A nod to my iPod by Liz

I've found one of the benefits to getting older is that you start to accept who you are.  You don't apologize anymore for being anal about being on time or obsessed with expensive sunglasses. You just get to the point where you say, Here I am!  Take it or leave it people! So I was surprised to learn something new about myself last week! I discovered that there's a part of my life that I'm still pretty damn sensitive about.   And you'll never guess what it is...

My iPod playlist.

I never realized until recently that many people actually look to the contents of one's iPod to determine their worthiness.  Did I miss something?  Did bad music taste actually makes someone a bad person?  If so, I was screwed.

I never had iPod sensitivity before.  I need music to write and use mine constantly. It wasn't until the day my friend(who considers herself something of a musical expert) hopped in my car and began scrolling through my Top 25 Most Played that I realized that there was yet another parameter on which we could judge one another!

There was silence for a moment as she pondered my playlists.

Then she said hmmmm.

I held my breath and waited for her verdict.  Will she understand that I have no choice with the HSM soundtrack?  That I've been beaten into submission by the marketing team at Disney?

She started laughing.  Loudly. "Um, I don't know how to tell you this, but, you have terrible taste in music!"

I was pissed.  I tried to argue that taste is subjective, who was she to go all Simon Cowell on my downloads?  I never say anything about the fact that she still watches All My Children! (PS, 1988 called, thay want their television viewing habits back.)

But in the end, I knew she was right.  I have the music taste of a 13 year-old girl.  And not even a cool 13 year-old girl.  I'm talking about the nerdy girl who sits by herself at lunch every day and picks her zits.

So it's time to come out of the closet and celebrate my inner teen. And here it is, my Top 10 Most Played. (I didn't want to bore you with all 25, I only play the same 10 over and over again anyway!)

Liz's Top 10 most played

1. Light on by David Cook

I. Love. This. Man.  And I'm leaving my "light on" for him if you get what I'm sayin'.

2. Fly with Me by Kari Kimmel(Tinkerbell soundtrack)

Um.  Okay let me explain.  My "daughter" really likes this song.  I mean, she really, really likes it. And she plays it. A lot. And really loud.  And she may sing along.  I'm sorry but this song makes me *cough* I mean her, very happy!

3. I Can't Hate you Anymore by Nick Lachey

Believe it or not, I wrote the last ten chapters of I'll Have Who She's Having with this on replay.  At least back then I was 4 weeks out after giving birth and completely postpartum.  I have no excuses for liking it now!

4. HOT DOG(aka the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse song) by They Might be Giants

Not for me.  I swear this time.  Although it is pretty catchy after the billionth time you hear it...

5. Over it by Katherine McPhee

Obviously, I have a addiction to former AI contestants.  Yes, David Archuleta, Jordin Sparks and even Clay Aiken have found their way into my iTunes shopping cart.

6. Umbrella by Marie Digby

This is actually one of the cooler selections on the list.  Girls with guitars get me every time!

7.  Gotta Go My Own Way by Gabriella and Troy(HSM2 soundtrack)

Something about Gabriella angst after she hands back Troy's necklace really speaks to me.  Just kidding!  I don't know why I like this song.  But I do.  A lot.

8. Don't Fall in Love With A Dreamer by Kenny Rogers and Kim Carnes

Let's be honest here...you know you have Kenny's greatest hits hidden in the back of your old neoprene cd case too.  And you have to admit this choice is just a tinier bit cooler than Scarlet Fever, right?

9. Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield

Okay... So this one is respectable. I heard this song on an episode of "The Hills" when LC was bumming about Brody...or that French guy...or that guy that went out with Spencer's sister after her...Whatever!  You get the idea.

10. Someday by Nickelback

OF COURSE I like Nickelback.  Aren't they like the poster children for people with bad music taste?  I even like that lame-ass song they have about being a Rock Star!

Can you top this list?  Tell us what's on your Ipod!

xoxo Liz

Ass Kicker or Ass Kisser? By Liz & Lisa

We'll be the first to admit that we're polar opposites in many ways- especially when it comes to our conflict resolution tactics.  Lisa takes pride in her ability to *cough* persuade people to do what she wants.  And Liz prefers a gentler approach--coddling her subjects into submission. And even though we'd been friends for twenty years, we never really thought about how different we were until we went into business together.  Let's just say that nothing brings out personality differences like negotiating contracts or designing a web page!  Liz's answer to getting what we needed always involved some form of "sweet talk" paired with a non fat latte... and Lisa's first choice was to run in, guns blazin' and flat out demand it.

But it wasn't until we had several botched attempts at conflict resolution with one particularly frustrating individual (so stressful that we both sought out acupuncture after) that we decided it was time to embrace our differences and use them to our advantage. Now when a problem needs to be resolved, we strategize like we're CIA agents headed out on a mission. Who should we send to the front lines of the battle? The fast talkin', Ass Kickin' Aries or the sweet talkin' Ass Kissin' Libra?

Lisa: ASS KICKER

I'm a natural born ASS KICKER. I'm an Aries.  Need I say more?

I don't sugar coat and really, really suck at it when I try (Liz can attest to this).  I don't have a problem saying that one little word that can make any ASS KISSER cringe--No. My desire to get something off my chest can often win out over things like when I confront you. (Sorry about the times I've had a Come to Jesus with you before you've had your coffee, or worse, before I've had mine.)

I don't like conflict, but I won't go to the ends of the Earth to avoid it either. Especially if someone I loved has been wronged! So because I'm fiercely loyal, this "fiery ram" will often be the first in line to offer to kick ass for you. I'm not a physical person, so don't expect it to be a literal ass kick... but you can definitely count on me to drop the bee-yotch to her knees with words. (They don't tell me I should've been a lawyer for nothing!) My ass kicking services are also often called upon by friends. Need a disputed credit card charge handled? I'm your man. Wish that guy would get the hint and stop calling? Give me his number. And need to tell that friend she can't bring her annoying cousin to the party? I'll handle it.

So you might find it ironic that I surround myself with ASS KISSERS/PEOPLE PLEASERS. Maybe it's because I'm so envious of their way of life. Their ability to make friends with anyone is amazing! (The barista at Starbucks! The owner of the local shipping store! Their neighbors!) The word "yes" rolls off their tongues with such ease! And they care if people like them!

Recently, I was bitching to Liz about someone I planned to confront the next day and she suggested that I "freeze them" instead.

"You know that's not my style," I said to her matter-of-factly, as we ass kickers tend to do. If someone pisses me off, I generally tell them--to their face. I don't say it to a piece of paper and then stick it next to the ice cubes. But I admit I was intrigued. Could I really resolve conflict without confrontation? So, because I'm a girl who likes to get the most bang for my buck, I asked Liz if I could freeze three other people at the same time (Figured I'd try to knock a few peeps off my s***t list while I was at it).

"Freeze the world if you want!" She said with a lightness in her voice. (Her own recent freeze had gone really, really well, she explained.)

So I did. I froze the s**t out of those four people and I'm happy to report that my non-confrontational conflict resolution was a smashing success! A Ziploc freeze is probably the closest I'm going to get to crossing over to the other side--- for now. But hey, baby steps, right?

Liz: ASS KISSER

Although I much prefer the term "confrontation challenged",  I'm not afraid to admit that I want you to like me.  As a Libra, I'm always striving for harmony, whether it be at work or home.  That's not to say that I can't stick up for myself!  It's just that if I'm calling and confronting you that means the shit has really hit the fan and you should run for cover immediately.

And Ass kissing is an art, my friends.  It must be subtle and effortless, like a beautiful ballet.  Lisa likes to throw around the term "people pleaser"  and I know she's talking about me.  And it's true, I don't want you hatin' on me.   I don't want to go through life with my fists up like Popeye, waiting for the next battle.  I LOVE to give the benefit of the doubt.  I NEVER stay mad for more than 24 hours.  I care what Raj over at Mailboxes Etc. thinks of my new haircut.  And although I realize a small dose of skepticism would do me good, I still like to believe that the homeless guy on the corner is really going to start a new life rather than buy drugs with the five dollars I just handed him.

But the reason that the ASS KICKER/ASS KISSER relationship works is because they need each other.  The ASS KICKER will act as bulldog for the ASS KISSER should a "situation" arise. (And by situation, I mean yell at someone when the ASS KISSER is too scared to do it herself.) And she always makes the ASS KISSER think twice about just whether she should really just "let something go" because she'd rather avoid confrontation than stand up for what's right.  Most importantly, I've never met an ASS KICKER that wasn't an incredibly loyal friend. (Well, until you piss them off...)

