Top Five Reasons to Embrace Your Inner Cougar By Liz & Lisa

The coug gets a bad rap. So what if she's 40-ish (40 is sooo the new 21), bleached blonde and doing all she can to fight dear 'ol mother nature!  Who gives a flying botox needle if she prefers to prey on young, hot men with stamina for days? Last time we checked, doing the naughty with someone at the height of his sexual peak was a damn good thing. We're 35 and a year over 35 respectively (36 just sounds so, well, over 35) and although not technically ready to admit we're officially cougar card carrying members, we definitely have the #1 symptom of cougarism. Our eyes have started narrowing in on the *cough* younger men out there--many of whom could be our sons. (Well, in biblical times anyway.)

So, if you're on the fence, hopefully we can persuade you that "going young" really is the new black. Here are what we consider five excellent reasons to embrace your cougar within.

#5- The Bachelorette Ladies! This is like the cougar's version of the Animal Planet. From the comfort of your own couch, you can sit back with a bowl of Pirates Booty and watch them in captivity. Forget Jillian, it's all about her prospective suitors... the young pieces of man candy who, lucky for us, LOVE to run around shirtless and drunk (such a glorious combination!) Well for most of them anyway... We're ecstatic she finally dumped Tanner P., a.k.a. the tattle tailing, foot fetish, mango toe nail polish loving freak who's older than we like anyway (30!)  So, if you haven't already, hurry up and add this guilty pleasure to your Monday night Tivo line up! (Only 5 men left and two are under 27!)  ROAR! (PS: Be on the look out this Fall for Courtney Cox's new show, Cougar Town, which will hopefully offer some yummy cougar candy!)

#4-Gossip Girl- Chuck Bass (Ed Westwick), Nate Archibald (Chace Crawford) & Dan Humphrey (Penn Badgley) Don't think about the fact these three guys are playing high school boys because, in real life, they're all over 18! (But if it makes you feel any better, their characters all just graduated and are off to college! Woo hoo!)

Chuck Bass is the resident bad boy. But even better, he's the resident rich bad boy (those hundred dollar bills just seem to make him even cuter). He's definitely the one mom warned you not to go out with which makes it all the more fun to cougar crush on him now.

Nate Archibald is the boy next door and just so damn cute. But if GG just isn't your thing (as if!) or you don't have time to add it into your television line up (more likely!), this week, you can check out Chace Crawford on the cover of People Magazine's  Summer's Hottest Bachelor issue (can we say hot in black polo much?) And soon, you can see him starring in the Footloose remake! (He replaced Zac Efron who dropped out. Lisa's not at all sad about that because she plays for Team Chace. It's Liz who crushes on Zac. See #2.) Now, we hate to point out that Chace wasn't even born when the original Footloose was released. But before you get your Hanky Pankys all in a bunch, we'd like to assure you that he's now a very respectable cougar prey age of 22. So, we feel it will be completely acceptable to lust after him as he cuts loose in an abandoned warehouse.

Dan Humphrey is the perfect blend of Chuck and Nate (if you don't count the fact that he's Gossip Girl poor). He's a little bit o' bad (had an affair with a teacher!) and a whole lot o' good (looks out for his little sister, gets good grades, blah, blah) all rolled up into one very cute (although not so tall) package.  GG is in re-runs now, so it's a perfect time for you to get caught up on all the Upper East Side drama and decide which of the three guys is your favorite. Or if you're lookin' for new bait, there's a hottie comin' on board in season three!

#3- American Idol-Kris Allen We have to admit, it took awhile before we sniffed out this cougar bait.  At first we were distracted by Adam Lambert's guyliner and Danny Gokey's sweet ballads and sad back story.  But when Kris took the stage and belted out Kanye West's "Heartless", we melted like butter on a baked potato.  And we weren't the only ones who felt that way....we'd bet our Jimmy Choos that his surprising victory was due to a cougar population explosion!  Don't ever come between a coug and her speed dial people.

#2- Zac Efron There's a reason that Liz has seen HSM 2 more times than she'd like to admit.  And it has nothing to do with her four-year old's penchant for Sharpay's pink golf cart and everything to do with her coug crush on Zac Efron. She's had a thing for him since the minute she saw him take the floor in his Wildcats uniform and wasn't at all bothered by the fact that he barely even gave Gabriella more than a peck on the cheek the entire movie! (She likes to tell herself that he was just playing hard to get.) And maybe we shouldn't even mention the fact that the soundtrack has somehow landed in her iPod's top 25 playlist?  She's always had a thing for guys who could carry a tune...even if they played for the other team! *cough* Barry Manilow!

#1- Justin Timberlake (Honorary Cougar Prey) We were almost sad to discover that he's a bit, er, older than we thought. (When did he turn 28?!) But to us, he's still an 'N Sync'er with that curly hair (although the clippers were a very good call). So, he makes our cougar cut anyway, because, well, he's freakin' JT! Who knew back when he was singing "Bye, Bye, Bye" and dating Brit Brit that he'd  break out of the boy band box and into to the d**k in a box? We definitely want to be his Motherlover!

