reads. This place has become one of my favorites in the world, and it’s truly all because of YOU.

Here’s to another (God help us) 500…

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

Roast! Roast! Roast!

Let’s All Make Fun of LiLu!

(If only we had Christopher Walken to MC.)

Let’s kick it off…

brad:

“Things I know you know I know you know (aka FACTS):

I don’t like cats, but I’m cool with Axe Murderer and Murray. So, obviously, they’re not actually cats. And I’d appreciate it if you and B stopped with the lies and just admitted that you found a pair of growth-stunted dogs that are fluent in purring.

Don’t worry: you will never be a cat lady. But if I’m reading the Washington Post 10 years from now and see that you and B are basically the Angelina and Brad of growth-stunted-dogs-pawned-off-as-cats, traveling country to country, adopting animals with identity crises, let’s just say I won’t be surprised.

You dance like Forrest Gump with the leg braces on.

I don’t like food that has been seasoned with poop. But even though I ate at the housewarming when you fought the beast and were elbow deep in your toilet’s exit hole before you made the food, I never once thought about not going back. So either I’m a broken, broken man, or you are worth risking some surprise fiber in the chili.

Congratulations.”

Lexa:

“Lilu once made me go see Year One…where they eat feces. That is all.”

cavy:

“From bathroom humor, crazy boy stories, and a love of both alcohol and karaoke (preferably in combination with each other), I can honestly say that you are one of the most unique people I’ve ever encountered.  And by unique, I mean very similar to me.

In honor of your 500th, I’m placing this fantasy in your hands.  Use it well.”

Lizzy:

“In our year of friendship, Lilu has given me a lot. A vibrator. A virtual, and then real, shoulder to cry on. A badass new website. Hours of inappropriate laughter. So, I love her…but I’m going to have to expose her. You guys think she’s all funny funny cat lady with the cute boyfriend, but before that? Lilu was a FASHION blogger. (The crowd shudders) Yes, people. Go back to the archives. I dare you. Almost every post ended with some shoe porn. So I’m here to say, bring back the mother effing shoes, hooker.”

Moog:

“LiLu and B – so in love you always want to tell them to “GET A ROOM.” Then you realize that they actually DO have a room but it’s full of stupid fucking cats.

LiLu is like the blogger I aspire to be: funny, friendly, and has a vagina. I love vaginas. SO jealous. But then, if I had one, I wouldn’t have time to blog. You know, with all the masturbating and sticking vegetables in it and stuff.

LiLu has been like the sister I never had. I guess that makes B the brother I never had. Which makes me picturing them having sex like some weird Kentucky home movie. Especially with me in the middle. FYI, B is packing and doesn’t like to lube up when he goes backdoor. I wish I never had a brother.”

lacochran:

“Congratulations to the only chick I know who works to make you feel comfortable while she shares details about blow jobs. Shine on you crazy diamond. Love ya!”

Marie:

“She loves hard – especially her man – and lives life to the fullest – especially in bed.

You give her specific instructions for how to make and drink a certain type of extremely strong alcohol. But since she’s already had too much firefly, she’s downed the entire beverage in mid-explanation.

LiLu, my dear, you are a wonderful and unique individual. Let’s keep it that way shall we?”

Maxie:

“Thank god the 20sb Award LiLu won for “blogger I’d most like to get a drink with” was phrased in the singular form. The girl can’t stay up past 10:00 to save her life, let alone to have 2.”

Narm:

“LiLu is to blogging what beastiality is to internet porn. She is funny and shocking but I also have to delete my history before Mom finds out.

500 posts – and at least four of them didn’t have a TWSS joke! It’s like they just come naturally (TWSS).

Thanks to the “TMI Thursday” series it is quicker to just ask bloggers where they HAVEN’T shit themselves. It has turned the internet into one big menstruation play-by-play. Are you there, God, it’s me, THE ENTIRE FUCKING INTERNET.

Congrats on 500 posts!”

Shoebox Dweller:

“Once upon a time, a broken hearted woman wrote a message, slipped it into a bottle, and set it gently upon the water. Giving voice to her grief made her feel better, and so she continued writing, setting the words free.

Day after day, she watched the bottles drift away, destination unknown.

One day, she woke up and was amazed to find a bottle washed up on shore. She nervously unrolled the message, and read the words:

“I hear you. You are stronger and braver than you know, and I hear you.”

Words can make us laugh, sometimes so hard that we think we will burst. Words can make us cry, for our own sorrows and those of others we have never met.

Words bring people together who would otherwise never meet, for reasons of geography or age or any other divisive reason.