But the ASS KISSER comes through in the clutch too.  She will often talk the ASS KICKER down from the ledge and make her consider the other side of the story. Maybe that person was having a bad day when she called you a bitchface and threw an iced latte in your face? And the ASS KISSER is also a fantastic wingman in any social situation!  She can have an enlightening conversation with a brick wall if she has to.  Because it's a total score if she can get that brick wall to like her too!

So ASS KICKERS and ASS KISSERS, we think you really do need each other.  So stop your bickering, unite and celebrate your differences!  *group hug*

xoxo, Liz  & Lisa

FREEZE! by Liz

Some people may find this cold, but I froze someone today.  But don't worry, they didn't feel a thing... I've always had a tendency to over-think.  I've gotten better with my analysis paralysis over the years, but I'm not gonna lie.  Every now and then I will still stew the hell out of someone while blowing out my hair.  For some reason that's my "crazy time".  I'll tell someone off in my head while round brushing and accept their apology gracefully while straight ironing.  By the time I'm done, I've worked myself into such a frenzy that I'm ready to kick someone's ass! (Btw, do NOT attempt to email me during the short window between the pretend-fight blowout session and my daily trip to Starbucks.  It always ends badly!)

But as I mentioned, I don't do it much anymore.  And it's because I learned to FREEZE.

One day last year, I popped in to see my psychic. (Yes, I have one!  Don't you?)  She saw that I was having some drama with someone coming to visit and suggested that I freeze them.  Freeze them, I asked?  WTF?  She said I had to freeze all the negative energy that this hateful bitch(her words, not mine!) was sending my way. Apparently, I needed to write her name down on a piece of paper, put it in a Ziploc bag filled with water, stick it in the freezer overnight and throw it out the next day.

Um...okay.

I thought it was a little crazy but I decided, what the hell?  My psychic had never led me astray before. And, the dreaded visit was getting closer and closer so I was desperate!   Oh well, I thought.  What can it hurt?

So I took out my sharpie and wrote her first, middle and last name down. Even though my psychic told me a first name would suffice, I had to be sure the powers that be knew exactly who I was talking about! The next morning, I took it  to Starbucks and threw it out.  I know, I could have thrown it in our home trash but it was a hot day and I wanted to make absolutely sure that this bitch's bad energy didn't come back to get me when the ice melted.

And maybe it was all mental, but I did notice a change right away.  All of the sudden, I could read her emails without screaming at the computer or needing to count backwards from ten before replying.  And I didn't even pretend-fight with her in my head while doing my hair the day they arrived!  And while their visit wasn't perfect, I was able to get through it without reaching across the table at dinner and stabbing her with my fork after she asked me how in the world I could finish the salad I ordered.  It was so huge! Could she put half of it away for me? Really, how could I eat the entire thing?

For the first time ever, I was able to smile and say, no thanks, I was going to eat every single bite.  And I did.  And even though I felt like throwing up at the end, (it really was a big salad!) it was worth it.  Her bad energy just bounced off me like ball off a tennis racquet.

It was then that I realized this freezing shit was no joke.  The really interesting thing was that the people that you freeze continue on with the same bad behavior.  It just doesn't get under your skin anymore!

Quick disclaimer to my friends...Before you read this next part...of course I didn't freeze you!  I love every sweet word uttered from your mouths!  xoxo

I became like a kid in a candy store.  I was freezing everyone!  I froze people at work, relatives and even people I really liked so I was covered on the off chance they started to bug me.  Every morning I would open my freezer door, take out my bags and drive to Starbucks.  And btw, the service at that Starbucks got really bad around this same time....maybe the energy was breaking out of the trashcan and onto their employees?  Who knows.

I began to preach the benefits of freezing to all my friends. And they saw a big difference too!  Although I do notice that the effects begin to "thaw" out after a couple months for the really nasty ones so you might need to re-freeze if you catch yourself pretend-fighting with them again .  Just FYI for those of you trying this at home...

So judge all you want, but I'm proud to be a psychic-loving freeze machine.  And if you get a little shiver today, who knows, you just might be getting thrown in the freezer!

xoxo

THE (MIS)ADVENTURES OF TEAM TRI-TIP by Liz

There's no place like home, there's no place like home.... After spending most of last week in Central California, I'm actually feeling hopeful again that Brian might pull out of this.  He was responding a bit before I left, and the progress reports I have been getting from Laura since I've left are even better.  I'm thinking I might actually be able to exhale.  Whew!  Thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers!  It is truly a miracle that he will survive this.

And while I was so happy to get home to see my husband and kids, there is a part of me that wishes I was still holding 12-hour daily vigils in the ICU waiting room  with my sister-in-law Laura and brother Bill, aka Team Tri-Tip.

Team Tri-Tip has stayed behind both times Brian started going downhill.  When the accident first happened over three weeks ago, Team Tri-Tip stayed for five days.  And when we were told to get our asses up there again because things were looking bad, Team Tri-Tip stayed on an additional week.

Why Team Tri-Tip?  Well, for those of you who have been following this blog, you know that my mother cooks her ass off when times are bad.  So on that Friday, after we were told to "gather the family", my mom was so stressed out that she went to the store, bought as much Tri-Tip as her skinny ass could carry and then proceeded t0 cook her little heart out.

So when the masses departed back to their lives on Sunday, Laura, Bill and I were left with shattered nerves and a shitload of meat.  And so we ate.  We had Tri-Tip for breakfast, Tri-tip for dinner.  And when we got take-out, Billy would add Tri-tip to it . We sauteed it, slow cooked it and  just ate it with our bare hands at times.

Needless to say, I don't think I'll ever look at Tri-tip the same way again.  Especially after watching Billy tear into it night after night like a cougar who had not eaten for days.  It wasn't pretty!

But, if I'm being totally honest, I really enjoyed the time I spent with Bill and Laura these past few weeks. Bill moved to Virginia a few years ago and I didn't realize how much I missed him until this happened.  Things like this remind you not to get so caught up in the daily grind that you forget to spend time with all the people you love.   Just sayin. Okay, that's enough with the life lessons. Don't worry, I'm not going soft on you!

Team Tri-Tip had a surprisingly good time together considering the circumstances and I thought I'd share the highlights...

The strange but true (mis)Adventures of Team Tri-Tip

Team Tri-Tip...

  • Became potential witnesses in a civil lawsuit.(long story!)
  • Thought they had met the country version of Dr. McDreamy, but he turned out to be Dr. McDickhead.
  • Shamelessly sold 5 copies of I'll Have Who She's Having and promoted this blog to other families in the ICU waiting room.
  • Ganged up on Liz because she doesn't drink soda and then tried to peer pressure her into getting cheese on her tacos.  What part of "I have a slow metabolism" do you not understand!
  • Watched a porno together. (Well actually, it was Zack and Miri Make a Porno but same difference when watching with your older brother.  Awkward!)
  • Would have secret shit-talking text sidebars about each other while in the same waiting room.
  • Played a brutal game of Monopoly that ended badly when Liz threw the game board across the room after she had mortgaged all her properties and was refused an IOU from the bank.
  • Uncharacteristically began to have potty mouths after listening to Liz use the word f*ck in every other sentence for three days straight.  Sorry!
  • When not selling the benefits of reading books with happy endings, would depress others in waiting room by discussing child prostitution and slavery in foreign countries. (Billy was responsible for this one since he works for a human rights organization that helps these children.)
  • Was not warned not to watch Desperate Housewives on that Sunday and almost lost their shit when Edie crashed her car into a telephone pole.  Then was consoled by the fact that she died from electrocution, not a car crash.

Occasionally, a spoiler alert is appreciated!!!

xoxo Liz

Moons Over My Hammy By Lisa

dennys2 Brian update: He is getting a little better!!!  To get the latest updates, go to Caring Bridge.

With my birthday looming tomorrow(March 30th- Hint, Hint, Hint!), I started wondering if Denny's still offered a free meal on my special day. As I started to do research, (unfortunately, they discontinued this offer 6 years ago- BOO! HISS!) I began to daydream about foods of my past, the grub of yester-year.... the meals I needed at a certain time, from a certain place, to get me through a certain situation. Not surprisingly, most of my fondest memories of pigging out are from my college days. Can we say Freshman 25? I'm NOT kidding & have the bloated pictures to prove it! And if you still don't believe me, Matt can tell you about the first time he saw a picture of me sporting my mom jeans. It wasn't pretty & he's still not over it.

1.  Moons Over My Hammy

Ah Denny's....where to begin? You were always there for me... through the good times and the really, really bad.  When I was drunk off my ass...your booth was always a soft place to fall-literally. Somewhere around 2:00AM after some frat party, Liz and I and many others, would rush in the doors like wild animals seeking out their prey. We'd flip through the large, colorful, plastic menus trying to decide... what went well with the twelve Pabst Blue Ribbons we'd already ingested through a beer bong? Breakfast, lunch or dinner?  Hmm...

