Happy New Year's Eve: My Ten Favorite Blog Posts- a Year in Review

Wow, I cannot believe it is already the end of 2011.  Where did the year go?  I have had some amazing adventures this year.  I spent a month living in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia.  I traveled to Thailand and India and Minneapolis, MN.  :-)  I have met some wonderful people and some not so wonderful people.  And ended up with some fun stories to tell.  I hope you have been enjoying reading Lily On The Lam this year.  I have definitely enjoyed writing my blog posts.

Here are some of my favorites from 2011 ... feel free to comment/email and let me know what your favorites were if I missed them below ...

In no particular order, Lily's ten favorite blog posts of 2011:

a)  Why I Have a New Found Respect for Kalamazoo:  because I still think James Ryan is one of the nicest local small business owners around, I use his harisa olive oil on EVERYTHING and I love recounting the tales of clerking at the law firm.

b)  The Holiest of Messages are Always Delivered By Diet Coke: because it was a really sucky time and this zany adventure made me laugh and remember that life goes on, whether you're pouty and depressed or not!

c)  An Evening with Top Chef Masters 2011 Winner Floyd Cardoz:  because the opening line is still one of my most favorite opening lines in all of my blog posts:  "For the record, I must emphatically state that Top Chef Masters 2011 winner Floyd Cardoz does not give me menstrual cramps."  It's the truth, people!

d)  Millet, Quinoa, Latin American Men and A Lot of Self-Doubt: because it is so awkward and so ridiculous, it just makes me laugh.  Plus "quinoa" is fun to say!  If you can't laugh at liberal fascism, what can you laugh at?

e)  Eat the Change You Want To See in The World:  Because?  Because it has a picture of Margaret Cho holding up a sign that says "hello Lily"- as if there needs to be any other reason?!  And the pictures of the suspected newly engaged couple allegedly performing "Riverdance" still crack me up!

f)  PANIC! SHAZAM! I'm going to Guam!  Because it's Lily Poetic Angst.  Kick up the drama a notch, watch "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" and just enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!

g)  Pink was the Color of my Itchy Discontent:  Because it's Lily as Strawberry Queen!  Cover yourself in hydrocortisone and give it a read!

h)  Lizard Blocked.  Fear has a name and its name is Baby Albino Gekko.

i)  The Lengths One Will Go ... Because when it comes to oral sex and a love for Ani DiFranco, one will go to great lengths.

and last but not least ... the 10th favorite blog post, in no particular order ...

j) Bad Dates and Other Things That Make Me Nauseous.  The awkward horror in getting your right kneecap dry-humped without one's prior consent is really the statement that LilyOnTheLam.com wants to shower the public with each and every day.  I am not going to stop promoting this blog post until it's the most read blog post on LilyOnTheLam.com!  Read it daily!  Don't stop clicking on that link!

Thank you very much for reading my blog.  Have a safe and happy New Year in 2012 and keep reading! 2012 is sure to be a crazy year - hopefully with less right kneecap dry-humping!

Happy New Year!

New Product Wednesdays: Williams Sonoma Star Wars Kitchen Implements

Happy Holidays!  Now that the big gift giving day (a.k.a. Christmas) is over, "Gift Ideas Wednesday" is changing back to "New Product Wednesdays."  Exchange those awful gifts your relatives gave you and buy some of these things instead!

Some people call themselves Star Wars fans, but can you really call yourself a fan if you have regular spatulas in your kitchen?  I call "Bullsh*t!" on your claim of being a fan if you don't have Star Wars kitchen utensils!

So to defend your fandom, get yourself over to Williams Sonoma and pick up these Stormtrooper and Darth Vader spatulas.  That way when people enter your kitchen, they will know without a doubt or hesitation that you are a true Star Wars fan!

Finnerty Strikes Again

If you're a frequent LilyOnTheLam.com reader, you will know that my cat Finnerty J. Moomaw is an a**hole.  If you're not familiar with this fact, please read my past blog post on Finnerty here.

I had purchased the Urban Decay Book of Shadows set from Ulta.  It came with a speaker attached to a key chain.  I am not sure why you need a key chain speaker while applying your eye shadow, but who am I to question Urban Decay?

I had tested out the speaker key chain and thought it would be a handy addition for my upcoming vacation.  I left the speaker key chain on my counter.  The next day, I found this ...

Yes, that's Finnerty sniffing his work - headphone jack cord now in three chewed up pieces.  As if severing the cord once wasn't enough.

Looking for a slightly used cat to live in your electronics free home?  Drop me an email!

Happy Holidays!

Merry Christmas Lily On The Lam Readers:

It is December 25th and I am on vacation!  But I wanted to pre-write a very special "Happy Holidays" from me to you.  Thank you for taking the time to read my blog, write comments and send emails.  It has meant a lot.  I hope you have enjoyed hearing about my crazy tales.  I've certainly had an adventure living them!  And I hope my product and restaurant reviews have been informative. 

Here's wishing you a joyous holiday season and a very Merry Christmas!  Keep commenting, emailing and following me on Twitter!  Looking forward to an amazing 2012!

Lily ;-)

Thank you for reading!

P.S. To my friends who are now freaking out thinking I have adopted another kitten - that's a baby picture of Finnerty.  No new cats have been procured!  Happy Holidays!

New Product Wednesday: Gift-Giving Ideas: The Princess Matching Game by Brigette Barrager

In the spirit of this holiday season, I think it's important to remember what is most important during the holidays ... mainly ME, ME, ME!  ;-)  When one of my friends (DDR) was pregnant with her first child, I shared with her my thoughts that "Lily" is an excellent name for a child.  (No bias here, whatsoever!)  She decided to name her daughter Emily.  (Whaaat??)

Undeterred, I decided to refer to that child as Em-Lily (pronounced "M. Hyphen Lily" in an homage to the great John Candy movie "Uncle Buck."  See footnote at the end of this blog post for more info.)  For almost a decade and counting, this poor child has been referred to as "M. Hyphen Lily" by my college alumni friends.  Wait, I mean "this lucky child."

