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

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

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

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

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

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

Me: *VOMITS*

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

First, it was a whole lotta this:

And then a hefty side of that:

Topped off with a healthy dose of this:

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

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

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

Mama said share.

~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 weekend, I was home alone with the cats, and I sent B this picture…

His response?

“Cute… if I ignore the fact you took that while on the toilet.”

Uhhhhhhh…. quick, distract them!

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

Mama said share.

One of the reasons- the main one, most likely- that I feel like I relate to so many of you, IMHO, is because I unabashedly share every teeny, tiny, weird little oddity from all the quirky corners of my personality… and you probably relate to at least ONE of those. I’m winning you over with a numbers game of weirdness!! *evil cackle*

Ahem. Anytwaffle, one of my strange and nonsensical hobbies is, (somewhat ironically,) that I actually keep a running record of all the less-than-normal *coughbatshitcrazycough* things I do. Seriously, whenever I do something and worry about how it would look if someone saw me/heard me/knew WHY I was doing it, I immediately think, “I should probably share that with the whole internet.”

So here we have it, folks. A collective running list of all the things I do that make me weirder than your average bear, purely for your enjoyment.

You’re WELCOME.

LiLu-isms, (For Only Me) To Live By…

I have a secret ‘code of conduct’ rule with myself on airplanes: I only put my seat back if the person directly in front of me does. Addendum: Or if the person behind me is especially obnoxious…

I absolutely DESPISE inner ear headphones. Can. Not. Do it. They hurt, they fall out, they just don’t fit… twss. Give me the big, klonky, nerdy “might as well be earmuffs” headphones any day.

I may or may not enjoy Christmas music year round. (Again, thank goodness for said enormous headphones… and personal iPods.)

I unabashedly love country music. And, I’m not even gonna justify by saying only I only listen to GOOD country, either, like Johnny Cash… nothing makes me happier than road tripping with my Carolina girl Kbo, belting out Trace Adkins’ “Honkey Tonk Badonkadonk“. DEAL WITH IT.

I have, have HAVE to brush my teeth before getting into the shower. There can be no exceptions. (This was never a problem before my cats got so damn sinky!)

Every. Goddamn. MORNING!

I cannot stand having multiple browser windows open. I would rather have 4,000 tabs open at once than two windows. Must. See. EVERYTHING at once!

Sometimes I leave corny comments on people’s posts when they’re of a serious subject matter, or I’m just not sure what to say. I then live in fear that Maxie will somehow see it and mercilessly make fun of me for it.

I get really, really excited whenever I make pasta and discover that I put in JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT of water when I add the noodles.

Speaking of my love for country music, I have to listen to Garth Brooks’ “Callin’ Baton Rouge” at least once every time I work out. I don’t know. It has a good beat!

Stop looking at me that way! We can still be friends, right? It’s not like I hate babies, or anything…

Oh.

Mama said share.

Actually, I’m not lazy. I’m having the most insane week at work I’ve ever had and even though I am lame/psycho enough to bring my BB into the copy room with me so I can gchat, my umbilical cord to the computer has basically been cut for the week and it makes me sad in my pants because I’ve had no time to read or write basically anything. Which is why you are getting deliciously awesome and hilarious videos today!

Thanks to my love alexa from cleveland’s a plum for this one…

Awesome sauce.

Next up, this insta-classic is via SkylersDad over at Some Days It’s Not Worth Chewing Through The Leather Straps. Make it through to the end… it only gets better.

Ha! That shiz is GRRRRRREAT! Silly fucking leprechaun.

Now, I can’t decide if I only think this is hilarious because it’s 5 in the morning and I’m totally sleep deprived and out of it, but well, I fucking love this.

“I heard that motherfucker had like, 30 dicks.” I heart you, CollegeHumor.

And finally, um, well, this is technically NSFW. Technically. Make sure no one’s behind you, at least. And then Click Here.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *wipes tears of laughter*

I GOT YOU!!!

No, I’m not sorry. Okay, I’m a little sorry. But you have to forgive me, because it’s FRIIIIIIIIDEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Happy weekend, love muffins. Watch out for the man teats out there…

Mama said share.

