Okay. So. I’m literally sitting here, forcing myself to put e-words on the e-paper, because I have so much going on right now- not good, not bad, necessarily, just crazy- that the idea of writing a normal blog is totally and completely freaking overwhelming. I have so much to say but none of it ever, you know, finishes.

Twss.

(Some things never change, eh?)

But… I MISS you guys.

I miss making you laugh, I miss knowing what’s going on in everyone’s lives, I miss being a part of the interwebby community.

In an effort to get a job doing what I love, (instead of working a job I hate and doing everything I love in my free time), I am basically doubling said spare-time (NON-PAID) efforts to get more experience, while I continue to hunt for the right job, the right place, the one who will take a chance on me. I know it’s what needs to be done, but I. Am. Exhausted.

I love everything I’m a part of- Events Chair for the Social Media Club DC, Events Admin for 20 Something Bloggers, Social Media volunteer at a local non-profit, Contributing Editor at DCBlogs.com (check out my round up today, what what!)- and oh yeah, my own Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn and the IITGI site and that Twitter, and a couple new tumblrs and the website design stuff and that whole applying for jobs thing that is so vital to the whole “Getting a New Job” process… resume changes and cover letters and salary requirements, oh my.

And, you know, trying to be healthier and occasionally see friends and call my mom every now and then and oh right, all that usual day-to-day stuff you have to do if you want to be considered a functional adult.

(OVERRATED.)

The main problem is, I just can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Example: when I go for a run, I generally start out at a reasonable pace. Then, somewhere in the middle, I inevitably feel like I’m going to die and really, really just want to STOP. But as soon as I get to the top of the hill, or know I only have a couple minutes left on that treadmill to make my goal, suddenly I’m sprinting toward that finish line- my 47th wind hits, I suppose, and it comes in strong.

I can’t even see the crest of that hill. I can’t hear the people cheering at the finish line, ready to celebrate my accomplishment and take me out for a nice steak dinner. If anything, it seems as though it’s fading farther and farther away with each rejection, with each person who tells me “I’m a shoo-in” for something they clearly don’t understand.

Why do you build me up, Buttercup baby just to bring me down? And mess me around…

This post is probably the most ridiculous hot mess of a thing I’ve ever written. (And we all know that’s saying something.)

Me, in probably a month or so. Watch out.

But I’m hitting publish anyway, because honestly, selfishly… I really just want to hear your voices.

How are you?

P.S. Oh, right. Also, in an effort to procrastinate against the many constructive things I could have been doing this weekend, I made a new header/rebranded the blog. So, uh. Whaddya think?

Mama said share.

Bullet time!

~ Yesterday’s comments were pretty amazing- if you haven’t weighed in yet, I’d love to hear what you think. Saved by the Bell is involved.

~ My sister, who is young, talented, gorgeous, way funnier than me, and incredibly intelligent (she totally kicked my ass in the SATs), is in need of a job in the Boston area. If you know of any professional openings, please drop me a line here and I’ll put you in contact. Also, I will forever be in your debt and send you cookies like, at least twice a year. For a year.

~ My butt buddy Jenn, who is young, talented, gorgeous, lit-rally BUCKETS of fun, and too damn smart for her own good (in the “you’d-love-her-to-work-for-you” kinda way), is ALSO in need of a job… in D.C. My people in the District, rise up and come forth and all that! Shoot me an email and I will have her send you her (impressive) resume faster than a Democrat losing the key Senate seat in Massachusetts.

~ ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!

~ After the 20-hour headache that was putting together the (awesome-and-totally-worth-it!!!!!) Love Harder video, I have officially decided I need a Mac. Anyone selling a laptop? That they will promise on pain of my ripping them a new one on this blog is totally legit and will not die on me? BECAUSE IF ANOTHER COMPUTER DIES ON ME I WILL GO ALL STABBY ON A STRANGE CHILD and no one wants that.

~ I’ve got a guest post over at Middle Aged Waitress today, in which I recount my First Day Ever of being a waitress. Suffice to say, it did not go well…

~ Thought I’ve said it all over the interwebs, I have yet to officially say Thank You, so much, to everyone who voted for me in the 20SB Bootleg Awards. I walked away with more than my fair share, and I could not be more honored. I knew I had “Most Awkward” in the bag, but “Best Female”? “Funniest”? Y’all blow me the freak away. (More awesome news to come re: me and 20SB later this week… WOOT!)

