Look At Me in My Forever 21 Tube Top

It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Fridaaaaaay… fuck!  Why am I singing that song?  I fucking hate that song.  I fucking hate that girl.  Fuck yeah, it’s Friday! I’m gonna look so cute and get so drunk with my friends and dance.  Yeah, I can’t wait to fucking dance!  I better start getting ready since it’s going to take me 3 hours.  I should put on some techno before I get in the shower.  I only like techno because everybody else likes it.  David Guetta, where you at?  Ok, cool.  My music’s so fucking loud my neighbors probably think there’s an earthquake.  Hopefully they’ll remember those stupid fucking cupcakes with little Santa hats I made them for Christmas and not call in a noise complaint.  Pink is my favorite color.
Oh wow, that hot shower was amazing.  My hair smells like fucking rainbow sprinkles and glory and my legs are so satiny smooth a midget could use one as a stripper pole.  Oh fuck you, tiny tiny ankle hair!  Every time.  La la la make up, make up, make up.  Doo doo de doo big hair, big hair, GIANT fucking fluffy hair.  Ladee doo de doo sparkly lotion, shit yeah. 
Ok, what should I wear?  Do I want to accentuate my ass or my tits tonight?  Hmmmm… both!  Duh.  Ok, where’s all that shit I bought at Forever21 yesterday?  Gawd, I can’t believe I got 37 items for $143.  Fuck, I’m awesome!  My girlfriends are going to love my new sequins skirt that barely covers my vagina and they’re going to be so fucking jealous of my brand new teeny tiny tube top.  Oh shit, what’s this?  A fucking rip in my new tube top?  My tits must finally be getting bigger.  Forever21 has the best quality shit, there’s no way that was already there.  Oh well, I got one in ever color of the fucking rainbow.  I’ll just wear the shiny gold one instead.  Is gold in the rainbow?  It should be.  I love rainbows.
Ok, my girlfriends should be here any minute for pre-drinks.  They’re going to love the assortment of jellybeans I got us for dinner.  Lalalaaaa box wine is so mother fucking YUMMMMMY!  Oh my gawd, my gold tube top is so rad.  It’s like gold tube top inception.  Like a gold tube top within a gold tube top.  I’m pretty.
Oh my gawd they’re here, I feel like I haven’t seen them in years even though we just went to sushi happy hour last night!  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! They look so fucking cute but I still look the hottest!  Tube top, what whaaaat!! Oh my gawd, they love all 3 of my cats.  Mister Meowfuck Meowington is so fucking cute I can’t stand it.  They wish they had my cats.  Jenny wishes she had my new gold tube top, I can tell.  She’s always jealous of me.  SHOTS!  Oh my gawd, I fucking love SoCo and Lime! I can’t wait to fucking dance my face off!  Let’s go!
Wait!  I forgot my Victoria’s Secret Body Spray.  There, now I smell like puppies and birthday cake and desperation.  LOVES IT!
I love singing Britney Spears in the cab with my slutty friends.  SO. MUCH. FUCKING. FUN!  Oh my gawd, Taco Bell.  I’m gonna tear the shit outta fourth meal later!  I want those twisty cinnamon goodies all over my fucking bod.  What, Mister Taxi Driver?  You don’t take cash?  Since when?  I wonder if I can pay him with a nipple slip and bubblegum?  Perfect.  Here, drop us off right here so we can walk past this group of hot guys.  They’re all wearing True Religions, gawd they’re so hot.  Oh my gawd, these shoes are so hard to walk in.  I bet we look like a group of zombie hookers trying to walk in these 6 inch stilettos but my ass looks fucking hot.  I love Hello Kitty.
Sweet, I love getting stamped at the club.  I feel so fucking special even though we had to wait in that line for like 20 minutes.  SHOTS!  Oh my gawd, bubblegum vodka!  Gimmeeeee!!  This is my jam!  I’m such a good dancer.  I need more body spray.  Oh my gawd, this is my fucking jam too.  I’m gonna request the Black Eyed Peas.  I wish I was Fergie.  SHOTS!  Oh my gawd, I’m so fucking drunk.  Oh, cute boys!  Let’s get them to buy us shots and talk about my cats and my new gold tube top.  And techno!  Wow, this boy is so fucking cute.  I can’t remember his name.  I’m just gonna call him V-neck.  Since he’s wearing a V-neck.  Wait, they’re all wearing V-necks.  Ok, I’ll call him Cookie Cutter, since he looks like him and all his friends where all made out of the same fucking cookie cutter.  JUST. LIKE. US!  Yes!  We are so meant to be.  Maybe Cookie will eat Taco Bell with us later.  Cookie smells like pine needles and Monopoly Money.  Yum!  I’m gonna show him my lower back tattoo.  It was supposed to be a butterfly but it looks more like a Rorschach Ink Blot Test.  I love Christmas. I’m gonna go dance with Cookie and rub my booty all over his True Religions.  Oh my gawd, my song!  I fucking LOVE Ke$ha even though she looks like a dinosaur.  SHOTS!  Yum, I love special milk chocolate chip icecream birthday cupcake blow job shots!  Those are my fucking favorite.  Body spraaaay!  Taco Bell.  Get Cookie’s digits.  Taco mother fucking Bell.  Lets go!  Gawd, Jenny is so wasted.  I can’t deal.  Taco Bell.  I think Cookie is my soul mate.  I hope he calls me and asks me to go to the Cheesecake Factory.  Our kids would be so fucking cute. I like cheese. 
Holy shit, fuck, that Taco Bell was so fucking good.  I just wanna put on my ex-boyfriends football jersey and spoon my fucking kitty cats and dream about marrying Cookie.  I wonder why eggs don’t have a born on date?  Oh my gawd, tonight was so fucking fun.  I danced so good.  Everyone loved my shiny tube top.  I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.  But we’re leaving Jenny at home.  She’s such a skank.  I can’t wait to wear my shiny silver tube top tomorrow night.  Oh my gawd, I love me.