A couple of years ago, we had a live JT cougar sighting. There he was, in the lobby of Mandalay Bay! He was wearing jorts, but it didn't matter. He can wear, or even better, NOT wear, whatever he wants. After following him (for just a few, ok, 5 minutes), our eyes wide and our tongues hanging out of our mouths, we dragged our "of age" (and just as handsome- wink, wink) men to the ticket counter to see if we could score tickets to his concert that night. Fortunately for our guys, but unfortunately for us, only the cheap seats were left. So we opted to savor our in-person sighting because there aint nothin' cheap about our JT.

So, ladies, we say, reach within and unleash the coug! Let out your inner ROAR.  Or in our case, a DOUBLE ROAR!

xoxo Liz & Lisa

Don Julio made me do it by Liz

Don Julio made me do it!

I just returned from a fabulous Mexican vacation sans kids and I have to tell ya, it was much needed break from the daily grind.  Between the spotty cell service and low Mexicano wi-fi signal, I was detached from the world whether I liked it or not!

Well, almost detached from the world...if you don't count the fact that it was a company-sponsored awards trip so over a hundred of my colleagues were also in attendance.  Lisa and I generally have a policy not to talk about our "day jobs" on this blog but I'm going to make an exception this one time since, well, I just need to tell someone about the hot torrid affair I had while there.

His name was Don Julio. *cough* Actually, his full name is Don Julio Tequila Reposado.  And with all due respect to my husband, Don Julio is the smoothest thing I've had slide down my throat in a really long time.

We met Don Julio the first night at the welcome reception and, at first, I was hesitant to embrace what he had to offer.  I had been burned by his cousin Jose(Cuervo, that is) and even by their rich uncle Patron.  In fact, I thought I had sworn off their family forever after a tequila-induced lap dance contest that went horribly wrong the last time I was in Mexico.  In fact, that's probably the reason I had waited ten years to come back!

But Don Julio was different.  He really helped me get over the awkwardness of going from PowerPoint presentations and buttoned-up suits at sales meetings to belly-button rings and bikinis at the pool.  And like any new relationship, I couldn't wait to get to the bar to see what he was up to. Don Julio could do no wrong as far as I was concerned and the two of us became the life of the party!

And much to my husband's chagrin,  I talked about my love for him to anyone that would listen.

Have a hangover?  Don Julio insists he can make you feel better again!

Having trouble getting your buzz on for Cabo Wabo?  A little kiss from Don Julio and you'll be climbing the catwalk!

Nervous about networking?  Don Julio has a three-point strategy for you that includes salt, lime and a whistle.

Donnie J(that was my nickname for him) and I went everywhere together.  And I had talked him up so much to others that they became interested in meeting him too.  But like any hot and heavy relationship, we were destined to burn ourselves out.  And after a night at Cabo Wabo that included catwalk cougar dances and a near run-in with the Federales , Don Julio and I called it quits.  I just couldn't be with someone who made me feel so bad the morning after.  Someone who dehydrated me and ruined my anti-stress massage because I was too dizzy to lie flat on my stomach.

And it hurt when I saw Don Julio move on so quickly, like I was was just another notch in his hand-embroidered belt. I couldn't even look him in the eye as I watched my former flame hook up with other girls on our last night there.  I shook my head and tried to warn them that even though Donnie J had given them to courage to dirty dance with their boss's boss's boss, they would regret it in the morning.  But like me, they needed to learn their lesson the hard way.  And when I saw those same girls boarding the airport shuttle the next day holding their heads in shame and looking like ass on a stick, I gave them a quiet nod to show that I understood.  We had all been burned by the same man.

Don Julio.

And in an effort to circumvent any corporate backlash that may come from my antics, I have assembled a Don Julio made me do it list just in case...

It wasn't my fault!  Don Julio made me:

*Climb up a questionable ladder to a catwalk at Cabo Wabo and scream at the twenty-something cuties in the band like a Cougar in heat.

* Do my best impersonation of a top twenty finalist on "So You Think You Can Dance" on above-mentioned catwalk and then proceed to ask everyone if they had my ticket to "Vegas".

*Ask the man walking around with tequila shots and a whistle to show us what he had under his Poncho. (And trust me, you don't want to know...)

* Made the ultimate vacation fashion faux pas by wearing a straw cowboy hat even though I clearly knew better.

*Danced to Bon Jovi with a man dressed like a sweaty pirate for ten minutes before realizing it was actually my counterpart at work.

xoxo

Liz

Confessions of a Third Wheel By Lisa

I think the third wheel gets a bad rap.

And I would know, considering I've been a willing wheel for many years...

The third wheel has a negative connotation--conjuring up images of that tag along kid who followed you around on the playground. Or the girl your mom coerced you into inviting to your slumber party. And the roommate who regularly crashed your movie night on the couch with your boyfriend. (You know who you are!)

But not all third wheels are unwelcome guests. Some, like me, are invited--even bribed or begged into attending an event with the other two. (More on that in a minute but it starts with--MARE-UH-THON!)