In my sloppy state, I was usually a breakfast gal; a big fan of "Moons over my Hammy" but also incredibly fond of the "Grand Slam Breakfast".  Occasionally,  I'd take a walk on the wild side and also order a side of fries with a vat of ranch dressing to dip them into. And sometimes I'd top the meal off with brownies a la mode. And to think that there was a time when I couldn't figure out how I got so big?

Denny's, although you are partially responsible (more culprits of the fast food and fat free persuasion are about to be revealed) for causing my waistline to expand about THREE SIZES and making it really, really hard to squeeze my gut into my mom jeans, it was worth it. You were worth it. And I'm sorry that I dumped you after college, but a girl's got a rep to protect.

2. Western Bacon Cheeseburger with a large fry, a side of ranch, an order of fried zucchini and an extra large regular Dr. Pepper

Carl's...ah Carl's... you were always there for me--the morning after. As I'd wake from my drunken coma at noon, you were my first sober thought.

Need. Carl's. Now.

It's amazing how fast a group of girls can rally when they need to get their fried food on! We'd jump in Liz's mint green Acura Integra and whip through the drive- thru at mock speed. As soon as I held that warm bag in my hand and shoved a fried zuchinni down my throat, I'd already be planning my outfit for that night's party. Which pair of high-waisted jeans would I wear with my leotard top and brown braided belt?

And BTW Carl's... you did NOT need to make changes to your menu! After a recent GNO, I tried to recreate my collegiate hangover meal and was shocked to find out that the junior hamburger NO LONGER EXISTED and the fries had changed. WTF?

3.  One Large Angel Food cake with a side of Natural Light

FAT FREE.

They were the two most glorious words any of us had heard since Natural Light !  I'll never forget when Liz's aunt told us we could eat ANYTHING we wanted as long as the label said it didn't contain fat. Despite the fact she probably warned us otherwise, all we heard from her speech was that calories didn't matter, nutritional value didn't matter, nothing mattered....WE COULD EAT AS MUCH AS WE WANTED... as long as the food we were consuming was sans fat.

For some reason we were all thinking about health and fitness around that time (no clue why!). We joined L.A. Fitness and could often be spotted sporting bike shorts with thong leotards over them (that's a whole other story I need to write!) as we danced awkwardly around our step class. After our "work outs" we'd of course be REALLY hungry.  One of our roommates, Kristi, would make a large angel food cake ("no fat!" she exclaimed)....and we'd all dive in and all quickly devour it. (And since I'm laying it all out on the table, I know there were times when I ate the entire cake myself).

And our trips to the grocery store were suddenly so fun and exciting! You would've thought we'd won the lottery as we gleefully pushed our cart around Albertsons. We got fat free cheese, fat free bagels, fat free cookies, fat free mayonaise, fat free fat.  And then we'd turn our cart down the alcohol aisle.....and high five each other because our beer was also fat free.

Too bad we weren't.

THE ROLES WE PLAY WHEN THINGS GO ASTRAY by Liz and Lisa

Update on Brian:  After a very close call Friday morning, Brian is holding at critical but stable.  He's been transferred to a bigger hospital in San Luis Obispo so he has access to more procedures.  So the waiting begins again... For the latest updates on Brian from Dr. Ken, you can head over to  Grape Radio.

When Brian's wife hit the panic button Friday, our family(including BFFs Lisa and LaSundra, who are like family) dropped everything and rushed to convene together. 

Lisa left straight from her colonic appointment(btw Lisa, that's gross) and LaSundra had left from work so they shared an olive green Juicy Couture sweatsuit all weekend. LaSundra would wear the pants and Lisa would wear the jacket and then swtich.  Between that and the fact that Lasundra used my scarf  as a do-rag and her big ol' purse as a suitcase, I had plenty to laugh about!

But when things were going south quickly, it was interesting to see the different roles that people played as they arrived at the hospital.  I guess everyone wants to feel like they are helping out in any way then can.  And some of us are simply trying not to lose our shit in front of everyone. 

And by now, you have surely realized that I love to make lists.  So Lisa and I put this together as we sat in the waiting room over the weekend for your reading pleasure!

1. Billy and LaSundra:  The "faux-bots"

For those of you who follow this blog, you know that over-emotional people have no business crashing our impromptu family ICU party.  Most of the Clarks thrive in this situation, but we discovered my brother Billy and best friend LaSundra only pretend to be emotionally unavailable after we caught them sneaking out for a teary embrace.  From then on, they were nicknamed the "faux-bots". 

2. Mike: The Tall Fall Guy

Oh, my poor sweet husband.   Never complained once when he got run over by The Bus Driver. (see number 3)  Whether I was blaming him for accidentally dialing my father's cell and waking him up at 6am or hitting my brother in the middle of the night when he was snoring his face off, Mike took it like a champ.  And yes, we were all sleeping in the same room.  And that issue is a whole other blog in itself.

3. Liz:  The Bus Driver

Apparently, I like to throw others under the bus when upset.  Who knew?  My sincere apologies if I left tire tracks on anyone's back.=)

4. Mom:  The Iron Chef

Unable to don a surgical mask and scalpel, my mom, being the true Italian she is, grabs an apron, a paring knife and starts chopping vegetables when in crisis.  I somehow always end up as the unwilling sous chef and dishwasher in this situation.  WTF?

5. Dad:  The Food Critic

This is one man you don't want sitting down in your restaurant unless you have mastered the perfect plate of egg whites and bacon.  Because no other meal will please him and no one in your family will have a moment of peace until he is satisfied.

6. Ken and Lisa:  Dr. and Mrs. Roboto

Brian's close friend and family physician, Ken rushed to his side on Friday.  Everyone looked to him to interpret the physicians reports stoically and participate in endless family Q&A sessions.  Between his comforting  updates and the fact that his wife Lisa coined the term "faux-bots", how could we ask for anything more?

7. Steve:  The Professional Bystander

My Step-dad has perfected the art of standing around and observing.  Seriously, I don't think the guy said two words all weekend.  But he was reading I'll Have Who She's Having the entire time so I gave him a pass.

8.  Jay: The Shrink

If you have extra down time on your hands and would like be  psycho-analyzed as to why you chose Ruffles over Cheetos at the cafeteria and what says about you, Jay's your man.  Very useful when you have ten hours a day to kill in a waiting room!

9. Laura:  The Wife 

A pillar of strength, she has been given a free pass. The crazy part is that she hasn't really used it except to boss me around a bit here and there and to tell Lisa the end of Big Love with out so much as a spoiler alert.  I don't want to get all sappy, but Laura is my hero.  I've never seen someone so gracious in such a terrible situation.

10. Seth:  The Know-It-All Navigator

Laura's brother Seth loves to give directions.  Heading to Taco Bell? He knows where it is.  Need gas?  He's got your back.  A commercial pilot by day, he loves to act as a human GPS in crisis.  But Seth, do we really need to take side streets everywhere?  Freeways can be your friend.  This is isn't the clear, blue sky.  We have stoplights down here!

11. Lisa: The Concierge

Lisa took on the challenge of finding six hotel rooms during "Zin Festival" weekend in Wine country.  Not an easy task, people.  And the restraint she showed while dealing with a complete asshole at an unnamed hotel(hint: it rhymes with Schmoliday Schminn Schmexpress) was unprecedented for her.  I think the fact that they were holding LaSundra's credit card hostage may be why Lisa did not unleash her beast within.  Either way, I think we can all agree that the hotel manager dodged a major bullet.

xoxo by Lisa

gossip-girl-gossip-girl-961533_1024_768 Xoxo. It means hugs and kisses or kisses and hugs depending on whom you ask. It was made popular again by Gossip Girl. (BTW-how much do we love Darota?) And it's often the way both Liz and I sign off when we're blogging, posting and emailing. So you might assume that because we use this tag line that we're affectionate people who are effusive with our emotions. Well guess again.

It's time for a confession. We may be xoxo'ers but we're not huggers and kissers by trade. In fact, Liz and I haven't truly hugged each other in, well, um, er, ever?

Not when we graduated from college.

Not at her wedding.

Not when our book was published.

Well you get the idea. Big events don't equal physical affection between Liz and Lisa.

And we don't need some $200 an hour shrink to tell us that our mechanical ways can most likely be traced back to our childhoods. Emotionally unavailable fathers much?

Case in point: Recently, Liz's 2-year-old son, Shane, hit me in the mouth with a toy golf ball and I started to cry (In my defense, the kid's got a serious arm.... and it was GNO the night before so I was also a wee bit hung over) and her daughter, Riley, was staring at me in disbelief.