Hodge-Podge Reality Doo-Wop Compilation Blog Remix: Birthday Edition

  • I'm still on this hatred of the 'LOL.' I guess that shit ain't goin anywhere. You'd have thought it woulda just faded out like Amy Winehouse but noooo. Did you know that every time someone writes 'LOL' God pees on an angel?  Unfortunately some angels actually enjoy this.  Angels are gross. 
  • Is it just me or does anyone else get all sentimental whilst buttoning up their jacket… just thinking about the teeny, sweaty 8 year old hands that sewed on those buttons? Oy.
  • There should be a LIKE button under people's names on Facebook. That way you can see which of your "friends" actually like you. 
  • How bout that mini aneurism you get when you can't find your phone and you know it's on silent...    
  • Ladies, a man who puts his Oakley’s on the back of his neck is the first sign of date rape.  Same goes for the gentlemen who still have their graduation tassel hanging from their rear-view mirror. Those guys deserve a high five… in the face… with a brick.
  • Hey Lays Potato Chip Makers, I'd like to thank you for the complimentary chips you add to the bag of air you sell.  So, thank you.
  • If you wear Hollister polos I'm going to assume you're homeless... No offense if you're homeless.
  • The umbilical cord was nature’s way of saying children belong on leashes. If you can't take a hint you have no business having children.  Put your kids on a leash, people.
  • I have a trust issues.  I have a feeling it’s because at a young age my parents used to feed us White Castle and say “Just eat it, trust me.”  And that shit was good.
  • I have to wonder if this Missoni for Target thing was part of the Obama Adminstration economy stimulus.  What a disaster. That was like Christmas Eve and Black Friday and finding out you're not adopted all rolled into one solid day.  Grown-ass women fighting over bedding in Target isles. What the FUCK was that all about?  I scored some sexies though, but that’s only because no one wanted the extra small bra.  Either way, good game, bitches.
  • So that iPhone 4 Skin I told you about?  I took that thing off my phone for a total of like 52 seconds, dropped the mother fucker and it cracked like an egg.  They were really on to something with the 4 Skin.  Really makes you think twice about circumcising your kid, huh?
  • Victoria’s Secret sends me these emails all the time.  Yesterday I got one titled “Hi, Gorgeous.”  That’s creepy, how’d they know?

My birthday is coming up; it’s on September 30th again this year.  As you may know, every year I put together a birthday list for all my friends and family to choose from.  I tell them it’s so they don’t have to think too hard but we all know it’s so they don’t get me stupid shit that I have to return.  One year my mom gave me a necklace she made out of macaroni noodles and I… wait I think I gave her that one year.  Whatever?  Anyhoo, here are just a few items from this year’s list…  
Sidenote:  As I write this I realize that I have 18,621 views on my blog.  I have to assume that that’s 18,621 individuals since I also assume that people read this once and immediately wash their eyes out with bleach never to return again. My thought here is, if each of you 18k+ people just gave me $1 for my birthday, I’d call that a successful birthday. 
  • John Cusack outside my window with a boombox.
  • This is so cliché but, a pair of invisible fire-breathing dragons.
  • A monkey (like you didn’t know that was coming, Daddy.  Every year I ask, every year I cry.)
  • A Birkin
  • A Merkin
  • An elf on a shelf
  • An Indian in a cupboard
  • A mini pocket ninja
  • A kangaroo to put my ninja in
  • A White Snake
  • A Deaf Leopard
  • A Kitchen Boyfriend (to open my pickle jars, wine bottles, make my morning coffee, do it on the counter with, etc.)
  • A fucking Unicorn
  • A Roomba
  • A gumball machine filled with... I dunno surprise me.
  • A Range Rover Hot Wheels to cruise around downtown in.
  • World Peace
  • And maybe like some flowers and a card.

