What were they thinking?: LuLu



symbol-sign-male-femaleI’ll admit, dating isn’t the easiest of things, nor should it be. You have the rest of you life to spend with “Mr. Right” so yes—I would say the challenge is worth it. I was fortunate enough for it all to happen before 30, but some of us have to spend a little more time in the dating pool and according to the creator the new app LuLu, which rates men in previous “relationships”, this new app is a necessary item to survive the whole dating scene.

As stated on their website, Alexandra Chung created LuLu because her girlfriends needed it. Then there is a picture of the founder who doesn’t appear to have a single physical flaw on her upper body. I find her “About us” a little overconfident in how “needed” she is by her friends…but even today what qualifies a “friend”? Centuries ago a friend was an individual whose company you enjoyed and it would later prompt you to attend parties with them, trade clothes and raunchy stories, and even buy them a birthday gift. Thus, the birth of the term: “friendship.” Today, a friend can be that or someone you “friended” on Facebook because you wanted to see more cute pictures of their Boston Terrier. So I’m sure you can understand my skeptical attitude when it comes to this gorgeous babe’s “friends” who “need” this LuLu app.

From what I can tell, this app allows you to connect through Facebook and either write a review on a past mate, or review a review of a potential one. There are questions like: “what is his best physical characteristic?” and “what is his worst quality?”…etc etc.

First of all, regarding physical appearances, I find this totally unfair especially since several individuals will probably review a guy on Lulu prior to going out on a date with them. There is a HUGE difference in the way I dressed on a first date than I would today with my husband. First dates are about courting someone. Many more things were plucked, straightened and applied back in the courting phase and that’s what the whole first date is about. It’s about actually buying a new dress and re-applying perfume before catching a drink with the hottie who asked for your number at the last party. I say skip the LuLu for first dates; if he doesn’t comb his hair and that’s a problem for you, at least you get a free drink out of it.

Second, since the explosion of social networks, there’s no avoiding the connection with the opposite sex via the internet. I’ll admit that MySpace and AOL chat were both HUGE communication outlets for me (Jivegal1) any my husband (C4tfi$h) as we hooked up, broke up and then made out a week later. So you can image how endearing I find it when someone actually meets someone at a grocery store or through a blind date set up by a friend. I mean, do we even know what each other are doing on the weekends unless we check our Twitter accounts?

I actually have a single friend currently “involved” with a gentleman whom she was set up with through a co-worker. I originally admired the charm behind the whole “old-school” start to the relationship until I learned that they emailed each other’s background and history prior to going on their first date. At least I enjoyed the first half…

Finally—and back with a little more focus on this LuLu app—don’t women know that this will ultimately result in a spiteful action from men everywhere? I don’t always play Devil’s Advocate, but I can smell this a mile away. Some dude-bro will probably not get a returned phone call from the hot little thing he went out with the weekend before and then will find out it’s because she read a review on LuLu about how he calls everyone his “hot little thing”. On a much higher level, this LuLu will ultimately result in the creation of a vengeful app called MuMu with an “About Us” that states: “Because my bros need to know what cows have found out what a jerk we are via LuLu.”

Remember that song “Pigeons” in response to “Scrubs” by TLC? There you go world. You’ve been warned.



Men smile, we cave. Backing support that my husband and George Clooney can make me do anything with a smile.


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Who needs washboard abs when you have that grin?

Who needs washboard abs when you have that grin?

99.8% of (straight) American women would do anything for George Clooney short of committing a terrorist attack (and even that is debatable).  It’s no surprise that Clooney’s secret weapon to swooning a pack of females is his smile and apparently he isn’t the only one who is able to make women cave by flashing us his pearly whites.

According to the Daily Mail Online, a study by Granada University found that when males corresponded with females with a smile, women assumed a more submissive posture.

Growing up I remember getting in trouble more from my mom accusing me of being sassy not for what I said, but for how my delivery was; personal proof that women pay more attention to body language and to tone.

