The Birth Of Michelle Buteau

Hey guys! I've got a new, exciting job! Details below....probably too many details...





The Birth Of Michelle Buteau: Celebrate the birth of Nick's new co-host Michelle Buteau when Big Morning Buzz Live Hosted By Nick Lachey returns Monday 9/29 at 9AM/8C.

Birthdays.

I just celebrated my 37th birthday and rented out the downstairs space of a cool Williamsburg hipster bar. I also, with friends, decorated this space with Tiki-like chachkies, hula hoops, I even baked my own cupcakes. Side note, I just spent close to 15 minutes googling the correct spelling of chachkies, which apparently is a Yiddish word for dust collectors. Boy, Jewish people ARE really better at everything. Back to the birthday party, I'm basically giving you details that I can still remember. Yes, of course, I was drinking alot -because DUH, I can, it's my birthday. But I'm also at the age, where no one really gives you personal gifts, but rather a bottle of an old whisky wrapped in a leather band that you can probably rub on your chest when you think you're getting a cold.

My friends DJ'd (is that how the kids are spelling it these days?) because I wanted to have a good ol' fashion dance your ass off party. I miss those days. Well, I kinda don't. What I mean is, the last time I remember just dancing like no one cared to watch or however that saying goes is when I was in high school in my wanna be gansta bitch phase, which basically meant I just wore alot of Karl Kani man sized clothes and made up dances to Mary J. Blige's Real Love for hours in my bathroom mirror with my friends. Hey, it was pretty damn productive too, we had a Puerto Rican girl in our group named Jessie, who went on to study dance in college, and the bitch was that good. She was able to memorize choreography after watching a music video but one time. She was an asset for us. We even danced in small talent competitions across Central Jersey to Mariah Carey's Dream Lover and Janet Jackson's If I was your Girl. Can't say I haven't lived my friends.

Point is,  I don't really miss being an awkward teen in terrible, cheaply made men's clothing but I really miss those days of being so excited that your song is on, like the DJ was reading your mind and wanted to make you and only you happy. UGH. It's the best. I hate to sound like one of those older peeps and be all, this shit ain't music anymore - but it's not. It's lots of misogynistic aggressive turrets that's all auto-tuned. Like a Zumba class on acid or something.

My party started at 9pm - until. I put until to let people know I was serious about party time. Even though it was Thursday night, a Thursday night in New York is just as good as a Saturday night. Who hasn't gone into work on a Friday hair of the dog style? (I've always wanted to use that phrase but can't say it out loud without feeling like a dick. Plus I'm not even sure I used it properly..) My friends showed up at 9:30pmish, bought me a shit ton of drinks, chatted up around the bar for a while, then everyone made an exodus (again, thank you Jewish people, you get me) around midnight! No one even danced! Everyone's excuse was "It's Thursday night, you know Michelle, Thursday?" Um. What say you?

This is me waiting by myself for people to come to my birthday party. Sad? Independent? Fun? Sure, I'll own all of those things.

I was dancing, drunk, per usual, and forcing people into dancing with me, drunk, per usual. There were about 5 hardcore friends who stayed out till about 4am with us to have fun, and I love them for it, but the dancing element was not there. I was pretty disappointed. Drunk and disappointed that no one is dancing at your dance party in your late thirties is not where I thought I'd be in life, but it had happened. Then it got me to thinking (can you tell I watch Sex & The City like always? So much better then Girls, sorry, I'm not sorry) Am I too old to have a birthday party?

I asked some of my funny friends, how do you know when you're too old to have a birthday party? This is what they said. I heart them so hard.


You know you're too old for a birthday party when...

When you request the dvd set of Yo MTV Raps as a gift.

The songs at your birthday party are older then most of your guests.

When your guests don't have the energy to finish the birthday song.

When you are already dreading the next one.

When it's refer to as "the big one".

When you only get one candle on your cake.

When you have to serve coffee at some point.

When your mom is the only person willing to come short notice.

When your are planning your party around your friend's baby sitter's availability.

When everyone has to leave before midnight. (this one hit too close to home!)

When the piñata breaks on the first whack. (?)

When you're ready to go to bed right when most of the guests show up.

When you ask the DJ to turn down the music. At YOUR PARTY.

When you're mad someone bought cheap wine, because when you were twenty, you would have just been glad they brought any bottle of SOMETHING WITH ALCOHOL.