It’s been an honour to be a part of your life, your home, and most of all, to be part of the incredible community that you have created. Your creativity and humour brings people together, and that is a rare gift indeed.”

Jenn:

“When I first met LiLu at #pbtuna back in October, I was all nervous and intimidated and scared and “what if she hates me?!” I mean, come on people. The girl writes about poop at least once a week. What if I was too white bread because I kept my bowel movements to myself? Can you really blame someone for that sort of discretion?

Well kids, I’m going to let you in on a little top secret state secret. That girl who writes about farts and named her cat Axe Murderer? SHE’S A TOTAL SOFTIE.

That’s right. Total softie. Have you read her archives from when she first met B? (*cough* I’m a stalker *cough*). She’s quite lovable, this one.

Unless you’re a freak in a bar who won’t stop talking to her or her friends, in which case you should brace yourself because all that shit she keeps talking about? It’s coming straight for your face.”

Alexa:

“four words: penis shaped ice luge. i love you girl, and congrats on making it to 500! being the blog rockstar that you are, you’ll be hitting 1,000 before we know it. xoxo”

That Kind of Girl:

“One of the most incredible things about Lilu is how hard she works to make sure she individually welcomes every single person to the internet. Girlfriend’s such a comment whore she has to wear latex gloves when she types. Who among us hasn’t wondered how she has the friggin’ time to be a patron saint of and treasured friend to bloggers everywhere?

Pro tip: she saves time by forcing B to generate half of her posts. Can’t you just see him, locked in the bathroom, one cat duct-taped to each arm while Lilu force feeds him tequila and laxatives. “Come on, baby, next Thursday’s post won’t write itself. Give me two more cat jokes and one poop story, then we can negotiate your couch privileges…”

Completely worth it, Lilu (and hang in there, B — keep saying shiz, lest she feed you to Axie!). We love your blog, dude, and we love you.”

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

***This idea inspired by my dear friend Katherine’s genius post a year ago- thanks for letting my blatantly steal it. XOXO***






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Mama said share.

Taking a day to work on an ohsospecial project that will be unveiled Wednesday- trust, it is THE Awesome- but go check out my DC Blogs round up!

Besos.

Mama said share.

When I moved to DC, I was positive I was one of the so-called “transients” my parents warned me about. You see, they actually lived in NoVa when I was born, and moved up to Massachusetts when I was almost 2. They loved it here, but constantly saying goodbye to friends who were just passing through for an internship or to work on the Hill for a year, it broke their hearts.

I was afraid of this when I moved here after UNC, but at the same time, I figured I probably was one of them. That it’d be a year or two in DC before I craved a taste of NYC, or jetted across the pond to bartend in London.

I liked- even loved- the District as a city, but that didn’t make it “home.”

And then I met Lexa.

My relationship with B was a just few weeks old at the time, and growing fast… but a man doesn’t make a place home. B and I could move anywhere, if need be, and would still be US- our togetherness doesn’t depend on where we are.

But friends. Real Friends, that group of people you can count on…

…to turn your shitty days into jokes that end with a beer…

…to love your quirks instead of hate them…

…to despise and deprecate the people who’ve crossed you a thousand times more than you do yourself.

For me, DC didn’t become that place, didn’t become my home, until I met Lexa. We had lunch one day, and, well, I think it was probably the shoes she was wearing, but I just knew she would be incredibly important in my life.

The rest of the crew fell into place over the next year (the crowning jewel being us convincing Maxie to MOVE from West Virginia), and now I am humbled and grateful to say I have the most amazing, close-knit group of friends here.

I am that asshole who has it all. And don’t I know it.

All thanks to you, Lex. So Happy freaking Birthday, my love…

Now don’t you ever go transient on me.

Love your face.

Mama said share.

My arrival to Boston last Thursday coincided with the following tweets…

“I’m on a plane to SEE him and my dad is still emailing me tardy cat videos. God, I love my family.”

“Well, hello, Bahstun. You’re looking very white. (Double entendres are fun!)”

“Just saw a cab in Boston called “The Ride”. I wonder if that was its Jersey Shore generated nickname.”

My dad and sister picked me up, and we sang holly jolly Christmas carols the whole way home… until a rendition of Silver Bells stopped us up.

Me: Hmmm. Is this Stevie Wonder?

Dad: No, it’s a woman singing.

Me: No way. It’s definitely a black man.

Dad: Listen to it, it’s absolutely a woman!

(we listen for a few moments…)

Dad: Actually… I think it’s Michael Jackson.

Me: So we’re both right!

We continued to battle the Mass Pike and finally made it home, where I was greeted at the door by this.

Clearly, this is the family from whence I came.