But can you smile too much?  Being a part of the PR/marketing/sales industry, you can’t seem to get away from smiling.  I also question grinning in politics. After mentally reviewing the presidential debates and my reaction to them, Mitt Romney’s grin was often and tended to linger, where as Obama’s was more of a reaction.  Is there a healthy medium to smiling at women to get the response you want? Maybe our president attended a social psych class teaching him about this study guaranteeing him the single female vote.  Can you blame him?

As someone who carries the manipulative gene (and chooses wisely how to use it), I’ll more observant of the next time my husband talks me into something.  He too has a pretty irresistible grin…and I’ve found myself being a little more agreeable lately.  All this time I’ve been blaming it on the holidays.

Stay tuned.

Finally, an end to cat calling…or is it?




The year is 2012.  In a time where women have been kidnapped, raped and have encountered sexual molestation by your words, it is not the time to ask if you can have some fries with my shake.  Leave the whistling in the 1950’s.
When you ask us “baby what’s good wit you b’sides yo fine ass” we do not get a sense of assurance that you like our bottom, we get that natural fight or flight instinct which can either end in us walking away from your pathetic attempt or can end with you in a full body cast.
Please enjoy this journalism at it’s finest.


A married woman who first went on a date with her husband after he invited her to get saucy downtown.

Probem Solving…with Sex?


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Pop singer, Pink recently admitted in an interview with The Advocate that she sometimes solves her problems by having sex with her husband, Carey Hart.

I’m not being coy when I admit that, I normally solve a  problem with my husband by pouting and then making him go to the store to buy ice cream; sometimes giving him the power of choice when it comes to flavor depending on if the “problem” was him or not.

Then again, it’s possible (more than likely) that if I was married to Carey Hart and had the same 15-pack core that Pink has, I too would probably use sex to solve all my problems.

Also, I wouldn’t limit using sex to solve my problems with just my spouse.  Why stop there? Listed below are five problems or issues I faced last week where I wish I would have used sex to solve the problem, or at least had sex to make me feel better about the situation.

1. The new girl at work completely added triple the amount of work to my load because I have to watch and review everything she does causing me to stay at least 20 minutes late every day.
Solution: Take an extra 20 minutes at lunch to go home and squeeze in a quicky after a bite to eat.

2.  I want to record both the Real Housewives of NJ Reunion: Part Three and Dexter, but the hubby wants to watch Sunday Night football.
Solution: Offer to watch his program in the bedroom where there’s a separate DVR, spend 30 minutes playing football between the sheets, which should allow you to finish just in time to play back the Kim D. confrontation with Teresa.

3.)  I really “need” to purchase the black and tan topsiders to go with the new skinny jeans, but I’m too afraid of all the uncashed checks already floating around for bills.
Solution: Make a barter with the hubby.  You know what I mean 😉

4.)  Both my check engine light AND my oil light came on this weekend.
Solution: Yell at my husband for driving my (our) car like a jerk and then explain that he can not only take your car in to get serviced tomorrow, but for right now he can take you in for service-oooo la la!

5.)  Our washing machine broke.
Solution:  I’m too tired, call the landlord.

I guess it’s no mystery anymore how Pink and Hart keep their body fat percentage under 1%; I’m spent just from writing about so much lovin.

IHTM; I was sexually batteried and was battered at school because of it.


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Middle school can be absolutely awful.  It’s bad enough being surrounded by hormonal bitchy friends and having to publicly go through awkward new body developments, but it’s also the breeding ground for rumors.  Middle school sucks.

I grew up with strict parents who kept a pretty tight leash.  So when my mom let me go to to a Halloween party by myself I was floored and I think they were pretty unprepared.  Naturally she made me participate in some stupid “Just say boo to drugs” event first, but the fact that she was trusting me to go to a party without them or either of my brothers was a new concept.

It was the fall of 1997.  I was 13, but I wasn’t like most of my friends at all.  My libido hadn’t kicked in yet and I was more interested in boys for their fart jokes than I was for them thinking I was pretty.