The Tricycle

I've been a member of the tricycle as Liz, her husband Mike, and I refer to our arrangement, for at least a decade. (Maybe I'll get a special pin soon? In the spirit of "wings" for flying, I'll get a wheel?)

We first officially took the tricycle out for a spin for our 10th high school reunion. Liz and Mike had just gotten married and I had, well, just gotten dumped. On the way down we chatted, who had the bigger news?  Liz and Mike?

A wedding! A honeymoon! A new house!

Or me?

Depression diagnosis! A new bottle of Prozac! A singles support group!

As we tricycled to see our Vista High School classmates (go Panthers!), I remember feeling relieved that at least I wouldn't be walking in alone. For a few minutes, I could deflect questions about myself because I'd be standing with Liz and Mike as they discussed their new marriage. Maybe I could even grab a glass of wine before I began answering questions about why I was still single.

I never imagined that, instead of my life or even Liz's post high school life, it would be MIKE at center stage--fielding questions--about his height!? Had he ever played professional basketball? Were all of his friends tall? How did he get soo tall?  I mean he's definitely tall (6'6"), but he's not the Jolly Green Giant or anything!

But I'd still like to take this time to give Mike front wheel Fenton a special shout out for literally overshadowing me!

The Duallie

Recently, Liz asked me if I wanted to go to San Diego to watch her brother-in-law run in a marathon. And then, suddenly, the pitch of her voice got higher as she tried to sell me on the experience. And I knew something was up.

The energy is amazing! It's inspirational! And, um, maybe you can also help me watch the kids when Mike's off with his brother.

Bingo! Energy smenergy. She wanted this wheel to babysit!

I agreed, because, well Auntie Lisa does love Liz's kids and the fact that her two-and-a-half-year-old son, Shane, points to blonde models in magazines and thinks they're me doesn't hurt either. So, I showed up at 8:00 a.m. only to be relegated to the back of the minivan like a dog or the annoying aunt that no one wants to talk to. In all fairness, I was asked if I was okay. I simply replied,

Need. Air. Back. Here.

I asked Liz and Mike what we should call ourselves now that we were traveling with two children? When our friend La Sundra would join us, we'd refer to ourselves as  The Quad. But now, with five, what were we? We decided on duallie.

The Marathon was the next day. So that night, we stayed over at Liz's mom's house. It was then that I was told we'd be LEAVING for the run at 6:00 a.m.

At 5:59 on the nose, relegated yet again to the back of the minivan, I was politely asked how I was back there. I simply replied,

Need. Starbucks. Now.

On the way to the race, I listened as Liz and Mike chatted about how comfortable their bed had been the night before. I had to chime in. I yelled up to the front seat over Liz's four-year-old daughter, Riley, belting out Natasha Betingfeld's Soulmate. (Unbelievably cute, BTW!)

Oh really?  Was it now? Well, I think I can one up you. My COT in the dining room was freakin' fantastic! Wouldn't have traded with either of you if you paid me!

*Awkward silence*

Okay, so I'll admit that the Marathon did turn out to be lots of energy and excitement, just like Liz promised. Her BIL did awesome (although I stand by my convenient theory that it just cannot be necessary to run 26 whole miles) and it was fun to watch all the "Elvises" run by (it was the Rock N Roll marathon, after all).

And in the interest of full disclosure--since I've kind of thrown Liz & Mike under the bus (how many wheels is that?), I should reveal that Liz has been on the other wheel of a tricycle too...and maybe she wasn't exactly treated like a queen either.  She three wheeled it with Matt and me to the Midwest book signings. And we just might have made her sleep in Matt's 6-year-old son's twin bed. :)

xoxo, Lisa

I'm in the mood...to read By Liz & Lisa

We’ve been trading books since high school. Back then, we'd exchange juicy Danielle Steel novels like Secrets, Changes and The Promise. Even back in the day, we loved a happy ending.  And if there were some steamy sex scenes on the way to that happy ending?  Even better! But even now that we've traded in our shoulder pads and skorts for underwire bras and Spanks, we still love to swap a good read. Well, most of the time, anyway...

Let’s just say sometimes one of us is in the mood for a darker and intense memoir (*cough* Lisa) and the other would rather just stay in her happy place (*cough* Liz). Or someone (Liz!) might BONE OUT over the entire Twilight series and the other (Lisa!) might, well, still be stuck back on New Moon. (Note to Twilight fans: before you unleash your inner vampire, she hasn't given up on Edward and Bella just yet!)

We think book choices boil down to how you’re feeling when you're ready to pop open that novel. So, whether you’re PMS-ing, feeling fat and depressed; or you’re perfectly caffeinated, having a great hair day and happy as a freakin’ clam (without the help of a little xany!), there’s always a book that fits your mood.

So, in honor of National Give a Girlfriend a Book Day, here are the books we’d give our moody girlfriends.

THE "STUCK IN A RUT " FRIEND

Candy Girl by Diablo Cody

This memoir about Diablo Cody’s year as a stripper will inspire any Bored Betty out there to try something new and exciting. It probably won't send your girlfriend out to get naked for money (although Diablo's “adventures” sure made for a freakin’ good story) but maybe she'll at least finally give skydiving a try?

