A some of you may remember, I have an adorable cat named Diane Lane. She is my little fluffy princess, but a few months ago she got fleas. (!!!DISGUSTING!!!)

The problem kept getting worse and worse, so I decided to send her to live in West Virginia with my mom for a while so she could get treatment AND not be miserable. Before anyone flips out and says I’m irresponsible and an asshole, please know that I gave her medication and flea bathed her MANY times — nothing did the trick. I’m happy to report that after about 12 hours in West Virginia she was almost flea-free. I planned to go home that weekend and visit her so she wouldn’t forget about me and such. The day I was scheduled to go, I received this email from my mom:

Dear Mommy Maxie,

I am enjoying my vacation somewhat.  I pretty much have my own room with a private bathroom and an adjoining fun room.  And I have free access to the rest of the bed and breakfast facility.  There are three other felines who live here full time, and one canine.

Yesterday,  I slept behind your old computer monitor.  When Grandma came upstairs calling my name, she was worried because I was nowhere to be found.  Finally when she wouldn’t stop calling my name, I popped up behind your old monitor with a big stretch.  It was difficult to climb over the monitor so that Grandma could pet me.  After awhile upstairs by myself, I went downstairs.

The canine went outside for awhile.  Molly taught me how to jump on the chair and then onto the kitchen countertop to get to the faucet.  It’s a bit tricky but I have pretty good balance.  And Molly doesn’t bother me.

But that Abby, she is always hissing.  Grandma scolds her, but she keeps doing it anyway.  Katrina just kind of minds her own business.  Molly and I had fun drinking from the spigot this morning.  And eating tuna.  Abby eats on the table, and Katrina eats on the other kitchen counter because Molly will steal her tuna if she can get to it.

I spent some of the time on the kitchen table on those old brown zebra striped sheets you used to have.  Grandma leaves all of the curtains in my private room open so I can sit on the window sills and look down all the way to the ground.  I also like the window sill in the kitchen.

It’s okay being with Grandma, except for the times she picked me up to take me into another room.  Otherwise she’s okay.

I will see you tonight.  I love you.

Diane

Yep, if there was ever a mystery about whether my mom raised me, I’m pretty sure this email solved it.

—-

p.s. This week I posted another What Would You Do? column (this one’s about what to do when you  find out your man is cheating!) and a compilation of the Best Covers on YouTube on Twenties Hacker. Have you read them yet? You should.

Where else have I been posting, you ask? Okay, so maybe you didn’t ask, but I’m telling you anyway. HERE:

• 10/18 – Should you trust a guy who makes out with you while he’s dating someone else? Does the relationship have a future? Read the answer here.
• 10/11 – Jerks vs. Nice guys? How do you tell the difference?
• 10/6 – I wrote about my new favorite artist Dave Patten. He’s pretty and his music is delightful.
• 10/4 – Is it normal to not be over your ex after 6 months?
• 9/27 – How do you deal with annoying bitches on facebook.
• 9/20 – Does wine go bad?

Since I know all of you who subscribe to ihateosmuch.com REALLY want to read my stuff on other sites, but you’re not yet subscribed to a feed for it, here’s everything I have posted in the last month.

If you’re wondering why I’m posting anywhere else, I was named the life editor for the new bomb-diggity* site Twenties Hacker. Unfortunately, unlike a beauty pagent, I don’t get a sash for being named something. Very upsetting.  To make me feel better about this tragedy, you should check it out.

*I wrote this post while I was tipsy the other night. Don’t judge me for my use of the term bomb-diggity.

premium business cards

(Totally normal first date pictured above.)

we all get nervous on first dates, right? this results in what i like to fondly refer to as word vomit. the following list was compiled over several years, during a handful of first dates and a barrel full of “encounters” – let’s all bond over how awkward i am (and then you can share your own to make me feel better, of course):

1. you wouldn’t believe the number of church parking lots i’ve had sex in.  (said right after someone told me they were catholic.)
2. i love to be the one who gets to tell other people that someone famous has died. it’s just kind of fun.
3. yea, we were hooking up for a while, but then i finally figured out that he was homeless.
4. a surprisingly large number of guys have accidentally pooped on me.
5. if you were hooking up with a girl and the condom broke, would you pay for the abortion? go halfsies at least?
6. have you ever had sex with a guy? have you ever wanted to? (out of nowhere, for no logical reason)
7. do you ever wonder what it would be like to poop in an adult diaper? (no, but really, have you? am i the only one who thinks about that?)

remind me, why am i single again?