~ I have a copy of TFLN to give away! The book is a comprisal of all the best “Texts No One Remembers Sending”… and it is one hawt mess. Just leave a comment here to be entered! (Winner announced Friday.)

Mama said share.

I remember, a couple years ago now, how afraid I was to even start this blog. A good friend of mine (and my mother, although she doesn’t know that she succeeded…) insisted on it to the point where I didn’t really have a choice.

Of course, I read and admired the blogs of others… but the idea of meeting them? Well, that didn’t even cross my mind at first. Scary with a capital S! I (yes, I) was totally and completely intimidated by the idea. I saw posts about Happy Hours go up, but never dreamed of going.

And then, one day, I emailed one of my favorites, Lemmonex. We wrote back and forth a few times. Then (gasp!) we even gchatted a bit. Finally, we took the plunge… and met for lunch one day.

Over a year later, I honestly can’t imagine my life without her. And the countless other bloggy friends I’ve made that you read about here each and every day. It’s a list that keeps growing, too, and I just fucking love it.

All this blathering is basically my way of saying, come out next Friday. Come to Evolve, a little bar in Adams Morgan (but just off the kids’ main strip- map here), and have a beer or eight with us. The joint’s small enough that you won’t wonder where we are, (which also makes it easier for me to ambush greet you at the door with a big bear hug).

Bring a friend, bring your teddy bear, or just bring your fabulous self. I promise we won’t leave you hanging.

If you’re planning on coming, steal this pic so your people know to come too. The more the merrier, of course.

And please feel free to email me with any comments/questions/offers to buy me drinks: heylivitluvit at gmail dot com.

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Other things that made my Friday fabulous…

My love Briana sent me this video via Facebook yesterday. I was astonished when they came out with “designer” animal print Snuggies, but I think they may have finally gone too far…

At least now I know what the kittens are getting for Christmas! Especially if they keep dousing B in his own urine for my personal amusement.

Next up, I couldn’t help but Twitter this last night, so I’m sorry for the repeat… but oh my god, we saw this on Tosh.0 last night and B and I were literally laughing so hard tears were streaming down our cheeks. Which may or may not have something to do with the fact that he had a cooler o’ booze next to us on the couch, but whatevs. Click to enlarge…

25 to 70?? But NOT 24 or 71… he has standards, clearly. But he’s not gay! Just a little mutual touching among friends. I can’t decide what the bigger enticement is… kicking the trains like monsters, or all the imitation crabmeat I can eat. I told B he should sacrifice himself to go over there and get us some of that delicious surplus of faux crab, but he wasn’t having it. I can’t imagine why…

And finally, my sweet Carolina girl and BFFie Kristin is a much better person than I. She’s heading up here in October to run the Marines Marathon for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, provided she can raise enough money. I asked her to write a little blurb below so you can read her story for yourself, but let me throw me two cents in here and just say I know we’re all broke, I know this economy blows massive chunks, but if you can spare anything, any little bit helps. Plus, free karma! Oh wait… not free… but you know what I mean. Check it out below, or, if I’ve already convinced you, Donate Here!

(And a huge thanks to my friend Big Money Tony for his super generous donation last week. You have karma coming out your ears, my dear!)

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Hola chicas! (and fellas) It’s Kristin here, LiLu’s UNC pee partner in crime (btw, I am not as fugly in real life as I look in those pics). LiLu was kind enough to allow me to post a bit about something I’ve been working on for the past few months in hopes that a few of you may be able to help me out.

This past May I ran my first marathon (yep, it’s 26.2 miles) and once I crossed the finish line I knew I was hooked! (And really, really smelly. Ask M, she was unfortunate enough to have to hug me after that.) So I started looking into which one I should run next, and obvi, I picked the 2009 Marine Corps Marathon so I would have a free place to stay get to hang out with LiLu and B! But I also picked MCM because I could run with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training Program.

Team in Training is a group of dedicated volunteer runners who train together for a marathon or an Olympic Distance triathlon. But our bigger mission is to raise funds to help stop leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin lymphoma and myeloma from taking more lives.

