romanticcomedygirl

No, Dirty Girls, I did not pick up a stranger who got to see my panties… it was much more ‘rom com’ than that. It started out innocently enough. I woke up this morning, showered, got dressed. To be exact, I was wearing a black g-string… not a thong.. a string, one of those white Gap spaghetti string tank tops with the shelf bra built in, my silver/gray cargo pants, and a gray wrap sweater to keep me warm since everyone insists on air conditioning. Not that it matters, but I was wearing my l.a.m.b. silver flip flops. I ate breakfast with Sister and big and little B. I was not ready for Sister to leave, but big B was ready for little B to hit the road.

I’m going to Sister’s tomorrow, so it wasn’t going to be a sad goodbye at the airport. The only reason we weren’t flying together is because she had miles on American and I’m a Virgin snob, so I’m flying Virgin. I wonder if it’s sacrilegious to join the mile-high club on ‘Virgin’ airlines… anyway…

Driving Sister to the airport was uneventful… until we hit the airport, literally the first stop which was NOT American, and little B did not want to wait. When Sister shrieked I thought there was a wasp in the car… until I smelled that oh-too-familliar odor. You would think that a 10 pound dog who had peed less than an hour  ago, wouldn’t have much to give, but little B let the flood gates open. He peed all over Sister’s pants, somehow it got up to her sweatshirt and down to her Ugg boots! I mean, it was if more liquid came out of him than could have possibly been in him. He’s too dang small! But there it was… a piss pool all over Sister. And her bag was packed to the brim… and by brim I mean her clothes were at the bottom and all of my books and work paraphernalia that I need for my trip but wouldn’t have taken unless it all fit in her bag, was piled on the top… snuggly.

To have her unpack all of my crap to get to a pair of pants and a warm shirt, would have been time costly and re-packing hell. So instead I did what any good sister would do who wears the same size as her little sis. I took off my cargo pants and my sweater and gave them to her. She changed in the car, and then handed me her pee pants to put on…

Uh…. I don’t think so! Those stinky low riders were saturated. There was no way in heck I was putting those anywhere but the washing machine, the dryer (not the pants Sister, I line dried those) and then my suitcase to bring out to her tomorrow.

So there I was, in the car, ready for my long drive home… in a black g-string and and tiny Gap shirt. Driving skills were of the utmost importance now, because getting pulled over would be VERY BAD! And you never really notice all of the trucks and high SUVs, until the people driving them are looking over and down at you and you’re not wearing any clothes.

Then there was the walk from the car to my door. Why are my neighbors NEVER out on their driveways, until I pull up in front of my house naked… almost. I mean I may as well have been to the 11-year-old boy who lives next door and was playing football with his red-neck uncle- heck yeah, I’m calling him a redneck! The guy parked on the grass across the street. Does he know what the HOA is in this development?! Don’t park on the friggin’ grass! There’s a parking lot for guests 300 footsteps away. Walk a little! It’ll do your beer gut some good.

Well, I figured, the front of my g-string looked like a bikini bottom, so I took my green Coach suede carrier bag, and swung it around to cover my butt cheeks. Everyone had to have thought it was a bikini. Who drives around in their underwear?

Me.

©2011

I admit I’ve been doing my best to scare guys off of this blog to keep it “a chick” thing. And when I look even deeper… it’s kind of a reflection of what I do in life.. pull my friends closer as I push men away. But “Jeff” has given me cause to think, if I do’t allow men to comment, (when I so clearly pointed out in multiple blogs that we speak ‘different languages’), how are we ever supposed to understand their side?