I think the moral of this story is that you should just name your child Lily.  (My friend JBC didn't learn that lesson and that is why her son is now known as O-Lily-ver instead of Oliver.  Should have named him Lily!)

This ME, ME, ME obsession has now extended into my Christmas gift-giving.  I was at a toy store in Orlando, Florida killing time before seeing the mind-twisting Almodovar movie "The Skin I Live In" when my eyes stumbled upon a match game.  When I was a kid, I loved the match game - memory, concentration, intellect.  Much better than mere games of chance.  You had to use your brain and your memory to win.  Loved it!  I thought this might be a good gift for a friend's young daughter.

I picked up the box and saw something that sealed the deal on the box cover.  Do you see what I saw?

No?  Don't see why I was instantly drawn to this game?  Look again ...

Still no clue?   Look closer ...

And closer ...

PRINCESS LILY!  PRINCESS LILY!  It is The Princess Matching Game by Brigette Barrager.  It ranges between $10.19 -$13 depending on the store.  If you are obsessed with all things Brigette Barrager, check out her blog here.

I was ecstatic that I had found a match game that had a card with "Princess Lily" on it!  Well, I always knew I was royalty - somewhere, in some mythical land ... but here's the proof.   I snatched this box right off the toy store shelf.  Some child needs to have this gift!  The gift of Princess Lily!

I can't think of a better way to share the holiday spirit than to give a gift that clearly identifies me as a Princess ... well perhaps a t-shirt with a picture of me in a tiara ... hmmm that may have to be my gift for everyone for Christmas 2012!
 
Happy Holidays!

Footnote:  From Wikiquote for the fantastic movie "Uncle Buck":  "Marcie Dahlgren-Frost. Dahlgren is my maiden name, Frost is my married name. I'm single again, but I never bothered to remove the frost. And I get compliments on the hyphen."

Thanks, Duval's New World Cafe!

Welcome to the 2nd year of LilyOnTheLam.com!  I plan on continuing to blog up a storm in 2012, so I hope you're ready to read up a storm!  We're in this together, people!

I'm a gal who likes stats -- OK not statistics classes, but I like checking out my blog stats on blogger.com. I like to see from what countries I have the most readers (who knew I had readers in the Ukraine??).  I also like to see which websites are referring their readers to check me out.  (Thanks to the best charter Trimaran Yacht Captain in the world, Kerry!  Check out her blog here!)  

So imagine my surprise when I saw that one of Sarasota's best restaurants Duval's New World Cafe had my latest review of their restaurant on their website!   I was a little embarrassed at first, because I think my posts on Duval's previous restaurant were more flattering - but since Duval's New World Cafe just opened I can understand why they'd prefer to reference my blog post about their latest restaurant versus their previous incarnation.

Since I owe a great number of blog hits to people looking for information on Duval's great food and finding my posts, I think it's only fair that Duval's has my review on their website.  I am flattered!  

I had told one of my friends that he had to try the fantastic seafood at Duval's.  Now as thanks for posting my review on their website, we definitely have to make it a priority to get over to Sarasota for an excellent meal!  (As if you have to twist my arm to go to Duval's - it's crazy delicious cuisine!)

For more on the incredible food at Duval's, check out my past blog posts about their food at the following links which have lots of great pictures about their food.  My blog posts on Duval's continue to be the most popular blog posts on LilyOnTheLam.com.  And once you taste their face-slapping good seafood, you will absolutely know why!

Check out these previous blog posts on Duval's great cuisine:

Mahi Mahi and Marilyn

Return to Duval's Restaurant

Duval's Restaurant

Happy One Year Anniversary, LilyOnTheLam.com!

Wow, one year ago today I started this crazy little blog.  I had originally started it to document my travel adventures, but then I switched jobs from where I was traveling every week to almost never traveling.  So the blog then started becoming more local restaurant reviews and new product reviews.  And then every now and again I would throw in one of my incredibly humiliating but also rather funny tales from my crazy life.

Now a year later, this is my 80th blog post.  A fact that surprises me, but yet here I am still writing.  (And hopefully here you are, still reading!)

I've received a lot of great emails from readers.  I'm amazed that people from all around the world have tuned in to check my blog out.  It's a tremendous honor and I thank you for it.

Or you may be in the same camp as my little sister who says "Your posts are too long."  To which I say: "PFFFT on you!"  ;-)  But in a warm loving way!

In addition, this blog has also unintentionally served as an "Interested-o-meter" for dating.  I have found that if a guy is not interested in what I am writing about in my blog; it's a pretty good sign that he is not interested in me either.  One man child (you know who you are), kept asking me "What's your blog's name again?  I gotta get around to reading that."  He said it with the same tone and enthusiasm as "I gotta get around to eating my lima beans" and "I gotta get around to getting a rectal exam."

Now to be fair, Man Child spent a great deal of time dodging creditors and working very hard at not growing up - so making time for blog reading was not a top priority in his book.  But after the fortieth time he asked me what my blog web address was, I started responding with such intelligently witty titles like "F*ckyou.com" and "WhyAskMeBecauseWeBothKnowYou'reNeverGoingToReadIt.com."

The "Interested-o-Meter" can also indicate when a dating relationship may be starting to fail.  When a guy used to read every blog post religiously and then stops reading it, well that may be a sign that he's lost interest in me as well.  My blog has become like the canary in the coal mine of my dating life.  Sometimes a metaphoric dead bird is better than a real time broken heart.

Growing up in Minneapolis, I have a mandatory love of hockey and of the band "The Replacements" and their former lead singer, Paul Westerberg.  On Paul's first solo album "14 Songs," there is a song called "Things."  There's a line in the song that makes me think of what I do when I write about past loves, heartbreak and bad dates.