Turns out, she'd never seen an adult woman cry; Her mommy, the robot, had never shed a tear. Well, except for when Chris Daughtry was unexpectedly voted off American idol.

But the funny thing is, we may be The Tin Man meets Short Circuit with each other, but with the men in our lives, children and most animals--we have no problem saying I love you and giving kisses and hugs. Maybe we do need that shrink after all?

To illustrate our stiltedness even further, I'll allow you to be a fly on the wall for a recent conversation about Liz's brother, Brian.

LISA:  "How's Brian?"

LIZ:  "Okay, um, yeah, well we're taking it day by day..."

LISA: "Ok, well, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about..."

LIZ: "Um, yeah, well, okay. Let's change the subject..."

LISA:  "Om, well, okay then... Did you see that crazy Top Model stampede footage on Perez?"

So I'm sure you can understand my surprise and confusion when after TWENTY-TWO YEARS of robotic communication, Liz recently xoxo'd--me.  I mean, I never even get as much as a "best" and now she's xoxo-ing me? WTF?

I emailed her back and jokingly asked if she meant the xoxo for someone else but I already knew the answer-clearly she'd made a mistake. And I had my next blog topic!

But had it been a flub or was it more of a Freudian slip? Suddenly it all came crashing back...like the morning after you hook up with a one-eyed Jack. (True story that I'll save for another post!)

On New Year's Eve she'd left me a message and said she *gulp*  loved me.

But the next morning, when I logged onto Facebook and saw the  bleary-eyed pictures of her escapades on the Queen Mary (BTW, Liz, the Queen Mary, really?) I chalked it up to the fact she was hammered.

But still, I didn't think I'd ever heard those three little words from her before...were we, um, ready for that?

Was she getting soft on me? I thought about possible explanations. She did turn 35 this year...was that it? Or could it be all that spiritual enlightenment sh** she'd been yapping about lately that I prayed was a phase? Was she "changing" our unsaid arrangement that had been working really well for us?

Because the thing is, it's not like we're a couple of stone cold beyotches. I'm proud to say that our friendship has lasted over two decades. And in that time, there's only been one girl fight. (If a bent thumb even qualifies?)

So in honor of almost a quarter life of knowing each other, here are some of our unwritten rules of how our friendship works and how we show each other we care.  (They're all kind of back handed & sarcastic, but hey, that's how we roll.)

As long as I don't call or text her after 11PM, she's always there for me :)

As long as she doesn't call me at work, I've always got her back.  (Work Lisa isn't always a walk in the park!)

Pre-coffee discussions of any kind are only in a case of an emergency.

We're like family. (Well, if you don't count the fact my dad asked her who she was when she tried to friend him on Linkdin.) Bob Steinke's real sorry, I promise.

Her kids call me Auntie Lisa. (Well, me and like 25 others, but hey, I'll take it.)

Liz has logged enough hours counseling me after my many, many break ups that I think she could qualify for an MFT. (Let's put it this way-- I know she's thanking one of those spiritual enlightenment people of hers that I FINALLY met Matt!)

The bottom line is that when you've known someone since they had a unibrow and thought it was cool to drink Strawberry Boones in the back of a pick up truck, it goes without saying that overt affection or not, we are BFF's.

So, in honor of getting older (My 36th birthday is March 30th-hint, hint, hint everyone!) and hopefully wiser, Liz, I accept your xoxo and I raise you an xo!

xoxoxo!

IF I GO-GO THIS IS A NO-NO

Quick update on Brian: Still in ICU, still sedated, still waiting for breathing tube to come out.  Unfortunately, patience is not a virtue in my family so we feel frustrated with the lack of progress but still feel hopeful that he'll pull through.  Thanks again to all of you who have reached out to our family! Brian's accident got me thinking.  Well, actually, if I'm being totally honest, it was The Bachelor finale that sparked this idea and then my brother's brush with death really got the ball rolling.  While watching After the Final Rose, I turned to my husband and told him that if I die and he decides to become the next Bachelor to find a new Mommy for our kids that I will come back and haunt the f*ck out of that Bachelor house.  He then reminded me of a few other "if I die" threats that I've made over the years.  Hmm, he was right, I did use that threat occasionally.  Then my brother got in his accident, reminding me how fragile and random life can be.

That's when I decided it would just be easier if I put all my "if I die" rants  down on paper so Mike knows what's up if I drop dead anytime soon.

Liz's If I go-go this is a no-no List:

1.  Do not go on The Bachelor or any other lame dating show and be billed as "the single dad".  You'll just end up looking like a douche-bag.  Ask Jason.

2.  But...Don't be a martyr.  Find someone else!  Just make sure she is a little less hot then me and weighs at least 5lbs more. And has a big nose. And horse teeth.

3.  And..Don't hook up with any of my friends-everyone will think that you secretly wanted them when I was alive. And I will definitely see that sh*t, no matter where I am. Just think of me as "always watching..."

4. Don't go on American Idol and use me to get votes, even if you do have a pretty good voice.

5. Don't Facebook about me.  In fact, just don't Facebook.  You've gone this long without it, why start now that I'm dead?

6.  Don't try to cook.  The kids have been traumatized enough.  Why not use all that life insurance money to hire a chef?

7. Don't fall in love with above-mentioned chef, unless she fits criteria listed in number two.

8. Don't forget that your belt needs to match your shoes! Brown with brown, black with black.  Why is it so hard to remember?

9. Don't blow all the insurance money at Sportsbook.com. Or playing 32 at Roulette.

10. And never, under any circumstances, are you allowed to go back to having John Tesh hair or wearing jean shorts and Birkenstocks, like you did when we first met.

xoxo Liz

Facebook Faux Pas By Lisa

infractionFirst, we're so happy that Liz's brother, Brian, is doing a little better.  I'd like to give a  big shout out to Facebook for helping Liz and her family pull through.  As we saw in her hilarious posts, Facebooking in the ICU was essential to Liz's sanity! I even dubbed her the Queen of Facebookwhoreland because of course I support Facebooking anytime, anywhere!-- I Facebook on the toilet for crying out loud! So, I've now been on this fabulous social networking site for just about four months. And I pretty much went from being a Facebook virgin to a total whore overnight.  (It's funny how easily the slutty side came out- or maybe it's not?)

I laugh now as I think back to the beginning; when I thought this whole Facebook thing was going to be solely about reconnecting with childhood friends and keeping up with "real-life" friends' pregnancies, babies, etc... I remember making ridonculous claims like "I wouldn't accept any co-workers" (sorry to say it out loud y'all but you know you considered it too) or I wouldn't send ANY friend requests. Instead, I'd wait for "them to come to me". Or Liz will recall when I professed that I wouldn't accept anyone I couldn't remember. Ha! Those were the days...days of such sweet naivete. Before I unleashed the Facebook ho bag inside!

And now, I'm a slut.  Friend slut, that is. I used to spend a painstaking amount of time crafting my "pitch" to get you to accept me.  Now, more times than not, I don't even include a message. I just send blindly. You don't know me, I don't know you. But I'm banking on the fact that maybe you're a whore too. (Or sleep around just a little).

But please let me clarify. I do like you. Maybe only because you're on Facebook, but still, I like you (isn't it good for friends to have things in common?) And I do want to be your "friend", really I do. But because friends shouldn't lie to friends, I'll be honest and tell you that I do sort of think of you as a conquest... another notch on my Facebook belt, if you will.

I'm on my way to 500 friends (I'm proud to say this includes some recently recruited moms, including my own! Hi mom!) and some of you might consider that a big number, but not me. Not when there are people with thousands of friends. Oh how I envy them!

Recently, someone suggested that I start a group for Facebook whores. And being the whore that I am, I formed Facebook Whores United! six and a half minutes later. But silly me didn't think to check if someone else had already claimed that name (only about two dozen others). So, then I changed it to  Facebook whores on Fire... but  after saying it out loud three times, it sounded a bit risque- even for me. And as I was looking for another name I discovered that some of the groups are literally

Whores. On. Facebook.

Oh... even I hadn't considered that. But that's ok- no judgement here. There's room for all kinds o' slutty in these parts.  (Warning: shameless solicitation coming) But if you want to join our group, I'll  make it easy for ya. Just click here: Facebook Whores & Proud of It!

So in celebration of my four-month anniversary, let me get on my soapbox (so hard for me!) and rant about what I consider to be some Facebook Faux Pas. You might wonder why I, who's probably committing several just by writing this post, would be pointing out others' faux pas? All I can tell you is even a floozy has to draw the line somewhere. Consider this my line in the Facebook sand.

1. TOP FRIENDS --WTF is this and how do you think it makes me feel when I'm not one of the "highlighted" people? Hey, you're my friend, but you're simply not as important as everyone else. I may be a friend whore, but at least I'm not going to rank you!

