Not going and really fucking sick of hearing about it? I don’t blame you. It’s going to be awesome.

Uh… quick, look at this!…

Moving on.

So. You MAY have heard that I’m going to be traveling to the great state of Nevada tomorrow, to the land of slot machines and margaritas-the-size-of-heads, and all things sequiny and delightfully tacky.

B will not be joining me because he is a sane person (wha wha wha???), but as I told him last night, it’s cool because Aunt Flo’s in town. So not only does he get to miss out on THAT business, I can’t cheat on him! Really, I’m going to Vegas for HIM.

Such a giver, I am.

The things I plan on doing over the next three days are as follows:

Have an ass-slapping contest with Lbluca77.

Not be totally weird with my most favoritest Vixen.

Have a baby with our resident mama bear, Rachel. (Don’t worry, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? Babies totally count.)

Make naughty kitty-cat jazz hands with verybadcat.

Maul Tia wildly and inappropriately the moment I see her. (Sorry, Ben. It’s happening.)

Swap “funny boyfriend” stories with Michelle.

Make Kathleen eat some cheese, even if it’s just the schmoopy kind.

Swoon over vampires with Ali. And maybe bite her a little when she’s not looking. What?

Call StaceyParadise “Tootsie Pop”.

Get Mel drunk off wine and make her tell me about her worst date of all time.

Embrace my quirks and inner klutz with Mandy.

Give Lindsay 1,000 bear hugs so she’s not scared of us all. Even though she probably should be.

Immediately go up in flames when Nicole‘s crazy and my crazy finally meet. God have mercy on us all.

Draw on someone with Sharpie with Leahchristine.

See Amy’s feisty in person. It may not be on the blog, but I know it’s there.

Drink endless mimosas with Doni.

Indulge in a boatload of unnecessary carbs with Jessica.

Do karaoke with Chelsea, because she can actually sing + I am the most tone-deaf person of all time = HILARIOUS.

Make poop jokes with Nicopolitan.

Help RondaMarie drink to forget.

Reminisce about the days when the BoSox didn’t suck with ohhayitskk.

Steal Katelin’s awesome hair. (Yes, I know it’s not a wig. But put enough tequila in me and I’ll swear it can be done.)

Get 412 makeovers from the fabulous Lizzy Marie, my bi-coastal BFeffinF.

Make listen to because I’m not brown people jokes with Rahul (dot not feather).

Try not to make Mary and Shine sorry they agreed to room with Maxie and me.

Belt out Backstreet Boys everywhere we go with GingerMandy and Just A Girl.

Remarry my beloved Maxie, preferably by an Elvis impersonator, or someone wearing an ascot.

See what the hell it is that Ben got her, in reference to this tweet:

To all the rest of you I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, in person or on the interwebs… I can’t freaking wait to fix that. And every single one of you should prepare yourself for a too-tight-hug.

See you tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

Today, I leave my District bubble and head down South to celebrate the first of my Carolina Girls’ bachelorette parties.

Mere, we knew you’d be the first from the moment we met Shawn. (Are you preggers  yet? How bout now? Now??)

Anyhoozle, I can’t wait to get down there and have a couple Very Klassy Evenings out with my ladies…

*coughcough*

Savannah ain’t gonna know what hit it.

My Sweet Carolina Girls - Best in the World

And that’s a threat… not a promise.

(Remember the Dominican, y’all?…

Uh huh.

Let’s DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

I had a bit of an adventure yesterday.

I met a new friend for a perfectly lovely lunch, and will hopefully be building a website for her campaign next month. (Speaking of which, did you see my sugarplum Jess’ awesome new online portfolio I made for her yet? Didja? DO IT! And then hire her!)

Anyhoo. While I am rocking my new healthy diet ‘n exercise lifestyle (blech), I couldn’t turn down the sample of homemade potato chips the bartender brought over for us. Trust me, it would have been a sin to waste those puppies.

About a half an hour after getting back to my desk, I was talking to a colleague when I started choking…

and felt my throat start to close up.

Now, I have never been allergic to a thing in my life. Maybe some sniffles in the Spring, but an actual hives/itching/choking sort of allergy? Never. So, I was a wee bit terrified.

