Yes, I am a girl in love. Sweet, all-consuming, devoted love. If I could legitimately wed a piece of technology, my iPhone would be it. Rarely do I abandon it to the depths of my purse, it's never far from the palm of my hand. Oh, iPhone, how I love thee, let me count the ways!
* You never leave me hanging in a conversation. All my dirty sweet texts from my sexy little boy toy are stored in the depths of your electric brain. I can scroll back through the history of our relationship any time I need a pick me up when I'm feeling horny blue.
* You got me employed. Storing my portfolio images in your touch screen beauty was the best move I ever made. So when I met my boss for the first time (skinny dipping, no less!) you were my wing chick, displaying my graphic confections with ease and dexterity. Your high tech yet attainable ways won me my current plush employment.
* You raise me up! My heart rate, anyway. iTunes keeps me pumping those legs on the tread and motivates me to keep going those extra 10 minutes. And the simple interfacing helps me keep my poor hand-eye coordination in check so that I don't trip and roll off in a cataclysmic ball of broken bones.
* The endless possibilities our future holds. App Store provides me with an app for every conceivable purpose. Urban Spoon for indecisive dinner plans, My Lists for my OCD planning tendencies, even Flixster to not only find a movie theater nearby, but to tell me showtimes and even let me read reviews and watch trailers. Anything you could possibly wish for can be found and loaded to the iPhone. I will never grow tired of the change it brings to my life!
I know you hear about how great the iPhone is all day long and get sick of it's utter prevalence in every skinny jeans clad youth. But seriously, I never thought I could be so devoted to a phone, but the iPhone is so much more than a phone. It's love.
-B
In an era when the definition of what is cool is defined by the people around us I’d like to pay tribute to the one thing that is timeless, cross cultural and is ubiquitous at every high school and summer camp. PDA. You heard me. Good old, downright, tried and true Public Display of Affection. Lovely, right?
Ah, love…
Love makes the world go ‘round.
What the world needs now, is love, sweet love.
All you need is love.
WRONG! All you need is not love. And for some of us, we don’t need to see your love to have our world go round. Because my dear friends, now it seems as though PDA is not just for the young and horny hearty. It seems as though our senior citizens (definition: anyone above 40) have found their moment to shine as well.
This weekend, I was lucky to be in a nice little tourist town where people from around the globe love to congregate. And it was everywhere - lips on lips, lips on neck, hand in hair, hands on back, hands in places I don’t think I want to write about. And it was not just the young people, it was everyone. I bet you think I was in Ft. Lauderdale, or Carmel or New Orleans, right? Nope, I was right here in the good ol’ Bible Belt of San Antonio, Texas. What I marveled at though, was that it was everywhere, and I mean everywhere. The young, the old, the plump, the thin, the chic, the geeks – everyone was in on the act! And no one seemed to mind the old gray-hairs were jumping in on the action either.
I used to think dry humping was just for the young pre-pubes that couldn’t get enough of each other. When did tonsil hockey become so socially acceptable for all ages? Have I missed something here? I don’t mind seeing a couple in love and when that couple is between the fresh age range of 15-30, I can totally get behind the need for all of the touching. But seriously, grandpa, keep it in the gurney. None of us want to know what you and Nanna are doing later on tonight with your public preview to the big show. I am no prude, but I just want to say that though PDA is great for about half of the population, the love potion is not for all to imbibe.
-E
LOL. Is there anything more irritating in the ebonic vocabulary? I despise that three letter response as much as I can't stand to get smiley face texts. Seriously? That's all I get? If I deem you worthy enough to grace you with a ten cent gem of a thought, you can at least respond in kind. Don't disgrace me with those three letters of conversational doom! There must be another way to express yourself when you find something entertaining.
Why has it seemed that grammar and spelling is completely fallen by the wayside? On what seemed like the 67th time to correct someone on the appropriate usage of you're verses your during a facebook bout, I got the ridiculously lame excuse that we were just chatting, thus it was unnecessary to use any semblance of accurate English. Except of course this was written something like "wez just chattin, i don hafta spell rite". Please, for the love of literary holiness, at least spell better than a third grader! I feel like I am conversing with imbiciles. Or monkeys. Or George Bush (Sorry cowboy. I heart you, but you didn't do any favors for the literate portion of the nation).