2. QUIZ NO-NO'S Why? What on Earth compels you to take a quiz and answer questions about whether or not you think I'm the type of person to contract an STD? Or am into porn? You do realize I get these notifications, right? Ewww... is that why you're doing it?

3. STATUS REPORT ABUSE I think a status report is a privilege, not a right. So why must you abuse it? I've already mentioned how nauseating it is for me when you write inappropriate things on my wall. But now you're taking it to the status report where everyone has to suffer?   Just yesterday, you updated your status that you didn't understand why you're husband wasn't signing his divorce papers? Really? You're really going to bitch about that on Facebook?

4. STATUS BREAK UPS My real-life friend 's Facebook friend recently announced his breakup in his status report--just to get a rise out of his ex. Another of my "friends" constantly posts status reports about breaking up, getting back together, breaking up. People, I beg you, stop abusing Facebook in this way....the status reports and switching between single & in a relationship aren't supposed to be used to retaliate against a significant other...because then we are all caught in the middle! Please don't fight in front of your Facebook friends! (Also please see #3- status abuse)

5.  SHAMELESS SOLICITATION STATUS You constantly use your status to plug your blog or your book or your this or your that....oh wait, that's us! Oops...  On that note, Liz and I would like to use this opportunity to thank all of you who are following our blog on Facebook... but if you're not, let me make it easy for ya. Just click here. Wink. Wink.  Networkedblogs Chick Lit Is Not Dead

xoxo

PRICELESS IN A CRISIS by Liz

So here's the latest update...Things are looking up a bit with Brian.  His color is coming back and they are thinking about taking out his breathing tube.  He isn't out the woods quite yet, but at least now we can kinda sorta see the edge of the woods. I just want to take a moment to give huge props to the entire ICU staff at Twin Cities Hospital in Templeton, CA.   They are wonderful and have been so kind to our family, never questioning why Brian seems to have so many brothers (only immediate family is allowed in the ICU so anyone that shows up is his "brother") and looking the other way when we have too many people in the room.

But I have to say, now that things are calmer, we've had some time to reflect on the many things we've learned in the past few days.  And after a few glasses of wine last night, my other brother(real, not fake) and sister-in-law came up with all the things we think you need to know if you find yourself in the middle some unfortunate family drama.  We like to call it our Priceless in a crisis list.

1.  Make sure to fill up with gas before entering a 60 mile desolate highway with no gas stations.  And don't forget to update your GPS so it doesn't take you to some abandoned, broken down building instead of a Chevron.

2. When you feel the waterworks coming, head immediately to Perezhilton.com for celebrity gossip.  Reading about Britney's recent vagina waldrobe malfuntion will dry your tears every time.

3. Family emotions in a crisis are like a game of Jenga.   If you are the robot in your family, you better keep your foundation solid or everything will fall apart.  If you need help, see number 2.  People are counting on your emotional unavailability in times like these!

4. Don't give a toothless crack whore with a gas can $20 just because you're desperate for good Karma.  The bitch probably won't even thank you properly.

5. Don't tell your Mom at dinner that she needs to be less emotional because she's killing everyone's buzz.

6.  Make sure your father understands that the spicy buffalo ribeye that he ordered is actually made from buffalo.  And is spicy.  And no you can't send it back.

8.  One half a xany makes you calm, a whole one makes you sleepy and two makes you angry.  Wink twice at me and I'll slip you one when no one is looking.

9. People chew much louder when you are cranky.  And smack their gum like they're in a bad 80's movie.

10.  Don't buy the celery and carrot sticks at the hospital cafeteria for your mom to snack on when cranky. Please see number 9.

11.  Nurses don't think it's funny when they ask you why your brother is fighting his breathing tube so much and you tell them he's always been a spaz.

12. The five pound crisis weight-loss is a myth!  Sitting all day+hospital food=fat ass.

13.  People in the ICU waiting room look at you oddly when you keep asking if they know a word that rhymes with crisis.

14. There is just no basis for wearing a fanny pack.  Ever.  I don't care what you're going through.

15. Don't ever forget to thank all the wonderful people who send their thoughts and prayers to your family when times are tough.(see below)

THANKS!!! Your messages have kept me going these past few days!  My family and I thank you from the bottom of our cold, unemotional hearts!

xoxo Liz

TRAUMA DRAMA by Liz

As some of you may have heard, my oldest brother was in a terrible car accident late Thursday night.  So this blog is coming to you live from the Twin Cities hospital ICU. The good news is that things seem to be looking up and I am very thankful for all your kind thoughts and prayers. Now before you start thinking it's in bad taste to be blogging and Facebooking while my brother is fighting for this life, this is just how I deal.  I come from a long line of emotionally unavailable women(aka living robots) that use humor inappropriately in time of crisis.  And quite frankly, the doctor just wrote us all some Xany and I need to get this blog written before it kicks in!  Even a robot like me could use a little prescription help to get through this.

When the frantic call from my mom came in early Friday morning, I rushed to get ready for the four-hour drive to the Central Coast.  After throwing some mismatched clothes in my overnight bag, (You should see the outfit I'm wearing! horrible! Lucky for me the people in Paso Robles think a fanny pack is fashion forward.)I immediately went to my bookshelf. 

Knowing I would be spending the next several days at his bedside, I was very thoughtful in my book selections.  Not just for myself, but for my family too.  When you go into these situations, you really want to bring something to the table, to feel like you are helping in any small way.  And even if I can't be emotionally sensitive, at least I can provide proper reading material! 

LIZ'S TRAUMA DRAMA BOOK LIST

For my sister-in-law:

1. My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler

Obviously, my first thought was comfort for my brother's wife.  What does one read to be distracted from the fact that your husband has a thousand tubes coming out of him? I decided Chelsea's graphic book about her vagina adventures while in her twenties was just the ticket. Also, each chapter stands alone as a short story, making it easy for my sister-in-law to feel like she was accomplishing something each time she finished one.  And I like to think that this small milestone will make her Type A overacheiving-self feel a little bit of control in a situation she has no control over.

For my Mom

2.  One Fifth Avenue by Candace Bushnell

My mom's book choice was bit tougher.  This woman never sits down and spends so much time on her cell phone that I'm surprised it hasn't melded to her ear.  So finding a book that will hold her attention is quite the challenge. I thought this story about the tenants in an upscale building in New York City might just be able to do it. And if she ever gets off the phone I'm going to ask her to take a look at it. 

For the BFF

3. I'll Have Who Have She's Having by Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke

Of course I brought this too!  What better way to force people to read your book than when they are trapped in a barren ICU waiting room for days at a time?  The funniest part of this is that the BFF is a 50 something guy who picked up our book in desperation last night.  The even funnier part is that he couldn't put it down and keeps peppering me with questions about Kate and Kelly!  But, hey, a fan is a fan.  I'm not picky!

For the beautiful sister(um, that's me, in case you were wondering):

4.  Eclipse by Stephanie Meyer

Although I'm not afraid to admit that Bella and Edward bug the shit out of me sometimes, their werewolf versus vampire teenage angst can really take your mind off what's really going on!  For me, I like my crisis fiction to be as far away from my real life as possible.  Cuz that's how I roll! 

And anything is better than the copy of Arthritis Today on the table that keeps calling my name!

,

Shame on You, Bachelor! By Lisa

,

bachelor-mesnick45 Jason, Jason, Jason... Or should I just call you Douche Bag?

WTF? Really? Follow your heart... no regrets...my ass!

I'm not sure why, but I expected more from you. Sure, you're a reality TV contestant in a contest to find love on a completely unrealistic show where the number one way of getting to know each other is through the sport of hot tubbing, but still, I expected more. From. You.

Now don't get me wrong, I heart the Bachelor (the show, not you). I love the psychoness of the chicks as they get kicked off . I enjoy watching the cattiness of the girls as they fight with each other while also fighting for the Bachelor's love. But if you ask me, the women are just insecure and competitive and don't really want the Bachelor as much as they want to win or be won.

But I love it all. Even the hottubbing. Especially when the Bachelor is hot and as much as I'm annoyed with you, seeing you with your shirt off wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me.  But what I didn't love about you, Jason Mesnick, was that you became a Douche with a capital "D".

I felt for you when DeAnna broke your heart, I really did. I thought you seemed genuine and legit. So when I heard you were the next  Bachelor, I was happy for you. I knew you'd have your pick of "25 ladies" who would find you cute and sweet, just like I did.

But then the show started and you just couldn't stop crying. Dude, is it really that sad to say good bye to a girl you've known for five minutes? WTF with all the waterworks?