Paul Westerberg writes:
"Things I'd never tell you, down the line someday, You'll be a song I sing, a thing I give away."

Writing is definitely a catharsis and when heartache can turn to humor, the spiritual load is greatly lifted.  I'm glad with a few (or quite a lot actually, written) words I can take awkward or painful memories and turn them into a laugh and send the bad feelings out the door.  There's definitely certain people from my past to whom I would like to flip the the bird and shout "You'll be a (blog post) I write, a thing I give away!"

I think one of the biggest challenges of my life has been letting go ... truly letting go of bad memories, bad history and the frustrations of things we cannot change.  Bad things happen to good people.  Bad things happen to bad people.  But if you're lucky, you'll get up in the morning and have another day on this Earth.  So embrace your good fortune and disregard the rest that would weigh your soul down.

From my living room, I'm watching a cruise ship set sail.  (Yes, I have an awesome view!)  There's always a new journey to embark on.  But you can't truly set sail while you're still holding on to the baggage of the past.

I once dated a devilishly sexy, former US Skiing Team, ginger-haired Russian who said to me: "My policy on emotional baggage is like the airlines - only one carry-on bag allowed."  Amen, brother!

I won't be so deluded to assume that you will personally be celebrating the one year anniversary of my blog, but if you're looking for an excuse to party - why not?  Take today to think about what's weighing you down in life and for the things you can, just let go.  The only thing giving emotional baggage power is your thoughts and energy.  So drop kick it on its arse and look forward to a new journey.

It's never too late for a brand new beginning ... but why wait until tomorrow, when you can start your new life today?  Just call me "LilyPretendingToBeAMotivationalSpeakerOnTheLam.com."

And speaking of new journeys, I am about to embark on one soon ... keep posted to LilyOnTheLam.com to hear more about it!

I've had a great time writing this blog and hopefully you've had a great time reading.  Thanks for all the support!  And keep reading!

P.S. Where's my anniversary gift?  Don't tell me you forgot!

Because sometimes others just say it better ...

Fantastically awesome post on www.marcandangel.com.  Check it out - it's a kick in the arse for your soul!  Looking for a New Year's Resolution?  Here's 30 of them ...

http://www.marcandangel.com/2011/12/11/30-things-to-stop-doing-to-yourself/

You Have A Nice Day Now ...

Hi, my name is Lily and I am an online shopaholic.  I'm an eCommerce wet dream.  Girl with credit card and laptop - Go Shopaholic, Go!

This holiday season I have been running a 5 to 1 ratio on gift-buying ... for every present I buy friends, family or even strangers in my work's gifts for underprivileged kids program, I seem to be buying five presents for myself.  Evidently, I think I am underprivileged as well.

I prefer to shop while wearing striped fuzzy Uniqlo pajama pants and an Old Navy Hello Kitty t-shirt while sitting on my couch.  It is infinitely more pleasurable than braving the shopping malls during the holiday season.  Seriously at this time of the year, trying to park at a mall is like Death Race 2011.  SUVs and mini-vans all trying to get my parking spot, even if that means they have to steam roller over me and park directly on top of me.  NOT FUN!

The downside to eCommerce is that merchandise is rarely ever as good-looking as it appears to be online. This tiny little fact has led me to make several trips to the UPS Store, FedEx Office and the post office in the last two weeks; returning many online purchases.  I have been to the UPS Store so many times, I know the life history of several of the workers.  

Today's delivery was clothing - two items were great, the remaining items were blaaah.  I filled out the returns form and then taped up the box.  Luckily, this particular store gives a free return shipping label (all stores should!)  I was happy to note it was for the post office versus UPS - since I have a small post office in walking distance.  Box under my arm, I headed over to drop it off.  

My local post office is located inside a small convenience store.  I have to walk through aisles of greeting cards and every kind of candy known to man to drop off my package.  The greeting card section snagged me and in a blink of an eye, I had 7 birthday cards in my hand.  Did I happen to mention I am a shopaholic?

I walked up to the register.  There was an older woman standing in front of me, paying for her purchases. The cashier handed the woman her receipt and said: "You have a nice day now."

The older woman looked at the cashier and said flatly "I will, if I can get my dog to stop having diarrhea" and then walked away.

The cashier did not look phased, but my jaw was on the ground.  Did the older woman really say what I thought she said?

The cashier looked through my birthday cards to scan the UPC code on the back of each one.  She held up one of the cards and said "A man bought this one about a year ago.  He said it was the perfect card."

"Oh, uh ... cool."  I said.  

After I handed her the money, I expected the cashier to say what I am sure she had said a hundred times that day:  "You have a nice day now."  But evidently the older woman and her revelation about her dog's diarrhea had scarred the cashier, because she said to me: "You take care now."

I considered saying "I would take care now if my cats hadn't joined a cult and signed away the deed on my home!  I'm now living in a cardboard box while my cats hobnob with celebrity cult members.  So until I am no longer homeless, it's gonna be hard to "take care now."

But I had figured that such a response might render the cashier mute for all future customers - and who was I to ruin customer service levels for future patrons?

I said "Thanks" and left.

With 2012 approaching and New Year's Resolutions to be made, I ask myself whether I want to be polite or shocking in 2012.  Do I want to blend in with the masses or do I want to be memorable?  

The older woman's TMI (too much information) moment on her dog's gastrointestinal state was definitely memorable.  But am I a person who would prefer to be memorable even if it were for an off-putting topic?  

Do I wish to be the Lindsay Lohan/Kim Kardashian/Canine Diarrhea of the world just to make an impression?

I would like to ponder this deep philosophical question, but I have to go clean up some cat vomit.

You have a nice day now!

The Decline of Customer Service

It seems like Citibank has been in the news quite a lot lately with their rounds of lay-offs and downsizing around the world.  I had a Citi credit card.  I had paid off a balance I held on it and decided to cancel my credit card.  I dialed the number on the back of the card and followed the annoying automated voice prompts.  I described that I wanted to close my account.  I assumed that upon selecting this option that I would be routed to a human in a customer service capacity who would then inquire as to why I wanted to cancel the card and make a last ditch effort to keep my business.

