Take this spoonful of backlash, MK*.

Locals defend "sketchy" area slammed on TV by 'The Office' star

(* Girl, you know I love and respect you. I'm just repping my city and my sweet tooth)

Luv It's Custard is a Vegas staple. Nothing like a tastey treat next to barbed wire, homelessness and crippling fear.

I recommend the Tutti Fruti special minus the nuts and gunshot wound to the chest.

Mindy Kaling agrees.




Shot to the heart and you're to blame, you give Luv It's a bad name.

I know you've asked yourself "Self, what is In Living Color's Tommy Davidson been doing lately?" Lord knows I have.

Apparently, lots of crunches and nothing else.

Not on my watch, biotch!

I had a friend in town this weekend and I, of course, did my locals duty and brought her to the famous Welcome to Las Vegas sign.

It's kitsch. It shines like justice. It is a national historical marker.

Much to my horror, I found that it had been tagged by hooligans.

Read here.

Cry in the comment section. Or be racist and stupid in the comment section of the story. Your call.

*** Update: The sign has been restored. But the sting of the event remains. ***

Never met a Maggie I didn't like

This is further proof Maggies are a formidable bunch.



(click for a larger view)

He fought the law and the law won (TWSS edition)

Courtesy: Office Tally

Target (hallowed be its name) just had an insane sale on DVDs.
We're talking good. $3.99 good. I went a little nuts. It was a scene.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to introduce a few new members of my DVD family.



Movie collection meet Tootsie. Tootsie meet movie collection.










Play nice with others, American Gangster. I'm watching you.










Hey you guys! Make room for The Goonies.










When there's something missing from cinemahood, who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters.







In a series of very fortune purchases, Lemony Snicket now calls my DVD collection home.







Now lets slow it down for the ladies. Really, Breakfast at Tiffany's is here to make the rest of you look classy.










The wild card. Something to shake and bake things up. Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.





Sadly, The Sandlot couldn't be here tonight. Some greedy little scab-eating butt sniffers cleared the shelves of that cinematic masterpiece. Next time.

Killing it

The blurry ruckus you see here is me and the guitarist from The Killers. I met him at the bar last month and, although I can't confirm, I like to think I helped his game with some bimbette that night.

Met him. Hailed him. Posed for a picture. The rest is literally a blur.

mazel tov, bitches?

I feel this little dude's pain.



As the great prophet Jay-Z rhymes in "Roc Boys", which is, hands down, one of my favorite songs of all time:

black bar mitzvahs
Mazel tav, it's a celebration bitches, la heim
I wish for you a hundred years of success but it's my time
Cheers, toast to crime

And just for old time's sake ... spooky scary wolfy tradition.

The post with no purpose

A true friend helps create a code name for medical conditions your bud might be facing.

I guess I'm a true friend.

me: i have never nicknamed an anal fissure. first for everything
[Name redacted]: I've always told you I'd show you the world

We ruled that "Colonel Fizz" was a good fit.

Fancy a visit?

Try as I might to convince the world Vegas is a normal city with a municipal government and schools and attempts at culture, it's still everything else you think. Current TV put it in ani-motion pretty well.

Watch below.

Monkey fighting?

Samuel El Jackson is mad as hell and he's not gonna take it anymore.

Monkey fighting is just out of control in our friendly skies.

Below is that famous line from that famous flick we all know (but might not love) edited for your TV-viewing pleasure.

Please, indulge.



(Samuel El Jackson, tee hee. A pun)

I heart you, Earth

Instead of waxing lyrical about what I will do to improve my Mother Earth today, I made a smart-ass list. Wanna hear it? Here it goes.

"You say it's your Earth Day. It's my Earth Day, too."

"(You can't deny) A Woman's Earth."

"Dear Earth, what have you done for me lately?"

"This Earth is hot, hot, hot."

"I like to Earth Day, Earth Day."

"Hey World, my love for you is sustainable."

"There is cake in the break room for Earth Day and it tastes like dirt."

"Earth, you dirty girl. Have some class. It's your day."