Also, a very happy birthday wish to my best friend in the world, Lindsay Davis.  It's you and me against the world.  I love you to the moon times infinity!

I'm The Boss Applesauce - Take 2

I have what doctors like to call “a little bit of a wait problem.”  I wait way too long between blogs.  High fives and apologies all around.  At least I’m aware of the problem and I promise you I am addressing this issue with my medical staff. But per usual, I’ve been really fucking busy... seriously.  I've recently learned that I’m a rather exceptional juggler, magician and fortune teller so I have been practicing my skills, inventing new tricks and teaching them to the likes of Criss Angel, and little ones at the children's hospital.  And if you think juggling flaming scorpions (not gay scorpions, scorpions on fire) is tricky, try juggling Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Instagram, Spotify, Tumbler and a fake J-Date profile.  Oooor maybe I’m just a sandbagging son of a bitch, I'll never tell?  Either way, here I am with a bag full of magic, a shoebox full of scorpions, a pocket full of life advice, a teensy glimpse into the future of bacon and a little production I’ve put together to prove to you that I do exist outside of the world wide web and I really am a busy-ass lady.  Enjoy!

  • Stay out of tanning beds, they are like mid-sized spaceships to planet Melanoma.
  • If you're in yoga class and someone cuts one, the polite thing to say to them is, "Namaste."  Be sure you make eye contact.
  • The smartest man in the world will own a pig farm. He will then start an LLC under the company name, Kevin. He will then murder his piggies and sell bacon. He will become a multimillion dollar conglomerate all from Kevin Bacon. That is the real mother fucker who will bring home the bacon.
  • If the NuvaRing marketing team was smart, 'Single Ladies' would be their theme song. “If you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it” ...by "it" I mean your cervix. I mean what kind of a prick doesn’t like a good cervix?
  • If you ever get in trouble at work just say, "Oh, the press is gonna have a field day with this."  Typically everyone just backs right the fuck off.
  • There is simply no way to trust the kind of person who puts the toilet paper roll on to roll under.  If you meet one, run like the wind!
  • If you have a baby and it’s being an asshole in public, you’re a bigger asshole for not removing it from public and now we know where your baby gets it from, Asshole.
  • Money is the root of all evil, money and Taylor Swift.
  • If ever you are feeling blue, just remind yourself that DiGiorno now comes with chicky wangs and all is right in the world again.
  • There is no problem, emotional or otherwise, that can’t be fixed with blueberry vodka, cheeseburgers or a proper back scratching.
  • If you ever meet a dog in a sweater and it’s acting like a dick, don’t be mad at the dog.
  • Oh, and like don't drive faster than your legal guardian can fly. Also, nobody likes watching you dance and when life hands you lemons save em for a rainy day... or something along those lines.
  • Oh and also also, I just found out that Jamie Lee Curtis is a hermaphrodite (lil dick, lil chick.)  Figures.

And here’s what I’ve been up to… pretty much no good... but sooooo good. 

That is all, carry on.

I'm The Boss, Applesauce

It’s no secret that I possess an overwhelming wealth of knowledge and wisdom. So much so that it would be deemed unfair and unjust not to share with the general public what I believe to be some of life’s secrets, a few rules to live by and also some basic hard hitting facts. I have no doubt that one day, when you’re having an in depth conversation with Alex Trebek, ordering a $5 Footlong, or saving a kitten from a burning building, something you have read in this post will come in handy, thus making me your hero. Take notes, make use of that hi-liter, stick a copy in your wallet, whatever you gotta do, this will probably be the most important thing you’ve read since that book where Lennie pets the bunny (I just rented the movie, I never read it. But you know, good for you if you did.) Anyhoo, without further ado… you’re welcome.