Of course I was late to the party and rather then holding the entire party up, two of my guy friends fell behind to wait for my mom to drop me off so we could go trick or treating together.  Things were going great.  It was my first night of pseudo-freedom, I was with two guy-friends (lets call them Jared and Jake) who I actually enjoyed being around and I was getting free candy.

Jared, Jake and I were approaching a house when we saw a group of guys correlating in front of a house; two of which we knew from school and church (let’s call them Craig and Peter).  Craig was about five feet and pretty porky.  At least double my size back then where as Peter who was tall and slender. We decided to approach them to say hi, but something was off.

As we approached the scene it was pretty apparent that the group had been drinking.  With such straight parents, I wasn’t too familiar with was “wasted” looked like, but I can remember as bizarre slur of words and the weird smell of peach schnaps.

Everything happened so fast.  I can remember Craig taking me aside, putting his arm around my shoulders and flirting with me which I just thought was weird. Then he started to say foul things to me. Once I regained my personal space, I tried to leave, but then noticed my friends were cornered by the rest of the goons.  The scene was very 80’s brat pack where the big older bullies try to steal candy from the small nerdy boys…not that either boy was nerdy at all.

I tried pleading with Craig to let us go, but that seemed to just piss him off.  He grabbed me and put me in a headlock.  All this time I thought he was kidding.  That was until he started insisting that he’d let me got if I’d give him a BJ–keep in mind that at 13 I had just learned what a blow job was and the idea of anyone’s penis being within 12 inches from my face made me want to throw up.

The rest of the moments blurred together, but two things I clearly remember; one was the disgust I felt as I saw him reaching for his zipper with one hand and pushing my locked head with the other. The second was standing over him after flipping him over my knee.  Silence.

Seeing their 180 pound friend being body slammed over the knee of some scrawny 13-year-old girl gave us our chance to leave and we walked away.

Walking back to the party my friends kept asking me if I was OK and my thoughts were, I’m not bleeding, the penis stayed inside his pants and I just flipped a boy twice my size over my knee…I’m awesome.  It wasn’t until we got back to the party that the overwhelming emotion surrounded around the question “why” took over my body and I feel to my knees and started to cry.

Naturally, the on duty parent made a call to my parents and my mom-or maybe it was my dad-sped to the party location, picked me up and called the police after what had happened was confirmed with both me and my two companions.

I can remember the next week was a nightmare.  The police had contacted my parents to let them know they had picked up “the suspect”.  The next couple of days were spent re-telling my story to teachers, social workers and even the school resource officer.  It was embarrassing.

Craig eventually returned to school and that’s when the harassment began.  There was his side of the story, my side of the story and then there were the rumors.  I wasn’t really interested in ever seeing speaking to Craig ever again, but my parents demanded that I never have to see him again which involved an entire change in my schedule.

At some point I can remember being harassed by some of Craig’s friends and just hearing one person call me a liar made me feel like everyone thought I was.  Once I even heard someone say that I had accused him of rape.  By no means did I ever feel like he was going to rape me, but it felt like every time I attempted to extinguish that rumor, someone else would over hear me say the word “rape” and a new rumor would start.

As everything in the world, the hype eventually died down and my “event” was talked about less and less and then someone in our class got pregnant which was like god-send to me.  The less drama and chat surrounding Halloween of 1997, the better.

When I got to high school I learned that Craig had dropped out.  That was a legal choice you could make at 16 in Florida.  Whether that was true or not, I had no idea.  I basically never heard from or about him again until three years later.  That’s when I learned he had died…allegedly from an Oxy overdose.  I was in psychology class when the announcement was made.  I don’t even know why my teacher announced it.  I remained silent, but my own paranoia made me feel like everyone was staring at me.  There was maybe one or two peers in my class who probably were staring at me because they had remembered the rumors…but my stomach turned much like it did every time I saw Craig in the halls when I was in middle school.

Almost 14 years later, somehow my fiancee and I were discussing sexual harassment issues when I told him my story.  He was so dumbfounded that I had never discussed the matter…I was more amazed about how much I could and how much more I could not remember.  I knew that another 14 years from now I would probably forget the event in it’s entirety so I needed to get the events on paper…or at least on the internet.