I’m being sarcastic when I say,”Guess what? Our actions affect them.” I’m being vulnerable when I say, “I personally have gotten in my own way of love so many times, I’ve hurt many guys, not caring about how my actions affect them, because I was trying to protect my own feelings.” And guess what? I hurt anyway. Maybe I hurt because I hurt them, maybe I hurt because I didn’t communicate maturely and lost them, maybe I hurt because my action or lack of action caused a ‘good one’ to get away. Maybe, maybe, maybe… Whatever the reason, it sucks to hurt, but my perspective has changed. Instead of pulling a “Heisman” (see? if men were reading this they’d know what that means, but because y’all are chicks, I’ll make it today’s picture and you should get the idea), I’d rather live like a Lady A song “I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all…” I tried that for 25 years, and all it did was blind me to a lot of great guys.  Anyway…

So all of this ‘taking responsibility for my actions’ came to me early this morning, when I read “Jeff’s” response to my “Sex And The City Skewed Men’s Ideas About Women”entry. For those of you who missed the comment string, here’s how it went:

Jeff: I think you have it backwards.  Sex and the City skews women’s ideas about relationships.  The show didn’t do anything to men.  It did however,  do everything to mess up women about relationships. Women who watch that show base a lot of their actions in relationships on how it was portrayed in the show.

Me: I’m intrigued …. do explain, because I know if I ever had a great man like Aidan in my life, I sure as heck wouldn’t “pull a Carrie!” That move cost the show my viewing for the next season! I also know if had a guy as hot and young as Smith, I’d know better than to fall in love with him. Demi & Ashton are either the exception to the rule or a really good Hollywood cover up… but how often does the 15-year age difference work for an older woman? And while there are TONS of women out their “emasculating their Steve’s” they were doing it looooong before they ever watched Miranda doing it. And speaking for the Charlottes of the world who’ve found ourselves in sexless relationships with a Trey, trust me, we don’t stay in the relationship because we want to be like Charlotte, we stay in because we are in DEEE-NIIIIIIII-AAAAAL!

Jeff: All of the characters are extremely bad girlfriends. Girls watch this show and identify with a character, and try to act in their real relationships how that character acts in theirs.

Samantha is obvious; she wants sex without love. Not girlfriend material.
Charlotte is the most boring person in the world. A prude all around. Very uptight and contributes to her loneliness.
Miranda is married to her work; is in one word, a b…itch. She is also uptight and won’t let anyone in. Ice comes to mind.
Carrie is the worst one of them all. How could you ever ever ever trust a girl like that? Who is in their 30′s and cheats? I will tell you who….someone you should never ever date. She goes back to Big every single time, even though he has time and time again showed her he can’t commit.

To what you said, Smith was a good guy, but it was Samantha who messed that up. It doesn’t matter how hot he was, it was her fault. I am not saying that girls want to be like any of the characters. But, the show has so much influence and pull, that the girl starts to believe that the actions the character took were the right ones, and they copy those actions.

I would not look to celebrities for a thumbs up or down, or for making any decisions in life. Celebrities are completely opposite of real life, so look to real life relationships for statistics.

My point to all of this, is when guy’s watch Sex and the City, they don’t [subconsciously or not] alter/change their actions in relationships. But girls do. Just about all of the girls I have dated and been in relationships with watch and love this show, and either make comments or act a certain way in favor of a character they identify with. I like the show, but it sucks that none of the characters are good role models. I have met a lot of ‘Carries’ in my life where they will continually go back to that certain a-hole that they cannot get enough of. Either because they love the bad boy a-holes, or that they hope he will change. Either way, that is a girl to stay the hell away from because she will break your heart in the end.

He makes an interesting point. I stand by my belief that emotionally unavailable men put women in categories the same way emotionally unavailable women do many of the things Jeff pointed out. I myself, am guilty of constantly going for the “fixer-upper” when I know he’s not what I want. It’s not fair to the “fixer-upper.” He came that way, and if I couldn’t accept him for who he was when I started with him, I shouldn’t have started with him. Period. I’d like to say I don’t realize they are fixer-uppers until it’s too late, but you’d all know I was going back to denial mode because if you read the Friend With Benefits saga, you’ll notice that on March 11th I said that I wouldn’t fall for him because there were already 3 things I’d want to change about him.. and then those were the same 3 things that caused me to want to end things with him. So I knew! I was just in denial.

Back to Jeff’s comments.  Individually, the characters don’t make good role models when it comes to relationships. That said, I believe what attracts women like me to the show is 1. They ARE great role models for friends. Over all, those girls where there for each other through the best and worst of times, and that’s what was so attractive about them to women. And 2. as far as the actual dating story lines, I think the reason we laughed so hard is because we had either been in a situation like that or known someone who was. That doesn’t make their actions acceptable, it just makes our own actions easier to swallow, because we can laugh at it, seeing we’re not alone.