  • You should never be ordering a Ham and Cheese sandwich. It’s always a Hard as a Mother Fucker and Cheese sandwich. Write that down.
  • If your mission in life is to become a Police Officer: ABORT MISSION, dick.
  • If you’re saying “I’m on a boat,” and you’re leaving out “mother fucker take a look at me,” and you’re not wearing a mother fucking afghan, you’re doing it wrong. And totally missing the point.
  • There are no male mermaids (or mermen,) there are only females and transgender mermaids. This is because cock and balls are a totally unflattering bulge and quite uncomfortable in that tight outfit.
  • Ladies, boys in bow-ties are like neatly wrapped presents that smell good, just for you. Open them.
  • It is every human’s Earthly duty to adopt at least 3 kittens and give them to homeless people.
  • If you’re over the age of 12 and listen to any one of Justin Bieber’s songs, I hope you’re listening to them from your Special Ed class.
  • The answer to world peace is for everyone to shut the fuck up, mind their own bee’s wax and enjoy their pancakes.
  • The name John is sold out. No one can ever name their kid John again.
  • It is important to use deodorant every day even if you are a baby; actually, especially if you are a baby. Babies, use deodorant!
  • In 2002 Whitney Houston predicted the demise of Charlie Sheen thus proving two wrongs do make a right.
  • Dogs are not man’s best friend. I won’t tell you what is, but here’s a hint: it rhymes with ‘pagina.’
  • My daddy got me a unicorn for my 6th birthday. I named her Spike and she was a lesbian. When she died we buried her under our Willow tree in the backyard and overnight it turned into a Pussy Willow. And that’s how the Pussy Willow was invented.
  • A Pegasus is just a Unicorn who drinks Red Bull, it’s cheaper just to buy a Unicorn and some Red Bull.
  • When faced with some of life’s toughest decisions it’s always best to get drunk and flip a coin. Everyone is always luckier when they’re drunk, trust me.
  • There are like 11 things essential for life on Earth; oxygen, coffee, champagne, cheese burgers, vodka, bubblegum, sex, Egyptian cotton, house music, kittens and sunshine. If you have to opt out of 1, choose oxygen.
  • When faced with the challenge of writing your Facebook status, stay calm, focus, take 5 deep breaths, I know this is one of the hardest things you’ll do all day. Pay very close attention to your use of 1st and 3rd person. Often people forget who they are halfway through their one fucking sentence!
  • If you can sit in the car for the entirety of Katie Perry’s Firework song without attempting to leap from the moving vehicle or rip your weave straight from your scalp, congratulations you have officially lost your hearing and you never have to hear that song again.
  • If you ever have a kid and your kid wants a cat, never get your kid a black cat. And don’t name it Whoopie. Just trust me on this.
  • Donuts are good for the soul. Also, a donut a day keeps the boys away. Feed your soul wisely.
  • If you make friends with a Ninja, or a turtle, or a Ninja Turtle you are making a giant leap for mankind, but I suggest you start with the turtle.
I love Kevin Bacon.

To be continued... lylys

Stupid Makes the World Go 'Round

Clearly music and stupidity are the two things that inspire me most to write (my Pulitzer no doubt awaits.) Certain things happen in life that really sends my cynicism into a tailspin, which turns out to be good for the 4th Floor, I guess. I’ve remained super busy playing tic tac toe with Tibetan Monks, whispering to horses, curing disease and fighting crime so it’s still been tough to find the time to write in recent weeks. But since it’s been a bit I’ve had plenty of opportunity to encounter some really big fucking idiots and collect thoughts like a Kardasian collects Spanx.

For instance, walking through the mall the other day I see these people belly up like dead fish getting their chompers whitened at a kiosk. Who are these assholes who wake up in the morning and say “Man, today seems like a really good day to get my teeth whitened in the MIDDLE OF A FUCKING SHOPPING MALL!” What the fuck are these people thinking? Nothing about having your mouth hole agape for long periods of time while an unflattering blue neon light illuminates all the tiny hairs on your face is anything any practical mall go-er, shopper, walker, loiterer or janitor wants to fucking witness. NOTHING. To the idiots that find this a necessity, try this: brush your fucking teeth and lay off the soda pop. Whiten at your neighborhood dentist’s office or quit smiling. A big thank you.

What a Weiner
How about this Anthony Weiner guy? I don’t know a whole lot about what’s going on here; like I’ve said before I get my news from Facebook and Twitter and I get my weather by sticking my head out the window, but geeeeeezus! First of all, if my last name was Weiner I would be extra careful with what I did with mine since it’s pretty much all over the radar as it is. So what does Anthony Weiner do? Why he shows off his boner, of course… classic. Now I love this guy! If he plays his cards right nothing could be better for Weiner publicity than nice big boner scandal. No doubt this clown shoe planned this. Even if he didn’t, I’d say I did if I were him because it’s genius. I would make T-shirts with a picture of his head on the back and on the front it would say, “Look everybody, there’s a Weiner on my back.” I’d make Anthony Weiner bobble heads wearing tiny hats that say, “Have you seen my Weiner wiggle?” I mean, I would have a fucking hay day with this shit. Go gettem Weiner, ya fuckin’ ding dong!

To the guy who hyped up the Zombie Apocalypse Rapture thing like a club promoter blowing up a no show Prince appearance, you're an idiot. Got me all excited, got me a new dress for the occasion, only to be let down when I didn’t get to party with any zombies. Meeting zombies is a once in a lifetime opportunity. The amount of disappointment I experienced can only be compared to the kind Ben Affleck felt about Gigli. It was that bad. I started doing good things in preparation for the end of the world like pulling dimes out from behind the ears of Salvation Army bell ringers and throwing food at homeless people, all for nothing. And what am I supposed to do with all this leftover pancake batter I had on hand for my zombie slumber party?