I’m working to raise over $3,500 for LLS, and I’m almost there! As of Thursday, I only need $888 to reach my goal. Can you help me out? You can donate here quickly, safely and with a sweet shot of good karma for your Friday BONUS, it’s a tax write off! Suhweet.

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Happy weekend, darlins. I better see you out next Friday!!! xo

Mama said share.

(Move along, folks… not much to see here today. Life is kicking my ass from every direction, so unless you have some cheese to go with this whine…)

Thank god B is sane, or I probably would have jumped by now. He really is my rock. Which comes in handy when I physically abuse him to get my stress out. (Kidding. Swear. Don’t call BFPA on me.) As much as his calmness is infuriating sometimes when I think it should be co-freak out time!!!, I suppose it is somewhat advantageous that one of us is not batshit insane.

Re: the housing search (P.S., I’m sorry if you’ve been following my angry and clinically depressed Twitters.) I’m trying not to be discouraged or frustrated… Wait that’s a lie. I am totally and completely both of those things. Not only do I love our amazing place, not only do I not want to move at ALL, it’s just so hard to trade down from “amazing” to “acceptable”. And, as I said last week, B and I have very different ideas about what makes a place acceptable to each of us. But, miracle of miracles, we somehow managed to agree on one neighborhood (Eastern Market, for you locals) as being the perfect compromise for both of us.

And THEN, lo and behold, we found the perfect apartment there, literally on the steps of the market, within a stone’s throw of all the vendors! The rental agent told us it was basically ours when we turned in our application a few hours later. Two exhausting days of silence later, he finallyconfirmed… that we had lost it. *cue ugly crying*

I’m trying not to slip into a dark place, but I’m not going to lie, it crushed me. Knowing that the perfect solution to this hellish problem slipped through our fingers has now tainted the whole search for me. Now everything we see is “not as good” as that place. It’s all too far, too small, too expensive, in comparison. And I know I shouldn’t compare to what was the diamond in the rough (someone is actually corny enough to name a Craigslist ad that, btw), but hwo can I help it?

I’m sorry to beat this dead horse but it’s all I can think about. It would probably help if I wasn’t also entrenched in a mind-numbing week long work project (wanna see? pic here) that A) affords me all the time in the world to think about how stressed I am and B) keeps me away from the computer, so I can’t even be house hunting to try and assuage some of the anxiety. Sidebar: I also learned last night that I’ve been pronouncing the word “assauge” wrong my whole life, much to B’s amusement. CAN I PLEASE WIN AT SOMETHING, WORLD???

The house is a mess, I couldn’t find the energy to put make up on today, and I haven’t worked out in over a week. Apartment or no, I really need to get my shit together.

Apparently Monday is the day I drink my hatorade. Also today I suppose it’s more like depressed-ade. Angry is funnier… I’ll try to kick a puppy tourist on the way home or something.

Breathe, LiLu, breathe. I am going to my happy place…

(And for all you Canucks, here’s a taste for you as well.)

Mama said share.

A good percentage of you have been to the apartment that B and I call home. I don’t think any of you would argue when I say that it is, in a word, GORGEOUS. Here’s all the pics from when we first moved in, or just look:

Hardwood floors, sky high ceilings, shiny new appliances, a WINE fridge, a patio for grilling, and a 10-20 minute walk from almost anything you’d want to do in downtown DC. The neighborhood is full of characters but safe, it’s 1 block from the metro and the grocery store, there’s a nursery on the corner, and our landlord is a dream to deal with. Oh yeah, and every shindig we’ve thrown there has been an absolute blast.

So why on earth would we ever, EVER move, you might ask?

Because $350 electric bills are not my friend. Because it was a LEETLE too expensive, anyway, and on September 1st, the rent is going up. Because, frankly, we bit off a bit more than we could chew in the excitement of moving in together for the first time, and now that reality is setting in, it’s time to trade down.

 So, we’re looking. And, um, it is not going well.

You see, the reason WHY we ended up in said gorgeous apartment is becoming crystal clear. I am the type of person who would rather live in a shack, so long as it is in the middle of the action. I’m a LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION kinda gal. I also have very little regard for things like “safety” and “number of shootings per month in the area”.

Being a person with a slightly more practical mentality, B would prefer to sacrifice some of the “where” for the “what”. The what being less rent, nicer amenities, and being able to walk home without constantly plotting what your plan of action would be if someone jumped you.

