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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.

I keep my promises… without further ado, living proof my my bull riding experience at the The NYC 20sb Happy Hour… cape and all.

*shame

*wait no

*quite awesome, actually.

Mama said share.

…A Survival Guide to making it through a sudden and inexplicable loss, be it job, romantical (it’s a word), or your pet hampster Fred.

- Under no circumstances should you try to put on pants and/or leave the house for at least 48 hours.

- There must be at least one cat within unwilling cuddle range at all times. This is especially true if you do not have a significant other; in fact, if you do, you should probably send them away for a few days if you want to keep them. This will not be pretty.

- If you don’t have a cat, rent one. If you’re allergic, deal with it- the reaction will just hurry you along into the “ugly cry” phase.

- There should be absolutely no bathing, shaving, or other hygienic care of any sort.

- Cue up at least 14 really, really bad movies. These will serve as fodder for endless mocking, and to take your anger out on, as well as a few moments that warm your heart against your better judgment, reminding you that you are in fact still human, and keeping you from falling completely into an emotional abyss. Suggestions from my recent foray include:

• When in Rome
• Paul Blart: Mall Cop
• 17 Again
• Lindsay Lohan: The Road to Jail
• Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief – (Actually, I thought this was going to be terrible, and it was surprisingly awesome. You’re welcome.)
• Anything with Channing Tatum (C-TATES!!!) in it

- Drink heavily and eat crap, but make grandiose plans about getting into shape and all the healthy meals you’ll cook from scratch- tomorrow. Always say “tomorrow”, and do not look directly into the bloat.

- Swear colorfully and often. Get creative with it, a la Rocco in Boondock Saints.

And then, remember you have kickass friends, a great man and two adorable furry assholes cats, and at least you’re not the Half Ton Teen.






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Mama said share.

So, I’m stoked about the MTV TJ’s first challenge! Here it is in a nushell: 

(Help, help! How did I get into this nutshell!) 

Ahem. 

CHALLENGE: 

Description: The MTV TJ needs to be self aware and self assured. It is important that we see how the TJ candidate expresses their own identity, but also how they use their social aptitudes to unite and bring people together. With this challenge, the TJ candidate will be asked to tell their personal story through a digital medium of their choice, and to boost their network of followers on Twitter. 

Personal: Who are you? Answer using any form of media available to you. Examples include text, images, sound, or video. 

Social: Using your social skills and promotional abilities, increase your Twitter following (!!!!!) by as many users as possible. 

So, yanno, feel free to tweet the following… 

RT @LivitLuvit Pledge: So if I can hit 3500 followers by July 8 midnight, I will film myself rickrolling a bar and post it. BAM #zyncMTVTJ 

(Also, you can just click here to share my plight with your friends on the ‘Book. Love you long time. SMOOCHES.)  

Well, I’ve got something amazing in the works a la vlog to answer this burning question of WHO AM I, but in the meantime, I’d like to introduce my new followers to LiLu via my internet faves. If you want to know me, my sense of humor, what I love and what I’m about, you need to know about these… 

1. Hampster on a Piano, (Eating Popcorn on a Piano) 

Oh, Hampster and I. We go way back. Since the first moment I saw this video, about lizzed myself, and immediately tried to make it my ringtone, I knew we would forever be as one. 

2. SNL – Don Draper’s Guide to Picking Up Women 

Yes, this is partly because he’s the second sexiest man on earth next to B, but also because A) it’s one of the few truly greats to come out of SNL in the past decade, and B) OH EM GEE, THE AWESOME, IT IS OVERPOWERING. 

Also? C. Funny cause it’s true. 

3. Kitten Mittons – Always Sunny in Philadelphia. 

(Yes, mittons. Not “mittens.” You’ll see.) 

I laughed. I cried. I almost convinced myself to learn to crochet. And then I remembered I prefer drinking beer. 

But the video still kills me, each and every time. 

4. Where the Hell is Matt? (2008)

For the Schmoopy McSchmooperson in all of us. I’ve seen it over and over and over, and I still can’t get through it without tears welling up in my eyes. I once said here that one of my greatest fears is the knowledge that I’m going to live my life without meeting even a billionth of the people on this earth. That remains true, and I think it’s why this video touches me so much… the man had a mission, and while making this video, he lived out my dream of meeting so many new people. 

5. One of my own: “Surprise Trust Falls: Abusing Tourists on the National Mall”

(inspired by my lover @danieltosh over at Tosh.0 )

I’ll say it. I’m just damn proud of this one. Make sure you make it to the happy ending!!!

Honorary mention: Kids re-enact Little ‘Jersey Shore’

Because hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha YES.

Mama said share.

~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?

Mama said share.

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.

Mama said share.