***Pssst, hey… have you updated my feed in your reader yet?***

If you’re reading this right now, you would probably agree with me that in general, the internet is pretty effing great. Like cherry on top great. Like cherry on top of “getting Frosty with” someone great.

 Sorry… I’ve been wanting to post that video for fucking EVER now. I just fricking love it, in that super-cheesy-yet-awesomely-bad/Maxie-and-I-should-probably-make-a-movie-video-to-this-kinda-way.

Anyhoo, while my love for the internet and the awesome connections it has brought me knows no bounds, it is most definitely still a very, VERY odd and slightly scary kind of place, and I think it’s important to A) remember that and B) find a way to take joy in the freaks, because otherwise they win.

So, let’s make fun of strange people on the internet! Woot!

We’ve all gotten that email along the lines of “Someone in Egypt has died and left you boatloads of money! Send me your bank account information and I’ll wire it to you right away.” Now, I’m sorry, but if anyone is dumb enough to fall for this… well, they deserve to. Except for little blue haired old ladies. But they shouldn’t know what “email” is anyway, so that’s that. Here’s my personal favorite variation:

from: leith fraser
to:
subject: Partnership request

Hello,
 
I am Mr. Leith Fraser, External Auditor of Bank Of Scotland Plc. I am writing you for a possible business transfer worth GBP 17,000 000(Seventeen Million Pounds Sterling) Pounds Sterling.
 
It will be in my interest to finish this transaction with you hoping that you will not cheat or blackmail me at the conclusion of this transaction, because I have planned it for a very long time. At the moment, I am constrained to issue more details about this business until your positive response is received.
 
If you can be a collaborator to this transaction, please indicate your positive interest immediately for us to proceed by sending your response. I assure you that this deal is worth taking and highly profitable.
 
Thank you for your time and attention.
Warmest regards,
Mr. Leith Fraser,
External Auditor,
Bank Of Scotland

It’s just so official-y… Auditor! Bank of Scotland! Warmest regards! Mama’s finally goan get paid! (Sigh.)

Last week I got a spammer that went above and beyond in randomness. I’m not even sure what he wanted, but, well… I’m just going to let it speak for itself…

from: favour love <favourmong at gmail dot com>
to:
subject: dearest one

dearest one
My name is favour. I saw your profile in this site and i become interested in you please contact me trough my email address so that i can send you my photo for you to know whom i am and tell you more about my self .remember that age,colour,distance does not matter but what matters is true and love. thank
favour

What. The Fuck.

I mean, I’m all for not discriminating in love, but I believe a few details have been left out here. My profile? This site? If you don’t give me specifics, how do I know you’re not just mass emailing and will, therefore, break my heart when I’m NOT your “true and love”? Thank.

Next up, I should have known this was coming after my vibrator giveaways, but still hilarious…

from: mattandheather [redacted]
to: heylivitluvit at gmail dot com
subject: Link exchange

Hello Livitluvit,

I’m the webmaster of theslipperypie.com.  I have visited your blog and I believe your content will be valuable to my customers.  You can find the link to your web site here: [redacted]

If you want to link back to us, just insert this short HTML code on your web site: [redacted]

Thank you,

Matt
The Slippery Pie

“The Slippery Pie.” SERIOUSLY, that was the best you could come up with? It makes me think of clowns mating in a vat of manure. (Cow pies… gettit?) I guess you know you’ve made it when…

Now, this one is for real, which makes it even MORE disturbing. Clearly she has not read one word of my blog, or she would know that I do not have a family, am terrified of children, and feel about babies the way most men feel about cats.

from: Kaydee [redacted]
to: heylivitluvit at gmail dot com
subject: I LOVE Your Blog!

Hi LiLu!
I love reading your blog, and HELLO, your family is gorgeous!.  Thanks for sharing so much of yourself with the world.  I am emailing you because I have recently started a small online diaper bag business.  I am still trying desperately to get my name “out there” and get Google to recognize my site.  So, I am wondering if you would be willing to put a text link on your homepage to my website.  I am not asking for a review, or any sort of write-up, a simple text link is all that I would need. … I would love to send you a free product of your choice under the “baby gear” section on our site, or some bread mix if you would do so.  Please let me know if you are interested.  Thanks again!
 
