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!!!

lylys

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!

Observations:
-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...

lylys

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
lylys

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:

Pros:
-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.

Cons:
-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?

lylys

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.

lylys

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)

lylys

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.
lylys

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.

DOOR NUMBER 2
(CLICK)

lylys

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.

THE DO's

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?

THE DON'Ts

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.
lylys

Holiday Gift Guide

While I was on my way to New York last week I decided I would like to get my Christmas shopping done.  But being the sweetheart that I am I’ve taken the liberty of doing YOUR Christmas shopping for YOU… in Sky Mall.

First up is the Wish Wrap.  For a measly $38.99, you too can write stupid shit on a piece of paper and stick it in your “Wish Pocket.”   The Wish Wrap “features a pocket that lets you carry around your fondest wishes wherever you go.”  SkyMall states that you can wear your Wish Wrap at home OR on the town… so if your wish is to look like an asshole then this is the gift for you!  Wish wraps: The Snuggie’s redheaded stepchild. 

Do you have that special man in your life that forgets to take care of himself in the shower and is too lazy to reach under his towel?  Don’t we all?!  Fear not, I’ve got the perfect gift for you, the Men’s Genuine Turkish Wrap.  This is the gift that keeps on giving!  And for only $34.99, you can’t beat that.



Here we have the Ear Spy for $99.99.  Disguised as an innocuous pen holder, the special jackass in your life can now spy on his co-workers from the comfort of his cubicle.  This fine piece of equipment has a 1 year replacement fee of $9.99 or a 2 year of $14.99 just in case it takes you longer than 2 years to figure out that you just dropped a Benjamin on a fucking DIXIECUP pen holder. 

Cherish Lifelike Baby Doll

This year a Cabbage Patch Kid just isn’t gonna cut it so I’ve upped the ante for you.  For a whopping $99.99, exclusively from The Ashton-Drake Galleries (they’re so legit) you can have a real fake baby.  And this fake baby is a collectable.  Do you know what that means?  That means one day you can have a whole collection of fake babies!!!  Weeeeeeeeeeee! 

Just take a look at this gorgeous, pink, mouth watering, finger-licking-good, hunk of… oh wait, that’s a ham?  Oh, right, right.  Spiral City Sliced Ham. $34.00.  Sky Mall.  Ham.  Yeah.



Wine Glass Holder Necklace Thingy - $24.99

When you’ve got one hand in your Wish Pocket and the other in your Turkish pocket, how are you gonna hold your booze? Boy do I have the solution for you!  This fancy schmancey wine holder necklace thingy is perfect for those who just need a drink hanging around their neck.

Welp, that about wraps up my holiday gift giving guide. You're welcome.

hh

lylys









Hodge-Podge Reality Doo-Wop Compilation Blog Remix: Volume 2.0

-Is it just me or do you drive like a fucking banshee the minute hot French fries enter your car? I refuse to eat a cold fry and I refuse to nuke my delicious, golden friends. So inevitably, it becomes a race against the hot French fry (and I always win.)
-I don’t understand people’s obsession with kitty cats and machine guns. That’s just fucking weird, dude.

-#whatthefuckisahashtag?
-I cannot STAND those idiots who ride their Schwinn’s on the street. There’s a fucking side walk right there, Homie!! And I’ve got hot French fries in my car!
-I’m traveling to NYC this week and I’m excited to get a little action. TSA= Touchin’, Squeezin’, AWwwwESOME! I’m going to hide little love letters in a couple inconspicuous places, that way they don’t feel so cheap about the early onset heavy petting.

“Dear TSA Agent Claudia, I love the way you warm your hands up before having your way with me.  Too bad these little pat downs are so one-sided.”

Or “Dear TSA Agent Rhonda, I love that you have no shame in your game!  Tracing my bra line and telling me to “spread ‘em” …in public …on the first date?  Balls!”

Or maybe, “Dear TSA Agent Louise, Your PDA means the world to me! Let’s hold hands.”

And lastly, “Dear TSA Agent Latex Gloves Guy, if you’re reading this one something has gone terribly wrong and I’d like you to direct all further questions to my attorneys. Rubins Kase Rubins Cambiano and Bryant @ 523-8200."

-What ever happened to Amy Winehouse? Someone should check on her.

-Do you realize that all our lives we grow up with superiors. Starting with Mom and Dad, then kindergarten teachers and hall monitors, principals and vice principals. (For whatever reason, I always viewed the janitors and lunch ladies as equals. What are they gonna do? Nothing, that’s what.) Moving across an array of high school teachers and coaches, police men, college professors and Abercrombie & Fitch managers. Finally, you grow up and get a real job and you have your bosses and managers, and assistant managers, all the while you been paying your cell phone bill; I’m pretty sure Verizon Wireless fucking owns my ass. The question is, when is it going to be my turn?