But no.  I was switched to another automated menu where I had to confirm that I wanted to cancel the account.  I confirmed and the automated voice told me my account was closed.  End of phone call.

Then two days later, I received a form letter email from Citi saying thanks for my business and how they'd like to continue to have my business, so feel free to reapply and if they deem me worthy they'll re-open my account.  OK I may have taken some paraphrasing liberties there.  But you get the general gist of it all.

For a company that is undergoing lay-offs and downsizing to counteract losses in revenue, I was really surprised that at no point in my cancellation process did Citi inquire why I was canceling my account.  And at not point did I interact with an actual human.  The only attempt to try to keep my business was a form letter email.

Perhaps if Citi would take a little extra time re-thinking their customer service strategy versus planning their next round of layoffs, perhaps they could increase their revenues and keep some customers.

Just my 2 cents ... 

New Product Wednesday: Gift-Giving Ideas: World's Largest Gummy Bear

If you've been keeping up with Lily on The Lam for the past several Wednesdays, you'll know that "New Product Wednesday" has been switched to showcase potential gift ideas for the holiday season. 

When I was a kid, my Aunt sent a box of various presents to me for Christmas.  One of the presents was a 7 ounce Hershey's Kiss.  This Hershey's Kiss might as well have been as big as my head.  My eyes bugged out at the sheer size and heft of this chocolate kiss.  I kept it in the refrigerator and as the weeks went by, it looked like a family of tiny beavers had set to work on it.  I'd just use my teeth as tiny microplanes and shave off a curl or two to keep myself satisfied.  It's no wonder my teeth need a place like Smiles Unlimited after all that beaver-style teething.  

Now Hershey's makes what they call "The World's Largest Hershey's Kiss" ($24.95 USD) weighing in at a whopping 2 lbs and 12.8 ounces.  The chocolate kiss is hollow and filled with ... you guessed it ... regular sized Hershey's kisses.

Perhaps it is fond memories of my Aunt spoiling me with presents that puts a soft spot in my heart (and digestive tract) for ridiculously huge-sized candy.  It is with this insanity that I exhaled a "Oooooooh WOW" when I heard about Vat19.com's "The World's Largest Gummy Bear."  It is five pounds!  FIVE POUNDS!  It is the equivalent of 1400 Gummy Bears!

If Little School Age Lily received a five pound Gummy Bear for Christmas, I guarantee you she would have passed out!  But with a smile on her face!

And it has a one year shelf life, in case you choose to try shaving off bits with your two front-teeth like Little School Age Lily did a long time ago.

I would like to say for blog writing's sake that I ordered the five pound gummy bear and have a picture below, but this insane beast is not only FIVE POUNDS but it is 6,120 calories!  I love you, LilyOnTheLam.com blog readers - but my stomach will NOT love you if I have a five pound gummy bear in the house.

However, I do invite you readers to try out the five pound gummy bear and then send me comments or emails (LilyOnTheLam@gmail.com) to let me know what you thought about it!

Seasons Greetings!

The Lengths One Will Go ...

Sometimes I write my blog post titles before I write the actual blog post and sometimes I pick a title afterward.  Today, I have written the blog post title first.  As if in picking the title first, it will somehow magically set the stage for all that follows.


"The Lengths One Will Go" - reminds me of a Dr. Seuss title ... but trust me readers, this is not a G-rated blog post.  Consider yourself warned.


A million years ago, I lived in Buffalo, New York.  Despite the fact that there were crack houses in any direction within a 6 block radius of me; I enjoyed my time in Buffalo in the summer and tolerated it in the winter.  I still remember one insane blizzard when a charming wine buyer with a baritone voice walked six blocks in waist-deep snow just to bring me a bottle of wine to start our first date.  Buffalo men are definitely made of hearty stock and it made an amazing first impression.  I felt like a Princess in a fairy tale where the valiant Prince overcomes all obstacles just to be in the Princess' presence.  And feminism be damned, I like feeling like a fairy tale princess every now and again.


Plus in addition to being a romantic story of a valiant first date, I can add to my "six degrees of star f*ckerness" that the afore-mentioned baritone was a former roommate of the guitar player for The Goo Goo Dolls.  If you live in Buffalo, you need a Goo Goo Dolls connection or an Ani DiFranco connection.


(For those that do not know, both recording artists are originally from Buffalo, New York.  LilyOnTheLam.com bringing you music and geography trivia.  You're welcome!)


This blog post is about my Ani DiFranco connection.  It's a connection I don't think Ani herself would appreciate.  But until she invites me for tea at her home in New Orleans, this is the best I have got.  (Seriously Ani, I'll bring this awesome ginger turmeric tea from TeBella - all you need to do is email me!  Fine fine, I'll bring scones too - damn, you drive a hard bargain!)  


I was dirt poor in Buffalo.  I lived in this run down building that I think was once a grand stately mansion.  It had been carved up into tiny apartments.  The windows were so flimsy that I would have to cover them up with layers of plastic and comforters just to avoid icicles from forming on my nose.  Winters were spent wrapped in so many pieces of clothing, I looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.  A look I am well-acquainted with sporting.  My mother moved from a tropical island to southern Minnesota and when I was born, she was quite concerned that I would freeze to death.  She would put so many layers of clothing on me, that I couldn't bend my arms.  All of the pictures of me from the first three years of my life, portray me in a" Jesus on the cross" type pose outdoors.  Hardly "Baby of the Year" photo material!


The very cold, very drafty apartment had a fake fireplace.  That perhaps was the cruelest joke of all.  As I sat on my futon (yes, a futon!), wearing every piece of clothing I owned, swathed in blankets; I would stare at the fake fireplace and try to will it to become real.  I was "The Little Matchstick Girl" come to life.  That was one fairy tale where I did not envy the main character nor wish to emulate her!