Bottom line? Men and women speak two different languages. Neither are wrong, but if not given the respect by one another, we are going to continually hurt each other.

Uhhh my head hurts. All this self-realization is making me both regretful and hopeful. I owe A LOT of guys apologies. It’s a good thing I don’t have ‘a love sponsor.’

©2011

She didn’t think twice. That cashier pulled out two 5 dollar bills and handed them to me, and I handed one to Sister. It’s not like she could forget us. We had just given them to her 90 seconds before. That’s how long it took us to do our round. I think Sister’s exact words were, “Oh God, we’re in a sequel to Cocoon, and they’re all dancing.” I think she may have stopped two pacemakers as we did our walk through. The place was upscale on the outside with it’s neon light sign and black exterior and then you walk inside and it’s like you’re in Island’s (the hamburger chain in L.A.)

I skipped over our entrance. We were stopped at the door by a 12-year-old who asked us if we had our Ladies’ Night VIP cards. I told him I knew nothing about the VIP card because I’m from Los Angeles and had never been there before. He then explained it would be a five dollar cover charge. Really, Dude? You’re going to charge two hot chicks five dollars each to go into your silver fox fiesta? You should have been paying US to go in! And had we been there before, why the heck would we go back on a Saturday night, when he explained on our way out that the young people come on Wed and Thurs?

It was hard enough for me to convince Sister to go out with me two nights in a row. Now I was getting the stink eye, as we ventured off to our next spot. It was a new club that the door-boy had suggested. He inferred that all the people who are normally at his bar were at this particular club tonight.

When Sister and I walked up to the two tall, good looking door men, I leaned in to one and said straight up, “What is the average age in there, because we’re from Los Angeles and we just had a traumatic “Cocoon” experience at another bar, and we’re a little skeptical about the night life here.” He said, “Honestly, right now it’s about 40-80, but go in, there’s no cover, and know that it gets younger as it gets later.

So here’s the play by play:

9:30 pm: Average age was 60. Apparently, if the door-boy from the other place thought he lost his customers to this place, it’s only because the 60 somethings didn’t want to hang with his 80 somethings.

SIDE NOTE: I am very impressed that 60-80 year olds are getting all dressed up to go bar-hopping and clubbing!!! In L.A. you hit 35 and you never go out again!

10pm- Sister is hypnotized by a gyrating, white jeaned, camel-toe who was reliving her stripper days from the 40s. I on the other hand was having an identity crisis. The people I kept referring to as “my age” Sister insisted were in their 20s. And the people who she was guessing were my age looked really old. AM I OLD? This is terrible! My only saving grace, was that no one could call me a cougar because there were some authentic “Housewives of Orange County” looking cougars in there! At one point some chick was lap dancing on a guy and Sister said, “That woman is totally Tamara!” and then a skinny younger chick started dancing around her, and I said, “And here comes Gretchen!” To which sister topped it off with a, “And there’s Vicki sitting on the couch.” She was right! Although, she may have been Gretchen and Tamara’s mother.

10:30pm, I get my signature drink so I look like a party girl, even though there’s no party in my drink… and then Sister’s college friend just happens to be there with his wife. Hallelujah! Cool people our age in the club and Sister gets to reminisce about school days. But the cool peeps only lasted until…

11pm, leaving us with a great people watching table. And at this point most of the Early Bird Specials had gone home and now the place was crawling with 20-year-olds. And of course, a couple of Creepos, all strategically placed around us.

11:15, Creepo number 1 makes his move. He is nine feet tall with a magician’s mustache and a unibrow. “Can I have the pleasure of a dance?” He asked. “No thank you,” I answered. “I can dance, “he said, “don’t let the height fool you.” Ummm Creepo, your height is not the problem, the way you look at me straight on with your eyeball when your head is facing 90 degrees away from me, is what’s freaking me out! Among other things! He walked away, and as another guy was making his approach, he thought he could get a quick nose pick in before Sister and I turned his way. No such luck. We caught it, and a dance or even him leaning his hand on our table was now completely out of the question. When a third tall and Creepy started lurking around us, we were going to leave, when we were mesmerized by what can only be described as Barbie Strippers.