Diablo Cody's writing is smart and funny; her way of describing a scene so you feel you’re right there in the strip club is incredible; and her ability to tell the story without judging an industry that the majority considers to be seedy and lowbrow is, well, cool.  So if you need to ignite a little spark in your life, read this book! And follow her on Twitter, she's hilarious! @diablocody

THE "BURNING THE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS" FRIEND

The Manny by Holly Peterson

If you want to turn your brain off, forget about your problems and escape into the fun lives of women looking for love and happiness, we say Chick Lit is the way to go, yo! And if we had to pick just one (and not the one we wrote :) ) we'd give The Manny to any friend stressed out of her mind.

It's a breezy read about an overworked NYC mom who decided to hire herself a Manny to help her out with the daily demands of trying to be the perfect mom, wife and corporate climber all at the same time. Oh, and did we mention that her Manny is one yummy piece of eye candy?  Uh-oh.

Overworked and underappreciated wife + Hot Manny= BIG TROUBLE!

No wonder Liz's husband said N-O  when she begged him for a Manny of her own after reading this.  He knows better!

Click here to become a Facebook fan of Holly Peterson.

THE "EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER" FRIEND

The Divorce Party by Laura Dave

If you're up, down and all over the place, we say any book by Laura Dave will bring you back to center. So to our emotional friend, we'd recommend her latest, The Divorce Party. This is a dual-narrative told by two women who both ride an emotional rollercoaster as one of them faces her upcoming wedding and the other faces her upcoming divorce.  But like any strong women, they navigate their way through it. It's a great story (who knew about these divorce parties that go on?!) that will remind you that no matter how crazy and overwhelmed you feel, you can always come out on top. www.lauradave.com

THE "ROBOT AKA EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE" FRIEND

Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah

Wrap this one up for your favorite robot and watch the tears flow! Seriously, Liz hasn't cried that much since her daughter spilled grape juice all over her brand-new white Juicy Couture sundress!

It's a wonderfully engaging story about lifelong friendship. (Gee, I wonder why we related to it so much?)  Firefly Lane follows two women from adolescence to adulthood and touches on what it truly means to be a friend. It will make you laugh, it will make you cry.(Liz!) And it will make you call your mom and best friend the minute you're done reading to tell them how much they mean to you.

www.kristinhannah.com

THE "PITY PARTY" FRIEND

Happens Every Day By Isabel Gillies

Even though this memoir is about the sad and unexpected end of Isabel Gillies' first marriage, it's a beautifully written example of how even when things seem completely hopeless; when the rug is pulled out from under you; you do have the power to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and freakin' get through it! (If she can survive serving her husband and his mistress a dinner over candle light, you can find your inner muscle man too!)

Isabel Gillies brilliantly writes the story of getting through a devastating time in her life with the help of her friends and  family; all while doing everything she can to protect her two small children. If we had a friend who was feeling down about her life, we'd give her this book. Because, it reminds you that, in the end, everything will work out--if you believe that it will.

www.isabelgillies.com

So buy your friend a book today! While you're at it, we'll shamelessly suggest you throw this one in your cart www.amazon.com ;) It's a good call for the "Need to freakin' LOL" friend.

Xoxo,

Liz & Lisa

25 things Liz & Lisa want to know about...Emily Giffin

We're thrilled that Emily Giffin is answering our 25 "hard hitting" questions because we heart her. In fact, we more than heart her. We have total writer crushes on her.  Something Borrowed and Something Blue are two of our favorite Chick Lit books...and the novels that finally inspired us to get off our lazy asses and write that book we'd been talking about writing for, um, like, 10 years! (Thanks, Emily!)  All four of her books - Something Borrowed (2004), Something Blue (2005), Baby Proof (2006), and Love the One You're With (2008) - have been New York Times bestsellers and translated into a bazillion languages! And her fifth book, Heart of the Matter, is due out in Summer 2010. (We can't wait!) Love the One You're With (LTOYW) is out in paperback now and is the perfect book to throw in your beach bag and devour while you soak up the summer rays. (PS: It's really juicy--about a girl who gets a chance at a "do-over" on her love life!)

One more thing...we have 5 autographed copies of LTOYW to give away. Because we're twores (twitter whores) now, we've decided that if you're one of the first five people to follow us on Twitter Lizandlisa, RT our link to this blog post and send us a DM, you'll get a book! *Tweet* *Tweet*, tweeps!

Now, without further adieu---CHICKLITISNOTDEAD.COM PRESENTS: 25 Things Liz & Lisa want to know about Emily Giffin:

1. Inside my purse, you'll discover: a complete mess. A mass of receipts, random lip gloss, sharpie pens, Blackberry, iPod

2. My secret talent: identifying fonts

3. If stranded on an island, the five things I couldn't live without: I'm assuming you mean other than items to survive. And my children. So here goes: My iPod, my Blackberry, my computer, US Weekly and a Starbucks latte every morning.