Although poor, although cold ... I still managed to live in a faux hipster community about 8 blocks from Buffalo State college.  Or as it was known "Buff State."  Which I thought was a definite misnomer because no one who seemed to attend the school there was in anything I would consider a buff state, mentally or physically.  (Sorry Buff State, I went to UB!)


One day, I was sipping tea (trying to stay warm!) in a coffeehouse on Allen Street.  The owners had decided to be "ironic" and used hay bales instead of chairs.  Do you know how uncomfortable sitting on a dried out hay bale can be?


"Excuse me sir, but I believe there is a blade of hay up me bum!"  


Maybe I was looking particularly fetching that day or maybe I looked like I needed help extracting straw out of my arse, but this tall, very good looking, very "cool" man came up to me.  He was in his late 20's (an "older man" to me) and worked for Righteous Babe Records.


As a die hard Ani DiFranco fan (and as a Buffalo resident), I knew that Righteous Babe Records was Ani DiFranco's personal record label that she had started basically as a kid.  I remember reading an interview with Prince and he commended Ani DiFranco on being smart to start her own record label.  Ani may sell less records than if she had big recording industry backing but she makes much more money on each CD sold - and therefore truly gets to profit from her art versus making other people rich off her hard work.


A smart woman outfoxing the big record labels, imagine that!  Righteous Babe, indeed!


I don't know what I was more excited about - that this very good-looking man was talking to me or that he worked for Ani DiFranco's record label.  OK that's an insane lie.  I knew what I was most excited about - the connection to Ani DiFranco.


Now the truth of the matter was, this guy was a low level peon at the record label and I think the closest he got to Ani DiFranco was seeing the back of her head through a window "that one time."  My high school friend (shout out to you, WJ!) who is a flight attendant once met Ani while she was in first class on a flight to Spain.  WJ had a stronger connection to Ani than this record label guy did, but still I felt this was somehow my ticket to becoming Ani DiFranco's new best friend.


Did I happen to mention I was a bit more stalkerish in my youth?


Besides ... the guy was really hot.  I never claimed I had great depth.


So we're in the coffeeshop and the guy is going on and on and on about himself.  And I'm falling for it.  Me, there with hay up my arse, was staring at him swoonily like he was the most fascinating man on the planet.  My spell check is flagging "swoonily" - but trust me Webster's, if "swoonily" is not a word, it should be.  Because "swoonily" was exactly how I was looking and feeling at that very moment.


I felt like I had hit the cosmic jackpot - hot, faux hipster guy - he looked like a tall, lanky British guy, but American.  And he had a connection to Ani DiFranco!  Could it get any better?  I was already composing our wedding announcement in my head ... "Lily and Guy who works at Ani DiFranco's record label are registered at New World Records (now defunct) and Williams Sonoma."


Did I happen to mention that I tend to count my chickens before they hatch?  I'd like to say that was just "in my youth" but I still find myself lolling around (SWOONILY) counting chickens that will never grace this Earth.  Damn chickens.

I was on cloud nine.  Here I was, sipping tea and I already found my hot record label executive husband.  (OK so I gave him a promotion in my head!)  I was practically centimeters away from releasing an album of kicky, girl power duets with Ani DiFranco.  Nevermind that I am completely tone-deaf.  Ani DiFranco would then decide to throw away her solo career and beg me to form a duo with her.  "Ani please ... I am so busy being the wife of a high-powered, hot record label executive and I know I have the voice of a tiny angel ... please stop pestering me ... I promise I'll think it over."


I was completely lost in my fantasies while Hot Record Label Peon was going on and on about himself ad nauseam.  But one word shook me out of my fantasy, dropped my jaw and made me go mute with a "WHAT THE F--K?" 


That word?


Girlfriend.


He was now talking about his girlfriend.  I narrowed my eyes at him.  Evidently this guy thought he was so hot that he was hitting on me while talking all about his girlfriend!  Seriously?  And to think I was going to let you introduce me to Ani DiFranco, my future new best friend!


But then came the hook ...  (There's always a hook.)


The girlfriend was practically frigid.  And he was a man who needed fiery sexual passion.  He needed to be with a woman who was equally as passionate and dynamic and embraced life!


I wanted to lean over and say to him "Um yeah, you want a girl who will embrace your c**k, not life."  But I didn't.  I just kept nodding like an idiot, as if I could really feel for his plight.  I braced myself, expecting that his next words would be an ardent plea for me to be his "sex therapist."  That I, out of the goodness of my heart, should offer up all the sexual treats that he had been so missing out on.  Like I was some sort of sexual charity worker, helping out men with frigid girlfriends.  The naughty but gracious Mother Teresa helping out the poor masses of sexually deprived, cheating scum.


But no, the plea to help him out sexually was not made, instead ...


He let out a big sigh and said "Well, I'm probably going to propose to my girlfriend ... I figure that's the only way she'll give me a blow job.  Six years of dating and she's only blown me once."


The words hung in the air like puzzle pieces.  I slowly pulled them together to see if the words that I thought I heard were actually what he said.  Marriage proposal to get oral sex.  Not "I'm going to propose because she's the love of my life and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."  Not "I've found my soul mate and I cannot wait to spend the rest of eternity as man and wife."


No.  No ... it was- "I guess if I want a blow job ever again, I'll need to propose. " All my faith in men crumbled at that very moment.  Seriously?  Is this why men propose marriage?  To get a blow job?  


Is that why guys propose on their knees?  Is it subliminal?  "Look honey, I'm on my knees giving you a ring.  Now why don't YOU get on your knees and give me some head?"  Ugh!  My whole romantic worldview was getting pissed upon.  And I don't appreciate golden showers!


"She hates doing it, but I figure she'll be so excited if I show a ring that she'll have to give me a blow job, right?"  He said as he looked at me expectantly, desperately wanting me to affirm his plans.