I got married last weekend. To all you people who think “marriage isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” and “marriage changes everything,” fuck that noise, you’re idiots. Clearly you have never been married to Steve Smooth for 24 hours and I feel sorry for you. Also, you should buy his music because he’s my husband and I said so and it’s awesome and if you don’t you’re an idiot. 
Steve Smooth, Tamra Keenan - You Take Me Here feat. Tamra Keenan (Radio Edit)

The moral of this post is, whiten your teethies at home, make money off your Weiner, don’t put all your ovaries in the zombie basket, marry Steve Smooth, buy his music, and don’t be an idiot.


March Radness

Got another mixer for yous! This is likely the most wide-ranging, heterogeneous playlist I’ve ever put together. I swear on cotton candy flavored jelly beans you will not want to get out of your car once you press play, it's that windows down shit. I’ve got some super rad indie-pop jams in there, some beats so dirty you’ll wanna take a bath, and even a little hip hop... for good measure. This, my friends, is your March Radness…

As always, your sampling is below but the whole bag of beans is behind this link RIGHT HERE.

Also RAD: Irony

Happy Mix Tape Fucking Friday!!!

This Is Your Brain, This Is Your Brain On Charlie Sheen

As I'm sure the rest of "Middle America" did, I too Tivo'd and watched the Charlie Sheen interview on 20/20 last night (twice.) I'm sure this train wreck will stop being such a spectacle in a couple of days but right now its just too fucking hard to turn my head. That being said, I'm about 30 IQ points up since last night's episode, here's what I learned...

-One must be extremely cautious when taking the new designer drug known as 'Charlie Sheen' (insert jazz hands.)  If you try it once you will die, your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body. It’s supposed to be awwwesome!
-There really are droopy eyed armless children out there.
-While I was mistaking Charlie's brain for ate up, it turns out its just a “highly evolved brain.” Ah, that makes more sense.
-Chuck Sheen does in fact have tiger blood and Adonis DNA, I Googled it, duh.
-Tiger Blood + Adonis DNA = Magic
-Magic = Winning
-Hookers accept credit cards.
-The devil takes Ambien instead of Asprin.
-You can drink water through your eyes.
-"It’s on" ...always.
-The cure to everything is to simply close your eyes and change your brain, duh.
-If Charlie really likes you he will hug you and rub your head.
-The set of Two and a Half Men smells of chicken pot pie.
-Charlie Sheen doesn't sue for cash, he sues for gold and toupees... by the ton.
-Chuck's brain fires in a way that is maybe not part of this particular terrestrial realm. I knew it!

-Mel Gibson reached out to help Charlie Sheen. Oh good, there is hope... NOT! Two cracked out, prejudice, bi-winners... talk about the epitome of the blind leading the blind.
-Hot Shots Part Deux was never mentioned during this interview proving this flick is too often overlooked and highly underestimated.
-Charlie Sheen recycles; he reuses his plastic water bottles... as ash trays.

Final Thought: Who would win in a thumb war, Chuck Sheen or Chuck Norris?


This is your brain on Charlie Sheen


"Dying's for fools" -Charlie Sheen

WARNING: Charlie Sheen will self-destruct in 3... 2...


Vitamin D is Good for Your Ears

No, not milk, Knuckleheads! Super dope, fresh and fly, this guy!  My pal and musical genius, Deejay Spinstyles, saves the day with a little Sunlight… I’m sure we can all use some of that right now.  Check it out.  And after you fall in love with it, go to Hype Machine and give him some love by clicking the heart.  You’re awesome!

Sunlight (Spinstyles Remix) by SPINSTYLES

We Need To Talk

Mister Always Right, my apologies for the delay in response. I’m sure you’ve noticed me pulling away a little bit. It all happened so fast, you blog, I blog, one thing led to another and the next thing I know an internet love affair rears its sexy head. But affair? Official? This is a lot to think about, this is some pretty heavy shit. So I’ve done what my Daddy tells me to do when I’m faced with a difficult decision and made a Benji Franklin List, I think that’s what it’s called, a pros and cons of sorts. Here’s what I came up with:

-You seem to be as hopelessly romantic as yours truly.
-I like the color blue, your blog is blue.
-Your ability to compromise is a delight.
-You said we could get a monkey.
-You said your low-balls were only for financial gain.
-You said balls.

-I don’t like fainting.
-I typically prefer my lovers to be tangible; my Blackberry can’t spoon me, kiss me, or take me out for sushi. My Blackberry can’t babysit my cat while I’m away or just get smashed and smoosh. (but gawd, wouldn’t it be rad if my Blackberry could do those things?)
-I’m concerned I might be too busy for an internet love affair, what with American Idol just starting and I’m trying to grow my hair out, the pools open in precisely 105 days so I’ve got to work on my fitness, I’m working diligently to perfect the art of motorcycle maintenance, I’m still volunteering at the fire house on Tuesdays, then there’s Taco Tuesday so Tuesday’s just really aren’t good for me, I’ve got a real job too which keeps me tied up from 8:55-5:03, Monday though Friday, I’ve got to finish this essay about the Russian Empire that was due March 3rd, 1999 (I don’t like to leave things unfinished, I would hate to die and for my unfinished business to be that essay and my ghost has to haunt my old history teacher, Mr. Oldie. That would suck.) I’m also getting ready to launch my Cotton Candy independent study in May 2012 so I have a lot of shit to do to get ready for that, my birthday is coming up, I only have 227 days to get my wish list finalized, I just got Snookie’s new book, I’m sure that’s not an easy read, I like to go out and get a little bit drunk on the weekends which leaves very little time for those sexy weekend Skype dates, all the while little ‘ol me’s just trying to keep up with the Kardashian’s… (sigh) you see where this is going? I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to give you what you need, what you so richly deserve.