4. On my nightstand you'll find: piles of books, photos of my children, peppermint foot lotion

5. When I grew up, I wanted to be: a novelist

6. My worst job: a waitress at Colonial Ice Cream. I got paid $4.50 an hour and my boyfriend got $5/hr.

7. My comfort food: not sure how comforting it is, but guacamole.

8. The location where I write: my attic office or coffee shops.

9. Three songs on my IPOD's most played list: Ani DiFranco's As Is, Joshua Radin's Lovely Tonight and Dispatch's Out Loud

10. If I was on the cover of US Weekly, my headline would read: Best-selling Author Wrecks Mini-Van .... AGAIN!

11. The three books that make me think of my childhood:

Ramona the Brave

Anne of Green Gables

Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great

12. My favorite Chick Flick: Notting Hill and When Harry Met Sally

13. My favorite Chick Lit book: Melissa Banks' Girls Guide to Hunting and Fishing. Is that chick lit? I think so.

14. My "must see" TV: American Idol, Lost, and The Office

15. My Starbucks order: grande skinny double latte

16. My favorite curse word: not really a curse word, but I enjoy an occasional "douchebag"

17. My celebrity man crush: Ryan Reynolds, Matthew McConaughey and Taye Diggs but Jake Ryan (Sixteen Candles) will always have a special place in my heart

18. My celebrity girl crush: Jennifer Aniston

19. My writer media crush: Rachel Maddow

20. My last meal before execution: I refuse to answer that question! (as in, I'm not going to think about my execution!)

21. Three words to summarize my book: universal, resonant, wrenching

22. It took me _____  to write my book. One year

23. My book's original title: Was always Love the One You're With

24. Right now, I'm working on: a new novel, Heart of the Matter

25. Chick Lit is alive & kicking because: quality writing, no matter what genre, will always be in demand

Check out  www.emilygiffin.com to find out where to buy Love the One You're With, read a sneak peek of Heart of the Matter or to get more info on Emily and her other books!

A big xoxo to you Emily!

The (inanimate) object of my affection By Liz & Lisa

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

Marty Mazda

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*

NOT.

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.

Mac Macbook

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

My Sweet Tweet

My name is Liz, and I'm a Tweetaholic. Yes, you heard that right.  I know, I was completely bitter with Twitter a mere three months ago but have recently crossed to the dark side.  I finally understand what that damn Jimmy Fallon was making all the fuss about.

It all started when I went to see my psychic. We were in the middle of dishing all the dirt on my near future when she stopped abruptly.

"Hmmm..." she said, scratching her head. "Something just came to me."

"What!  What is it!" My heart started to pound.  "Am I going to win the lottery?"

"No," she said, looking at me oddly. "What the hell is Twitter?"

"Twitter?" I questioned.  And inside I was thinking, really?  I'm paying $60 an hour and we're going to talk about f*cking tweets?   "It's not important," I said.  "It's just some lame ass social networking site!"

"Really?  Because I'm being told that Twitter will be very important in your journey.  Do you tweet?"

"What! Are you sure my angels aren't referring to Facebook? I like that much better."

"Nope!" she reaffirmed. "Definitely Twitter!"

Damn, Twitter has gotten so big that they even have the afterlife promoting it?  Crazy!  I really need to get the name of their PR agency.

But my psychic has never been wrong before so I went home and dusted off my Tweetdeck.   It was a bit rocky at first, I just couldn't get into my tweet groove.  But after a while, something odd began to happen...I began to...LOVE it!

And for my tweeps who are still hatin', I get it.  At first it seems so...pointless.  I questioned whether my followers really wanted to hear about my Starbucks addiction or my love for Nick Lachey. So I would sit, fingers poised at my keyboard, staring aimlessly at my Tweetdeck.  What interesting nugget could I reveal to my followers that hadn't already been beaten to death on Facebook? And to do it in 140 characters or less? Impossible!

I was suffering from tweet performance anxiety!

But I had big RT(that's retweet for you Twitter virgins) dreams so I let my fingers fly and held my breath as my tweets were heard around the world!(or in at least four mainland states...) I even got a little crazy and participated in Twitter's version of a high five, #Follow Friday.  Our followers were growing by the hour and I became obsessed.  Lisa, who was a once-a-day tweeter at best, had no idea of the love affair Twitter and I were now having.  She would occasionally comment on our spike in followers and I feigned ignorance.  I wanted to keep the tweet love all for myself!

BUT, after one really crazy Follow Friday a few weeks ago, I was outed as the Twitter whore I had become.  Lisa, whose nickname in college was PI Spice, had finally figured out that our followers were not just showing up out of thin air.  So she installed Tweetdeck and my secret tweet life was officially over!  She wanted in on the action too.   And, well, considering the our Twitter handle is Liz and Lisa, I guess I had to oblige.

I could barely go five minutes the next week without a twext(duh, that's a text about Twitter!) from Lisa.

WTF is an RT?

What does # mean?

How do I @ someone and WTF do I say when I do?

Who is Mr. Tweet and why should I give a sh*t about him?

Why are there ten "Horny Kittys" following us?