In the risk of sounding like a miffed junior high English teacher, can't we please express ourselves competently and clearly, even when though techie mediums? Wouldn't you think a bit more highly of a person if they can be witty and intelligent even through a twitter or text message? Maybe it's just my inner novelist talking here. But there just HAS to be a better way to say you're laughing! There's even an entire commercial campaign with those creepy talking thumb-head things! So please, PLEASE, for our nation's sliver of hope for future credibility as a civilized socialization, tell me you think I'm a clever cat. Or that you scared your dog when you barked out a laugh. Anything besides an LOL!
-B
Men and women who hit each other: Something I can't even stand to hear about. This whole Rihanna and her big fat jerk business is just a bunch of malarky. Men that hit their women just plain suck. And ladies, you are not exempt either: women who control and hit their men are just as much human refuse as the men who put up with it. I was on a local radio station's website today and they had a vote going on as to whether Brown's music should be allowed to play on air. Hell NO! Let's ban Chris Brown, let's ban his music, ban photos of him and any other paraphernalia! Guys like this need to be taught a lesson. In fact, anyone who hits someone they supposedly love needs a serious wake up call. This is not healthy, this is not normal, and this is not acceptable. Take a moment and tell the local station in your area that enough is enough! If we let it slide on a nationally public scale, it will become more common at home. And trust me ladies, and fellas, violence is not the answer. Hugs not drugs! Or something like that.
-E
I am so tired of Brad, Ang and Jenn. I mean I like to stare at the aesthetic perfection like anyone else but seriously, can the paparazzi not think of anything else to follow and haunt us with? There has to be someone else to spend out time reading about? I think that the Hollywood starlet-chick with bad lipo was more interesting than the Brad and Jenn saga that never seems to end. At least with Britt we new that the end would come in some fashion. This is insane. And to be honest, I am tired of my supermarket aisles being painted with this trio.
I don't have more to say on this. I think the point has been made.
But maybe a request to Hollywoodland- would someone please do something stupid/amazing/unbelievable/incorrigible/astonishing - just do something else, PLEASE!
Size zero is not fat people. I don't care how you slice it, if my pant size doesn't even register on the Richter scale there is no possible way you can convince me that I'm two ounces away from a cardiac. Before you accuse me of being a skinny bitch let me postface my intro by saying that I'm not trying to manifest someone's personal value in their body fat ratio. I'm taking out my feminine wrath on a fitness giant that needs a little good old fashioned hell-raising.
This not-so-fairy tale begins with a joint venture into a little physical fitness during the office lunch hour. You see, E and I value the benefits of exercise. The boost to your libido being top on that list. So, I decided to join the gym at which she holds a membership and commence said activities. One of the perks of joining is the fitness examination where a personal trainer will evaluate your current state of bodily health, and give you a few pointers on what you could work on. Enter dirty sales tactics.
I walk in to my 24 Hour Fitness of choice five minutes prior to the scheduled evaluation, true to my ever-so-prompt fashion. I am treated rudely as usual by the local sales rep, and wait around for my trainer. She pops me into a side-room and begins to take down my information. What are my goals? Well, nothing really, perhaps a little endurance. Focus? Hm. Maybe my core, I suppose. That's usually something trainers like to hear. Weight loss goals? Well, no, I'd rather not be Sally Stick, thank you very much. I'm pleased with my current physique. At that last, I earned myself a raised eyebrow and sardonic smile. We proceed to the calipers. Oh, the calipers. I have several choice skin flaps pinched and measured, tallied up, and marked down. We walk over to the chart and find my age, and follow it down to my newly calculated number. The chart progression begins at Malnourished, Athletic, Fit, Acceptable, Fat, and finishes off with Obese. Her finger continues to slide down the chart, hovering right between Acceptable and Fat. Seriously? Now, I'm no skinny minnie. I'm a thin girl by nature (or by hyperthyroidism, take your pick), and I pride myself on all the slight cushion I've earned by serious effort (cheesecake, chips and salsa, with a side order of three cannoli come to mind...)