So I guess I’m asking if we can just be friends, Facebook friends is cool, pen pals works too. I mean until my life slows down a little. I’m just focused on all my careers, my mind, buns and thighs and soul. So you see, as they say, it’s not you, it’s me.

Sooo, we’re good, right?


Free Lohan

Oh, Lindsay Lohan. Dear, sweet, hot, twisted, freckled, fucking mess, Lindsay Lohan. What went wrong, Sweetie? Dina didn't do this damage all on her own, no way. Something serious went wrong at birth. Either they injected you with stupid or you are missing some pretty imperative brain cells, the kind that are crucial to decision making skills and paramount to well, basically just general survival. Get it together lady! Why are we stealing jewelry? You have money right? Even if you don't, you can’t go walking around stealing shit, not even bubble gum. It’s not like people won't recognize you, Linds. You'd have been better off stickin’ up the joint in a Nixon mask. And if orange wasn't my color (thankfully it is) I'd be thinking long and hard about how I was gonna pull off a jewelry heist. But you just waltz in and waltz out? Who do you think you are, Sean Connery?

The fact of the matter is, I'm rooting for you. Although you lack any real talent, your role in Mean Girls really moved me. I mean if you can watch that flick without shedding a tear, you have no soul. I’m Team Lohan and we will get through this together. This little downward shame spiral has officially hit rock-bottom… again. My first suggestion is to cut your hair like your girl Sam Ronson and just blend in to the background for awhile. Hire a new mother, eat your fruits and vegetables and lay off the extracurricular drug use. This should be a good start. We need to get this little mess cleaned up though, Sistergirl... boys don't like girls with Grand Theft Felony charges.  Call me when you get out, you need new friends.


Mister Always Right

I received a tip yesterday to check out this blog:  Always Right
**Note: In order for you to understand the following, you must read the page I’ve linked first.

…And so it seems I have a little internet love interest on my hands. Can you blame him? Anyhoo, Mister Always Right kindly asked me not to put him “on blast” on my blog, yet with a lot of careful consideration I feel that I would be robbing the general public of what may very well be a modern day fairytale. However cynical I may seem to be, I am a devastatingly hopeless romantic to the fucking core and I can appreciate these bold tactics. So, Mister Always Right, at the risk of you holding a grudge before our first date, I write to you. This is not to put you “on blast” but rather to negotiate our relationship proceedings, hear me out.

First, and most importantly, I must tell you, the pussycat is non-negotiable. There is no amount of back rub coupons that I would trade my beloved feline friend for, zero. Her name is Coco LaRue, you will love her. I do have a counter offer though. We will build a west wing in our love castle and have a cat sanctuary there, yes? Hopefully you can set aside your cat issues… in the name of love. We can still get a dog too, a golden retriever named Pancake. But babe, (can I call you babe? No? Whatever,) can we still get a monkey?

We also must address your tendency to low-ball. I’m not a big fan of low balls. Fast balls, yes. Basketballs, sure. Cottonballs, nope. But low balls, get the fuck outta here. This package, no matter what the trade in, is always going to be worth more than a back rub coupon, or a coupon of any kind for that matter. Capeesh?

Boo, (can I call you Boo? No? Whatever,) to say that I’m intrigued by your snow removal abilities would be an understatement. It’s very super hero-esque, and quite frankly makes me wonder what else you can remove just by looking at it. Also, I’m a sucker for a good spooning sesh so to learn that this is a talent of yours as well has earned you serious bonus points. But I’d like you to know that I am the inevitable little spoon so I hope you like being the big spoon, I’m not flexible on this.

In short, you have my attention, you piqued my interest, and I was reading with a wry smile on my sweet little face. So now what? Are we dating? Are we exclusive? Are we seeing other bloggers? I’m traditional; I’ll let you take the lead on this. I’m in no rush to get married, or adopt any black babies, (oh yeah, we’re going to have black babies) so we can take it slow. Oh, and one minor detail, I’m always right so you might want to start brainstorming a new name for your blog.

Love you, Love your Shoes

Hodge-Podge Reality Doo-Wop Compilation Blog Remix: Volume 3.0

Welp, Jamie Lee Curtis and our friends at Activia have done it again! Staying true to their “didn't really think that one through” theme, Activia brings you Activia Dessert. The probiotic marketing team chose “a wonderful ending to your dinner” as the new yogurt’s slogan. While we all have our different variation on “wonderful endings” I’m sure most of us can agree that shitting your pants at the dinner table isn’t one of them. A+ you fucking idiots, keep’em coming.