Okay, people. I know you want your Vegas. Get the fuck ready, cause I’m not holding back. 

My ten favorite most memorable things that I wish I could scrub from my brain with a razor blade, a la Vegas… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

1. Whenever Maxie, RS27, Lbluca77, Shine, Mary and I are in a room together, someone’s going to get hurt. (Pride not included.) Also, this only makes me love them more, which is scientifically impossible but still true. 

RS27′s arm after battling Maxie’s curling iron: 

Maxie managed to keep a picture of her head wound from being taken, but… 

And finally, this is my own UDI (Unidentified Drunk Injury): 

That’s what happens when you snuggle Maxie too hard, I suppose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

2. Doing a party dress fashion show (fashion show! fashion show! fashion show at LUNCH!) that involved me changing multiple times in what I did not know was an entirely see-through closet. In a hotel room full of people. And none of them TOLD me. 

Also see: me asking Shine to zip up one of said dresses. “No, really. Go ahead. Just pinch me if you have to! PINCH IT!!! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

3. Finding these shirts in Wisconsin: 

Words clearly not necessary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

4. Discovering the art of fake retweeting friends on twitter. See Exhibits A through E. Okay, and F. (Btw that last one totally backfired on her, because some dude DM’d her “Not to be dirty… But the footjob tweet was f*cking hot! ” 

Ew ew gross get me a shower holy vomit in my hair GROSS. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

5. Sharing raunchy sex stories in one of the hotel rooms with some two dozen ladies… and RS27. 

That's about right.

My own submission? Walking in on my grandparents doing it. 

God, I’m great at parties. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

6. Surprise Trust-Falling Rachel into the pool. And by trust-falling, I mean surprise dive-bombing. She’s a sport, y’all. I did at least asked if she minded getting wet first. I did not, however, wait for an answer before shouting “TWSS!!!!!!” and launching our bodies into the air. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

7. Friday night dance party was the most magical thing ever. Two things everyone from Vegas now knows about me: 

A. If you put me in the center of the dance circle, the grand finale of my repertoire will probably be flashing the girls at my love bunnies, Katelin and Vixations. 

B. If a guy from a group of creepy straight boys passive aggressively unpops the collar of our favorite gay because he has the jealousies, I will bitch slap him upside his head. That is all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

8. Maxie, RS27 and I dancing through the hotel singing the Always Sunny Dayman and Troll Toll songs from start to finish. Like, a dozen times. How did we not get beat up, bozos??? 

“Stage freeze!” “Don’t SAY stage freeze, just do it!!!” 

This is how you dooo iiiiiiiiiiit. (This is how you do it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

9. Face-licking the hell out of Chelsea the moment I met her. I mean full-on tongue, to the ear, people. AND YOU ALL THOUGHT I WOULDN’T DO IT. 

Also, she rocks. See? 

No drop of beer shall go undrunk! Undranken? My head hurts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

10. Zomg, I’m still hungover. I quit. Here’s a bunch of pretty pictures. 

We're on a PLANE!!!

Proof that Maxie is an elf.

Proof that I need a helmet.

Look! I'm normal sometimes!

Jay kaying, jay kaying. Never normal.

Adam Lambert, I mean RS27's boyfriend, I mean Ben.

Apparently, Ben thinks I should inform you guys that this was a theme party. LIKE YOU DON’T WEAR THAT EVERYDAY. Not buying it.

GIVE ME YOUR HAIRRRRRRRRRRRR (ps love you Katelin!)

Bottle service. YES WE ARE THAT BADASS. Bishes.

Finally, I have my own Ebony to my Ivory!

Me OWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Airport french fry breakfast. And yes, my shirt says "Bayside High Technology Team." You may judge me for neither.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Everyone who came, it was a blast meeting all of you. I only wish we’d had more time and less tequila. 

LOVE YOUR FACES. 

Now excuse me while I go throw up.

UPDATE: Yes yes yes Maxie has surrendered a picture of the head wound!!! Here it is in all its purple glory…

Mama said share.

So, I have a court date on Monday.

And no, shockingly, it is not for indecent exposure, or public intoxication, or getting thrown out of The Royal Palace (NSFW).

Point A: We didn’t get “thrown out”. We were just asked to kindly STOP DANCING up a storm… or leave. Guess our moves were too hot for the strippers.

Point B: Mom, the Royal Palace is a church. Or a library. Swear. Don’t click that.

No, my friends, rather, I have been called to serve my fair city in the way of:

JURY DUTY.

Bum bum bum. *triangle clang for emphasis*

And here’s the thing. Me being me and all, I totally want to go all Liz Lemon with this shiz. Partially to ensure I don’t have to go back the next day, but mostly because hot damn, wouldn’t it be fun to fuck with an entire room of people??

My goal is to make the judge blush at least once.