Love.

We had some of my family’s oldest friends over on Christmas Eve, where my mother shared her all-time FAVORITE joke with us… at the dinner table.

“What’s brown and sticky?”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“A stick.”

I won’t lie. I snarfed my meatball chowder at that one.

So, Christmas at my house has always been… a bit of a spectacle. I don’t know when or how it started, but every year, we have a “theme” of some sort. One year it’s sock monkeys, another it’s flamingos… you get the idea.

This year? It was ugly Christmas sweaters… and the most ridiculous hats my mother could find.

Trust me... it's a blessing that it's blurry.

The stockings, "by" the chimney with care.

Embracing my roots... however they may emerge.

Rocking my champagne, klassy style.

Just a little casual civilized chatter on Christmas morning.

This was from four people. FOUR. My family is insane.

All in all, it was the most perfect day in the world… just like it is every year.

/Schmoop.

Other tweetings through the weekend…

“I AM WATCHING JULIE AND JULIA WITH MY FAMILY AND GAIL THE SNAIL IS IN IT AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. The pain. It is PALPABLE.”

“My father just referred to me as their (four pound) dog’s “big sister”. Apparently, I have some Yorkie in my bloodline I was unaware of.”

“My mom just downloaded Chumbawumba to her new Droid as a ringtone. … ‘Nuff said.”

“There is a girl who looks like @clevelandsaplum‘s doppelganger across the restaurant. Trying to resist the urge to squee and hug her silly.”

“I feel like Blair Waldorf with my headband in this awesomely dirty Worcester bar.”

“Me, to sis: “Wanna go to Target?” Sis: “Mehhhhhhh… let’s go to WalMart instead… so I don’t have to put on pants.”

“THE DOLLAR TREE JUST RICK ROLLED ME. Love it!!!!”

Hope yours was just as- well, maybe HALF as- ridiculous as mine.

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

Announcements:

1. I did the round-up for DCBlogs.com today! Check it out.

2.I won’t be doing a TMI Thursday tomorrow, as no one’s really around… but we’ll be back in full force next week with another Post Secret version. Keep sending ‘em in!

3. Hey… did you get a chance to vote for me on 20SB yet? Just sayin.

Mama said share.

***SCHMOOP ALERT***

Yesterday, I decided to be brave and see just how many blogs I’ve subscribed to in my best friend Google Reader. So I pulled my Big Girl Panties (capitalized per request of Lusty Reader) up and peeked.

1,081.

I have over a THOUSAND of you hanging out in there.

(Everybody wave!. Group picture- say cheeeeeeeeeeeese. Hey- who yelled “war paint“!)

Anytwaddle.

Now, it’s not like I actually read all of those regularly. That would be impossible. Duh.

But if I like your stuff. If I LOVE your stuff. If you’ve said you like mine. If I’m on your blogroll.

In you go.

Yes, I have categories. My absolute best friends. My simply must reads. My most regular commenters. The fashionistas, the mommies, the funnies, the sexies, the foodies (who generally hate to be called foodies), and the hot messes (holla!)

I have a system, and I think it works. I try to pay my respects as often as I can to those who stop by my wee corner. I love seeing what everyone in my network is up to, what they’re thinking about, what they need opinions on. Lord knows I love giving an opinion.

(Fifteen of you just snorted. I HEARD THAT.)

The variety in my readership is absolutely insane, and I adore it. The fact that such a diverse group of people congregate here is both humbling and awesome.

Basically, I love you, man.

(If no one says “totes magotes” in the comments, we’re through.)

I love the angry open letters, the random yet hysterically funny, the omg my kid totally stuck his hand in his diaper and smeared it all over the wall, the classic run on sentence peppered with hilarious “Also?”s, a la Jenny the Bloggess. I love the Honest Scraps, the RANTS, the (creative) memes, and when tough people get mushy on us. I love when someone you’ve been reading forever reaches a huge life milestone and it hits you, you FEEL for them, because you actually know them through their words.

The other day, Maxie and I talked about whether we would retire anytime soon. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I really don’t think I’m going anywhere.

Obviously, there’s a selfish aspect to it. I won’t lie- there’s definitely a degree of validation involved. But more than that, it’s the interaction I crave. I post as frequently as I do because I miss you guys on the days I don’t. Lame, perhaps, but true.

So, sure, if no one was out there reading, I would post less. But I wouldn’t quit, because at the end of the day, this place is a chronicle of my twenty something years. I hope to mark all of my own milestones here. And having a record of my crazy ass life that I can look back on, reminisce, and shake my head at myself in 30 years? That, my dear friends, is absolutely priceless.

Mama said share.