OH HEY, have you read the advice column I posted on twenties hacker this week? you should probably do that now.

• go home after getting off work at 8 pm. don’t stop for food because payday is still 2 days away and buying red bull and renewing your flickr membership is more important than eating.
• find mystery frozen meal in freezer. decide it was there before you moved in almost 2 years ago. eat it anyway.
• play The Sims Social on facebook. have sim sex all over the place. it’s like a ludacris song up in your sim house.
• watch Blue Valentine. find out it’s possible for Ryan Gosling to look unattractive. cry a little.
• google rent prices in your home town. see a beautiful 3 BR victorian house for $700… total. cry some more.
• google “weird porn” to cheer yourself up and find out tentacle porn exists. realize you can never erase its existence from your brain.
• see advertisement for something called “goblins fucking” on the sidebar. decide to stop googling things when bored.
• spend 45 minutes looking at pictures of cats on weheartit.com to scrub your brain.
• can’t stop wondering what “goblins fucking” could be like. watch 2 minutes of goblins doing it*. wish you had stuck with the cats.
• give up on computer. do dishes while listening to Dashboard Confessional. drink boxed wine. pass out while watching the bomb episode of grey’s anatomy that you’ve seen 20 times, only because coach taylor’s in it.
• the end.

*spoiler alert: it’s the fight scene from the end of every power rangers episode… except with more penises.

______

want more maxie? of course you do. check out my post from yesterday on Twenties Hacker here. it’s about how to deal with annoying bitches on facebook.

Wanna hear some crazy shit? I’m writing an advice column.

No, really.

The lovely ladies who just launched Twenties Hacker (the awesome, new blog you need to check out the second you’re done reading this post) asked me if I wanted to write for the site. I’m not sure why they asked — all I know is it’s a hell a lot of pressure. I’m going to go cry in the corner now, thanks.

Because I love to judge people and always think that I’m right, I brought up the idea of writing an advice column, and somehow they went for it. It took me about 20 glasses of wine and 15 Lady Gaga songs on repeat to finish, but it’s finally up.

p.s. how fucking catchy is that You and I song? You go, lady gaga. Now stop wearing meat dresses so I can like you again.

I digress, the whole point of this post is to 1) notify you that I’ll be posting at Twenties Hacker on a regular basis 2) advise (beg) you to go check out and comment on today’s post HERE and send in your questions/problems for me to dispense advice upon 3) let you know I’m still alive.

There is nothing more horrifying than car shopping. Okay, that’s probably an exaggeration. There is nothing more horrifying than this video of a snake that is just chilling on someone’s car while they’re driving down the highway. But car shopping is definitely #2.

The check engine light on my beloved 2000 Ford Escort zx2 came on the day I moved to Washington, DC over a year and a half ago. I always assumed it was my car’s way of protesting having to drive on on the razor blade laden roads of Washington, DC every day.

For those of you taking notes, the fact that it was a zx2 makes it the COOL kind of escort.

Being that I have been quite irresponsible with my car maintenance, it was no surprise that my car was on a downward spiral. Sir Escort, who I never got around to giving a proper name, had been good to me, and even allowed me use of him for a full year and a half after the dreaded light of death came on. But last Thursday it was over — my engine went kaput as I was getting off the highway at my work exit. May he rest in peace. He served me well for over 185,000 miles.

So back to that car shopping being horrible thing. I walked into the dealership with complete fear with a tinge of optimism and excitement. I had already been approved for a loan, but had no clue of the terms, interest rate, amount of time I would be financially crippled by the horror that is a car payment, but I at least I knew that I had no other choice. Being that I work outside of the DC metro’s reach, a car is a 100% necessity.  It was going to be painful, but I just had to fucking suck it up. Insert obligatory “that’s what she said” joke here.