Was he really asking me to give a thumbs up on his strategy on how to best procure a blow job from his girlfriend?  Really?  Seriously?  Is this a freaking joke?


I floppily shrugged and said "Seems like a lot to go through just to get a blow job.  How does this work exactly?  Would you propose to her and then after the blow job, say to her: `just kidding!'?"


He looked at me like I was the most uncouth bastard he had ever seen.


"No!"  He said with haughty indignation.  "I would definitely marry her!"


Oh ... uh sorry.  I didn't see that covered in Miss Manners.  But ummmm, so why then have you spent the last hour flirting with me, Jerky McJerkerson?  I kept nodding at him.  Words were completely failing me.  I was beginning to feel like a bobble head.


"You don't understand," he squawked with immense tragedy in his voice.  "It's been only ONCE in SIX YEARS."


Oh.  I guess I didn't understand the enormous pains he has been persevering through.  I think starving children in Africa would shed a tear over this guy's lack of BJ's from his girlfriend.


Jerky McJerkerson changed the subject and continued talking.  More blather about him, him, him ... his life, his goals, his career aspirations ...  I really don't remember much of it as I was too busy checking the room for a "Candid Camera" film crew.


After what seemed like another hour, Jerky leaned in to me.  A smile starting to spread across his full lips. He was inches from my lips.  He stage-whispered: "So, should we go back to your place?"


Whaaaaaat?


"Wh-why?"  I stammered.  So we could talk more about your girlfriend and why she hates giving head?


"I have a feeling you are a ... very passionate person ..."  He said with a leer.


"B-b-but you have a girlfriend ... or a fiancee..."  Why was I stammering?


"But I've already told you about her issues.  I don't think you have those issues now, do you?"


I'd like to say I stood up, threw my lukewarm tea in his face and said "I'm going to tell your girlfriend just what you think of her sexual skills, you slimy rat!"


Or that I slapped him hard across his "way too beautiful for such a gross cheater" face and said "I am fabulous in bed, but you'll never know, you gross lying cheating scum of a man!"  And stormed out!


This was the moment for a grand speech!  Something, anything, teeming with moral indignation and affirmation for the rights of all women!


But the younger me was a hell of a lot less confident.  I managed to squeak out a "Thanks for the offer, but no thanks - I gotta go."


Yeah, I bet those words really stung him to his core!


That was the first and last time I saw the budding young record label worker.  I can't even recall his name.  It was so long ago.  I wonder if he did propose to his girlfriend.  And I wonder if she blew him after screaming "YES!"  I wonder if that was the last blow job he would ever receive from her.  I wonder if his "going to propose so I can get a blow job" strategy was the lasting foundation for a successful marriage.


I have my suspicions on the answers to those questions, but I'll never know for sure.


However, what I do know is that I never did get to meet Ani DiFranco, although I continue to see her every time she tours.  (LilyOnTheLam Trivia question: which recording artist has Lily seen the most times live?)  I'm not as manic thinking that one day Ani and I will be best friends.  And well, that award-winning album of duets "Lily and Ani - Together at Last!" will probably not be on iTunes any time soon.


But at least I no longer have straw up my arse and in the literal end, isn't that what's really most important?


Call me, Ani.  I need a better Ani DiFranco connection story than this one!  And I promise I won't sing my version of "Both Hands" from "Living in Clip" into your face with ardent intensity.  I swear.  I promise.


OK, maybe I'm lying about that promise.  In the meantime, I'll just be here warming up my voice and waiting for you, Ms. Ani DiFranco, to invite me to New Orleans for tea.

How to Lose A Man in Ten Picture Essays

Have you seen the Kate Hudson movie "How to Lose A Man in Ten Days"?  If you're adverse to chick flicks, let me lay down the concept of this movie - basically there are things that women inadvertently do that drive away men.  Kate Hudson's character decides to attempt all of them as research for a magazine article and a bet - can she lose a man in ten days by employing these techniques?  Now some of the things she does includes taking Photoshop and making composite pictures of what she and the guy she is dating's future kids would look like and filling his medicine cabinet with all sorts of unmentionable "female products."

As I was uploading pictures from my handy dandy iPhone to my new MacBook Air (Apple, anytime you want to throw me some FREEBIES, go for it!); I realized that unconsciously I must be trying to do my own experiment in how to lose a guy.

Now for the record, the guy I am talking about is absolutely adorable, wonderful and sexy - I am NOT trying to lose him, instead I am trying to entice him and then snare him into my web of seduction!  I just happen to be backasswards at the art of seduction evidently.  So while I am trying to convey the message that he should fall head over heels in mad, passionate, insane love with me ... I have discovered I am probably going about it in all the wrong ways.

Let my photo essay "How to Lose A Man in Ten Picture Essays" be your cautionary tale when trying to entice someone ... meanwhile I will be rethinking my strategy of how I am going to make this guy think I am the most awesome human being ever!

Picture Essay One (In no particular order):  Do not incessantly talk about new Apple purchases like they are the second coming of Christ.

Picture Essay Two:  Don't talk incessantly about how your cat ruined your new Apple laptop cord.  Don't talk incessantly about how said cat is an a--hole!

Picture Essay Three:  Stop talking about how Hello Kitty Jelly Bellies are really just regular jelly bellies in a box with Hello Kitty on it and how that is low effort - and that Hello Kitty Jelly Bellies should be special.  Seriously!  Stop!

Picture Essay Four:  Stop trying to take the "Pro" side of the "Why Jar Jar Binks is actually cool" argument.  He's not.  You know he's not.  So stop playing debate coach!

Picture Essay Five:  Even though you do think Ewoks are cool, stop trying to prove it.

Picture Essay Six:  Guys don't like it when you joke that their Christmas gift is going to be Barbie's Glam Vacation House.  (And why does that biatch get a vacation home anyway?  And why is it so glam??)  By the way, I bought this for my work's toys for underprivileged kids program.  I did NOT buy this for myself!