And then the kissing that went on? It seemed like you never knew what to say back to every poor girl professing her love so your answer was to kiss her? It became incredibly annoying, but still manageable and certainly not cause to stop watching. I'm proud to say that in all the seasons of the Bachelor, I've never thrown in the towel... even when guys almost Douchey-er than you were the Bachelor (and there were a couple).

And anyway, you didn't fully turn me off until "The Bachelor: After the Final Rose.

I'd seen the promos for the Most dramatic Bachelor ending ever and there you were, crying again... on that balcony. I thought WTF happened now, did he slice his finger on a thorn?

Even after I'd heard on Reality Steve that you were going to dump Melissa and go for Molly and that you knew it all along, (Jury's still out on that BTW because I can't believe that even you'd be that gross- Although now after possible emails between you and Melissa have been uncovered by Access Hollywood, you seem to be anything but accountable--Bachelor Emails), I watched the show anyway. Because I'm a romantic who's had her heart broken many times. Plus, I hoped that the rumors weren't true. Even though my preference was Molly all along. I prayed that you wouldn't break Melissa's heart--especially after what happened to you.

But you did. And not only did you rip her heart out, but you did it on national television. Sure, there wasn't an audience in an effort to "keep it as intimate as possible", as Chris Harrison said, but it was still in front of millions of people. And it was just gross dude. The way you did it, what you said, everything. And yes, I'm totally judging you. Because. I. Can. You put yourself on TV so you are opening yourself up to it, plain and simple.

And for the record, Melissa, you handled yourself with dignity (even when you were told there was a limo waiting outside *gag*) and when you called him a bastard, I sort of did a little cheer for you on my couch. Good call on not appearing on The Bachelor: After the Final Rose, Part 2 and putting yourself through further humiliation. I have no doubt you were asked, begged probably.

So last night, I watched The Bachelor: After the Final Rose, Part 2. And you and Molly, after six weeks, say you're still madly in love. Good for you. Because everyone deserves someone. And if Molly can fall for a Douche, more power to her. And I know you both said that it's been hard because you've been judged (Molly too) for how you acted. But the truth is, we don't know the real story and we may never. I just cross my fingers that you didn't plan to do what you did to Melissa (as the rumors claim) and that you don't do it again to Molly (if simply for the reason that three versions of a proposal in one year would just be wrong, sorry).

There's one more thing I really want to say to you but I won't- believe it or not, I can bite my tongue. Because as judgmental as I feel and as fired up as I am, I'm not going to go there. I think you're douchey enough already without me pointing out another thing that I didn't like. I'll simply say this, I hope you can now focus on your family when the cameras aren't rolling.

PS: You kept the big-toothed, dental hygienist, stalker around for longer than the first rose ceremony why again? Actually, don't answer that because I really don't care.

PRIVACY PLEASE by Liz

loehmanns_gc_m I'm not sure what was going on with me last week, but I engaged in some major retail therapy. And I must admit that I've always been a bit of a label whore.  But the problem is I don't like paying for labels.  So I do what any self-respecting cheap-ass label whore does when she's dying to do some shopping-I hightail it to the nearest Loehmann's.

Ahh...Loehmann's.  Where else can you find discounted Rock and Republic jeans, Coach clogs and Hanky Panky underwear all under one roof?  And before you judge, I didn't buy the clogs.  I'm not gonna lie, I was tempted.  They had huge C's on them!  Coach Clogs!  With the Cs!  But then I remembered clogs are out and I don't live in a windmill(Although wouldn't it be cool if I did?) so I passed.

But I think we can all agree what really makes the Loehmann's shopping experience unique are it's communal dressing rooms. Never able to limit myself to just eight selections, I'm always forced to undress with the masses. And even though I've done it literally hundreds of times over the years, I still cringe a bit each time.  Especially when people aren't following standard communal dressing room procedure.

And after what I witnessed last week at the Long Beach Loehmann's, I felt that everyone could benefit from a "personal space" refresher course. Because no one should have to see some of the things I saw.

So get your pen and paper out to take some notes because these are the top five unwritten rules for undressing in front of strangers:

1. Don't look each other in the eye.  In fact, just don't look.  Not even in the mirror's reflection.  Just don't. I'm trying to only have half of me undressed at one time, but there's only so much I can do.  And I might rip something if I do it any faster so stop making me nervous.

2. If you are too good to undress in front of us and insist on standing in line for a room, don't look. And don't shake your head when I put on something a bit too tight.  I thought the tag said M, not XS!  In fact, can you move your prudish ass and go get me the right size? Thank you.

2. Don't speak unless spoken to. We are here to find bargains, not friends.  And what kind of friendship would we have, meeting like this? I need to keep my stretch marks a secret until after the first year at least.

3. Don't offer unsolicited advice. Btw, I don't give a shit if you think this dress "flatters my curvy shape" or that "Pink isn't really my color."  I bit my tongue when you tried on the bright orange Juicy Couture sweatsuit, can't you do the same for me?

4.  Don't get too naked. Please. I'm begging.  Try on your bathing suits in the dressing room.

5.  Please don't crowd me. I need at least one clothes-hanging bar between us. In fact, let's make it two.  We shouldn't be so close that I can see that you missed your last bikini wax. If this sounds like you, please take special note of rule number four.

Good luck and good shopping!  xoxo

Robots Need Love Too By Lisa

wall-e-and-eva Saturday night, my wine and I had another date. (Yes, again! But in my defense, my "manfriend" is halfway across the country.)  I curled up next to my Cabernet to watch a couple of movies that might seem an odd pairing. I know I'd never expect to find Wall-E and Some Kind of Wonderful sold together at Target for $8.99.  Made twenty-two years apart (F**k, time flies!), one animated, one not, one starring robots, one human--but surprisingly similar.

Before I go on, here's a bit of history. I've been run over by the love bus more times than I can count. I have the tire tracks on my ass to prove it! I've been to the war; figuratively knocked down and emotionally put through the ringer. But despite it all, I never lost hope that I'd find someone.

*Cue sappy music track* (I'm thinking Lost in Your Eyes by Debbie Gibson is fitting).

I'm an incurable romantic and optimist who, with the exception of a few choice drunken, pity party for one nights when I vowed to God and The World that I'd "NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER get my heart broken again!" always believed it would happen.

So, back to my "date night". I ordered Wall-E because it's been on my list of movies to see for a while and frankly, it was doubtful that my real-life boyfriend would have agreed to watch it with me anyway. I knew very little about the flick other than it had just won an Academy Award (should've won all six it was nominated for!) and was recently mentioned in an episode of Ugly Betty. "Wall-E, Eee-Va, Wall-E, Eee-Va"--more on that in a minute.

I didn't know what I was expecting, but certainly not a movie where two robots fell in love and, yes, made me cry. In the world of love and romance, the word robot is often used to describe emotionally unavailable people. (Or maybe I've just taken a liking to calling men I've dated who were devoid of emotion--names like "R2 D2" and "C3P0").

Wall-E is a trash compacting robot living basically alone in a trash dump on Earth (his only companion, a roach he takes care of) until Eva arrives. Eva's a much higher tech robot from outer space.  At first, Wall-E's love is unrequited but he eventually breaks through, getting Eva to let her robotic guard down. It begins when they learn each others names "Wall-E" ,"Eee-va","Wall-E" ,"Eee-va" and throughout the movie (don't laugh) it's a mating call of sorts. And it made me cry every time I heard it.

It turns out, Wall-E is a wonderful love story of what can happen after someone (or something) opens his or her robotic (or otherwise) eyes to finally see the person (or machine) who loves them, right in front of them.

This is exactly what happens in Some Kind of Wonderful , recently given to me by a friend who loves to reminisce about trapper keepers, leg warmers and all things 80's even more than I do. I hadn't seen it in a long time but was instantly brought back to the year when the movie came out.

1987. I was a freshman in high school, wearing those red glasses you may have heard about. I sported too much hair gel, a mouth full of silver braces and underarm, I carried my Peechee folders with one unrequited lover's name after another scrolled across them. Wow, it's  funny how quickly the feelings of teenage angst come rushing back.

Many of you (especially those who are old enough to have seen the movie in the theatre- I know I'm not the only one!), will recall that the the plot of Some Kind of Wonderful is about an unpopular guy (Keith) who is so fixated on the popular girl (Amanda) that he fails to see his best girlfriend (Watts) is in love with him. The last line in the movie resonates. After Keith realizes Watts is "the one" and gives her the diamond earrings he'd originally given to Amanda, he says, "My future looks great on you."

Yup, when she heard that, this incurable romantic cried again.

So I recommend that this weekend, you grab your wine or your guy or gal and watch these movies! Especially if you're a wee bit more on the robotic side (not naming any names--Liz Clark Fenton!), you, like Wall-E and Eva, need love too!