"God is a deejay and he is spinnin' that Earth record so hard today."

"My styrofoam cup over-flowith with love for my Earth."

"Lets get ready to Earrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrth Daaaaaaaaaaaaay."

That concludes my pointless list wasting your time. Go Green!

Here's the story of a bad blogger

I'm still in Vegas. I'm not hired yet. Frustrating, yes, but I don't make the decisions, the rules or the doughnuts.

I'm the same girl as always, I just pay my student loans back now. It's like Maggie 2.0 plus a moderate-to-low interest rate.

If you want to read my random jibba jabba, follow me on Twitter (maggielillis). That's where I lurk as of late.

Here is a picture of my now three-legged god dog, Gus.

Today I miss Grand Haven, Mich.



I have walked this pier more times than I could count but only jumped off it once. This town is about 45 minutes away from my hometown and I miss spontaneous drives out there for a world-famous Pronto Pup corndog consumed while watching the sunset over Lake Michigan.

Worth more than 1,000 words.

Alternate captions for this magic moment in Britney Sprear's current stage show.



"A Cheetos sale?! I'm there."
"You never know when a spontaneous game of Whack-a-Mole will start."
"My umbrella is in the shop. This will do."
"Order in the court, ya'll."
"I couldn't remember if it was mallets or mullets that were big in Europe right now."
"Oops, I swatted it again."
"I got your crazy. No, I really do."
"Get this flamingo off me! Get this flamingo off me!"
"You're going to call Child Protective Services on this?!"
"What? This isn't a golf club?"
:Guys, look what I found in the loony bin!"
"Step right up! Test your strength (by listening to my music)!"

In lieu of going to the gym, I'll stay reclined and blog.

I'm the best kind of comfortable right now. I'm warm, I'm satiated and my hair is swept up in a Pepples Flintstone ponytail. All I need is a puppy, a thunderstorm to keep me inside and some sort of beverage and I'd be set. A robot butler at my beck and call wouldn't hurt, either.

Well, blog, lots and little has happened since we last spoke. Here are some highlights.

1) I did pretty good in a beer pong tournament. I dressed like an iconic author.



2) I saw my dream Cirque de Soliel show with my dream date, Paige.

Turns out, all I needed was "Love."







It was outstanding in every way. I was sad to see Paige back to Michigan.

3) I went to a hardcore country bar. My friend said I looked like I was in a foreign country. I mean, I have listened to country music but I had never seen anything that intense.

I was enamored by the dancing. They just all knew what to do and kept going around and around and around and .... ACK. I was mesmerized.




4) The next night, we played bingo at one of the seedier casinos. We were two giggly girls among legions of focused players. But we adopted a mentor, Ann, who helped us keep our cards straight and bingos in a row. We could have used some good-luck trolls. Didn't bring home any cold hard cash or aging fellas. Lose, lose.



Note: The lovely visor is my editor's and rests on his desk. I felt it would be appropriate for a night of bingo and he happily let me borrow it.

5) Thanks to 32 inches of snow falling on Mt. Charleston, curiosity and resentment that I never learned the sport, I tried snowboarding.

I fell many, many times. Cursed myself many, many times. Couldn't get up many, many times. Thanked my wonderful friends for not leaving me to die many, many times.

Despite doing good things in my lesson and on the bunny hill, I got a little over-confident and paid dearly when I couldn't get off my butt on the intermediate hill.

It left me so sore, though. I felt like I had just stood there and allowed someone to smack me repeatedly with the smooth side of the board.



Verdict: Frustrating as it was, I want to go again. This time, I will know my limits and practice more on the easy hill.

6) Now for the saddest part of the post.

The only feline I have ever loved passed away Sunday. Babe, 1991-2009.

I already miss him napping on my stomach, begging for food and sauntering around the house. A big presence is missing. I have some other photos and videos of that little rascal but this will suffice.




There you go, a six-pack of updates. I wrote a lot of stories and drank a lot of pints in between but who cares about that?

Oh I wish...

The Oscar Mayer Weinermobile rolled into my life last week and parked forever in my heart.