I guess I could try telling my parents to clean their room and to be home by midnight but they would just think it’s funny and laugh in my cute face. I could try going back to my high school and telling all my old teachers what they used to tell me, "Sit still and to stop talking so fuckin' much," but I can only think of one who would actually do it and that’s just because he’s a hippie and smokes a ton of pot. I wouldn’t dare try to tell a police man what to do again. Last time I did that I was in Mexico, told a Federale to “S my D” and landed myself in a Mexican jail cell for 72 hours. I lost 4 pounds and have been pen pals with my cell mate for going on 8 years now though, so I regret nothing. I would love to call Verizon and say “Can you hear me now? Good, go fuck yourself,” but I won’t, need ‘em too much.
Anyhoo, you get the point. When am I going to be “The Man?” I have got to find a way to boss people around and have them take me seriously. I’m working on it, when I figure it out, I’ll let you know. And hopefully quick, before my desire to be the boss betrays me and lands me back in a 3rd world prison.
-Don’t you have certain words that you think are fun to say? I love onomatopoeias. But more than I love onomatopoeias I love the word ‘onomatopoeia.’ And I just found a way to say it 3 times! Boom! (that’s an onomatopoeia – 4) I also enjoy saying ‘Boise’ and ‘persnickety.’

-I wish I had the authority to ambush makeover people. Go to a Dress Barn in Boise, choose a persnickety lady, throw a pillowcase over her head, toss her in the back of an unmarked car and redirect her to Nordstrom. We’d start with a bra fitting. I’ve had my counsel look into this and apparently this kind of behavior is “frowned upon” even if it is for the greater good of humanity.
-I’ve been thinking of adding a small disclaimer to the blog. This is it, and I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve said, I’m simply coming clean for good JuJu and karmic purposes.

*Disclaimer: Dear current and future employers, boyfriends, husbands, soccer moms and my unborn love children alike, please be advised that this blog is a bunch a bull shit and about 3% of it’s content is actually true. Unless you love it then, 97% of it is true.

Here’s a list of things I’ve already lied about:
I’m not really a Volunteer Fire Fighter: they pay me, but under the table for tax fraud purposes.
I don’t really think Jamie Lee Curtis’ haircut is stupid. In fact, I love it!
I ate a McRib and didn’t document, record OR report on it… in my defense, it was 2am and I was drunk.
I’m not really 5’2”… I’m 5’2 and-a-half and I still like it down here.

lylys

The Rise and Fall of the Ed Hardy Empire

It all started with the ever-popular Ed Hardy rhinestone tucker hat. I will be the first to admit that I purchased one of these ‘gems’ about 5 years ago, right after I tossed my Von Dutch that was rad for about 14 and-a-half minutes. Luckily, that was the extent of my Ed Hardy phase and I think I wore it once to the gym, and by gym I mean the Ab-Roller in my basement. But with the rise of the trucker hat came the uproar of the tattoo T-shirts which snowballed into the gleaming track suits and a fragrance line which pretty much everybody who’s anybody has, right?

Now, any smart person would have sold their stock in Affliction and invested in the monopoly that is Ed Hardy at this point in the game. I, on the other hand, just couldn’t swallow my pride enough to have my name and social security digits tied to the brand. However, these Ed Hardy “products” became a contagious disease; appealing to the masses in New Jersey, and Mexico, then spreading like the Chicken pox across the globe. From Vodka and hookah bongs, to bedding and cars (yes, cars) these mother fuckers will slap a “Love Kills Slowly” sticker on just about anything, overprice the shit out of it and call it a day’s work.

Ed Hardy and Ed Hardy factory inspector numbers1 through 1,000, I beg of you, put down the Bedazzler and close up shop. This is my plea to allow the fine citizens of Mexico, New Jersey, Scottsdale, and beyond to return to their less sparkly apparel. This is me asking you “pretty please,” allow the beautiful women wearing frosted lipstick with dark liner to retire their blinding pink track suits. Come on Ed, I’ll help you come up with an exit strategy. Maybe we can get you in for a job interview with BP. Just put “Overpricing Shit” and “Accidental Catastrophes” under your specialties, you’re a shoe in! But please, stop the madness. It’s become prevalent that your glittery, tattoo-esque accoutrement is making mediocre looking people ugly, it’s bankrupting hard working MMA fighters, and slowly but surely making the whole world compulsively *bling. I have a dream that one day, we will all be free of the Ed Hardy epidemic and we can return to our normal, graphic tee-free, Bedazzless lives.

Fucking Ed Hardy.

A tiny little nod to my dear friend Ali who bravely sold ed hardy at the Scottsdale Fashion Square Mall... we all make mistakes.  I forgive you. 

-xx

lylys

Double Down?

