Time Zone Trauma by Liz

As you most of you know, Lisa and I have been, well, inseparable since we met our freshman year of high school. (What can I say?  I knew anyone that could pull off red eyeglasses and an LA Gear jean jacket would make a good partner in crime!) And with few exceptions, we've stuck by each others side for the past, *gulp* TWENTY THREE YEARS. And since that fateful day in 1989, we've been like peanut butter and jelly.  Milk and cookies.  Or Grey Goose and olive juice!

So we totally get it when people are a little freaked out by the parallel lives we've been leading since then.  It's even baffled us at some point or another.  Maybe because:

• We went to college together and lived in same house for years without killing each other! (but just barely, there was an incident involving hand-bending and The Fugitive movie...)

• We joined the same sorority. (how else could we have scored our fake IDs?)

• We had the same major AND took all our classes together even after most teachers started calling us BOTH Lisa! (cue my junior year identity crisis...)

• We have parents that STILL live a mile from each other in San Diego.(My mom is her dad's real estate agent! Does it get any more incestuous than that?)

• AND, back in the day, we *coincidentally* both dumped our good-for-nothing boyfriends the same week. (Because, of course, we both used to love dating jackasses!)

But that all ended last July when Lisa left me to be with her super fabulous fiance.  And although we didn't actually SEE each other very much when we lived five miles apart(Lisa was always working and Liz was drowning in dirty diapers), it was nice to know that happy hour with her was just a phone call away. (Or an email-in those days her blackberry was permanently glued to her hand.)  Now even trying to talk shit about The Real Housewives of New Jersey requires a major calendar synchronization!

So it's been a tough transition for us.  Because not only are we friends, but we're co-authors and business partners too.  And with Lisa waking up a two hours earlier than me each morning, that leaves a whole lot of emails that I'm opening sans caffienation.

Got an early morning workout in Chicago? I really want to hear about your new yoga class, I really do. But you do realize it's f*cking 4am here, right?

Just can't wait to Facebook about who gets the final rose each Monday night? Hey beyotch!  It's bad enough that PSTers can't even log on to Twitter for fear of spoilers. Now you're doing it too?  Is this because we enjoy sun all year round?

So yes, communicating properly has become a whole lot harder since Lisa headed down Route 66 on her way to her new life.  But the bright spot?  We actually talk live a lot more then we used to when she lived here.  And absence really does make the heart grow fonder-I think I may have actually written "Love you!" on a text the other day (a gesture which very clearly breaks our robot friendship bylaws).

But like any great friendship, we'll make our differences(time differences, that is...) work until we can get in the same time zone once again. And the moral to this story?  Call up your BFF and ask her to meet you for a glass of wine this week.  you never know where life will lead you-take time to enjoy your friendship today!

Lisa Steinke Aka Sally Jesse Raphael By Lisa

The year was 1987. Walk Like an Egyptian topped the charts; Ollie North defended his role in Iran-Contra; Platoon won the Academy Award for best picture and Lisa Steinke knowingly and willingly got big, f***ing, honking, red glasses that made her look like Sally Jesse Raphael.

Why the f**k would she do that?

Well, like any good, respectable daughter, I'm going to throw my dad under the bus on this one.

Good ol' Bob Steinke who simply did NOT give a rat's ass about my teenage angst and awkward phases. Bob Steinke, who didn't seem to care that I was struggling with major drama like pads vs. tampons; Sun-In vs. bleach and Corey Haim vs. Corey Feldman.

My dad's only focus was figuring out how to keep his teenage daughter with raging hormones as far away from boys as possible. Hmm...now that I think about it, he definitely didn't encourage anything that would make me LOOK better. Some of his "rules"...

Couldn't date 'til I was 17!

Couldn't get my drivers license 'til I was 18!

Couldn't shave my legs 'til I was 16! (Don't worry--although I clearly wouldn't have known what tweezers were if they'd stabbed me in the freakin' eye, I DID get my mits on a Bic Razor and secretly shaved my hairy ass legs a long time before that.)

So, there I was...15 years old...a freshman in high school and feeling awkward as all hell. My boobs were growing so fast rumors swirled that I got implants; I had questionable fashion sense (even though I still really, really want to believe that my L.A. Gear high tops and matching L.A. Gear jean jacket were in style?!) My hairstyle was, well, a perm. And apparently I had a strange desire to place a barrett on the very top of my head.

Late at night as I'd listen to my Tiffany tape (Could've Been was a personal fav) and cry about my terribly hard life, I'd think, "At least I FINALLY got my braces off!"....

And then I went to the eye doctor and received the news that apparently I was blind as a bat. But there was NO WAY I was going to wear glasses! I was going to get contact lenses instead!

Not.

Not if Bob Steinke had anything to do with it. I was wayyyy too young, irresponsible and immature for those, he said with a satisfied smile on his face.

In front of the optometrist, I screamed that I didn't want to go from "brace face" to "four eyes!" I'd walk into doors and walls before I'd be caught dead in glasses! I didn't need to see the letters E, C, D, F or Z! He was ruining my life!

But dear ol' dad didn't flinch. His answer was an unequivocal NO. And when Bob Steinke said, "NO"-- let's just say he meant it.

So being the fifteen year old "rebel" that I was, I said f**k it, If I'm going to wear glasses, I'm going to wear glasses. I'm going to make a statement!

But it wasn't until I stepped foot on campus the next day, that I put two and two together.

"Hey Sally!"

"I want to be on your talk show!"

"Look--Sally Jesse Raphael goes to Vista High now!"

I ran into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

F**k. I did look like Sally Jesse f***ing Raphael.

And then I remembered what my dad said to me as I stubbornly tried on glasses. "Yes, you should DEFINITELY get the red ones."

I couldn't deny it. The game had a clear winner.

Bob Steinke- 1.

Lisa Steinke- ZERO.