When you ask if they can replace the candles with glow sticks, cus you gonna be too tired to blow on the candles...or anything else for that matter.

The only drugs you do are insulin and Cialis.

Your outfit is from Chico's and your wearing 'comfortable shoes'. 

You're toasting with Metamucil. 

You comment that you'd rather be home watching Castle and eating a snack in your bed.

You ask the DJ to play your favorite 8 track of We Built This City. (Great song though, just sayin..)

The cake has to meet your dietary restrictions.

You don't need condoms for 'that someone special' you might meet cause it just doesn't matter.

The party favors are subscriptions to AARP.

If you'd like to add your own joke in the comment box, pah-lease do, that'd be super cute. 

Dogs.

So, I've never had a dog growing up. I'd ask my parents ALL the time. I'd put a dog at the top of my list, year after year, and it never happened.

My mother is deathly afraid of mostly everything. Loud noises, loud people, bugs - and any kind of shape or color, from the tiniest ant to the dusty spider. She also doesn't understand how people could love an animal so much that they'd might let it sleep in their bed, kiss them on mouth, and even worse, pick up their shit. She shutters at the damn thought.

My dad, on the other hand, is a worldly man, the most modern day renaissance type of man that I could think of. He speaks eight languages fluently, has traveled to over fifty countries, has written two books whilst retired. I, on the other hand, have started paying my bills on time in my late thirties and definitely think that's something to celebrate, duh - it's the little things. My father is deathly allergic to animals. Anything with fur. Shit, I've even seen him have an allergic reaction to a hairy woman. He's very sensitive. But I knew there was medication he could possibly take, and why not do that for your child's happiness? I'd go to my friend's house, who had the family had Labradors, cocker spaniels, and every other sitcom family friendly looking dog, and it looked like so much fun. My parents could never look at a dog lovingly like other people. Kinda like the way a proud parent looks at a new born baby, they're just so excited by everything thing they do. So how was it that I was in fact a dog person, but my parents weren't? Was this just a phase? Is it because everyone else had one therefore I wanted one?

One year I was very sad about the fact I knew I wouldn't get a dog, but I put it on my Christmas list anyway, cause my parent's always said, don't stop till you get what you want. They why was I not gettin' a damn dog? Hurrrooo? I was eleven years old, opening my presents...Malibu Barbi (um, ok - guess the rents didn't get the memo I was too old for Barbies?), Michael Jackson's "BAD" album (best. gift. ever.) and a fancy church dress (thanks mom, got the message), I started to open a box that was a size I didn't recognize. Drum roll..it was a dog. Wrapped in tissue paper. It was a mechanical dog. A FUCKING MECHANICAL DOG. My dad was laughing so hard. And when he laughs, he sounds like a hyena. He's all, you wanted a dog, so I finally got you one, and look, you can play with it and don't even have to pick it's shit up, cause it doesn't shit! It's amazing. As my dad started to play with the dog, trying to sell me on it, I didn't realize at the time cause I was only 11, but I started to shut down. Tantrums weren't my thing, but I also didn't know how to voice my distraught. It's not what I asked for. It's NOT A DOG. Memba' Sex in the City when Trey & Charlotte struggled to have a baby? Then one day he came home with a big ass cut out of a little white baby? She didn't talk to him for days. Yeah, that's how this bitch felt.

Let's not get it twisted, I'm grown, happy, well adjusted, and love the shit outta my rents. They're the beez neez. But I've always had the idea in the back of my head to have a dog. So I started walking dogs and found out that not only am I a dog person, I'm the damn Josephine Baker/Mia Farrow/Angelina Jolie of dogs. I love all of them hard. It's stupid. I want two of everything. Noah's Arc style. Believe me, I'm not a hoarder but they're just so damn f'ing cute. I can't. I used to walk this dog, who was a pug chiquaqua mix. Her & I got on so well, about a year later her owner just gave her to me. Say what? Say word? Yes, honey. Can you imagine doing that with your man? Um, yeah, you & James seem to really like the same things & you laugh at all his bullshit, so why don't you just fuck him? I wasn't about to question her, so I said yes to the dress. Aaaand, UGH..she's the cutest thing ever. I'll walk her and people will say, "Aw man, she's so cute, good job." Like I birthed her or something? Is there a moral to this story? Yes. I just decided. If you've always wanted something, a different career, a tattoo, purple hair, dreads, etc., but you've never pursued it because your parents always told you couldn't that doesn't mean you shouldn't later in life. Unless it's heroine or something terrible.