Only YOU can help prevent Bieber Fever
-Know what I can’t wait for?  Justin Bieber’s biopic movie!  I have never been more excited about spending $12 in my life.  I have big plans for opening day involving a Scream mask, a megaphone, red spray paint, stink bombs, Nair, toilet paper, eggs, Super Soakers, an alibi and a good lawyer.   
-Tabloids: who are these jokers? Did you know some wise guy made up that my Snookie kicked the bucket a couple weeks ago? MADE IT UP! What are they trying to do, kill me!?! The Snook is not dead, I follow her on Twitter, homegirl’s alive and kickin’. But this little scare just reminded me how grateful I am for Snookers and just how much I love that little meatball. Sometimes you need to think people are dead to realize how much you appreciate them, ya know?
-Hey Taco Bell, 35% real meat?  Really guys?  Good luck to you and your future endeavors.  Better start thinking back inside the bun, people.
-And hey Jared from Subway, do you even have a real job anymore? 
-Playboy makes perfume now. Why the fuck would anyone wanna smell like a Playboy? Vom.
-In the last 2 days I have had troubles opening a pickle jar, opening a bottle of nail polish, removing snow from my car and spooning myself. It may be time for a monkey... or a boyfriend.
-Whatever happened to Blossom? She must be rolling over in her grave because hats are so IN right now. She’s dead right? Or just her career?
-I am this close to boycotting bagels and donuts altogether. Who’s the funny guy who decided it would be a good idea to punch a hole in my food and where the fuck does it go, huh? Are they just throwing the middle away? I know a lot of people who would love to eat the middle and I’m one of them. Dickheads.
-Jessica Cutler – The Washingtonienne
Perhaps I am the last to learn of this 6 year old sex scandal, I’m not big on sluts or politics so I’m not surprised I was in the dark. However, a girlfriend of mine turned me on to this little drama on the Hill recently and I’m so intrigued. This Jessica Cutler girl is a fucking nightmare! A hot mess, a walking shit show with serious daddy issues. I fucking love her! This broad worked in the Senate office, carried on multiple kinky-weird relationships within the office and blogged in detail about her sexcapades in an X-rated blog. She kept complete anonymity for like 15 days then someone found her out, blew her cover and the ho got canned in a hot minute. I mean, the stuff she writes… you cannot make this shit up. It’s un-fucking-real. Bitch has a book out now, I’m buying it ASAP… in paperback and on tape. Below is the link to her daily postings, you should definitely familiarize yourself if you haven’t already.
The Lost Washingtonienne
-To the weirdos with foot fetishes... I'm on to you.  Did you know that I can find out where my traffic comes from on my blog via search words?  Did you know that I have caught you looking at my feetsies from your mom's basement?  Did you know that's fucking sick?  This is Live From the 4th Floor, not Live From the Foot Whore.  This is a satirical blog about, well... pleople like you!  Get off my walkers and get a job ya creep! 
(note: the search word)


Public Service Announcement: Pajama Jeans

Oh jeeezus, where do I begin? If you own a pair of Pajama Jeans, or have so much as thought about owning a pair, consider this an electronic thump to your forehead. These things are the modern day version of tapered drawstring sweat pants. Sure, they might be comfortable to sleep in, and sure people sport these in public but does that mean you should? The answer, my friends, is FUCK NO. Let’s put it this way, if it can be bought on television, it should not be worn... ever. No, not even in the privacy of your own home, you’re just setting yourself up to look stupid, fat and lazy.

Pajama Jeans suggests that it’s “a struggle to fit into ordinary jeans, they’re uncomfortable and leave marks on your skin.” Folks, if you feel this way about your jeans this means one thing and one thing only… you need to go up a size, Tubby! Pajama Jeans also suggests that they fit every figure like a sexy second skin. Trust me, not every figure needs a "second skin."  "Second skins" are not always sexy… shit the sound of "second skin" sounds like a term you would hear in a burn unit.  In general we should all try to divert from "second skins" of any kind, capeesh?

If you’ve already purchased your Pajama Jeans, there’s good news for you. You have 60 days to figure out you look fucking stupid and you can still get your $39.95 back. Shit, I’d pay $39.95 to have HazMat clear that hazardous material out of my house. Hazardous to what you ask? Oh I don’t know, your reputation, your dignity, your family name… the list goes on and on.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “but it comes with a free gray crewneck T-shirt, Lindsey.” Stop it! If you must don a cheap, ugly, gray crewneck suitable for an 8 year old you can pick one up at Old Navy for about 69 cents. I know that seems like a fortune but the best things in life are not always free. I also understand that you wouldn't want to be caught dead at Old Navy but that’s the price you must pay for ugly clothing. Sorry.