We’re fortunate enough to have a clinic at my job, so when the half-closed throat sensation didn’t go away, I headed over.

After waiting for a half an hour and not dying, I decided perhaps I had developed a very sudden and severe case of strep, rather than a life-threatening allergy. A clearly inexperienced but very sweet nurse finally called me in and took my vitals.

“It’s a good thing you came in!” She said. “I’ve seen strep cases come on so suddenly.” She took blood pressure, temperature, felt my glands, peered down my throat and in my ears, but couldn’t see anything noticeably wrong, so she called in the wizened old nurse practitioner to give me a look.

“It’s just very strange,” I was saying. “I haven’t had strep in years, and I’ve never been allergic to a thing in my life!”

“Well, our bodies change, dear,” Inexperienced-Yet-Sweet Nurse patted my hand, as her veteran colleague entered the room. Without looking up from my folder, this was the first thing she said:

“So, did you have anything sharp at lunch today? Potato chips, perhaps?”

I blinked. “Um, I did, actually… OHHHHhhhhhhhhhh.” I began laughing as the truth sunk in.

“I cut myself on a potato chip, didn’t I?”

She peered down my throat.

“Looks that way. Here. Have a swig of Maalox and drink some fluids. I think you’ll pull through this one.”

Tail between my legs, I slunk out of the clinic and back to my desk, where I had to share my diagnosis with my colleague.

“Apparently, this whole “extreme workout” thing is getting out of hand. Even the way I EAT is extreme now… I don’t even chew!”

Sigh.

And now, to distract you from my idiocy, I give you…

Taylor Lautner looks like a llama.

Sorry, Maxie. But he really, really does.

 Happy Tuesday. Eat safely out there, kiddos… only you can prevent potato-chip throat injuries.

Mama said share.

That’s right folks. The infamous birthday/#pbandtuna wedding is finally here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ll be honest, folks. I have been super stressed and freaking out all week.

But now that the big weekend is actually here, I have NOTHING BUT EXCITEMENT churning in my loins.

To everyone who’s coming from out of town:

I am going to lick your faces so damn hard, oh my gaw. You are amazing and totally rock my socks off. Look, they’re totally across the room. (Everyone IN town: you are 9/10 as awesome but don’t feel bad. They really had a leg up on you on this one.

…TWSS.)

To my blushing bride, who wrote the sweetest vows EVAR and made me cry before 8am on my birthday when I read them…

Just you wait until I give you your present today. REVENGE IS A BITCH.

In all serious, I love you so much, Maxie. I don’t know how I existed before you came into my life. You are one of the kindest, funniest, warmest, cuddliest people I have ever known, and I am seriously lucky to call you a friend. (And lovah.)

Tonight we shall snuggle Murray together and it will be GLORIOUS.

All right, y’all. I have a shit ton of stuff to do to get ready, so I’m off. But please to enjoy the one video on the interwebs that makes me happier than anything else in the e-world. It’s an oldie but a goodie…

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

(I am *so* doing these dance moves tomorrow.)

If you’re in DC, don’t forget… the bash is tomorrow at Stetson’s (upstairs) at 16th and U Streets. We’ll be there at 8 sharp to stake it out…

Woot!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

So. I had a positively scrumptious time this weekend in Beantown.

OBVIOUSLY.

And I am A) exhausted from the funsies and B) get to spend the day packing!!! Which, to B, means desperately trying to throw away sort through all of “my junk”.

Communist.

I wish I could put a camera up in the apartment for the day… this shiz ain’t gonna be pretty.

So for yous guyses, this means you get some pretty, pretty highlights. (Don’t worry, they’re the very expensive kind done by a professional gay man- no brassiness here!)

The scene: Dinner with my parents, B, my Lil Sis, and her boyfriend on Friday night. Fun fact: Lil Sis has been aching for a dog for months now, and had planned on getting one when she moves in with her bf in a month.

The highlight:

Mom: So what kind of dog do you want, Lil Sis?

Lil Sis: (As her face falls) We’re not allowed to have one at the new apartment.

Mom: Awwwww, so you’re not getting a puppy?

Lil Sis: No. YOU were the one who told me NOT to!