The trainer proceeds to inform me that 30% of my body is fat. Really? Now correct my third grade health, but if 70% of the human body is water, wouldn't 30% fat make me nothing but a wiggling mass of jello? She told me this is very concerning given my height and age. My measurements were then taken, also deemed "concerning". I became more and more confused. How can this be? I run 15 miles a week, and never eat fast food. Now I don't diet, but I'm no heifer either. So, finally we head over to the scale. I hop all of my 5'4" post-lunch little self on it, and see that though I've gained a few this month, I'm still chillin at a buck twenty five. Pleased as punch myself, my bubble is abruptly popped with a scathing "Are you satisfied with that?" Why, yes, ma'am I am! Have you felt my steely abs yet? Of course not. After another half hour of pointing out my every weakness (apparently 70% of my body) I am corralled back into the room to hear my suggested personal training packages. Of course I'll need at least three months of sessions, knocking me back around two grand. Commence laughter.
Ahh, now I see! This is nothing but a weak sham to play my innate-feminine body issues into a quick sale. Do I have my card ready? Of course not! Who thinks to bring a credit card to the gym? Well, can I swing back by in an hour and handle this? Why, of course! (not) Several inflamed phone calls to 24 Hour Fitness corporate solve nothing, surprise surprise. I won't discontinue my membership, but I most certainly will not be swindled either. So ladies, please, proceed with caution while being ill-advised by fitness personnel. Odds are, you don't need personalized training. Getting a couple of hours of focused activity each week will certainly be beneficial in and of itself. Now back off, gym people, and let me run around in peace. Good thing I have enough vanity self-confidence to disbelieve the nay-sayers.
Stay strong sistahs! More cushion for the pushin'
-B
I used to LOVE Grey's. Couldn't get enough of just about everyone on that show. Now I wonder what else I can do on Thursday night. The only thing good about that show is that McSteamy is on screen trying to hit it with any and every chick who comes along. Even McDreamy is less appealing. Is that because he is taken now? I don't know, but the show is sucking the luster out of my lack. Thank God that Izzie is slowly going insane and avoiding the pain that we all feel every Thursday night! Someone pass me my Cock chard, I give the show another season at best.
BUT, wherever the Lord closes a door, He opens a window and that peep hole shows promise with the new show Trust Me. What gal would not love two of the hottest guys on television stalking about with hangovers from partying the night before and wearing $800 suits while dreaming up the nation's newest concept for selling cell phones? Eric McCormack and Tom Cavanagh are two slightly older hotties that are just as charming as their on screen names: Mason and Conner- yummy... No idea if others like show this display goofy-sexiness but I think this one has staying power and I am all the better for it!
Now back to the really important theme, Bella and Edward. Have you all finished the entire Twilight Series? Because the truth of the matter is now that I have finished the quadrilogy, I miss Edward and Bella. I really do. I think that I might just have to enter into the world of Volturi and red-haired siren vampires all over again. On top of that, I thought I was crazy for thinking this way until I saw an email from a 60 year old woman stating the same thing. So evidently I am not the only one... Though there are party-poopers out there that have voiced their sad opinions that only Hannah Montana fans and menopausal women are enjoying the Twilight ride. Well, that's because we've got a good idea of what we want out of love and that is what B & E are all about. My prediction? In the long term, that women and girls alike will band together and demand more from their fellas. And not in that screechy put-the-seat-down kind of way. More in the ways of not putting up with the now too prevalent just-plain-rude behaviour guys seem to think girls like. What we need is unreserved, unabashed, unrelenting passionate love that can't be kept apart for any reason. The kind of feeling that every high school girl feels for the first time she passes an artfully folded and doodled note to her sweetheart at his locker. That feeling is what these books embody, and if you want a high longer-lasting and less health-impairing than your daily dose of THP, pick up a copy today. Or even better, foil the plans of your local pesky kids and check it out of the library.
-E
Who are we? Two pretty ladies. You heard me. Pretty. It's true, just facebook us and find out. What do we do? We waste precious work time chatting about anything and everything. How we love Edward and Bella. Wouldn't it be nice if we could eat potato chips and ranch for lunch everyday? But then we might be putting our pretty status on the line, so we stick to healthier stuff, like french fries. Why should you read this blog? Cause we're two witty gals bantering on what's hot, what's cool today. Not so much tomorrow, or even really yesterday.
We consider ourselves the Pop Culture Mavens. THE authority on what's really exciting in our world today. Global warming? Not so much. Sprinkles Cupcakes? Now you're talking. So tune in regularly to find the latest installment on what inspires our creativity, sparks our interest, or even boggles our minds. We promise we won't be boring.
Deuces.
E and B