Ready for it to be here, but not for it to necessarily be over with.

Having an (almost) two year engagement is something that I would recommend. It was perfect.  I had an extra Christmas bonus in between and also a extra tax refund that helped in my financial situation.

I don’t think much has changed since Jeremy proposed.  To say our engagement has “brought us closer” is redundant because I feel like I get closer to Jeremy every single day.  Since January 29, 2011 a few friends have moved away (don’t worry, you are still invited), Jeremy got a new truck, I’ve rearranged our kitchen cabinets twice and Jeremy has finally started locking the back sliding glass door when he leaves.

Today we are in full plan mode.  We finally paid off our venue for the reception and have a menu as well as an official time for “arrival, announcements and plating”. We are still in the process of paying off our wedding bands (worst time to buy gold. Ever.), tasting cakes and I have my invitations narrowed down to five options—I was at 23.




Wedding dress


Bridesmaids dresses


Groomsmen rentals


Picking out “our song”

Picking out “father/daughter dance”



Save the Dates

Wedding registry



Wedding favors


I can’t help but laugh when I think that I have 20 Moroccan lanterns sitting in our guest bedroom and I haven’t even sent out (or official decided on) wedding invitations.

Two things I think Jeremy and I learned is that Mens Warehouse associates do not advise wearing a suit to weddings (you should wear a tux) and second wedding registries take about three hours at Bed Bath & Beyond.

I’m pretty confident I can speak for both of us, but I just wish it would be here.  Not necessarily over, but I can’t wait for the moment when I am surrounded by friends and family holding a champagne flute in my hand knowing that we don’t have to go to work for an entire week and can focus on being each other’s spouse.  Because legally that’s what we will be; husband and wife.  Weird.



Being Bethanny



We are all guilty of taking someone with and “extreme” personality and applying it as an adjective to describe how someone else is acting.  If you are denying that you do this, I’d like for you to take a long trip down memory lane at your last “ladies night” and remember your slurring words towards your friend after she confided in you about her most recent threesome: “Gosh, that is so Samantha Jones of you.”  Don’t worry.  Your “friend” probably either responded (or thought to respond): “Sheesh, I’m hanging out with all ‘Charlottes’ these days!”

Today, we’ve all gotten so lazy to the point where we don’t want to think of various descriptive words so we just call someone a “Charlotte”: prudish, pretty, snobby…etc.

Earlier this week, I was chatting with a co-worker and I thought I should step outside of the Sex and the City box and I actually referenced another co-worker as a “Bethanny.”  At first, I thought she got my drift when she responded with: “is that Bethanny with one N or two?”  But I quickly realized she was just trying to be cute and didn’t have a clue about what or who I was referencing.

Who I was referencing was everyone’s favorite ex-NY housewife, Bethanny Frankel.  Who I was describing was this super loud, blunt and kind of crazy co-worker, but it was OK because she was cute.

You know the type; life of the party (or conference room), but are so distraught of the attention they are receiving. They are the types who fake a mobbing just to because they isn’t enough drama in the world. On he other side, how is this person so attractive to others?  Life is so much simiplier and yet guys and even yourself seems so drawn to her (or his) magnetic soul crush field.

There’s really no scientific answers to these questions, but the only think I can put together is that she’s probably easy…

I’ve witnessed several “Bethanny’s” in my life and I used to be a fan…these days, Bethanny “ever after” is really just about an emotionally unstable woman pretending to prend to be tough, but the episode always ends up with her crying on a couch.  It was fun the first episode, but I don’t know if I can handle it anymore on Bravo or in real life for that matter.

Dashing through the sand…

Christmas this year has been nostalgic.  My fiancee and I bought our first real tree together.  Both our mothers are allergic to real Christmas trees so neither of us have actually recognized the scent until the flood of memories smacked us in the face wen we  entered the Christmas tree tent at Lowes.  All the sudden I remember what my family’s home smelled like on Christmas in 1992.

This is not a picture of our tree...or fire place for that matter.