BITTER WITH TWITTER By Liz

twitter-bird-wallpaper So I've got a confession.  I'm bitter with Twitter.  It's like Facebook on Acid.

I signed up a month ago and have yet to figure it out. Isn't it just a bunch of never-ending status updates?  And yes, I know that status updates are best part of Facebook.  But I feel like Twitter is cheating-like they've eaten all the yummy white stuff out of my Oreos.

For those of you unfamiliar with Twitter, it works something like this:  I follow people and they follow me.  Get it?  And by follow I mean you are able to read my wannabe Facebook status updates.

So I signed up and found a few people to follow through the email finder. I was on my way!  Wait, why aren't they following me?  Of course!  There has to be some form of social rejection or Twitter wouldn't be fun!   Why don't you want to follow me?  Did I do something wrong?  Aren't you dying to read my once-a-week tweet? Oh, you want them multiple times per day? Sorry! I spend all my energy coming up with witty Facebook status updates!  Isn't that enough?

And forget about finding someone unless you know their Twitter nickname. Seriously, it's virtually impossible. Twitter, if I knew their damn nickname, I wouldn't need to search for them!

And I should have known Twitter would be trouble when I logged in for the first time and saw that most of the tweets were about how people didn't get Twitter. Then, I made a rookie Twitter mistake when I decided to follow Jimmy Fallon.  Why follow Jimmy, you ask?  Well, I've been crushing on him since his SNL days and was too scared to friend him on Facebook.  Twitter felt less committal, less stalker-ish.  Except for that whole following thing. Hmmm, I guess I didn't think that one through.

Anyway, I was saddened to discover that my celeb-crush tweets too much.  Jimmy tweets about everything and everyone.  Really Jimmy? Do we really need to know every detail about your day?  About the berber carpet in your studio? It's a bit much, even for your biggest fan.  I know you're excited about Tweeting via Tweetie, but we need some boundaries.

Lisa kind of almost likes Twitter.  She even went so far as to install Twitter Tools on our blog so we could Tweet. Funny thing is, we can't figure out how to tweet to the blog!  So sorry if you are anxiously waiting to hear Liz and Lisa's sweet tweets each day.  Not going to happen until hear back from our web designer.  He's a big tweeter.  Tweets all the time!

But Lisa would not be stopped on her quest to have a productive relationship with Twitter.  That led her to install a Tweet Roll on our site that shows you all of our followers.  You know, those 12 people that are waiting to hear our daily wisdom via Tweets.  Oh, and she wants me to tell you to click on the Tweetroll link to follow us. Please.

Maybe part of the problem is that Twitter makes me feel old. And irrelevent. It makes me want to say things like, "Those young whippersnappers are all on Twitter!" and "Those Twitter young'uns don't know what's it's like to walk a mile to school in the snow!"  I want to say these things even though I've never walked a mile to school or lived anywhere where it actually snows.

Am I becoming  like my dear mother, who can't figure out how to turn on her DVD player when the kids want to watch Kung Fu Panda?  Is this the first step?  I have a blog, for Christs sake!  Doesn't that make me tech-savvy?

So screw you Twitter because I am relevant!  And soon I will be tweeting like nobody's business!  And then I will dominate you Twitter!  My Tweets will be heard around the world!

Um, just as soon as someone shows me how to do it.

SILVER FOXES By Lisa

images816105_richard-gere So, I was watching "Nights In Rodanthe" over the weekend (save the judgment--you know you've all seen a Nicholas Sparks movie---or four!) and sharing a bottle of wine with, *cough*, myself (again, you know you've been there) and was almost hit over the head with my sudden attraction to Richard Gere.

And, no, it wasn't the wine (ok, maybe just a wee bit). I started looking at him....I mean really looking. I took in his full head of hair (albeit gray), his eyes (especially the crow's feet around them), his face (yeah, the one that starred in "An Officer and a Gentleman" the year I was in the second grade) and, well, suddenly the whole Richard Gere package was just working for me.

I could imagine doing really naughty things with this man who had to be old enough to be my father (yup, just checked his IMDB profile, he is). As I pushed my knowledge of his humanitarian mumbo jumbo and his love of the Dalai Lama to the back of my mind (such a buzz kill), I wished I was his leading lady. I imagined that I was Diane Lane's character, a blanket draped around my shoulders, our bodies touching as we stood on the porch of the bed and breakfast, staring out at the wild sea.

But here's the thing, this wasn't the first Richard Gere movie I'd seen. I don't remember thinking naughty things when I saw him in "Unfaithful" a few years ago. But I do clearly remember daydreaming about Oliver Martinez-- the much younger actor that Diane Lane was doing the nasty with. (Again, so wanting to be her).

So why Richard Gere? Why now? Is it because I'm getting older? It's true I'm about to turn 36 and maybe I've been thinking about that-- a lot.

With each passing year am I going to be more attracted to "older" men and less attracted to the younger ones? I pray not!  I want to be a cougar when I qualify (when is that, BTW?). It's a label I'll proudly wear.  

But the question is--can I have desires for males on both sides of the age hemisphere? Can I simultaneously lust after the picture of my current boyfriend at age 19 (like when his shirtless photo was posted on Facebook last week) and a man who watched Neil Armstrong land on the moon on live TV? 

When I told Liz about my lust for Richard Gere, she proudly exclaimed that she thinks Tom Selleck is just as hot now as he was when he starred in Magnum, P.I. twenty nine years ago. (Incidentally, dear 'ol Tom is four years older than Richard, but who's counting?). 

So what other distinguished gentleman would star in my personal fantasy?... Of course there's Pierce Brosnan (who you might be shocked to learn is 56!-- I know I am!), Harrison Ford (when did Indiana turn 67?) and, of course, George Clooney (almost 50--but I'm convinced he'll still be hot when he's 85!).

So next time People's Sexiest Man Alive is a silver fox, we should all pay more attention. As far as I'm concerned, gray is the new black.

GOING OVERBOARD BY LIZ

Forgive me, I'm going to get on my soapbox for a moment. While out to dinner with friends last night, the talk turned to education.  We discussed assessments, interviews, essays, applications and top-secret interactive spreadsheets for hours.  My head was ready to explode by the time the check came.

Now I know what you are thinking...I look way too young to have a college-bound child.(Or at least you better be thinking that!) So then you might throw up a little bit in your mouth when I tell you that the above mentioned things are all for entrance to KINDERGARTEN!!!

Yes, you heard that right-kindergarten.  Apparently choosing the right one is a life or death decision these days. I've always told myself I wouldn't be one of those parents who does a PowerPoint presentation for their kid's preschool assignment and for the most part, I'm not.  I really do try to keep things in perspective.

But what I underestimated was the influence of other parents.  It's almost impossible not to get worked up into a frenzy when your mom friends are going overboard. I seem to be the only one who hasn't put together a spreadsheet detailing everything from test scores to lead analysis of the drinking fountains.  And this information is protected with vigor from lazy moms like myself that don't love their kids enough to spend hours on the computer researching and analyzing every last detail.

Maybe I am lazy, but part of me feels like it's because I love my kids so much that I refuse to give in to this craziness.  To believe that my child's entire future is dependent on whether she attends the right kindergarten.  That she'll end up as some crackwhore living on the streets if I send her to the public school a block away rather than the private one with the shiny brochure and pricey tuition.

Maybe my view stems from the simplicity of my childhood, growing up in a small town in San Diego.  My parents would throw my two older brothers and I in the backseat of our enormous yellow Buick and take off. No car seats or seat belts-this was the 70's people! Then we would speed down the street to school.  Once there, we would play on "The Fort", a ridiculously dangerous wood monstrosity on the playground that was torn down in the mid-80's after the school district finally declared it unsafe.  After that, I would walk home with my brothers to our unlocked house and they would torture me until my Mom got home that evening. Yes, the world has changed a lot since then, but I'm still trying to find some sort of balance between the values of the two eras.  And I like to think that I turned out pretty decent.  I may not be able to locate North Dakota on a map or balance the checkbook well, but for the most part, the California state school system did right by me.

The bottom line is that we need to remember no matter what school our kids attend, it's their values and determination that shapes who they become.  Although my parents may have put me in mortal danger each time I got in a car with them, they taught me to be independent and that I can achieve anything if I'm willing to work hard.

So Spreadsheet Moms of the world, cut moms like me a little slack.  We have a five-point plan too, it's just a little different from yours.  And if my daughter does end up a crackwhore, I officially give you permission to say "I told you so!" But only after you make a spreadsheet for me detailing all the best rehabs.