All The Best,
 
Kaydee
The Diaper Bag Diva

Sigh. At least READ even a paragraph of my site before soliciting pimpage from me in return for baked goods, yanno? Oh wait… they’re not even baked, it’s “bread mix.” I don’t even know what that means.

Finally, this little gem…

from: Roa <windfall at nesconsetfd dot org>
to: heylivitluvit at gmail dot com
subject: chisellings

Seven Clumsy Mistakes 09% of Men Mazke During Lovemaking.www+se57+net

Well… if only 9% of men are making said mistakes, do we *really* need to be worrying about it?? I’d fire your statistician, stat (pun intended) if I were you. And WTF is a “chiselling”?? I tried UD, but they don’t even seem to know…

1.	chunt	1 up, 13 down
	Someone who always requires services or goods for free, or never buys a drink. Literally a ‘chiselling cunt’ “Look at him avoiding the bar again the little chunt”

And now I don’t want to know.

Moving on…  A lot of you sometimes post the more interesting of google searches that led people to your site. I’ve always been a little scared to look at mine, but, well, I’m a big girl, yes? How bad could they be? And so, if you’re bored today, below please find a list of my more recent searches that led people to my lovely little corner of the interwebs… with the posts they landed on linked for your enjoyment.

Stellar… just fucking stellar. People are twisted, man. (Of course, if they’re all led here, what does that say about me…)

Happy Humpday! (Snarf. I said “hump”)

Mama said share.

I’m joining my sugarplum Maxie again for a little “Would You Rather Wednesday” action today. If you have a heart condition (or are just eating your breakfast), now would be the time to look away…

First, some background info. Because I sure as shit didn’t know what this thing was…

What is a mucous plug?

“The mucous plug is a collection of cervical mucus that seals the opening of the cervix during pregnancy. It keeps bacteria and infection from entering into the cervix, providing a protective barrier for the developing baby.”

Let’s dig deeper, shall we? (Ooo, poor word choice…)

“As labor approaches, the cervix thins and dilates, and the plug isn’t large enough to fill the space anymore. The plug may come out all at once, or it may come out slowly in the vaginal discharge over a couple of days.”

And lastly, this wouldn’t be any fun if we didn’t know what it looked like, did it? (I’ll spare you a picture because I am a kind and benevolent person, but perhaps words can do it justice…)

“A mucus plug may be clear, slightly pink, or may be tinged with blood. The plug may consist of stringy mucus, or it may be sticky discharge.”

All right, now that we’re all on board, let me ask you this…

Eat a freshly expelled mucous plug (no sauce/seasonings of any kind, just knife and fork, baby! (Oh, and probably also a little baby…))

OR…Eat the meal created for the Royal Biatch customer in the movie Waiting, pubes, loogies, dandruff and all? (From the greasy likes of a corporate restaurant chef line, no less…) If you’ve never seen the clip, you can click here to go directly to it, or skip to the 1:17 mark on the video below…

Oh, look. I just made MYSELF throw up.

Happy Humpday! Who’s hungry??

(Schmoopy note: Thanks so much for your comments, emails, and other messages re: yesterday. I really appreciate so many of you taking the time to reach out. I think the post came across more drastic than I intended- I am okay, 100% okay… I just need a change when it comes to living a healthier lifestyle. Again, thanks so much, everyone.)

Mama said share.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for the outpouring of love, support, and makingfunofme’s I received via Twitter last night, in light of the recent tragedy in my life.

And perhaps, to “clear the air” a little, so to speak…

For those of you who don’t follow my idiotic 140 character rantings – (WHAT?? You don’t want to know what I’m doing EVERY SECOND?!? Blasphemy!)- let me ‘splain.

B’s parents were here this weekend, which (while a perfectly lovely and delightful time) is, naturally, a little stressful. Needless to say, as we waved them off yesterday around noon, we heaved an enormous sigh of relief and set off for home to immediately take off our pants and make spicy Bloody Marys the size of our heads.

It was a nice, relaxing, drunkety Sunday afternoon… naps were taken, The Wire was watched (I love you Bubbles!)… I even let B talk me into a little BSG (don’t worry, this is SciFi related… not sexual). After three straight episodes, I was drifting off to Happy Land, AKA the place where Don Draper touches me in my bathing suit area. So we each slung a kitten over a shoulder and made our way to the bed.