Back story: I worked at my college newspaper with a guy Derek, who is on a one-year stint behind the wheel one of the six weinermobiles, or WMBs as they say. They do promotions, pedal weiny whistles and get to drive all over select regions of the country in that trademark ride. Our mutual friend Pete flew into Vegas to hang out with Derek while they were in town and that's where our story begins.

Sunday, Jan. 4
I had hung out with Pete, Derek and his fellow "Hot Dogger" Alana a few times that weekend but had yet to meet the WMB in person. When I feasted my eyes on that 20-foot ode to Americana, I knew it would be quite the ride.

They even let me ride "shot bun."



It's a six seater with big windows, sun roof and cloud sky above. It has a killer turn radius, normal CD player and no food. That was a bit of a buzzkill.

But the magic is what happens on the outside. You can literally watch people try to compute what they are seeing when the WMB rolls by. And let me tell you, when it all connects, they lose their ever-livin' minds. Cameras are hoisted, shouts hollered and befuddled expressions are common.

I was more interested in the people who were totally unaffected by us when we were driving down the Strip. Las Vegas Boulevard is over-stimulation central, I guess.



We tried to go into the shooting range but it was closing (shoot?) as we arrived. That didn't stop the staffers to flood outside to take a look.





After dolling out some weiny whistles, we went to my favorite tacky diner, The Peppermill, which isn't in the greatest of spots on the Strip. Derek jokingly asked if we'd come out of the restaurant and find the Weinymobile on blocks. Of course not, I half-heartedly promised.

So we ate, got a little discount for bringing the wait staff weiny whistles (I swear those are like currency) and went to head out. Four people were gathered around the WMB, taking pictures and generally freaking out. They were four 20-somethings and so were we so we let them do their thing.

Until one guy tried to climb on the bun. Not OK.

Alana went complete Rambo and grabbed him by the puffy coat screaming "Get off my Weinermobile." I think he figured she was joking and just started jumping around her screaming "Weinymobile, Weinymobile, Weinymobile" and getting in her face. It was terrifying.

She pushed him off long enough for us to scramble inside and lock ourselves in. That guy started banging on the windows and yelling some more. We were safe inside the Weinermobile. I will never be able to say that again in my life.

As we drove away recounting events, Pete made the statement of the night — "There really is no authoritative way to say 'Get off my Weinermobile.'" Well put.

What was a great life experience also involved one of the spookiest moments ever, so there is that. And I didn't even have to sing the song to get my own weiny whistle.

Quote board

Andrew: http://www.cutethingsfallingasleep.org/
you're welcome!
me: you totally showed that to me bef---awwwwwww
Andrew: hahaha i think it was cuteoverload.com
i havent' seen this one...
unless you have another cute dealer out there

Hope for Detroit

I have fallen head over heels for this song, video and artist and his plea to return to Detroit's glory days. Now, I grew up on the other side of the state but I want Detroit to succeed just as much as any Michigander does. Heck, I sometimes tell new people I'm from two hours out of Detroit just to simplify things and avoid using the hand map.



Sam Robert's "Detroit '67"

(Sidenote: I'd like to drink with this group and then feverishly make out with the lead singer. Don't judge me)

Special thanks to Tex for showing this to me.

Quote board

(This is a recent Facebook chat I had. Don't tell gchat. I feel like it's cheating.)

Maggie: would a hot dog be a sandwich?
meat and bread are united

Ross: no, a hot dog is in its own category
same with a burger

Maggie : i will argue only the corndog stands alone
hamburg/hot dog are sandwich-ed, right?

Ross: I feel very passionate about this

Maggie: they are sandwiches

Ross: no. no way. how dare you even suggest that

Maggie: i will fight you

Ross: i will fight you to the death
any honest to goodness food lover will tell you the same thing

Maggie: i'll play devil's advocate. meat is SANDWICHED in between bread
is it not?

Ross: no, it is simply placed there. it's really just resting.
it's a restwich

Maggie: i would like to market that

This is Babe, lap cat to the stars. This year he will be 18 years old.