Picture Essay Seven:  You have enough cats.  Do not even hint that you want to adopt this kitten you found in the parking lot.  Especially when the guy you're trying to seduce is allergic to cats already!

Picture Essay Eight:  Maybe just stop talking about cats altogether!

Picture Essay Nine:  Stop mentioning kinky bondage scenarios where you wear typical Malaysian villager headwear and bind your beloved with Hello Kitty duct tape.  It's scary and wrong!

Picture Essay Ten:  For Christmas, do not give him a Hello Kitty Boiled Egg Case and a mold that imprints the face of Hello Kitty on said Hard Boiled Eggs.  He may be low-carbing it, but it doesn't mean he wants to do it Hello Kitty style!

Now if you happen to be slightly mentally challenged like I am (OK, maybe not so "slightly") and you happen to have committed all ten "sins" on this blog post, I guess the only remedy you have next in your arsenal is to pray!

So I am praying that my wackiness actually has some sort of magical boomerang effect where my incessant babbling on the topics above are seen as adorable versus insane.  And that somehow I will be seen as endearing and charming versus "whack job ca-razy!"

A girl can always hope, can't she?

Is this Cat an A-hole or Just a Fan of Bill Gates?

If you're a frequent reader of LilyOnTheLam.com, you'll know that before Thanksgiving my lemon of a Dell laptop died.  I decided to splurge and get a MacBook Air laptop.  I was very excited when my new laptop arrived.  I plugged it in, set it up and desperately tried to remember the many ways a Mac differs from a PC in various standard commands.

My cat - Finnerty J. Moomaw - was very interested in my new purchase.  How adorable that my cat was celebrating my new acquisition as well.  I was very excited to have my brand new laptop.

The next morning, I was typing away on my lovely new MacBook Air and then realized my battery was almost dead.  That's funny, I thought.  The laptop is plugged in - why is the battery almost dead?  I looked at the cord and that's when I saw it.  I don't need to be a forensic odontologist to know that one Mr. Finnerty J. Moomaw had used my new MacBook Air power cord as a chew toy.

I called the Apple store and was told that no worries, they had tons of cords in stock ... for $85 including tax.  EIGHTY-FIVE DOLLARS.  I haven't had the laptop for even 24 hours and Mr. Finnerty has set me back an additional $85.  I wondered if my Apple Protection Plan included acts of cat.

I started screaming "Cat, you're an a**hole!  An a**hole!"  Finnerty just looked at me with a look that said "Could you stop screaming?  You're harshing my zen!"

I told Mr. B-Bandit about the incapacitation of my new laptop.  I think B-Bandit now thinks I have Tourette's, because all I could say was "CAT!" and "A**HOLE!"  As if he didn't think I was strange enough!  My cat rants are probably not the key to seduction!

I went out and purchased a new cord.  I also ordered a device called "Critter Cord" - citrus scented tubing that you put over electrical cords so that critters don't chew through it.  The scent is supposed to be an additional deterrent.  When the Critter Cord arrived, I detected a pretty noxious smell.  This was definitely not citrus.  The Critter Cord was making me queasy.

I placed the Critter Cord over my MacBook Air cord, but the smell is seriously making me sick.  So for now, I charge my laptop in a cat-free room and then don't use the power cord when I am in other rooms of the house.

I am not sure if Finnerty is anti-Mac, is pro-PC, is trying to stimulate Apple accessories sales or just likes to piss me off.  I'll be checking my cell phone to see if he has been texting Bill Gates with his anti-Mac progress reports.

Word of advice this holiday season - keep the cats away from the high-priced electronics!

UPDATE:  So even though the smell of the Critter Cord makes me nauseous, Finnerty went right up to the stinky plastic cord tubing and started chewing on it.  I've had to resort to keeping a squirt bottle handy and squirting him whenever he gets near the cord.  My laptop battery is dead and I need to charge it up!  But Finnerty now thinks it's a great game to see how close he can get to the cord before I reach for the squirt bottle.  Who is training who here?  

New Product Wednesday: Gift-giving Ideas: Sanrio Hello Kitty Boiled Egg Case

If you've been keeping up with Lily On The Lam, you'll know that last week I declared that "New Product Wednesday" is turning into "Potential Gift Ideas Wednesday" for the holiday season. 

And if you have not been keeping up with Lily On The Lam and have no idea what I am talking about, well ... that's just sad.  Take a moment and read my posts from day 1 to now ... I'll wait ...  Go ahead!

Welcome back!  ;-)  So for this "Potential Gift Ideas Wednesday" I am going to combine my two great loves: (1)  Sanrio's Hello Kitty and (2) low-carb dieting.  OK well to be honest, Sanrio's Hello Kitty is more of a manic obsession than a great love.  And well ... I don't love low-carb dieting, I only barely tolerate it.  Sigh ... OK never mind why I have selected this item ... but here it is...  The Sanrio Hello Kitty Boiled Egg Case!

Isn't it ridiculously cute???  Here's the deal - whether you're a hard boiled egg fan or you're eating low carb to shed off some of that Thanksgiving weight, the Sanrio Hello Kitty Boiled Egg Case ($8.50 USD) is the perfect accessory.  It protects your newly shelled hard boiled egg from being squashed. 

Have you ever thrown a newly shelled hard boiled egg in your purse?  It gets linty!  It gets squished!  Don't do it!  Wrap your egg in cuteness.  It is the perfect travel-sized accessory.  It protects your egg.  And did I mention it is ridiculously cute??

I am considering buying a small army of these egg cases and taking over the world with them.  (Perhaps I have had too much caffeine today!)

