Tag Archives: spread the vomitola

Vomitola in Real Life

Pictured above: Licketysplit walks on water.

The other day, I was saying to Lambchop “I wonder if people realize just how close our lives are to the drivel we write here?” It’s America’s best-kept secret and shame. WE really live this way! We really mutter about lost gum and shake our fists when they run out of chai at the coffee bar. We have situations and hijinks.

This morning, I have already been beset by my lawyer, money manager, and a plastic surgeon. That last bastard would not let me take an arm’s length photo as he carved 3 unattractive millimeters off my face, nor would he let me take home suturing material “just cuz.” He also would not give me breast implants on the spot. Not that I need them. He was very reassuring that once those 3 millimeters are run through pathology (that means “the study of ugliness,” I believe), I will be perfect. What a relief! He could have told me that before the botox and laser peel, I suppose. Everyone’s got to make a buck.

I have somehow secured an advancement in my career (the odd thing I do when not writing Vomitola), and I am expected to write the public announcement of my own good fortune. Do you think it’s enough to mention that I haven’t killed and eaten anyone in 6 whole months? I am so used to luxuriating in my own bubble of excellence that it seems almost rude to analyze all the ways in which I am excellent. What do I say about the me who has everything?

I have punted this task to Lambchop, who advises a complete lack of humility.


Pass the Vomitola

We could not rest on the glory of our V2 Summit, for the sea ice is melting and Marc Bolan is still dead! So we hit the Georgetown Martini and Rossi circle and attended our friends at a State Dinner at the White House. Imagine our astonishment when that nice young man, Barack Obama, said he did not know us! Hand to heaving bosom, we really know how Snooki must have felt. Which usually only happens when we are searching for our missing underwear.

When you have egg on your face, make béarnaise! People, we have to rectify the situation of our comparative obscurity. Morrissey is depending on us! So we look to you, gentle readers. Please continue to enjoy a spot of vomitola, and tell your friends. And when you submit to our ads of interest and click our links to our other sites or buy our comely vomitola wares, you put porridge in Lambchop’s mouth. Which god knows she needs, because if you leave her to her own devices she will subsist on candy canes. Spread the love, and pass the Vomitola.