I get that, I do. But to me, being at the center of everything is just priceless.

Looking back, this all explains why we ended up where we are now. It’s all the things that both of us wanted, which is, of course, why it’s so damn expensive. So, now that we’re trying to compromise and find someplace cheaper that we both can stand, it seems we are at an impasse. (Inconceivable!) The only problem is, rents in DC have seemingly shot through the roof as of late, and “compromising” seems to mean “moving somewhere we could never, ever bring our parents to.”

He says Navy Yard. I say I would sooner die.

I say Columbia Heights, but, you know, the less safe (less expensive) parts. He says he likes being un-mugged. (Psssssshhhh.)

He says up the red line, towards Maryland. I say Cleveland Park is my limit, and even then it’s far too cookie-cutter for my liking.

I say further into Shaw, maybe Ledroit Park. He says we’re so white, we would positively GLOW there.

(Well, and he’s right. But here’s Katie’s and my theory; people don’t “just get shot” over there the way people “just get mugged” in Adams Morgan and Columbia Heights. In east Shaw, if someone gets killed, it’s because they had it coming. It’s not like random drive bys, or stray bullets. It’s like, you fucked my baby daddy, and now I’m gonna kill you. Which is totally fair, no?)

And Virginia? Well, he knows better than to suggest Virginia. I’d probably break up with him.

Kidding.

(Maybe.)

We’re looking at three places today, and the only one we’re both excited about is most likely a scam, judging from the CL ad. We’re going anyway, just because, well, that’s how desperate we’re getting.

At this point, I’m sort of caving and wanting to just stay where we are and make it work. Who needs heat, anyway? We have our love to keep us warm.

(Don’t worry, I just punched myself for you.)

So, uh, if you live in downtown DC, and, um, need a house sitter for the next year… please to let us know? Otherwise, I’m pretty sure we’ll be homeless in about five weeks. I’m too pretty to be homeless, so I’ll end up taking a sugar daddy and B will be selling crack in dark alleys. If you see us bathing in the fountain in Farragut Square, please do the polite thing and pretend you don’t see us.

After you slip us a fiver, of course.

Mama said share.

You remember how I thought I owed the Feds $1,000?

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

I went to H&R Suck yesterday to see if they could help. I figured I HAD to be doing something wrong.

The lady plugged all the same numbers into her computer exactly as I had… and even managed to find an extra tax I’d forgotten to pay. Thanks, lady.

According to them, I owe Obama THIRTEEN hundred dollars. Not 1K.

THEN, she wanted $250 for all her fine work. Which was exactly what I had done, except, yanno, clicking another button that added $300 to my debt.

Needless to say, I grabbed my W2′s and RAN.

Straight to the pharmacy, where my anti-anxiety/panic attack pills were waiting. (Because life just makes too much fucking sense sometimes.)

And then stopped off at my neighborhood Mexi-mart for wine and 79 cent burritos. Since that’s all I can afford now. You gotta have priorities, after all.

As I write this, I am holding an enormous glass of vino, watching Turk airband to “That Girl Is Poison” on a rerun of Scrubs, and an exceptionally handsome man has promised to rub my feet later.

I mean, how does this NOT make you feel better?

I truly have the greatest friends, all across the country, one of whom I am going to lay on a beach with in Charleston all weekend. Another of whom I had a textual “I fucking love YOU man” with last night, and totally meant it when I said she’s going to have to be in my wedding someday. My family is amazing and loving and healthy, and I’m 25 years old with three grandparents still going strong.

Incredibly awesome, caring and talented people from all over the world send me gross and funny tidbits here in the comments and in emails every day. They think of me when they see Smittens and Poof toilet drops and Snuggie bar crawls and it makes me happy. They get me through the work week, and they have no idea how much they really mean to me. [Ed. note: THAT'S YOU.]

Finally, B came home last night, not even knowing yet about my taxes, and handed me an envelope with my name and our address on it… which makes this just that much cuter:

Text: Dear(est) LiLu: I was writing “thank you” notes for that briefing last week and thought of you. Thank YOU for being lovely, and sweet, and sticking with me. You’ll never regret it. I love you more than anyone else ever in the history of the world (or at least my own personal history). I was going to mail this… but ran out of stamps- I’m stamp poor but rich with love for you! Yours, B.