Mom: Well, no, you shouldn’t. It’s expensive and a lot of responsibility. But… puppy…

Lil Sis: Unbelievable.

LiLu: Oh, come on. It’s just like if your 16 year old daughter gets knocked up! You don’t WANT it to happen… but once the baby’s here, you’re still going to love it!

*crickets*

My poor family.

The scene: Meeting up with Boston’s most fabulous bloggers (and a few other travelers as well) at The Globe Bar for drunkety times. The crew: (if I forgot you, please to forgive, and let me know! It is so very early…) My lovely Julie, brookem, Pilgrim Jill, Hannah, Julie Q, Susan, Emrlds, Alana, A Super Girl, and in some cases, their justly terrified boyfriends, made it the best time any blogger could ask for.

The highlight: Jill Pilgrim double dog daring me to offer Susan’s virginity to a random guy hitting on her for the price of three goats. Which, obviously, I did in approximately 2.5 seconds… at which point we found out it was a friend of hers, and now we had to hang out with him for the rest of the night and be “Those Weird Girls” all evening.

Whatevs. The shoe fits.

Also? All of this happened.

Pretending to be classy. What?

You can’t see that I’m grabbing Jill’s bum.

In a word: FINALLY!!! <3

There is some hate sex in here.

Gawd, I love this woman. ALLLLL of her, apparently…

Tiger hands for Maxie!

Why I oughta…

We bloggers get friendly quick.

The boys entertained themselves just fine…

Sure. I mean, clearly.

Hiccups are a BITCH, yo.

Love you hookers.

Yeah. So. The awesomest of AWESOME. And that is all I have to say about that.

Except get all your asses down to DC so we can do it again soon. LUFF YOU BISHES!!!!!!

The scene: B’s sister getting mawwied!

The highlight: Everything. Jewish weddings are so much more fun! There was breaking of stuff, chairs in the air, a dancing train through the entire room, and incredible view, and a few speeches that even moved my cold dead hooker heart.

A sample from the mother of the groom’s toast:

“When my boys were little, I always changed the descriptions of the princesses in fairytales to say “kind” and “intelligent” instead of “beautiful”. I am so incredibly glad that my son has chosen to share his life with a woman who is kind and intelligent… as well as beautiful.”

*cue heartwrench*

All in all? Best. Weekend. Ever.

And now, we pack…

Sigh.

Mama said share.

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

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

It’s called:

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

I’d explain the rules, but… yeah.

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

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

All right, chillens… and awayyyyyyy we go!

(Youtube link here.)

Have at it!

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

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

Final Update: Winner will be announced Friday!

Mama said share.

It took 12 hours to get home to Massachusetts.

And yes, there are stories. But they’ll have to wait… I have to save up what little energy I have left.

We’re about to go shopping.

At least I found this this morning… it is the only thing consoling me when I think about the parking lots and lines and crowds I’m about to battle.

Happy Christmas Eve, you cotton-headed ninny muggins-es!

Mama said share.

B and I have been, well, I believe the official term is “BROKE AS SHIT” since we got back from Costa Rica. Today being Pay Day! and all, you can imagine our excitement at the prospect of doing something other than, yanno, sitting on the couch in our pajamas, drooling on ourselves and figuring out really creative drinks we can make with the lime-infused gin, Kahlua, and two tons of Confetti Cake left over from my huge ginormous blast of a birthday party a few weeks ago.

(Fellow Masshole made the scrum-diddly-umptious cake, but somehow everyone was much more interested in the two-ton pumpkin she hollowed out and filled with approximately 50 liters of spiked rum and Goldschlager-soaked apples. Go figure.)

Anyhoosits, life has gotten… tedious, shall we say. A wee bit hum drum? I mean, I love the guy and all, but I think it’s safe to say we have a bigass case of CABIN FEVER.

Talking to Restaurant Refugee earlier today, I babbled on about 4000 outings, parties, happy hours, and other non-reasons to celebrate that would require my being in a public place while drinking and spending this thing that has become a relatively foreign concept to me, money. I then asked him how pungent my desperation to point a bottle at my face get out of the house was.

“I can smell it from here,” he said.

“That’s okay,” I told him. “It’ll bring all the other alcheys out to play.”

