First we have to rewind a few weeks back.  I was at my parent’s house and decided I needed a few new CDs to listen to on my way back to Dallas. I was a little short on cash, so I decided to obtain them the free-est way I knew how… by purchasing them on my mom’s Itunes account. After I picked out a few that I couldn’t live without (The XX, The New Pornographers, Manchester Weekend) I synced them to my own Ipod. I’m not sure if you are aware, but this is the riskiest thing a gal can do. No less than 3 times have I deleted my Itunes library whilst trying to take music from someone else’s computer, or vice versa.

Since I’ve started the new job I have spent the majority of my music face time on GrooveShark.com, so last night was the first time I’d really given the new play-list a good listen. There was a strong smell of water-hose water in the air, which always  puts me in an excellent  mood, so I was really enjoying myself. After I had  listened to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero’s “Home” about 3 times I finally let it move on to the next song in the mix.

When I synced up my pod I must have accidentally downloaded some of my mother’s music because it was a song I’d never heard before- but dude… it really made me want to dance-walk. I mean, I usually dance walk, but this song made me want to DANCE. I have rarely allowed myself to indulge in pop music since my “NSYNC” obsession ended, and I never listen to anything but NPR on the radio, but I swear… this girl had right about the same pitch as I do and within a few minutes I was singing “oooohhh baby, baby, baby” along with her at the top of my lungs.  I immediately started thinking of all the steps I would choreograph if I were still teaching dance, and started experimenting with a few of them right there on the street.

Without looking at my ipod, (I keep it on one of those arm thingies that make you “do the pretzel” just to look at it) I started the song over several times because there was this rap-part at the end that I decided I wanted to memorize.

When I finally looked down to find out who this new pop-chick was, I was freaking devastated.

It was – Justin. Fucking. Bieber.

If that’s not cool, I don’t know who is. And I obviously don’t…

I had seen his name on Twitter’s trending topics and once I looked into it, I recognized his face, but had somehow gone this long without hearing this song. The saddest part about it, is that I’m so late to the game. I KNOW people have been talking about him for months, and I simply ignored the whole fad. It’s kind of like I only recently found out what Crocs are, and last night I had to have my roommate tell me who Justin Cook AND Adam Lambert were… At least I think those were their names.

It kind of makes me feel sad and old all at the same time… It’s not like I have a crush on him or anything, I just kind of dug his sound.

HOLY SHIT!?! Is this the same thing that my mom did 15 years ago when she was obsessed with the Backstreet Boys and Nick Lache!? AM I THAT UNCOOL!???

I’m not sure what to do with this feeling I have. I mean, if I were 10 I’m sure I’d have his posters plastered all over my wall…

But I’m not 10 and I am admittingly kind of a music snob, and now I find out that I don’t hate this fifteen year old shim’s music?!?

Oh and I forgot the best part… When I was on the walk, after I decided to ignore the fact that Justin Bieber had given me the dancing fever and I decided to continue with my dance-walk, two hot boys who were running turned the corner and caught me in the act. Dancing and singing. To Justin Bieber. ( AND NO THEY WEREN”T 15)

I obviously rule.

It did make me feel a little better when I found out that I’m not the only person out of his target audience who has a case of Bieber Fever. I mean he did get nominated for a BET newcomer award.

You know what? I think I may just embrace it. I’ll probably lose my all my follower for this but oh well… I like that “Baby” song, and who knows… I may even like him more once I finish downloading the whole album. I might spend two hours making up dances in my room, and I may even post the videos of it on YouTube. But for now I’ll just do this.

AND YEAH. I  Did this too.

Make sure you check out Lilu’s site, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!

I’m gonna try to keep this short today, mostly due to the fact that I’m busy packing for my move next weekend. Just kidding. I haven’t started packing yet silly face. I’m just extremely ADD and have been sitting here in front of my computer for the last 4 hours, checking facebook, twitter, and watching stupid tv shows… and now that it’s 11:15 and I’m already ambiened up,  I don’t think I have many coherent minutes left in me.

My senior year of college I took an extensive Spanish class, which basically meant 3 hours of non-stop Spanish, 3 days a week. It was miserable.

What could possibly make 3 hours of abburido espanol even more excruciating?

I’ll tell you.

It was one of the first weeks of class, before I had spent a million hours with my fellow classmates and didn’t know anyone very well yet. I sat down, and as usual- attempted to quickly copy the answers from the back of the workbook. Which is something that I don’t understand, but I won’t get into that today.

So I’m sitting there when I notice a peculiar scent. A very pungent scent. To be more exact, it was of the “came from the ass region” variety.

I looked around, not sure whether I should bring it up, as I didn’t know who, or what, it had come from. It was pretty clear from the fact that it wasn’t waning, that someone hadn’t just broke wind.

I examined all of my neighbors, trying to figure out which one of them would be most likely not to wipe very well.

As I looked around the room, I could tell that I wasn’t the only person who was offended by the poo smell. A few people around me were snickering and looking around for the culprit.

I finally decided to speak up, and I asked the boys next to me, jokingly, if they had shit their pants. After a few minutes, pretty much the entire class was talking about the awful smell.