Earlier, we hadn’t noticed the stripper poles, but now that two chicks in pink panties and tassel tops, were now dancing on the poles in high heeled white plastic boots, and tiaras… we had to stay for a little while trying to figure out what city Barbie and Skipper Stripper drove in from, because they were certainly not from these here parts!

Finally, at 11:30, we admitted defeat. Going out to bars, is not the answer for me.

I’m glad we went because we got to reconnect with Sister’s friends, and boy did Sister and I laugh a lot tonight. Of course, then we spent the car ride home asking the universe for forgiveness for making fun of people all night.  Though I’m sure it was balanced out by all the young people making fun of us for being out past our bed time.

Maybe when I’m 65 I’ll start going out to dance and party again. Hopefully Fergie will still be rockin’ the clubs in 30 years!

©2011

At midnight I made a silent toast to someone’s birthday… but what was REALLY exciting about it, was I made the toast with my new “signature drink”! I have so much secret stuff to tell you gals, but I can’t yet…

I know I know I’m such a tease, but I promise it will be worth it. AdventureBiz Babe, sent me a note from her sister that I was going to have a “big idea” if I gave myself the time to dream about it and relax enough to let it flow… and in the middle of my acupuncture session on Thursday, a culmination of ideas that had been swirling around in my head came together, like puzzle pieces… I can’t wait to share it with all of you! The big reveal will come in November, but perhaps before then, there’ll be a few secrets revealed.

In the mean time.. enough of that cryptic stuff. Sister and I went out tonight! We got all dolled up and went to “the avenue” where people of all ages and styles co-mingle together. At first it wasn’t going well. We sat at the bar, Sister got a glass of wine and I got my signature drink for the very first time. The bartender thought I was off my rocker, but Sister gave her a huge tip, so she was cool with it.  There were guys all around, but no one was talking to us. Sister said that we didn’t look like we fit in. We were looking L.A. kind of, if L.A. means, not tacky, which seemed to be “the look” this evening.

I was reminded of my freshman year, first semester, when every night I went out to the campus bar and no guys would talk to me.  Then on my last day of finals, I decided to go celebrate with a shot of coca cola, and went straight from the test to the bar… in my Champion sweatshirt and leggings. Suddenly, half the guys in the bar were talking to me. These were the same guys who were there every night. While surrounded by a group of 4 friends, I asked them why this was the first time they decided to talk to me. The answer was “this is the first time you look approachable.”

I guess Sunday night when Sister and I go to the Blue Martini we should wear sweats and an old Bon Jovi t-shirt if we want guys to talk to us.

Finally, I had to break the ice with the guy standing next to me. Moments before, some girl walked up to him giving the, “You look so familiar, where do I know you from?” He politely informed her that she didn’t look the least bit familiar to him, but she got his name and gave hers and they talked for a bit, and I just turned to Sister and said, “That really works?” He must have been a bit unresponsive because she gave up for a few minutes but then returned to tell him it was really bothering her because he looked SO familiar. I leaned in to him and advised him to tell her he’s a J. Crew model and she probably recognizes him from the catalogue.

He liked that. I don’t know if it was that by suggesting it I was insinuating that he could in fact be a model, or that I was talking to him, or what, but that started the conversation that would last for the rest of Sister and my evening there. Turns out he was from Long Island and went to College in my hometown, and I was from my hometown and went to college on Long Island. I told him his football team used to beat ours. He told me he never played sports. I decided it was time to talk to his friend.

His friend was from Brazil. I told him I took Brazilian Jiu Jitsu for a year with the Gracies. This impressed him. I somehow managed to drop a few more little tidbits of information on him. He started calling me the Snapple Lady. I didn’t get it because I can’t drink Snapple, because it has enough caffeine in it to kill me. He explained that I was full of “fun facts” (I guess it’s better than having someone think you’re full of sh*t). I guess Snapple bottles have fun facts on them.

