Recently in DATING Category

There is a time in every woman's life where she makes the decision if she is having sex that night (yes boys 99.5% of the time we know in advance if sex is on the menu and we make the call don't get it twisted).

She then begins a process called the "sex shower".

Some women do it in anticipation that they might have sex, and some women do it only when they know it's a sure thing. It really is just an extra long shower in which we make sure we are as smooth, clean, and sweet smelling as humanly possible. An old tranny- esque roommate used to scream at me "Toni, get out of the shower you are f*cking up your skin."

Anywho, I needed to bring this up because I just read that a woman near Key West (Pirateville) just crashed her car because she was shaving while driving. I have some thoughts on this:

Shaving your cookie is hard enough. Is shaving and driving the new texting/driving?

She was in route to see her boyfriend. What there are no bathrooms where you were coming from or going to?

Her ex-husband was in the passenger seat. Even the best ex/friend situation would still feel some type of way about this?

Did she have a Venus? Did she Bic it? Shave gel? Was the bitch doing it dry? Grizzle.

If any of you have been reading my posts lately, you know that I'm a LONG way out from getting engaged.

But, when given the opportunity to review this book, I thought, what the hell.

If I can get over my alcoholism long enough to survive a first date, let alone a relationship, maybe, just maybe, I will be engaged in my lifetime.

At which point I will be able to say to myself, "Good thing I read Michael Batsaw's, 51 Things You Should Know Before Getting Engaged."

The book is a quick, easy, practical read, a perfect coffee table addition at just 5" x 5" in every soon-to-be engaged girl's fave - Tiffany's blue.

No yoga moves are needed for this one.

Just a bathtub, a removable shower head, and well, another type of head.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

I think the image explains it all.

You'll think of your bathtub in a whole new way.

You're welcome.

Note to self: When calling a car service, it helps to know where the hell you actually ARE.

Another note to self: Wedging a menu between a door will not keep it from shutting.

There's really only one word to describe my life at this exact moment: tragic.

Where do I even begin....

Well, I suppose it all started last night at a cocktail party at Top of the Rock.

Three glasses of champagne later (and no dinner) E and I went to meet up with her boyfriend at the Black Finn.

Three (four, five?) glasses of wine later, E and her bf left, I stayed to finish watching the men's Olympic free skate with, oh, let's just go ahead and call him "ONS," E's bf's friend.

I was actually quite fine all throughout the Black Finn.

I was even fine when I went to a friend's bday party at Von shortly after (to which ONS tagged along).

I was still fine when, after the bday party (couldn't even tell you what time this was - 3am?) ONS and I left and, walking up Bowery, stopped into Phebes (you know, that weird pub/sports bar place across from B-Bar).

Yet another glass of wine down, and that was it.

Done.
Dunzo.
Plastered.

When I got the opportunity to review a book for GC, I got mostly excited for an excuse to dig up an image of the original Book It! pin I used to get in elementary school.

Anyone remember this??

We'd get pins for every book we read (or something like that), and then you could redeem at Pizza Hut.

Those were the days. (And apparently, Book It's still going! Graphic has sadly changed a bit, but still the same gist.)

So down to the book. Adding More Ing To Your Life, by Gabrielle Bernstein.

Ok kids.

I've done some thinking.

And I've decided I'd have to be absolutely out-of-my-mind-el-desperado to see The Stalker again.

And while el desperado I may be, no amount of desperation can drive me to willingly start two and a half years of Stalker nonsense up again.

I haven't broken the news yet, but I'm hoping it doesn't lead to a box of dead roses showing up at my door on Valentine's Day accompanied by notes like these

Wish me luck...er more like, R.I.P.

If you guys forgot; I'm the edit assistant here, and have the occasional meep meep. Today, I need to vent, re: dating.

Whatever happened to opening the door for the lady? Or, walking her home?

The other day the girls & I went to a club for a friend's birthday (note: I'm in school up in RI, so by club, I mean "the club", the one which everyone goes to on the weekends). I met a cute guy, and, I must say, we hit it off pretty well. The conversation was not forced, it was just flowing.

Sparks aside, he also managed to do everything right: bought me a drink, danced with me and managed to slip in a few kisses here and there.

Unfortunately, my night came to a screeching halt when my "responsible" friend realized the bottle of wine she downed wasn't sitting too well.

We needed to evacuate immediately.

Well, well well.

Look what popped up on my Macbook screen yesterday:

AIM IM with _______ 12/4/10 12:11 PM

STALKER: Hi lauren how are you? Let me first start off by apologizing for going mia. Ive been thinking of you

ME: I really don't know what to say to you
why did you stand me up?
12:30 PM

STALKER: I screwed up and was a jerk. No excuses, but id really like to make it up to u.
I wouldve reached out sooner but felt so stupid i never did
Since ive realized how much i miss u, im reaching out now
12:37 PM

When I was asked to go cover PurpleLab Cosmetic's "Find Your Luvah" Speed Dating event, I thought, why not?

I had never speed dated before and besides, with VH1's Tough Love host Steve Ward at the helm, I figured it would at the very least be entertaining (not to mention a portion of proceeds going to benefit Women in Need).

So I got my dating partner in crime (we'll just call her "K") on board, along with a couple of platonic (?) male friends (one of which apparently likes to wear his sunglasses at night), and off we headed to the W Hoboken (that's right - I trekked my Manhattan ass out to Jersey).