There’s no way I can possibly capture the horror that was the 4+ hours I sat in the car dealership “negotiating”, also known as getting fucked over by my awful credit history and obvious desperation for a car. But I do have a few pieces of advice to pass on to all future car purchasers:

• Get drunk before you go. Pretend you’re on a game show and the numbers aren’t real. They’ll seem less big and scary that way.
• Don’t bother doing your hair or picking out a cute outfit. These people are going to see your credit score — there’s no faking that you have your shit together.
• Don’t trust your car salesman to describe a type of car/truck/HUGE MONSTER SUV — we have computers for that. Look that shit up on the internet and show me a picture. Great example of this: when mine tried to tell me a GMC Envoy was a “small SUV”.
• If you have to cry, go outside.
• Oh, and a little bit of preventative advice, no one needs a credit card from Victoria’s Secret. If you can’t afford to pay for it right then and there, you probably shouldn’t be buying a $70 bra.

On the bright side, I am now the proud owner of a car with automatic windows, an mp3 jack and working air conditioning after not having AC for over a year. It was over 110 degrees in DC the week before I got my car. Great timing, right.

To all of you, I present Unnamed Car, the 2010 Toyota Carolla, which I expect to last me at least 25 years without any maintenance or problems. That’s how cars work, right?

Would you rather…

have the perfect body but be unknown

example: I don’t know anyone with a perfect body who’s not famous. If I did, I’d obviously be dating them.

or

have one horrible (or “different”) body feature that makes you famous

ex: coco, kim k

inspired by the delightful @cariannyle

ed note: I don’t think Kim’s ass is horrible (I actually am pretty fascinated by it), but I bet it’d be annoying to have it be all anyone ever talks about.

This video post is part of 20SB’s Vlog Day and the topic is “Introduce Yourself”…anyone can participate! Details are here.

Alternate title: Watch Maxie talk while wearing too much makeup!

I wasn’t planning on participating in 20sb’s vlog day because of my lack of laptop due to walletgate 2011 (name patent pending), but while house-sitting for Rachael and her devil lovable cats, I had access to her delightful, yet completely confusing MacBook.

This is what happened.

p.s. my blog is now on facebook! like it! do it!

Photo credit: Rebecca Freeman

I attended the 3rd annual Bloggers in Sin City meetup over the weekend. If you follow me on twitter, you probably already know that. My last 88 tweets (yes, I counted) have been, in some way, shape or form, professing my love for the 50+ other bloggers who attended with me. Or complaining about how much my feet hurt. We can’t keep it ALL positive up in here, you know.

I learned several things over the weekend.

Canada doesn’t have Target.

PURE nightclub will let you check you shoes and walk around barefoot. (right, jenn?)

In vegas, 12 oz. of red bull costs $8. Club sandwiches are $15. MINI bottles of water are $9. You get the drift — it’s fucking expensive as shit.

Lounging in the sun is so much more fun when you have a VIP area or a cabana.

But above all of that, the #1 thing I learned is that bloggers are really great people…. who live way too far away. I’ve met so many amazing folks through the internet, and this weekend was no exception. If you ever have a chance to attend BiSC, or any blogger meetup for that matter, DO IT. Even if you have to go alone. I’m not saying that you won’t end up meeting a blogger who sucks — it happens. But if you are lucky enough to meet 100 bloggers in your lifetime, the other 99 people you meet will be AWESOME.

Oh and one more thing I learned. Nicole is a saint. The weekend was impeccably organized for optimum fun and we owe all of that to her.

Enough schmoopy mcshoomp and cheesey mccheesiness. I was going to post a ton of pictures, but this video Apocalypstick compiled captures how much freaking fun the weekend was in just a few minutes.

Start saving your money for next year. You don’t want to miss it.

Bloggers in Sin City from Almie Rose on Vimeo.

viva las vegas! be back next week, barring no Apocalypse or tequila death.

*I may not currently have a passport, but I think with 730+ condoms, you can get just about anywhere.

** yea, this happened last year. thanks so much, marble bathroom!

*** I might do that sober.