Have you ever loved something so much that you just wanted to bone out on it? To be clear, we're not talkin' about your main squeeze or your crush on Edward Cullen. We're referring to the way you feel about your sexy new knee-high boots; that perfect pair of jeans that makes your ass look amazing; or even that tiny new purse that barely holds your keys and cell phone. So this goes out to all of you that crushed on your first car or mourned the loss of your favorite pair of shoes...You are not alone!
Lisa's inanimate lovers
When Bob Steinke told me I could get a brand new Honda Civic hatchback after I graduated from high school, I was ecstatic! I daydreamed about driving my red, shiny, compact car; windows down--my long, blonde hair blowing in the wind; listening to my Timmy T tape at full volume. *cue apropos car braking screeching sound*
Bob Steinke had (has) a way of forgetting really important conversations. Like when he said I could wear a strapless dress to my junior prom. Or when he told me I could date the guy with all the tattoos. So, long story short, instead of a new car, I ended up in some guy's driveway-- from an ad we answered in the Penny Saver-- staring at my future "wheels"-- a light blue, Mazda 323.
Marty Mazda. I named the car Marty because, well, it just wasn't clear if he was a boy or a girl. (Even when you looked under the hood *wink* *wink*.)
Marty turned out to be more than just a car. He-she never got mad when someone puked jungle juice all over the back seat. He-she never seemed to mind all the empty Carl's Jr. bags strewn across the floor. And He-she never complained about my music choices! Not so much as a sputter when He-she had to suffer through Bryan Adams, when I put Jesus Jones on replay or even when I blasted Marky Mark & the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations". (Now if that's not loyalty, I don't know what is!)
So, I ended up crushing on Marty. He-she was like that guy you don't notice at first. But after a while, you start to look at him differently. And then suddenly, your heart starts to race when you see him! Well that's what happened with my underdog car... that I could gun up to 105 MPH and actually give Liz's brand new Acura Integra a real run for its money when we raced. (Sorry moms!) And I loved Marty Mazda faithfully until the day I was able to afford a brand new car. A 1995, four door, RED, Honda civic. Her name was Rhonda Honda... but she was no Marty Mazda.
You know what they say...once you go Mac, you never go back! And once I saw my new Mac's "hard drive" I knew I'd made the right decision.
But our love was tested very early in our relationship when Mac got very sick and had to go to the Apple hospital. I was told he might completely lose his memory and I shuddered at the thought that he'd forget the Imovies we made together and our shared obsession with Youtube videos. (D**k in a box just never got old for us!)
But while Mac was away, I still had to play. And so I cheated on him...with Sony Vaio!
And every time I typed away on Sony Vaios keys, I felt dirty and ashamed. Especially because he wasn't half the computer Mac was. Sony Vaio was argumentative and stubborn. Downloading attachments took forever! He was making my life a living hell. But he was all I had and he knew it.
When Mac came home seven days later,(memory intact, thank God!) I had no choice but to tell him the truth about my sordid business with Vaio.
But being the perfect man he is, he forgave me. *hugs Mac*
Liz's intimate lovers
CHI the flat iron
My tresses and I have always had somewhat of a tumultuous relationship. On any given day, it can either be sweet and sassy or moody and unruly. A cold front or lingering cloud cover could turn me into a Frizzy Lizzy faster than you could say Bon Jovi . And considering the fact that the only hair-straightening option back in the day was to literally IRON it, I just learned to embrace my thick and frizzy mane.
Lucky for me, "looking like you just stuck your finger in a light socket" hair was all the rage for most of the 80s and early 90s! (Thank you SJP and Kelly LeBrock!) But by 1996, there was no escaping the fact that curly hair was on the way OUT. Big-haired celebrities were being replaced by the perfectly-coiffed likes of Jennifer Aniston and Reese Witherspoon.
And so began my quest for hair that I could run my hand through without getting stuck. First came the round brush. My hairdresser could get it perfectly straight with this seemingly magical instrument, why couldn't I? Then I tried hot rollers, even though it seemed counterproductive to put rollers in my hair to make it straight. But neither of these things were able to give me the thing I desired most: smooth, silky hair.
But then I found her. Hiding in the back of my local beauty supply, she was the solution I had been searching for. Her name was Chi and it was love at first site.
Finally! With Chi, I was able to burn my curly hair into submission in mere minutes! Gone were the days of frizz and frustration. I was a new woman! No longer did I envy my straight-haired counterparts with their perfect ponytails and Rachel haircuts. Chi had given me a new spring in my step and I loved her for it.
Chi and I went everywhere together. Business trip? Chi gave me the confidence I needed for my big presentation. Vegas? Chi made sure I could hold my own at Hard Rock. In the dumps? Chi knew that having stick-straight strands would bring a smile to my face.
And to this day, I still have mad love for Chi. And although I must admit that I've had to trade her in a few times, (So sorry about all those times I dropped ya, girl! I never meant to hurt you!) she will always be my starter iron.
And you know what they say, you never forget your first...
"Stu" my first pair of Stuart Weitzman heels
Lisa bestowed Stu upon me after she decided I would enjoy him more than her. And boy, did I ever! For the next two years, Stu and I were inseparable. I wore him to work. I wore him with jeans. I even threw up on him when I was pregnant! But Stu didn't mind. He was just that kind of shoe.
And in return, I pampered him endlessly. I made multiple trips to the shoe repair shop to make sure Stu stayed in great shape. I was still struggling to lose some extra prego pounds and I wanted to make sure Stu didn't start looking shitty too.
But then something terrible happened. Stu and I fell down a flight stairs in a parking structure and I was the only one to make it out alive. I'm not sure what hurt more, the ginormous gash on my leg, the fact that I couldn't walk or the site of Stu laying on the ground, broken in half. I was heartbroken.
That night, I placed him in his shoebox for the last time and limped over to the trashcan to say my goodbyes. And although there have been others since, there will never be another Stu.
RIP Stu 2005-2007
xoxo Liz and Lisa