Considering it’s the Christmas before our wedding, we tried to be cheap this year, but in all honesty, I think I spent more this year than any other year…you know how that goes…

I learned how to bake this year.  OK, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  I know how to bake, but I willingly came up with the idea to bake cookies and goodies for the family and actually executed the idea.  Gingerbread cookies; sugar cookies; rumballs (hit!); and fudge (not quite a hit…in fact, garbage).  All made from scratch.  In your face Betty Crocker’s “just add water”.

The last couple of years have been “out of the norm” for me having a family within the same county…or at least the same tri-county.  For years I worked two jobs and normally would skip out on traveling to see family so I could pick up an extra shift or two at work.  Christmas dinner would be Chinese takeout and left-over Christmas Ale and stale rum cake from the party I threw the week before.

The last couple of years have been surrounded more around traditional happenings.  Jeremy and I go to church on Christmas Eve, hit up some bar afterwards, open one present when we finally get home. Then Christmas morning we wake up and do presents and mimosas and later we have Christmas dinner at his aunt and uncle’s house.

While I’m sure our “traditions” around Christmas will continue to change and mold into “our Christmas” over the next few years, I’m pretty content with what we have going on.

Merry Christmas, y’all!

My Faux Relationship with the Kardashian Family.



As the outrage starts to slowly simmer over Kim Kardashian’s recent end to her two-month marriage, I’m finally ready to admit that the fact that I refer to Kim Kardashian as just “Kim” and Kris Jenner as “momma Kardashian” is just inappropriate.

I think it was a colleague of mine who pointed out my ridiculous addressing of the individuals of the Kardashian clan.  Actually, it was more of a “point and laugh” at my reference.

It got me thinking…what if I were a Kardashian? 

Obviously, I’d have to change my name to a “K” name…here’s what I came up as appropriate “K” names that could also start with a “C”:

Katheryn; Katherine; Kathy
Katlin; Kaytlin; Kaitlyn; Kaitlin…and so on.
Korrin (Corrine)
Kassandra; Kassie
Ultimately, I decided my fav was Kassie.

Once I had my “K name” I knew I had to pick “a side”.  For those of you as up to date with, Keeping up with the Kardashians, you know that there are actual family sides.  There’s Kourtney and Khloe’s side vs. Kim-or vs. Kim and “momma Kardashian”, and there’s even a Kylie and Kendall vs. Bruce side.  Poor poor Bruce.

Choosing a side was tough, so in due course I started to list their PROs and CONs.

Kim and Kris

-Lots of traveling
-Mom would prioritize me and my career
-Kim seems easily amused so it probably won’t take much to entertain her.
-Awesome gifts from Kim (did you see what she got her mom before the wedding OMG OMG!?!).

-Lots of traveling
-Attention from “Momma Kardashian” could cause rifts between Kim and I.
-I can’t afford gives to reciprocate what they give me.

Kourtney and Khloe

-I won’t be the butt of all the jokes.
-Edgy style desperately needed among their pink and animal printed fabrics and I could be the sista to do that!
-Cool husbands
-Good senses of humor

-I might end up as the butt of all the jokes.
-Could be the sista to completely destroy the DASH brand.
-Actually only ONE cool husband.
-See first con: I might end up as the butt of all the jokes.

Yes, I was deadlocked.  I needed to stop being selfish and think of which side would benefit from me more and I eventually decided to be on the Kim/Kris side.  Maybe I can trick them by buying cubic zirconia jewelry and have the same reaction Kim did when she went on vacation and almost lost one of her uninsured diamond earrings.

If I was a Kardashian, I’d be the unmarried, single one which would be beneficial because I could laugh in the face of marriage with Kourtney, but then also laugh behind her back because everyone saw how big of a douche her boyfriend is.

I’d also try accept the challenge of being a good influence on Kylie and Kendall by telling them to save themselves for marriage, but they’d still think I was the coolest because I’d probably buy them both the complete series of Sex and the City for their 16th birthday.

I’ve got some mixed feelings about my faux relationship with the Kardashian Family, but maybe they’ll make room for me next season.