The teacher eventually asked what all the chatter was about. Everyone started laughing, and leave it to my big mouth to speak up.

“Ummmm… something smells REALLY bad in here.”

It was about that time that the quiet boy sitting behind me finally decided to speak up.

“Uh.. well it’s probably because you have a whole load of poop on the bottom of your shoe…”

I looked down at the foot that I had crossed around my knee, and sure enough… that sumofabiznitch was correct. There was a big load of dog shit on the bottom of my shoe.

Awesome.

Which leads me to last night.

I’m sitting here, at my computer, one leg up on the seat with my knee hugged against my chest like I always do… typing up a post- just as I am now… when I smell something rancid. My two boy roommates were both in the room, so I go ahead and assume it was one of them.

After a few more minutes the smell did not dissipate. I came to the conclusion that it seemed to be coming from me!

I hadn’t passed gas that I was aware of, but I decided to sit for a few more moments just to make sure.

I keep my shit clean people. I mean that as much as one can mean that. I may not shower EVERY day, but I’m clean.

Even so, the scent was coming from somewhere so close to my, well my nether-region, that I was sure of. Eventually, I decided to suck it up and bend my head down to get a closer smell.

EWWWWWWW

Something wasn’t right. I went to the bathroom to check things out, as anyone would in my situation, and came out even more confused. I smelled just fine.

I came back to my desk and assumed my position and the smell was back. Suddenly, I remembered the Spanish class incident and checked my shoe.

All was right in the world once again.

My ass didn’t smell.

There was poo on my shoe.

WIN!!!

Make sure you check back to Lilu’s Archives… You will laugh your ass off!

Ok people, you know the rules. If you are in any way related to me, have a high opinion of me, get grossed out easily, or most importantly- are of the male variety- it might be a good idea for you to leave now.

Like really…This one is not for ones who are easily grossed out… skiddadle!

Too far? Perhaps.

Yes indeed, kiddos- Today’s topic is…. Yeast Infections!!!

You hear that?

That was the sound of me losing about 300 Facebook friends and all of my followers on Twitter.

Oh well.

(Who am I kidding? Nowhere near that many people read this…)

If you are a woman, and have taken antibiotics or left a swimsuit on too long, you’ve probably had one. I am lucky enough to have only had a few, but my experience with them was bad enough that I have moved them up to #2 on the list of things that I would rather eat 7 boogers to avoid. (and I hate boogers with a passion.) I know there is nobody who enjoys them, (except for maybe a self-hating masochist) but I feel my hate affair with yeast infections is an especially passionate one.

I probably didn’t pay close enough attention in my Human sexuality class, because when I woke up one morning  and felt like a Queen fire ant had decided to settle her colony in the lower region of my body, the possibility that it could be a yeast infection didn’t even cross my mind. Of course I came to the conclusion that most naive girls would… that I had contracted some nasty, horrible, itching disease! I didn’t want to tell any of my friends about it, so I called my mother.

I was only a Junior in college at the time, and I think my parents still preferred to believe that my “true love waits” ring was planted firmly on my finger. This made it exceptionally difficult for me to tell my mother, between sobs, that not only was I a huge slut who had “done more than make out” with a boy, but I had also caught a disease that made me want to tear my eyeballs out of my head. She was surprisingly calm and made an appointment for me to see a doctor.

It only took a few minutes after my doctor checked out my lady bits, before she told me the diagnosis. I prepared my self for the worst.

After she told me, I was quiet for a few seconds as I let it all sink in.

A yeast infection?

A YEAST INFECTION!!!!

I couldn’t even be happy that I wasn’t diseased, because I gave up my parent’s pristine view of myself… for a yeast infection???

Nevertheless, I picked up my medicine, went home and put it in, then spent the next 6 hours lying upside down on the couch with my feet up in the air, in hopes that that would expedite the process.

Since that day, I have vowed to go to great lengths to avoid experiencing the dreaded Y.I again. As I have told you before, I have a teensy bit of an obsession with Web MD. You’d be surprised at all the useful  interesting information out there to prevent Y.I’s .. Plus  it makes me feel better to know I’m being pro-active. I make sure I remove any wet bathing suits as soon as I get out of the water. I even change after a hard work out. I try to eat a diet rich with yogurt and miso soup. I take AZO yeast prevention pills, Pro biotic supplements, and Cranberry pills.

This picture was taken a few weeks ago at a bar. These items were in my purse.

(Yes, I’m aware that I probably shouldn’t follow the home remedies I read on the internet, nor do I need to take so many pills a day… but who am I not to take advice from strangers?)

In case your curious, I have also found some options on the internets for home remedy just in case you do get a case of the “rip out my vajayjay-sies.”

*Honey… You’re supposed to essentially smear it on your netherlands. From what I can tell, it doesn’t do anything but make your legs stick together. But it does smell delicious.

*Vinegar… poured into the bathtub. It doesn’t do a damn thing except make your whole body smell like a foot.

*Yogurt… You’re supposed to put it in there.  I don’t even really like to put yogurt in my mouth all that much.