I think this item would be great for a little kid's lunchbox.  Or get the jump early and buy them for Easter basket stuffers.  I'm considering giving a set to a very sexy, very masculine motorcycling guy, however I am scared to think what he would do with such a cute gift.  ;-)

If the thought of a Hello Kitty product has you nauseated, check out your antidote at http://www.kittyhell.com/.  While I do not condone hatred of Hello Kitty, I do find out about a lot of great Hello Kitty products through that website.

(Side Note: how did I not know that they have Hello Kitty Legos?)

People, don't be a victim of a squished egg in your packed lunch.  Go to Sanrio.com and order a couple of these adorable Sanrio Hello Kitty Boiled Egg Cases.  Don't you owe it yourself to have a cute lunch?

UPDATE:  I went to dinner with the world's sexiest man and he said "I read your Egg Armor blog."  Proving that he is not only the world's sexiest man, but also the smartest -- "Egg Armor" - why didn't I coin that term?  Damn him for being quicker on the ball than me!  Just for THAT, he's getting two Hello Kitty egg armor cases!
 

Soft-boiled eggs, The Future and Quentin Tarantino

Another lifetime ago, I lived in Hollywood, CA - in a spacious one bedroom apartment around the corner from Mann's Chinese Theatre.  


My friend PBD and I would eat at the Wolfgang Puck Cafe near the Laemmle's Sunset Five movie theater like every other week and inexplicably for some reason, three times in a row at some point in the evening Quentin Tarantino would be seated at the table next to us.  It was three years after the movie "Pulp Fiction" came out and Tarantino was still in his hey day.  It became a joke to PBD and I that it appeared that Quentin Tarantino was stalking us.  I didn't ask the Universe why it chose to bring QT into our orbit three times in a row.


I would go to the Sunset Five to see indie movies.  I still miss living in a city where you could see so many independent movies at any given time.  I don't think I truly appreciated independent movies until I lived in Hollywood and everyone around me seemed to be "aspiring" - carrying scripts or trailers for movies they had made in their backpacks.  Independent movies no longer seemed like movies anymore, they seemed like individual manifestations of someone's dream, hard work and tears.  Raw packets of self, begging to be noticed and acknowledged.  It wasn't entertainment anymore.  It was personal.  And everyone should have their dreams supported and embraced.  Even if it's only for one moment in time.  So I would go to see independent films and even if they were terrible, I still felt good that I had put my money toward someone's dream versus a blockbuster alien robots movie.


I never saw Quentin Tarantino again.  Perhaps he grew tired of Wolfgang Puck's Austrian/California food selections.  Perhaps after seeing PBD and I at the table next to him time and time again, he thought we were stalking him.  Even though we were always there before him.   (Get over yourself QT, we were here first  Quit stalking us!)  Or perhaps QT was tired of seeing PBD and I while he ate his meals.  We were certainly not as interesting as watching Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta.  I didn't put a lot of thought into it at the time when QT disappeared from my life as quickly as he came into it.  Apparently when I was young, it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility to live in a world where the Universe thrust Quentin Tarantino upon you numerous times.  Today, it seems like the odds of such an event occurring three times in a row were even more stacked than winning the Powerball lottery.


In retrospect, I feel in some way that it was a missed opportunity.  That I should have stood up, walked over and announced myself to QT in some way.  Tell him "nice work on jump-starting John Travolta's career again."  Or say "Hey, do you need an assistant?  I'm great at fetching Starbucks and have a dark, brooding wit."  Perhaps if I had taken a risk to make a fool of myself, I might be listed in the credits of "Kill Bill Vol. 1" today as Assistant to the Director or Junior Starbucks Fetcher.  I feel as if the Universe had lobbed me an easy homer and I just watched it sail by my bat instead.  Intriguing to think what could have been.


It's cold in Florida.  Growing up in the arctic North, I understand that is an incredibly "douche bag" thing to say I am cold when it is only 61 degrees.  When I was young, I walked to school when there was a negative 70 degree windchill for heaven's sake!  So 61 degrees is a raging heatwave compared to those days.  But nevertheless, I am cold.  While my heart still beats like a Midwesterner, my blood has inexplicably rebelled and embraced the South.


I am bundled up in layers and actually wearing slippers.  I don't think I have worn slippers in Florida the entire time I have lived here.  But here I am, staring at Sock Monkey slippers on my feet.  I have no recollection of acquiring said Sock Monkey slippers.  They just seemed to appear one day unannounced with any fanfare or explanation.  And who am I to question the mysterious arrival of Sock Monkey slippers?  Again the Universe seems to be at the helm.


I have been on a quest to cook the perfect soft-boiled egg.  The internet recommends cooking for four minutes.  But since I retrieve my eggs directly from the arctic refrigerator, I have found that about 5 minutes and 15 seconds is the time needed to cook a decent soft-boiled egg.  But even then sometimes its way too watery and I find myself grossed out at the sight of the gloopy albumen.  It's a crap shoot.  You can't tell from the outside of an egg, what you're going to find inside.  You crack open the egg and hope for the best.


So here I am.  Bundled up in layers, wearing slippers of unknown origin, trying to find perfection in a soft-boiled egg.  I have Miranda July's independent movie "The Future" on.  When I first saw the trailer and saw that one of the characters in the film was a dying, talking stray cat; I was both intrigued and wary.  Not wary because of talking cats - wary because of dying, talking cats.  Especially when the cat was dying of what killed my first cat.  A movie with a dying stray cat doesn't have "Feel good movie of the summer" written all over it.  But Miranda July has always intrigued me as a filmmaker and so here I am eating soft-boiled eggs, hoping that "The Future" has a positive ending and doesn't leave me emotionally shattered.  Although I think by definition, indie films aren't supposed to have happy endings.  It might be against the rules.


There is a scene in "The Future" that reminds me of Jack Kerouac's MacDougal Street Blues:  "One moment less than this is future nothingness already."


I'm not going to wait for the end of the movie "The Future" before I finish this blog post.  I'm just going to hope for the best on this particular egg representing someone's dream.


And in the end, isn't that all we can ever do?