But after a week of tryin' out her tweets, Lisa was ready for the bigtime. She was ready to tweet live about #Bachelorette!  And let me just say, it's not for amateurs.  Ripe with potential shit talk, you've gotta be sassy to score a RT from this tough crowd.  And to be honest, I wasn't sure if she was up for it.

But lucky for her, there was plenty of dramz to shittweet about on this episode, especially when the Bachelorette went on her one-on-one date with hottie Sascha.

Things seemed to be going well with Sascha and Jillian.  They had hauled ass in a Ferrari and cuddled on the couch with champagne.  It was obvious he thought the rose sitting on the table would be pinned to his lapel by the end of the night.  But after he confessed to her that he had never had his heart broken,(Hello!  commitmentphobe alert!) she sent him on a horrible walk of shame that involved public transportation. It was UGLY!

And before I even I had a chance to add my two cents,  I saw something come across the Tweetdeck that made me LOL.  A real LOL!

#bachelorette You've never had your heart broken, so I'm going to humiliate you and send you off on a bus. ha!

It was RTed almost instantly! Lisa had officially arrived! Welcome Lisa!  This mama bird is happy you finally found your own inner tweet. *wipes a tear of joy from her eye*

Click here to follow Liz and Lisa on Twitter.  Come on, you know you want to!

xoxo Liz

Team Blonde or Team Brunette? By Lisa

I have a girl crush on Fergie. The post-blonde Fergie, that is.

The *brunette* Fergie.

Fergie wasn't even a blip on my girl crush radar when she was blonde (except when I'd see a picture of her in US Weekly, on the arm of her tall drink of man water, Josh Duhamel).

Before I continue, let us take a Josh Duhamel moment. Ahhhhhhhh.

So I suppose I haven't payed much attention to the blonde Fergie because if I'm going to kiss a girl, I'd prefer she be a brunette one.

The "new" and if I may, "improved" Fergie caught my eye on the A.I. finale. As she was dancing and singing with The Black Eyed Peas to "Boom Boom Pow", I began to see her in a new way. What was it? Why was I so drawn to her performance? I mean, the song was catchy, but I was NOT looking at will.i.am!

Then it hit me.

It was the hair. She was brunette-a-licious! (Sorry, couldn't resist.)

I immediately texted Matt who texted back, "Who?" (Guess he's into blondes :) )

Then I had a radical thought.

Maybe I'd switch teams and dye my hair brown too!

And it wouldn't be the first time...

Ok, so I'm going to lose a little bit of my blonde cred with all my blondie homies out there, but it's time to admit that I did cross over--once.

I dyed my hair brown. And I liked it.

I felt sexier. Edgier. Good different.

Back then, I was pretty daring with my 'dos. I had stripes, (yes, stripes--AT Liz's wedding) I had The Rachel, (which unfortunately looked a lot more like The Carol Brady) and The Gwyneth.  But my personal favorite was The Rocky. I bleached my hair white, cut it as short as Brigitte Nielsen in Rocky IV and spent all my time with a friend with even shorter hair.  Needless to say, most people thought we were a really cute lesbian couple! (Note to self: probably not a good way to meet men! Or women who look like Fergie!)

So, after I "went brown", I felt like "the evil twin", "the bad girl" and "the mysterious stranger" all wrapped up into one!  There was something about the new color that made me feel daring- and gave me 'tude. I went out to clubs! I wore red lipstick! I even bought black leather pants! (Even when I had stripes in my hair, my wildest outfit was  mom jeans and a half-top. So this was big for me!)

And now, more years than I want to admit later...after playing it safe with my long, blonde hair, (with the exception of a few daring moments when I "cut layers"-ooooh!)... I thought I was ready to take another walk on the dark side.

And it was time to tell someone my plan!

In hindsight, I guess it shouldn't have been one of my blonde friends. And this particular blondie *who shall remain nameless * (but you know who you are!!! ), gasped in horror at my idea! (Talk about a buzz kill...)

BLONDE NAMELESS FRIEND: No way! You're a blonde and you will remain true to your *cough* roots!

ME: But...lots of blondes do it. Jessica Simpson. Cameron Diaz. Nicole Richie...

BLONDE NAMELESS FRIEND: And are any of them still brunette?

ME: Point taken. Ugh.

My dreams of channeling my inner Fergie deflated, I went home and looked in the mirror.  Going brown would be fun for a couple of weeks, but the process of getting back to blonde would f***ing suck.  I wasn't going to look as good in black (the only color I own!) and would I really have as much fun? (I'm over 35 now, I can't afford to take chances!)

So in the end, I decided NOT to dye (Special shout out to nameless blonde friend-- I hope you're f***ing happy!)

Because at the end of the day, you can take the blonde out of the girl, but you can't take the girl out of the blonde.

xoxo

Potty Peril by Liz

People that know me well will tell you that I'm not a scaredy cat by nature. That I laugh in the face of danger!  Okay, so maybe I don't laugh at it, but I will snicker at it occasionally.

But I must admit there are a few things that strike fear in my heart.  Things that are so horrible that I get a shiver down my spine just thinking of them.  Things like bad bikini waxes and colon cleanses. Or the thought of Britney and K-Fed getting back together.  Or something else that I experienced this weekend and lived to blog about.