Moments after we’d laid our tired bodies to rest, I had a Kitty Battle Royale of epic proportions commencing on my chest. Just so you can be clear as to what this looks like…

(Uhm. Please ignore our totally dorky commentary. You can even put it on mute, if you like. Thaaaat’s better.)

Anyhoosits, so this is literally taking place ON TOP OF ME, and as they’re all new and cute and stuff, I let it slide. Because they’re small and fluffy and who am I to stop them from tiring themselves out so they let us sleep past 5am?

The next thing I knew, I was kitty-ass-to-mouth with Murray (the innocent looking white one- NOT Axe Murderer, surprisingly enough), when I heard the teeniest little…

Ffffffffft.

“What the…” I thought… and then it hit me. Like a brick wall of itteh bitteh kitteh committeeh diarrhea scent, it hit me.

Kitty fart.

Directly. Down. MY THROAT.

“OHMYGOD,” I screamed, and started flapping about violently, twittering all the while. “I SWALLOWED MURRAY FART!!!!!”

Of course B was incredibly helpful, or, as I like to call it, ‘laughing his ass off at me.’ I finally stopped fighting the inevitable, and lay back to suffer through the stench that was now making its way through my body.

“IT’S IN MY CHEST,” I bellowed helplessly, “I CAN FEEL IT NEXT TO MY HEART!!!”

So, yeah, I’m pretty sure I have a super advanced strain of feline-swine flu now.

But at least you can all say your Monday morning was better than mine. After all, YOU didn’t wake up with Murray-fart in your lungs.

(Cough.)

Mama said share.

(A real recap may or may not be coming tomorrow. Today, my liver has locked me in a hellish and headachey prison of my own making, due to two straight weeks of complete and utter debauchery. Therefore, today’s post will be short, sweet, and visual… but magnificent, nonetheless.)

So you may recall a few weekends ago when I discovered the amazingness that is Stephen Colbert’s music video from the cobwebs of 1986. If not, I will grace it with your presence now (watch carefully. This is vewwy important…)

The sweet ass dance moves, the “Friends fist bump FU,” the hair-band hair, the GUYLINER… it is GOLD, pure gold. Of course I had to show it to my dancing partner in crime, Maxie, and obviously her heart ached with a fiery, burning love for it just as mine did. So much so, in fact, that upon our arrival to the Big Apple on Saturday, the first thing we did was break it down to Mr. Colbert’s original creation of audible wonderment.

As you will see, we took our mission very seriously. Our camera woman, Lemmonex, did NOT, as you will be able to tell from her unsolicited laughtrack… although apparently we did make her “wet,” which is basically our goal at all times with all things we do.

Without further ado, please enjoy our rendition of “Charlene (I’m Right Behind You.)” Um, also, please make it through to the end for our version of his ‘dancing.’ You won’t be sorry.

(Youtube link here, if it’s choppy.)

Mr. Colbert, I hope we did your performance even the teensiest bit of justice, but I suspect our obvious unadulterated adoration might make up for what we lack in talent.

We’re here all week, people. In fact, we’re here all life. It’s what we do.

(Sidenote: I do just have to say that meeting my darling Cavy this weekend- i.e. drinking heavily, bootay dancing, and being spooned by her all night- exceeded even my highest expectations. Prepare to endure many more humpings in the future, my dear. You are officially on my list of People to Smother With Love, Tenderness, and Karaoke Serenadings. You freaking rawk.

As for the rest of you hookers, Lemmonex, Deutlich, and Maxie… I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you, and I have *definitely* never had that much fun during 8 hours in the CAR, nevermind the rest of the time. I love you, girls. Truly, I do. Wherever we’re heading next better put their big-girl panties on in anticipation…)

Mama said share.

You really only need to watch the first thirty seconds, but if this isn’t fugly, I don’t know what is…

found via It Is Green Man, who suggests that it kinda looks like a Furby, no?

This guy definitely got laid:

And if you enjoyed last weekend’s Fugly, our favorite little ginger is back with more sweet ass dance moves…

Mama said share.