Anyway, when the clock struck midnight, I said my silent happy birthday, finished my drink and said goodbye to the guys. Sister and I have to get up early tomorrow to hang out with Brazilian Booty Banger. He’s going to show Sister around his area so she’ll love it so much she’ll want to move there. Hopefully it won’t take much since I want to move there. Must get some sleep… we’re hitting the road early tomorrow.

©2011

I’m pleased to announce that as I type, Sister is here reading her weird Facebook messages from strange guys in Africa. Must be a new Facebook Spam. What I’m pleased about is that we’re having a 5-day sleepover and plan to go out so we have funny stories to share with you. Stay tuned.

In the mean time, Sister and I must bag on the Bachelorette. In a little segment we call “Seriously, Producers?”

First of all, who fitted these guys suits? Seriously, Producers? Can’t you find wardrobe for these Bozos? Take a look at the suit Justin Timberlake wore in his opening monologue… (time out, Sister is reprimanding me. She says, “Um people don’t have $8000 to spend on an Armani or Prada suit.  Most guys go to the Men’s Warehouse.”) Sister is right, however, it’s not about the brand or the price tag. It’s about the fit, bitches! Sister argues that the Chef and the Fourth Generation Butcher don’t know how to shop for suits, well maybe the Chef does… she says that it’s a hard thing. Sister also says, “I’m just saying, most women don’t really get their clothing tailored to fit either.” And sister brings me to the next section…

The Butcher? Seriously, Producers? What was that weird vogueing he was doing, and why did he speak like Rocky? And what was up with the pregnant………..pause before each thing he said. Seriously Producers!

Hold on… Sister’s on a rant, “Bentley is a poor excuse for a man. He’s going to go on the show and treat Ashley like that? And he has a daughter? WTF kind of role model is he? Gross! Seriously, Producers? You’ve got a U Penn dental student, who’s pretty, sweet, funny and kind… and you’re going to throw a Bentley in the mix?” This is not Bret Michael’s Rock of Love! We are girls watching this show. We want Ashley to find love. We don’t get bored with romantic dates, so, Seriously Producers, don’t offend us, with a Bentley. I may have to turn “A Bentley” into a glossary word! Every time you meet an A-Hole he will be known as a Bentley!

And Seriously, Producers, Phantom of The Opera? Who thought he was a good idea? And we know you’re forcing Ashley to keep him for the drama of the show. We’re not fooled, although we do laugh every time you strategically place him on a balcony and play organ music. But Seriously, Producers, is it necessary to keep making the Phantom antagonize Tim, and then walk away. Clearly Tim desired him, which is why he so cruelly pushed him away… and then when he was gone, Tim hit the drink.. and he hit hard!

And Seriously, Producers, Bear Snoring sound effects? Ferris Beuller’s snoring stereo was more realistic than that. And forcing poor Ashley to try to wake him up? Tim? …. Tim?…… Tim………. Tim? (poke poke) Tim?(jab jab)….. Tim… (Ashley clearly looking to the segment producer to let her leave the scene, but she is instructed to continue poking him.)  Seriously, Producers, even my mom said that she will never get those ten minutes back.

Do we need to discuss the guy who called his mother? And then for the mother to tell her to wear protection in the fantasy suite? Seriously Producers! Are they having sex in the fantasy suite, because Ashley is a good girl and I don’t appreciate “Momma’s Boy’s” Momma insinuating sin…

Sister brings up a great point. What’s up with the guys who got voted off, crying like little weenies? They’re not actors, they don’t know how to cry on cue. They spent like 40 seconds with her and they’re crying? Seriously, Producers.. the guy who came there knowing she was the love of his life and discussed it with his parents. Did you have Makeup blow menthol in his eyes to make him cry like that? Seriously, Producers, is that fair? Do you really think he’ll ever get a date now? You ruined his life! Seriously Producers!

And what’s up with Ames? Seriously, Producers, his teeth were freaking Sister out, and so we know they must be freaking Ashley out because she’s a dentist. Why’d you make her keep him over short yellow tie guy? At least he was cute.

Now Seriously, Producers, why do you feel it necessary to spoil all the dramatic plot lines by revealing in coming attractions what’s going to happen during the rest of the season?