Basically the only good reason to purchase a pair of Pajama Jeans is if you want to give a pair to your girlfriend so that she breaks up with you… if that’s the case, go for it! I’d actually pay $39.95 to watch that mini soap opera play out as well.

Do I need to delve further into this? Do we need to revisit the Snuggie fiasco of 2009? I didn’t think so.

Just say no to Pajama Jeans.

Free Shit Is The Shit!

I’m well aware I’ve been off the map as far as music goes lately. One of my favorite parts about doing Live From the 4th Floor is showering you with gifts (i.e. free music, my wits, charm, undeniable wisdom and my love... awww.) However, I’ve been getting in some trouble with my “file cloud” (ahem… I won’t name names.) Fucking music police have been raining on my parade, flooding my inbox with emails slapping my little copyright infringing wrists and “opening cases” on me. So I’m going rogue!
Today I’m going to spoil the shit out of you with one big, fat, diversified, clandestine mix tape. There’s a little for your Yin and a little for your Yang. In other words, a little for your Party and a little for your Peace. Just think of it as me, crawling inside your head having a dirty makeout sesh with your ear drums and spooning you afterwards. I’m so nice it makes me sick!
*The songs on the PodSnack below… that’s just a taste test. Look in Door Number 2 you will find a surprise. Get it while it’s hot (and free) suckas!  And don't say I never did anything for you.



In Yo Facebook

It seems as though some of our Facebook friends have a bit of a skewed take on the Facebook world.  I have taken the time to compile a small list of Do's and Don'ts to help out you and your fellow Facebookers.  Now I know this might be a little harsh, perhaps a bit hard to grasp at first but trust, if you just follow a few of these simple guidelines you're sure to be less of an electronic mornon.  You'll thank me later.

DO: post interesting video and links to keep others entertained at work. Side note: DON’T post any more video of that freaky kid who lip-synchs. That midget Milli Vanilli gives me nightmares.
DO: check the upload date on your content. If you’re posting shit from last year, you’re 2000 and late, dude. We’ve all seen ‘David Goes to the Fucking Dentist’! A thousand times. It’s old beans.
DO: try to get a little more creative with your album names, people. If you have an album named “Party in the USA” or “Debauchery” , then you’re one of about 50,000 people with the same name and about as neato as a lemon-flavored Lifesaver (translation= not neato at all.)
DO: Patronize places because you truly want to, not because you’re going to earn some fake Boy Scout badge or become the mayor of Long John fucking Silver on Four Square. 
DO: Mobile Upload, I like it.
DO: poke me if you’re Helen Keller and that’s your only means of communication. Otherwise, just disable the feature completely.
DO: take into consideration what a poke truly is. Nothing good comes in the form of a poke (i.e. “I just poked myself in the eye,” “This stupid tag keeps poking me,” “Hold still you’re just going to feel a little poke,” “Do the hokey pokey,” “We were just slow dancing and it poked me.”) See?

DON'T: put a thumbs up on your own fucking status. Pretty sure if you didn’t like what you said, you wouldn’t have said it in the first place. It's redundant.
DON'T: commentate your whole life on your status. I do not give one, two or three shits what you’re doing all day. I do not need a fucking play by play from your “Good Morning, Starbucks!” to your “Good Night Moon,” I have never and will never wonder what you’re doing when I wake up, or before I go to sleep unless you’re Snookie. I always wanna know what that little monster is up to.
DON’T: air your dirty laundry on your status. If your boyfriend broke up with you and left you with nothing but your Keds and the microwave, it might be because all 932 of your Facebook friends know every intimate detail of your relationship and maybe a little bit because you have Keds too.
DON’T: “check in” places! Primarily because (again) I don’t care where you are, and if I do I’ll just ask you. But also, national crime rates have gone up because robbers know when you aren’t home now, Knuckleheads!
DON’T: be Facebook friends with robbers. Generally speaking, it’s just best to not be friends with robbers anyhow.
DON'T: Play that RID-iculous farm game or mafia game or bejazzled game or any game where you answer questions about me. I do not care how many stacks of hay you have or that you have just knocked off some cyber hooker and became the Don of retarded fake games. Capeesh? And stop answering weird questions about me, it’s creepy.
DON'T: Send me fake cocktails. It really pisses me off for what I think are pretty obvious reasons (obvious reasons being, YOU CAN'T DRINK THEM!) If you can’t understand this, then kindly remove yourself from my friends list.
DON'T: invite me to your wedding, your baby shower, your birthday party, or your BBQ on Facebook. I won’t read it. I won’t take it seriously. I won’t show up. And you won’t get a present.
DON'T: Take pictures of yourself with your shirt off in your bathroom mirror and use it as your Facebook face. If you desperately feel the need to be a giant fucking douche bag, clean your bathroom counter first you filthy bastard.

 Please Facebook responsibly.