I can think of a lot of things I like 'double.' Double Bubble, Double Whammies, Double Dates, Double Vodka Sodies. I can also think of a lot of things I like ‘down’, Down the Hatch, Down Town, Down Home with the Neeley’s, Downward Facing Dog. However, I cannot come up with any reason I would like a KFC Double Down. Not one instance where I’d like DOUBLE fried chicken breasts strangling DOUBLE bacon, DOUBLE cheese with a mysterious lard-based ‘Colonel Sauce’ squirted all over, DOWN my throat, not a one.

Whoever the genius, Butterball was that gave birth to the idea of this bun-less wonder is acutely sick in the head. What is this, Grease Fusion cuisine? It seems a bit primitive already that we gnaw our meat right off the bone and suck it directly from the wings that were all snuggled together in a bucket of grease. But slapping together two giant slabs of breast  in place of a bun seems far more barbaric and quite frankly, just fuckin’ grody. On a scale from Coronary to Quadruple Bypass, I give this shameless hunk of meat an “I’m Sorry Ma’am, We Did Everything We Could.” Vom!

This is what’s wrong with America today. We like to figure out what will kill us, and then back it off just a smidge. Eating this “sandwich” is like playing with asbestos. Eventually it WILL kill you. If you’re gonna consume a Double Downer ya may as well pick up a six pack of Four Loko, an Eightball of Cocaine and eat your DD in a dark alley in Tijuana while you’re at it… since you’re such a risk taker. That’s all I got. G' day!

lylys

STATUS: Denied

Bilal, its a shame we couldn't make this friendship work because your name is really fun to say.

lylys

Hodge-Podge Reality Doo-Wop Compilation Blog Remix

I haven’t blogged in some time because suddenly my life has gotten crazy busy and by that I mean someone finally let me have a job and I’ve been working instead of waking up, overdosing on coffee with Reg and Kel and blogging. If you’re wondering what I do I’m in the financial industry by day and I moonlight as a volunteer firefighter most nights. Keeps me on my toes. Anyhoo, between managing people’s wealth and being a hero I’ve hardly had the time to squeeze in any writing, plus Christmas is in 46 days so I’ve been working diligently on my wish list. But I’ve had a lot to say so with that, I’ve decided to leave you with the small, profound thoughts that have been rattling around up there the last few weeks.

-First I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Favre.

The last couple weeks have been the finest display of karma I have ever personally had the opportunity to witness. You’ve been playing like garbage and I am entirely convinced it’s due to your own documentation of yourself WEARING CROCS! Geeezus, get some new shoes, guy! And to make matters worse you rocked socks with the Crocs? Favre, where the fuck was your wife when you were getting dressed? And just when I think it can’t get any worse, I find out that this is your masturbation outfit. Whaaaa?!

Listen, I’m mildly impressed that you have been able to keep your perversion under wraps your entire career and even more impressed that no one has outted you for sporting that ridiculous footwear. However, it takes a special kind of stupid to capture a photograph of yourself committing any one of the three aforementioned offenses let alone all three at the same time. And shit bro, this is the outfit you chose to wear when sending said photograph to a babe?  …Get real old man, no one wants to see your old Crocs OR your old cock… retire already, I’m bored.

-Why is the McRib a limited time only?  How do they run out of fake ribs?  Aren’t those things just mass produced from a little meat cookie cutter anyway?  There’s something strange about a piece of meat that has the illusion of having bones in it but doesn’t actually have bones.  At any rate the McRib marketing ploys and all the hype surrounding this elusive sandwich has got me super intrigued … there’s a possibility I will try one this time around, I mean it is a limited time only and all.  Should this happen, the experience  will be fully documented, recorded and reported on. 

-There are 2 commercials that have been irritating the shit out of me as of late.  First up are the Old Navy commercials which no doubt are notorious for being fuckin’ dumb; but has this two-bit retail conglomerate gotten so cheap and lazy that they don’t even use real humans in their commercials anymore?  Mannequins!? Fuck, that’s annoying.  The second ridiculous commercial is the Disaronno commercial teaching me how to mix a “Drink of the Day” that a fucking monkey could come up with.  “Disaronno and cranberry juice… Ta-da!!!”  Oh how fucking innovative, thanks for nothing. 

-I know that I should probably have some highly controversial, sagacious thoughts on the elections but I don’t. Swing state, swing vote, swing set, stwing cheese… it’s all the same to me. I get my news from the newsfeed on Facebook and I get the weather by sticking my hand out the window so I wouldn’t trust myself to make any kind of an informed commentary. However I do trust myself enough to know when things change… and uh, they haven’t. Just sayin’.

-I'm so excited it's almost glove season!  I love gloves, with fingers, without fingers… gloves are awesome unless they do this… then it's time to get yourself some new gloves.

-Sometimes I forget about some of the shit I write, I have not forgotten how much I can’t stand Jamie Lee Curtis, with her stupid face and her stupid haircut and her fantastical bowels. 

Remembering Bathroom Confessions : CLICK HERE

-And lastly, in my music world I've had The Virgins on repeat.  Have a listen!

The Virgins by littlelinds


love you, love your shoes