And on a serious note.. Seriously, Producers, how do I get in touch with William, because he looks like Josh Lucas, and does somewhat funny impressions, and he’s like 26 which is perfect. So, Seriously, Producers… I want his number.

©2011

I WANT A TOUR BUS! I’m putting it out there y’all! Sister can stop holding her breath because I finally watched the season finale of Bethanny Ever After, and now I want a Romantic Comedy Girl Tour Bus. I want to take this show on the road. I’ve already got my slide show presentation and my speaking points planned out. I’m seeing the set design which of course includes my watered down cranberry juice with pure cranberry which tastes gross but has no sugar which will make Nutritionist happy because she knows it’s going to be a struggle for me to take care of myself in a bus. It will be in an alcoholic beverage glass, to make it look like I’m really drinking even though all of you know I don’t drink.. of course you’re all allowed to get drunk in the audience because then you’ll ask saucier questions.

There will be a yoga matt on the stage so a hot Yoga Instructor can demonstrate poses that will make us all better in bed, then of course I will try them and he will bend me around like a pretzel and one of you lucky girls will be brought up on stage to get bent around too (so maybe I’ll make that demo early on so no one throws up on stage… I don’t know how well yoga and alcohol mix).

Of course I’ll have a little boutique for you to shop in after the show, with branded vajazzling crystals, the romantic comedy girl beach set for girls cup size A-E (you’ll have to come to the show to see what that is), and my book!

Afterwards, you’ll all go out dancing at the club sporting your RMC tiaras while I go back to my bus and get a massage by my 26-year-old massage therapist/somethin’ somethin’ … if I’m paying him for the massage and then later get something AFTER the money trades hands, I can’t be arrested for boy prostitution can I? Well, if I can, then he has to have an equally hot twin brother to give me somethin’ somethin’ after my massage… or maybe before.. or maybe both.. and of course I would shower before my massage because it may be slightly incestual for him to massage my body with his brother’s perspiration all over me.

My tour bus will need two things to keep me alive 1. a large freezer filled with freezer meals from Wild for Wildtree (which is coming out with a gluten free line YAY!) and 2. a burner with a saucepan to cook my freezer meal in since that’s all it takes to prepare the deliciousness. Maybe while twin # 2 is massaging me, twin #1 can prepare my meal.. of course I won’t pay him to be my personal chef or I’ll have to find triplets… oooooo.. I think I’m on to something!

I’m very excited about my tour! The book will be done in no time… the branding is going to be fabulous because I was taking excellent notes while watching the Celebrity Apprentice this season. Now all I need are the sponsors…

Hmmm, you know what? I’m going to let you suggest the sponsors, because you have to like them. After all, one will probably be alcohol, so you’ll be drinking it, one will be a beauty product, so you’ll be wearing, it… and so on and so on. Write your ideas for sponsors in the comment box and before long, you and your best gal pals will be in a theater in your city waiting for my tour bus to roll up…

Cue the pink spotlight…

Yep that’s me in a bubble bath on stage. Every good entrance needs to make a splash!

©2011

“I pulled a you today,” Sister told me. I had an idea what that meant, but had to hear it for myself. You see I have a bit of a reputation with Sister and a few other friends as being brutally blunt. I’m not quite sure I understand the difference between blunt and honest, and when you’re being honest, so as not to play games with a person emotionally or mentally, how is that brutal?

I don’t see how when after having a pleasant conversation with a guy I’m not attracted to leads to him asking for my number to which I say, “I enjoyed talking with you but I’m not interested in pursuing this any farther,” makes me brutal, or mean, or harsh, or a bitch, as I’ve been called by the girls with their shocked expressions. How am I a bitch? I didn’t say it with a nasty tone. Where was the mean, brutal, harshness in that statement? I just don’t think people are used to saying what they mean or hearing the truth. Should I have given him a fake number? THAT would have made me a bitch. Should I have told him that he was nice to talk to but unattractive? THAT would have been brutal, mean, and harsh. But enough about me…