Potty Training.

Okay, so maybe I'm being slightly melodramatic.  After all, my daughter figured it out in three hours flat.  We were shopping at Target and getting our nails painted by 3pm! But this time around, we weren't dealing with a sweet, people-pleasing little girl.  We were dealing with a dick.  Well, um, I mean a penis.  Well, what I really mean is that he has a penis.  And I was tasked this weekend with showing that stubborn little boy what to do with it.

After this experience, I'm shaking my head at the assumption that men are supposed to be the superior gender.  Whoever said that has obviously never potty trained one!  I'm definitely voting for Hilary next time.

And while I'm happy to report that things seem to be going well after an incredibly rocky start,(who knew that they were supposed to sit down on the potty?  Sorry!  I've only seen it done standing up!) I thought I would share some pearls of wisdom that came to me in the past 48 hours.

Liz's Potty Pearls of wisdom

1. Take the time to give proper names to anatomy so that your daughter doesn't keep telling your son to push his "vagina stick" down so he doesn't pee all over the floor.

2. Okay, so the first time he took a dump in his Hulk underwear I thought he just didn't get it.  The second time I questioned my potty game plan.  The third time, I realized he was just f*cking with me.  Typical man!

3. Don't go out drinking the night before, no matter how much fun that harbor cruise sounds. Keeping your gag reflex in check is a lot harder with a hangover. (See number 2.)

4. I know I already mentioned this, but it must be said again: Why doesn't anyone tell you about the whole sitting down thing? And watching him shove his penis down like a bag of weed he's trying to hide?  I'll never be the same again.

5. What?  He's just asked me to leave the bathroom so he could have his "privacy"?  Is this same kid that peed on his bike two hours ago?  I see that like most men, it didn't take him too long to get "cocky". (pun intended.)

xoxo Liz

From Hunk to Junk by Liz & Lisa

You know how something so good....can also be so bad? Like juicy gossip or an episode of Rock of Love.

Or a one night stand.... The night before, he's tall, dark and handsome. The next morning, you wish it was still dark because he's just tall.

Or your college crush....In college, he's gorgeous with a six pack. On Facebook, he's balding and the victim of drinking far too many six packs.

Or even our favorite celebrity man candy. In one movie, he can be so freakin' sweet and in the next, so very, very sour. It's amazing how a hair piece and twenty pounds can transform People's Sexiest Man Alive from totally HOT to totally NOT. From HUNK to JUNK. From LUST to BUST. Well, you get the idea...

So here's our list of actors who've played characters that TURN US ON...that we'd love to end up on the casting couch with *wink* *wink*... But who've also played characters that TURN US OFF--because they thought it would be A-OK to look ugly so they could win an Academy Award or some bullshit like that!

LIZ'S PICKS

#1. Patrick Dempsey

HELL YEAH! Robert Philip in Enchanted.

After drooling over him every Thursday night on Grey's (and always secretly hoping those scrubs would somehow just fall off already), I was ecstatic to discover McDreamy was headed to the silver screen. Now, I'm not normally a movie theatre-goer, but for 70 feet of Mc Dreamy, I made DAMN SURE my four-year-old and I were there on opening weekend. I swooned as he saved Giselle from falling off the billboard and held my breath when he bent down for the "true love kiss."  In fact, I was boning out over my Prince Charming fantasy so much that I even gave him a pass for the awkward singing and dancing scene in the park and the lame ass royal outfit he wore to the ball. Honorable Mention: Thomas Bailey in Made of Honor--Because I'm with Lisa on the whole guy chasing down a girl at the end of a movie thing.

HELL TO THE NO! Ronald Miller in Can't buy me Love.

The hair!  The clothes! The lawnmower!  I'm sorry but you'd have to pay me a lot more than $1000 to let Ronald Miller mow my lawn. (if you know what I'm sayin')  And let's face it, even after the makeover, "totally geek to totally chic" was a bit of a stretch. It should have taken a lot more than ripping the sleeves off his bad shirt and rubbing mousse through his moppy hair for Cindy Mancini to ditch Bobby! Okay so maybe Ronald gets points for liking her poetry and washing her convertible Volkswagen Rabbit, but at the end of the day, he was still Lawnboy. (Um, no, I wasn't a mean girl or anything!) Honorable Mention: Randy Bodek in Loverboy. Cougar bait?  Really? Not buying it.

#2. Matt Damon

HELL YEAH! Jason Bourne in The Bourne Identity, Bourne Supremacy & Bourne Ultimatum

He's a complete hottie in all three, but the first one is my fav because it was when I was watching it that I realized I was in love with him. My heart was racing through the entire movie and let's just say it wasn't from the non-stop action :)  I was drooling all over myself as I lusted for this man without a past!  I mean, how convenient! A hot guy that kicks ass, speaks multiple languages and has zero emotional baggage.  The perfect man! Honorable Mention: Ocean's Eleven, Twelve & Thirteen.  Exception: The fake nose he wore in Thirteen.  Bad.  Very bad.

