IN WHICH WE GAIN FAME AND STALKERS

hey luvrs! ;)

So we reached 1000 hits the other day. We've noticed that when we tell this to old people, they look at us like we're almost better than All-Bran and analgesic suppositories, but when we tell people our own age, it doesn't have quite the same effect. Anyways, after doing skype shots to our success and dancing a couple congratulatory macarenas, R-Nasty checked facebook and discovered that we had received our first hate message. R-Nasty's been receiving boxes filled with poop for a while now (like from before we started our blog; it has nothing to do with this), but this was particularly savage. We asked permission from our special hatemailer to use him as an example of what we'd like you guys to send us.

Shmickyshmares to RoryJ:

Northside College Preparatory High School..
bet you think you're alllllllll that huh

 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJ0sA2uLvXg)
everything is so prim and proper, crisp and clean in your nice little preppy life. Oh you're well off alright, and everything has just been handed to you on a silver fucking platter. You with all your fucking cairn terriers. Don't you know terriers are for rich bitches only? And 15 gerbils? Who do you think you are, stealing all the gerbils from the rest of us. You capitalist bitch. Share the wealth, you prostitute to a senator Lucky for you, capitalist bitches turn me on. So call me 202-295-4859

IN WHICH WE SADLY SAY ADIEU TO VLOGGING

Vlogging. It's been a sexy, good time. However, L-Nasty and I had a good long talk about it, and unfortunately the trend has to end. We're leaving you with the creepiest one ever. Enjoy? (hahahaha you won't...) Also if you don't want to watch 5 minutes of a girl in a closet (but we know you do) just skip to the second bit...

PFEFFERNUSSE=BOWEL MOVEMENTS

To follow up on R-nasty's incredible retelling of BM's hidden around the house, we would like to supply you with a visual.

WARNING:  EXTREME RESEMBLANCE TO BOWEL MOVEMENTS (but we promise, they are fake, we would never go so low as to poop on a cutting board, in a microwave, or in the refrigerator. We only do that outdoors.)

IN WHICH R-NASTY ACCEPTS THE DISCOMFORT OF VLOGGING AND DOESN'T DELETE HER 6:10 VIDEO

L-NASTY MADE ME DO IT...AND YES, AFTER THE FIRST ONE, I WAS SITTING IN A POOL OF MY OWN SWEAT.  I HOPE IT MAKES YOU HAPPY TO KNOW YOUR COUSIN SUFFERS FOR YOU.

FIRST:

FOLLOW-UP:  

IN WHICH L-NASTY DRUMS ABOUT OUR GRANDMOTHER'S CAT

We both just watched this and were both uncomfortable yet titillated. Such is the power of my sensual voice and superb drum skills. Thanks to our grandma Grace (FAMILY MEMBERS READING DO NOT SHOW HER ANY OF THIS WE WILL BE DISINHERITED AND LOCKED OUT), our dedicated Slovenian viewer, and L-Nasty's AP drumming tutor.
UP NEXT:
R-Nasty vlogs. But actually, Rory, if you don't do it today, I will skip school, fly out to Chicago, buy 15 gerbils, break into your room, and make sure they shit all over your futon. That's the L-Nasty guarantee.

IN WHICH R-NASTY MAKES A SWEEPING RECOVERY

Thanks, Liv.  We love ya.


EDIT:  6 MINUTES AND 10 SECONDS PLUS 1 MINUTE AND 5 SECONDS OF DISCOMFORT.  OUR SINCERE CONDOLENCES. 

IN WHICH WE COUNT HOW MANY TIMES L-NASTY SAYS UM

Hey lovers! So there was an original version which L-Nasty refers to in our excellent vlog, but we cut it out because it was 6 minutes of one of us umming and being uncomfortable. This is still uncomfortable, but doesn't give you the sympathy sweats or make you feel oddly violated (two complaints we've received). To recap what was covered in the atrocity some of you saw: A friend (hcushman shoutout!) and I were on a long bus ride, so i brought what i remembered to be one of my children's books along with me to read to her on the bus. My mom used to read it to me, and now that i see it, it was definitely written for someone other than a five-year-old whose favorite book was Everybody Poops (i mean, it still is). There is a lot of strange nudity (nipples in weird places?) and the main character is a woman named Pierre who is gender fluid. So I read it at the top of my lungs in an indeterminate accent for half an hour until the bus driver stopped the bus, got out, and made a personal phone call for 15 minutes. I feel that the only reason for this was because he was extremely close to bitch-slapping me and needed to take a personal moment. Mr. Bus Driver, i gotcha.