Moral of the story? Anyone planning on drinking with me this weekend, put yer big girl panties on. Mama’s coming out to play and it’s gonna get MESSY.

Mama said share.

Last Friday, I played hooky from work to dance around Lemmonex‘s living room in my underwear drink a shitload of wine and finally let the girl woo me once and for all cook for me. I woke at 6am with butterflies in my stomach, anticipating the fun that lay ahead. (Well, okay, maybe my internal clock still hadn’t reset from daylight savings. But it meant I got to catch up on the last three episodes of ANTM that B- justifiably, as it is the WORST TELEVISION EVER- won’t let me watch when he’s around. Something about gouging out his eyes, and not wanting to be responsible for the gruesome homicide of Tyra Banks, I’m not sure. He mumbles a lot.)

The adventures began as soon as I finally cleansed, got dressed and emerged from my apartment into the way-too-bright-and-sunny day around 1pm.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am obsessed with people watching. It is truly my most favoritest game. But sometimes, it can seriously be sensory overload.

It was a gorgeous day; I couldn’t have picked a better one to call in “sick”. (Cough, cough… anyone buying this? No? It’s because my cheeks are so rosy, right? Not that I’m a horrible liar and you all know I’m quitting my job, anyway?) I descended into the metro at Gallery Place and began the trek up the red line to Van Ness. It was quiet and peaceful for once, as all the suckers professionals were neatly tucked away in their offices. Until Metro Center. The doors opened and 15 tweens- yes, TWEENS- flooded my car. They surrounded me, gabbing about pogs, Pokémon and Hanana Montana (HA! I’m so tricksy) or whatever it is the kids are squealing about these days.

Actually, as I looked more closely (which was pretty easy to do, seeing as one of them was about in my lap), I realized that the tweens? Were wearing skinny jeans. And Converse. The boys had Jonas brothers hair cuts, the girls had edgy-Jenny Humphrey bangs. Unknowingly, I had landed dead in the center of a pack of DC-mini-hipsters.

No sooner had I realized this, than I noticed that ONE of them was wearing sweatpants (the speshul kind with the elastic around the ankle), huarache sandles, a baggy T-shirt that said “Ocean City, MD”, and a large camera around her neck. And she was Asian.

WHY, WORLD??? Why do you torture me with these ridiculous stereotypes, and expect me to just ignore them? It’s just so unfair. I don’t want to be a bad person. The universe makes me one.

Anyhoo, we finally made it up to Van Ness and I weaved around them on the platform, texting nonchalantly and walking with a firm, purposeful step that said “How are those chaperones working out for you? I’M A BIG KID AND I CAN GO ANYWHERE AND DO ANYTHING I WANT ALL BY MYSELF. So suck on THAT!!!” (Maturity meter reading: 3. Out of 100.)

Once out in the bright sunny day again, I settled down in front of the Giant and waited for Lem to get her lazy lucious ass down to the metro stop. Moments after I taken my people-watching stance, I was rewarded with the sight of a 6’3″ middle-aged, engineer-esque looking man striding toward the metro’s entrance. But what was so interesting about this old, lanky, balding man, you might ask? Well, there was the fact that he was wearing a long, billowy, powder-pink Little House on the Prarie dress. No, it wasn’t even a dress. It was a frock. And he had a pale pink shawl, a lavendar parasol (yes, a PARASOL), and enormous pink purse to match. And he. Was. Fabulous.

He was going for this…

But it looked more like this.

“Well, life is short,” I thought to myself. “Good for him. At least he knows who he is- or would like to be.” As Lem would say later when I told her, “Everyone deserves to be a pretty, pretty princess.”

I sat back and soaked in the sun’s rays, as two twenty-something blond girls- the kind I would SWEAR had Debutante Balls- exited the Giant and crossed by in front of me. Ever the eavesdropper, I did just that.

“And SHE doesn’t even believe GAMBLING is a SIN!” One exclaimed to the other with disgust.

“No wonder she got knocked up,” her cohort responded knowingly.

I was tempted to ask if they had a light for my crack pipe, but Lem was approaching and there was pizza to be made.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting!” she called out apologetically.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I smiled as we hugged, “It was great.”

Mama said share.