OMG can you handle what this bitch is serving?

p.s. - My dad can't come to my house ever because I have a dog now, which kinda works out cause he doesn't like to leave his house anyway. It's a win/win!

Who ya gonna call??

After a family BBQ at the crib, my little cousins threw their food in our recycling bin - which is obviously just meant for glass & plastics...a week later, I found...brace ya'self...maggots. EW!
Mag-gots.
Gross. Um, I've never seen them before, I don't even like the word. It gives me anxiety and makes me feel sick, itchy, and sad. Real talk. Kinda like how some people have a reaction to the word "moist" or "woman can't drive"? Whatever.

 My friend, and hero helped me exterminate the lil' f*ckers.

While wearing a Top Gun onesie.

And aviators.

That's how we roll.

My tig ol' biddies ran The Brooklyn Half Marathon.

I like to run marathons. Not full ones, I'm not that African. Wish I was. In fact, I do more of a light jog instead of run, cause we these tits, I've gotta keep it calm & aerodynamic. The way people feel about running is about the same about cilantro. They're either into it or not, I get it. I like to jog because I feel like it clears my brain, and let's face it, if I didn't exercise I'd be the size of Precious. Yes honey, I'm maintaining chunky, thank you very much.

The Brooklyn Half Marathon was my fourth half in four years. I'm not bragging, at all - I'm just documenting. I can't even remember what I wore yesterday, so this is what I know..

My first half was in Vegas in December. It's was huh-mazing.  My friend just had a kid, turned 35, & was all, I need to do something different. We took our national geographic titties to Vegas & lightly jogged for 2 hours and 45 minutes. Drag queens were walking faster then us in video ho heels, but we didn't care. We were doin' it. The Rock n' Roll peeps host great races because there's a band every 3 miles playing Journey & Bon Jovi tunes. I'm sorry, I had to stop believing by mile 11. There were also running Elvis', couples who have just gotten married, prostitutes, and white tigers in cages. It was like a marathon on acid. Yes, please.

I had such a great time, I was inspired to run another half marathon 2 months later, in Miami, FL.
Um, wow. That's the last time I act on my inspiration. Although it was beautiful running over tiny bridges by the ocean air, I've never seen so many fake tits in one place. It was like everyone was running in the same place. I wouldn't run Miami again because it just got too hot towards the end. The sun came out, and I got super dehydrated, I saw pics of myself and I looked like Tom Hanks in Castaway with back fat. It was just too damn much.

About a year and a half later, while living in Los Angeles, I got the itch again & ran another half marathon with a friend in downtown Los Angeles. That was probably the most low budget marathon ever. We ran the same street and just looped it. I could barley breath because of the smog. There were hardly any people out except for the homeless people who were cheering us with signs and empty cups for change. Yeah, too bad I can't get my money back for that shit.

So, what I lurved about the Brooklyn Half, was the community. I heard different languages the whole time, lightly jogged through neighborhoods I'd never been to, and finished on Coney Island crossing the finish line with my hands in the air, a tear on my face, and proper titty sweat on my shirt like some sort of legit athlete. Then I got bussed to the end of the pier by 4 angry black dudes, cause, hello - it is New York, after all...

Me & my gurls ready for a margarita(s) to celebrate!

If you're thinking about getting into running - here are some tips - DON'T. JK!

• Buy something new to wear, you'll feel inspired in new digs. 
• Bring a friend that you can talk to. 
• Talking about what's happening to your body is just damn therapeutic. 
• Walk whenever you need to. No one's judging you. And if they are, fuck them. 

Let me know how it goes!

Vh1's Best Week Ever.

Best Week Ever is blaaaaack!! Finally! I have a place to celebrate my unhealthy obsession for pop culture news, and by news I mean fun, funny, juicy, useless but helpful straight up brain candy information for yo ass. Yes. Yo ass. I'm feeling very Queen Latifah first album, African shoulder pads today. One of the segments I do on the show is called "Panties On, Panties Off" - it's sort of like Siskel & Ebert meets RuPual's Drag Race. You are SO allowed to judge! Get it.

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