So, $1300, huh?

Fine. Take it. Cause my life? Is so definitely worth that.

Mama said share.

Ed. note: I have a super special and scrumptious surprise for y’all tomorrow, so make sure you stop by. BECAUSE I SAID SO!!!! xoxo

I normally don’t take it upon myself to do restaurant reviews; I generally like to leave that stuff to the experts. But I had an experience last week that I just have to share… because it was officially Amazing with a capital A.

You all know how B and I spent our Valentine’s Day. But we had also decided it would be nice to go out for dinner last week as well, especially since it was Restaurant Week, and because neither of us can remember the last time the two of us actually treated ourselves to a real meal out, you know, with silverware and everything.

So we decided on the District ChopHouse, since B had been before and said it was the perfect atmosphere; classy, yet laid-back without being too stuffy. So last Thursday, gussied up in my hot-ass boots and wind-swept hair, we made our way to the ChopHouse. Upon hearing our name, the host promptly picked up two menus and seated us in the coziest booth in the place, overlooking the center of the restaurant. This was already beginning well.

You see, B and I are sort of jaded when it comes to our restaurant experiences, as we’ve had terrible luck with service the whole time we’ve been dating. Now, I know that a large portion of this can be explained by the fact that I spent a decade working in restaurants as a host, server, bartender, in the kitchen- you name it, I’ve done it. So, while I understand the hardships of the job better than most, I also know exactly how easy it is to give relatively decent service. I’m not asking for you to crumb my table and push my chair in; just to be there when we need you and more importantly, to NOT be there when we don’t.

I think our experience can best be summed up by an open letter to our server.

Dear Robert, you were perfect.

You had perfect timing, and you gave us the perfect amount of attention. We were given water immediately. You could tell we were cool when we quickly discarded the Restaurant Week menu in favor of a bacon-wrapped filet and the Porterhouse. You recommended the perfect wine, easily and without pointing to the most expensive thing on the menu (although the entire drink menu was extremely reasonably priced). You brought us piping hot corn bread. The spinach dip came with toasted pita, complete with grill marks. The steaks were the perfect shade of bloody while maintaining that gorgeous outer crust that is so hard to achieve.

The atmosphere was fun and lovely- the lack of sound carrying despite the sky high ceilings was nice, (although Ol’ Blue Eyes was crooning and I could hardly hear him, but I forgive you). Your bussers kept our water full, our empty plates cleared, and were totally Casper about it- friendly ghosts.

We chatted a bit to show you our appreciation, and you’re also a totally cool guy. It wasn’t enough for us, so we grabbed the manager on the way out to express our gratitude for the entire experience. Even though we saw him coming a mile away with that black button down shirt and silver tie, he quickly melted our hearts when we realized he was near tears from the stress of Restaurant Week, and we had just given this man an extremely necessary breath of fresh air.

“I just really needed to hear that,” he choked out. “This week- it’s so hard, on me, on the staff.”

“I know, I know,” I tried to soothe him without actually patting him on the back, “I’ve been there.”

We showered him with as many compliments as we could, and I resisted my urge to hug him goodbye as the friendly hostess bid us adieu.

So thank you, Robert, and the District ChopHouse, for giving us the most perfect (unofficial) Valentine’s Day ever. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have changed a single detail about the experience, and that you made two new regulars that night. We will be back.

Love,

LiLu

I also had a fabulous brunch yesterday at Marvin with my girlies as well- maybe I’m on a roll? Where else have you been recently that knocked your socks off? Cause I’m kicking ass and taking names, as far as awesome restaurants go.

Mama said share.

Since SNL’s been officially in the toilet since Tina Fey left, I don’t really watch anymore. (We actually caught a few minutes last night, and Darryl Hammond, SERIOUSLY??? Are you going for the record of longest tenure or something? If you don’t have a terrible spin-off movie by now, it ain’t happening. You should have left when Al Gore won the election, but not the Presidency.)

Ahem. Diatribe aside, I found this over at Amalah this morning and it’s been cracking me up ever since…

Wait, so… if you don’t have the money for something, DON’T buy it?? What a novel concept…

(Um, that doesn’t apply to booze, right?)

Mama said share.