*Hydrogen Peroxide... I use hydrogen peroxide nightly in my mouth and it kind of bubbles.  hmmm….

*Garlic… Keeping out vampires and yeast infections since 1703. (but you also have to put this shiz up there.)

Whatever you do ladies, no matter how crazy you may feel… Do not, I repeat DO NOT reach for the round brush on your bed side table.

*** I just realized that this was the second TMI that I have posted about devastating events involving my wa-nana where I had to cry to my mamma. Neither my relationship with my mother, nor my relationship with my lady parts are usually so dramatic.

And in other completely unrelated “Too Much Information” news, today when I was taking a shower, I noticed that I have seriously been neglecting mowing my upper thighs. I mean seriously, if I were to show you a picture (I won’t! You’re welcome!)- you would definitely think I were a man right now. It is definitely time for a little upper leg maintenance.

Make sure you check back to Lilu’s Archives… You will laugh your ass off!

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*Some people have more shame than I do, so in an effort to preserve a friendship- I thought my friend might enjoy the retelling of this story in the form of poetry… Because really, this was a very poetic moment in both of our lives, I’m sure. I have already gotten in trouble for telling this story before, but it’s just too frickin funny not to share!

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The Legend of the Log

Here doth lie a legend
that has spread far and wide
About a very dear friend of mine
and what came out from their behind.

It was long ago in college
And I will not share my friend’s name.
I’m hoping the fact I’m attempting to rhyme-
Will lighten their level of shame.

I had just moved in to a new place
With 3 girls I did not know-
My friend had eaten a lot of cheese
And finally had to… “go” go.

After a few minutes in private
I hear my friend’s loud cry
For what was laid was way too big,
And the water was rising high.

I usually wouldn’t have cared so much
But I’d only been there one night.
If my new roommates thought I broke the commode,
We’d probably never be tight!

So I went in the room to help my friend
to devise a little plan-
I looked to see what they did lay
and wandered how in the hell did THAT fit in the can.

I didn’t own a plunger,
and I couldn’t find a net…
Neither of us would touch it-
We couldn’t live with that regret

You may not already know this-
buy I’m actually quite smart
I knew the only solution
What to slice that turd apart.

I went into the kitchen
and found a plastic knife,
I also grabbed a plastic fork
Just to be polite.

I know not why the job was mine
but I did what I had to do
Using that fine cutlery
I began to poke that poo.

I literally “cut the crap” my friend,
I sliced up that big load
I did all this to save the day
and flush down the commode.

Ok people! I apologize for my lack of poetic ability! Have a great day!

I decided to do a little research to try to figure out what the mysticism behind the number nine is anyway.

First, there is the kind of obvious- 999′s relationship to the devil’s number 666. But I would think that a number  opposite of the devil’s number would be a good, happy number.

The number nine is the number of rings there are in hell in Dante’s Inferno. I think this is a little stretch. If we were going to theorize about every number referenced in literature, we would be fearing our demise daily.

Then there is also the  Beatle’s Revolution Number 9 song from the White Album. If you don’t know it by name, this is the really weird “song” where John Lennon pretty much just says “Number nine, number nine, number nine” over and over again. Some people thought this song was a message that Paul really was dead, because when played backwards- it supposedly sounds like “Turn me on, dead man.” I’ve never heard the song played backwards, but when i try to say it backwards it just sounds like “enin rebmun.”

Of course the number 9 also has several insignificants (i just used that as a word), that really only pertain to me.

For instance:

I have so far – eaten Nine sour Starbursts today, but that number could easily change in the next few minutes.

My best friend’s high school soccer number… she made me include that.

Last year I had to call AAA 9 times for roadside assistance. True story.

One of my other friends sneezes 9 times every time he drinks. Gross story. But then again I sneeze 4 times every time I eat or drink (which is completely irrelevant) and I have no idea why.

There are 9 fat grams in one slice of Pizza Hut’s thin and crispy pizza . Which is way less than the number of fat grams in the one slice of Pizza Hut’s stuffed crust pizza that I had last night around midnight.

And Nine and 9 are two of the movies that are going to be released this fall that I am looking forward to.

9, is the animated feature directed by Shane Acker and produced by Tim Burton. It is set in a post-apocalyptic world, after humans cease to exist and machine monsters are in control. They have done some pretty crafty marketing- and although I’m usually not a big fan of animated movies- I love anything that Burton may have touched creatively, and this actually looks pretty damn good. This movie actually premieres today, so get on this and let me know how it is.

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Not to be confused with Rob Marshall’s (Chicago) new musical, Nine- which is set to be released November 25, 2009. This movie follows film  director Guido Contini (Daniel Day Lewis) as he struggles through a mid-life crisis. Looking at Marshall’s Oscar track record, and considering that this movie stars Daniel Day Lewis; Marion Cotillard; Nicole Kidman; Penelope Cruz; Kate Hudson; Judi Dench and Sophia Loren- it’s safe to bet we can expect to see this film up for several awards this next year.

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Ok, it’s been an hour since I started this post and I’m still here, the world spins on. And I’ve now eaten 11 sour Starbursts. Awesome.