There’s a weird phenomenon that seems to be popping up in my life lately (did I say enough about me? I’m sorry, but I’m trying to make a point) it’s called con-text-fidence. (I know, I should add it to the glossary) People, who clearly have a problem communicating, suddenly get this new found confidence when they’re writing text messages. IC did it all of the time, and when I told him to stop texting me and call me instead, he said he was no good on the phone. What the heck does that mean? That you can’t speak on the phone the words that you can write in a text? Yes, apparently that’s exactly what it means. Texting is the new substitute for alcohol AKA liquid courage. My feeling is if you can’t say it, don’t display it… in my text messages. I don’t want to read what you what you can’t say with creed (I know that means a formal statement of Christian beliefs, but just leave out the Christian part so it means a formal statement of belief… because otherwise my sentence doesn’t rhyme). Don’t type with your finger, what can’t roll off your tongue and let linger…

I bet right about now you’re wanting to strangle me, but you can’t because you want to hear what happened with Sister. So here it is. Another online dating debacle. Unbeknownst to Sister, she met a manchild online. His profile had me cracking up… but now we know the truth… he’s only funny in “type.”

Sister had the conversation about wanting to SPEAK on the phone, too many times in my opinion, but she’s more forgiving than myself. At first, she accepted his excuses: I have to text because I’m at work and I have to text because I’m out with my friends in a loud bar. CORN! (See glossary if you’re wondering why I put a random word in caps there.. it’s not a random word).

But when you’re supposed to be on a date with a guy on Saturday night and instead you’re having a heart to heart conversation… via text… something is wrong. And Sister knew it. So she blew him off for 3 days. But he re-engaged this morning… with a text message, “Hey stranger, long time no speak.” Maybe that’s because you don’t know how to use a phone! No, she didn’t say that. That would be bitchy.. which she was not. Instead she texted back, “I told you how I feel about text message conversations. I prefer to speak by phone. That said, don’t call me because I’m not interested in pursuing this relationship any further.”

I’m doing the “Go Sister Go Sister.. Go Go.. Go Sister” dance right now. DJ Super Pilot, I’m sure you can offer up the perfect accompany music for my dance.

Now, when she told me what she had written, she said it completely matter of factly. He may read it as rude or harsh or bitchy, but that’s his fault. That’s what he gets for losing the tonality of having a verbal conversation. And don’t try to play that emoticon card with me, because I’ve used that smiley face many a time knowing full well I wasn’t smiling, but I wasn’t about to use the smiling demon face.

I think you should stop reading for a few seconds and give Sister a power clap for keepin’ it real!

Con-text-fidence is for woosies! I want to hear a man’s voice! I won’t start rhyming again, but I think you know I feel. If not, let me know, and I’ll add some more rhymes in the comment section.

Ladies, take a page from Sister’s diary and start keepin’ it real. It’s not brutal, it’s just honesty.

©2011

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I haven’t written a romantic comedy review since Morning Glory.. that was a while ago. There’s been a dry spell for good romantic comedies, but Something Borrowed gets 5 diamond tiaras!!!! I loved it. I had read the book years ago and didn’t remember the details so it completely sucked me in.

I don’t want to give away any plot points in case you haven’t seen it, so I’ll just say that, normally I would be very upset about the subject matter, but it was acted so well, I completely felt their pain. I sympathized and empathized. And I have to say, the ending surprised me.

So since I can’t discuss the movie, let me discuss a trailer that had me at the edge of my seat and tugging at my heart… One Day starring Ann Hathaway. “After spending the night together on the night of their college graduation Dexter and Em are revisited each year on the same date to see where they are in their lives.” It takes place over 20 years.

I have a feeling I’d better bring tissues to that one. By then I’ll have done my “VIP day” with Soulmate Guru. We’ll see if I can energetically cut the ties with First Love. I’m intrigued by her “Love Attraction Heartbreak Recovery” method. I think she has her work cut out for her! I told her that I’ve spent my entire life, not only focusing all of my time, money, and energy on career development, but also on avoiding and completely living in denial when it comes to my personal development.

Guess it’s time to say goodbye to denial, and commit fully to the process. She even likes the idea of me blogging about my experience as the day is progressing. Should be interesting. Stay tuned…

©2011