So, here are the options I’ve come up with so far…

1. Wear a helmet. Preferable of the My Little Pony or Hello Kitty stylings.

2. Bring Murray draped around my shoulders and tell them I have separation anxiety if they try to take him.

3. Turn every question into a “That’s What She Said” joke. And I do mean EVERY…

“Are you racist?”

“That’s what she said!!!!”

(So wrong. I know.)

4. Dress like a Daytona stripper who shoplifts from Fashion Bug.

5. Wear Green Man.

6. Pretend I’m a contestant trying out for American Idol whenever I’m on the stand. Go-tos will be Rick Astley, Pants on the Ground, and “Ambalamps.”

7. Speak only as a white girl doing an impression of Billy Cosby.

8. Pencil in a Frida unibrow, and repeatedly announce that the carpet AND the drapes match the ceiling, while wiggling said brow suggestively.

9. Act exactly like Bill Murray from “What About Bob?”

10. Lizz myself.

And so, dear bloggy cohorts, I need your votes / even better ideas to make it happen.

ARE YOU READY FOR ME, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA??? I CAN’T HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAR YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

The quandry: We feel terrible. Just horrible. And oh so helpless… if only there was something we could DO for them.

The answer: Ummmm. Did you forget that WE ARE THE INTERNET?!?!!??! And also, Yes We Can!!!

The result: Brandy and your Hot Awesome Dude… this one’s for you. Love, The Internet.

A very, VERY special thanks to everyone who helped me make this possible: Maxie, Ben, Tia, Alexa, Kyla Roma, Sizzle, Rachel, Jessica, Rachael, Katie, EP, Courtney, Tipp, Nicole, Jamie Varon, Laurie, L G, Ashley Marie, Wishcake, Matt, Doniree, Chelsea, Lisa, that short chick, Princess Pointful, Derek, Jess, Marie, Jamie, Jenn, Ashley, Erin, Jessica, Renee, Allie,  Grace, Rachel, Restaurant Refugee, Titania, Brad, Jolee, DC Princess, Patrick, and Deutlich.

***If for some reason I forgot you, let me know and I will fix immediately. I was up way past my bedtime working on this and I am a little LOCO IN THE CABEZA right now…***

Please feel free to repost this video, the information below, or all of the above! We. Are. The Internet!!!!!!!!!

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

(A special thanks to Laurie for creating this fund and coming up with the following language!)

Our Plea:

Our friend Brandy is a brilliant writer, a wonderful teacher, and a generous friend.  And she is in love with a man who has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

We are raising money for the Multiple Myeloma Research Fund in his name.  For the price of a cinnamon dolce latte, half-caf, hold the whip, you can be part of an effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.

http://www.loveharder.org

Every dollar brings us a dollar closer to a cure.  And every donation brings a sliver of hope to a girl who needs all the hope she can get.

Love Harder,

LiLu

What You Can Do:

Give.  Be part of a worldwide effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.  Every dollar helps.

Pass it on.  Forward this story to five people.  Share this blog post.  Become our fan on Facebook.

Love harder.  Life is short, love is unbending, and no one knows what could happen next.  Tell someone you love them today.

DONATE: http://www.loveharder.org
CONTACT: theloveharderfund@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: http://facebook.loveharder.org
MORE INFO: http://www.themmrf.org

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

Mad, mad love, y’all.

UPDATED: Almost forgot! Grab the fabulous badge for the fund by copying and pasting the text in the box below!

<a href="http://loveharder.org" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/lovehard.jpg" border="0" alt="Love Harder" /></a>

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Mama said share.

Is a 20SB Bootleg award.

Or six.

I found out today, and am completely and totally honored that, I’m (for the first time!) a “finalist” nominee for the following 20SB “award” categories…

Funniest Blogger (I’m going to hope this is “with”, not “at”… but we all know the truth)

Best Commenter (cause I heart you twerps)

Least Likely To Be “Marked As Read” (awww, love that!)

Blogger I’d Share A Drink With (I will admit… much like Charlie, I am fun to drink with)

Most Awkward Blogger (no surprise here. Love it.)

And last, but oh-so-NOT-least…

Best. Freaking. Female. BLOGGER!!!!!

ROCK.

So, look, guys. I know this is just a weebit shameless. But, if you do for some reason think that maybe I would be worthy of one (or all- yes, I am totes greedy like that) of these awards I’ve been put up for, please go vote here!

Or just click this...

It would make my day. Or at least my hour. And you could even, like, tweet this, if you wanted to. Who knows… maybe your finger will just slip on that cute little blue “t” icon down there. That’s it… the one right under this post.

Anyhoo, no matter what happens, thank you so much for the nods in the first place… I am truly flattered!

LOVE YOUR FACES.

Mama said share.