A DIRTY MARTINI WITH A SIDE OF FACEBOOK By Lisa

betsys_usual_dirty_martiniI guess you could say my "signature cocktail" is a slightly dirty Grey Goose martini with extra olives. Made right, it can make you swoon with delight as you savor the taste of the perfect blend of vodka and olive juice in your mouth. So, at a party over the weekend I thought to myself, "What better to pair with my favorite drink than my favorite conversation topic--Facebook?" I've obviously made no secret that I'm a total Facebook whore who's now made a hobby out of collecting friends. My latest offense was just yesterday when I was sent a friend request by someone I'd never met and with whom I had no mutual friends. An automatic "ignore" for most, but not for me. Instead of rejecting this prospective friend, I made an inquiry. Had this man from South Africa meant to friend me? It turns out, he hadn't. He was looking for another person with the same name.

You might be thinking, "Yeah, right, like there's another Lisa Steinke out there that he meant to friend?  Please. This guy probably just wanted to get in your pants!" (Well at least that's what my boyfriend would say!) Well, it turns out that there is in fact another Lisa Steinke out there. She lives in the Midwest and I happen to already be friends with her. A few weeks ago, I thought it would be funny to friend someone of the same name. Since it's always about the status report, I could see it in my mind...Lisa Steinke is now friends with Lisa Steinke.

Well apparently the other Lisa Steinke liked the idea because she swiftly accepted me and even beat me to the punch with her own status report. I was curious now that I knew we shared a name and a sense of humor. Did we have more in common? I went to her page to find out. I discovered that she belonged to a group called, "You Know You're In The Steinke Family When..."

Oh, how exciting, I thought. I wonder if other Steinke families are like mine.

But after reading the first point, "You can't leave a family reunion without hugging and kissing everyone twice", I laughed. It wasn't an LOL situation like many of you are so fond of. It was more of an outward chuckle--more of a COL, if you will. In MY Steinke family, we're lucky if we even smile at each other when we accidentally pass on the street! And we certainly would never have a,*cough*, family reunion.

But I really digress.... So, back to the man in South Africa. Even after discovering he wasn't intending to friend me, I friended him anyway. Afterall, I didn't have any friends on that continent yet.

And these are the stories I was thinking of as the conversation at the party inevitably turned to Facebook. There was an article in last week's Time Magazine about how the boomers are all over Facebook. Damn right! Although not a boomer myself, I'm certainly no spring chicken. I'm rounding the corner to 36 so of course I'm going to defend the "older" folk who want to be part of a social network. There's plenty of room for everyone- even you Mom- I'm waiting!

So, when a 49-year-old woman began to tell me a story about Facebook, my ears perked up. I took a sip of my glorious martini and gave her my undivided attention.  She explained that recently some of her high school classmates had found her. She didn't understand why, after thirty years, they now wanted to see what she was "up to"... In fact, she wrote each of them a note that said if they were REALLY interested in forming a connection with her, they could call her on the phone. What a novel concept.

I was surprised to hear that 3 out of the 4 classmates did in fact call. I stood there in shock and took a bite out of my olive. I certainly wouldn't have called had I been one of those classmates and I told this woman as much. I said, "I have to be honest, that although I respect your position, I feel the complete opposite. I enjoy getting notes from former classmates and people I haven't seen in two decades... but would NEVER want to hear their voices!"  That would just be taking it entirely too far.

I knew I sounded like an a-hole, but it was the truth. The best part of Facebook is the fact that you can keep up with people without having to write more than a sentence or two on their wall. It doesn't mean I don't give a sh** about them, it just means I give more of a sh** about my own time.

Throughout the night, I heard myself saying to the other partygoers, "I'll be sure to tag you in that photo" and "I'm going to friend you tomorrow!" Sentences I would never have put together before I lost my Facebook virginity three months ago. Sentences that are completely part of my vernacular now.

The day after the party as I was uploading the photos to Facebook, I thought about the woman who told me the stories about her high school classmates. Suddenly, I desperately wanted to be her Facebook friend. Not only because she clearly played hard to get, but because I liked her style. She wasn't going to accept just anyone. If I could get into her exclusive club of friends, I would be cool. So, I sent her a message and told her how nice it was talking with her and getting to know her and I left it at that. (Honestly, I promise you that, a-hole or not, I really did like her and meant what I wrote). A few hours later, that little red notification symbol popped up and, wah lah, a friend request!

The perfect martini coupled with a new Facebook friend.

That, my Facebook and non-Facebook friends, is what I call a successful night.

FACEBOOK REJECTION CONFESSION BY LIZ

I was laughing last week as Lisa came out of the closet, proclaiming herself a Facebook whore.  Was it only three months ago that I was begging her to join? I fondly remember my first few days on Facebook last July.  The randomness of  being able to friend your mom, your boss, the guy who took your virginity all at the same time held a lot of appeal to me.

At first I was a bit shy.  I would troll around in cyberspace for hours, wishing my exes didn't have such common names so they'd be easier to find.  Why hadn't I dated less Smiths and Jones?

But once I did find these people, I was happy to see that they were  just as curious to find out what I'd been up to for the past 10-20 years.  They were probably dying to know if I'd finally figured out how to use a tweezers and a straightening iron. (FYI, I did, but only after a intervention by my friend Heather.)

As my friend list grew, I became drunk with the power of finding every ghost of my past.  I began to friend with abandon, adding everyone from from my  high school nemesis to a fellow mom at my kid's preschool. I was unstoppable!

Until I found Gappy McGapperson.(Not his real name, obviously.)

I met Gappy my junior year of college.  Let me make one thing clear, just in case his name doesn't do him justice. He was not cute. At all.  He was a  Kurt Cobain wannabe with a huge gap between his front teeth and helmet hair.

But he'd transferred in from another school and immediately started dating a very cute girl. So everyone thought he was hotter than he really was. Then he dogged that cute girl. Real bad.  And the rest is history.  I had to have this gap-toothed asshole for my own.

Like a lot of us, I had a secret fantasy that I would one day tame a "bad boy".  That although no other woman had been able to break him of his drunken, tardy(I'm so anal about time that I consider this bad boy behavior), dogging ways before me.  I had visions of people toasting about it at our wedding...I would become a legend to insecure woman with daddy issues all around the world!

And this secret fantasy led me to date the biggest jackasses on earth until I finally realized that it's okay to let yourself love a nice guy.  They make great husbands!

Anyway, I digress.  So long story short, I dated Gappy for a New York minute.  We had big plans to attend my sorority formal the week after spring break.  Formal was the place I was going to show him that I was the girl that would change his life forever! But my dreams were crushed when he proceeded to mack on at least ten other girls in Mexico on Spring Break.  In front of all my friends.  With some of my friends!

Needless to say, that was the end for Gappy and me.  The toast at our wedding just wasn't in the cards now, even if he did beg for me back and  pledge his undying love.  I was hurt, humiliated and frustrated with myself for letting the fact that he was a "bad boy" make me forget how gross he was.

Fast forward to last month.  I'm cruising Facebook while watching Grey's Anatomy and decide I have time to peruse the millions of  pages from my college graduating class.  It had been a while since I'd made a great Facebook "find" and I was anxious to discover someone interesting from my past.

And there he was!  Gappy McGapperson.

Okay, so I know what you're all thinking.  OF COURSE I want him to take a look at my profile and feel regret that he let me slip away.  That if  he had just been patient and pointed me in the direction of Weight Watchers and a good hair stylist, we could've really had something.  I wanted him to see my incredibly tall, handsome husband,(Gappy wasn't too tall and I think we've established he had a dog-face.) and beautiful children and say, "Damn! She could've been mine!"

So, without having tasted Facebook rejection yet, I confidently hit the "Add Friend" button and wrote a short note. Something like. "OMG, hey Gappy!  It's Liz!  How the hell are you!"

And then I waited.

And waited.

AND WAITED SOME MORE...

After a couple of weeks, I dropped back in on Gappy to see what was going on and saw that I had been REJECTED!  That's right.  The friend request was gone, I had been ignored.

Basically, Facebook's version of the middle finger.

Really Gappy? Really?  You're not even a wee bit curious what I've been up to?  If you would just add me as a friend you would see that the tables are turned. Now I'm too good for you!

And I'm not gonna lie.  The rejection stung.  All of a sudden it was 1995 all over again when my roommates sat me down and detailed Gappy's extracurricular activities in San Felipe.  And then all the scrambling I had to do the next week to find a formal date that hadn't publicly humiliated me. (Much harder to do than you might think!)

So I've been a bit shy on the Facebook trigger since then.  I've found another "bad boy" from the past but I'm just going to have to wait it out for him to friend me and discover I was the best thing that almost happened to him.

*big sigh*

Never miss news about contests, books, and more! Subscribe to our newsletter here.