HELL TO THE NO! Tom Ripley in The Talented Mr. Ripley

I want to go on record and state that I did NOT want to see this movie.  I made a strong case for Deuce Bigalow:Male Gigolo but was overruled by my husband's extended family.  So I told myself it was going to be okay because Matt Damon was in it.  He's hot, right?  NOT! For the next two hours, I was blinded by his milky white skin and almost gagged at the site of him prancing around in his banana hammock.  I don't care that they were in Europe.  It was still wrong.Honorable Mention: Bob Tenor in Stuck On You.  Two words: Siamese. Twins.

#3. Matthew Perry

HELL YEAH! Alex Whitman in Fools Rush In

I know, he isn't your typical A-lister hottie. But I've probably seen this movie thirty times and STILL get choked up every time he professes his love to Isabel at the Hoover Dam. And each time I watch, I'm still so jealous of EE-SUH-BELL and her sassy accent that I kind of hope the ending will change and he'll ditch her!  Then, he and I will live happily ever in the tract home development in Las Vegas.  Hey, maybe it's not realistic that I'd want a hot guy to knock me up on a one night stand and have to live in 150 degree heat 9 months out of the year, but this is Chandler Bing people! Need I say more? Honorable Mention: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip A jaded, funny guy with major issues?  I'm in!

HELL TO THE NO! Seasons 9 and 10 of Friends

My man really packed on the pounds season 9 after he quit those pain pills.  And although I was happy about his newfound sobriety, I just wasn't getting those butterflies in my stomach anymore while watching my Must See TV. Then, just as I convinced myself that bloated was the new black, he went totally 'rexic on me in season ten! Suddenly, I was in love with a yo-yo pill popper and that was so. not. hot.  Honorable Mention: Guest appearance on the old school Beverly Hills, 90210.  In his defense, no one looked good in 1991.

Lisa's Picks

#1. Brad Pitt

HELL YEAH!--Tristan Ludlow in Legends of the Fall

I'm normally into a more clean cut look, but when Tristan pulls up in his wagon, with his long blonde hair and five o'clock shadow, I'm sure I'm having the same naughty thoughts as Sussanah. "I've gotta get me a piece o' that." And then Susasanah takes one look at her boring, virgin fiancee' and you know she's saying to herself, "I am with the wrong bruthuh!" When she finally does get Tristan into the sac, I have to admit, I feel jealous of the lucky bee-yotch! BTW--for a chance to feel those abs, I also would've overlooked the crazy bear nightmares and the attempted knife stabbing in the bed.  Honorable Mention: Oceans Eleven, Twelve & Thirteen

HELL TO THE NO!-- Benjamin Button in Benjamin Button

Then Brad had to go and get all old and wrinkly and short and wrinkly. And the thought of having sex with him now, even though I know somewhere in there, he's still Brad Pitt, is unimaginable. Even when he transforms into his hot self mid-way through the epic, I'm already scarred by the old, wrinkly-ness that went on for far too much of the movie if you ask me. Where, oh where, did the two-time People's Sexiest Man Alive winner go? Honorable Mentions: Zero. He's never looked bad in anything else.

#2. George Clooney

HELL YEAH!--Danny Ocean in Ocean's Eleven, Twleve and Thirteen

Ahhh Danny Ocean, you are so freakin' hot and sexy (and did I mention, sexy?) in these movies that I'd do you six ways to Sunday in that Bellagio penthouse suite. Honorable Mention: Bruce Wayne & Batman in Batman & Robin- cuz every girl fantasizes about a man in "uniform"!

HELL TO THE NO!-- Everett in Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

Oh Brother, where art George Clooney? I never even saw the movie because the idea of him looking like this was just too upsetting. Gone was the Armani suit and the f**k me now grin. In its place, a long, dirty beard and love of weird music? Unless I was feeling some sort of homeless man fantasy, I'd have to pass on--this. Honorable mention: Bob Barnes in Syriana (Hello 55 lb pot belly).

#3 Will Smith

HELL YEAH! Alex "Hitch" Hitchens in Hitch

I have a major crush on Will Smith. In fact, he's one of the celebrities on "my allowed to have sex with" list. I got him and Matt got Heidi Klum. Well, we both wanted Heidi Klum, but in the end, Matt won :) Anywhoo, I digress. I'm in lust with BOTH Hitches. The smooth-talkin guy who sends Sara Melas the walkie talkie when she won't give him her phone number AND the bumbling idiot who knocks her out with the jet ski and tracks down a long lost relative who turns out to be a serial killer. Because no matter what he does, he's still smokin' hot and sexy as all hell. And, let's face it girls, it's a total turn on when a man's not afraid to chase a woman's car down the street to tell her he loves her! (Cuz you know that happens all the time in real life!) Honorable Mention: Bad Boys 1 & 2 & Enemy of The State and every movie where he wears a wife beater or shows us his bare chest. Thank you God for creating this gorgeous man!

HELL TO THE NO! Will Smith in Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

It was a real stretch for me to find a movie that Will Smith did NOT look hot in. As you can see, I had to go back almost twenty years to when he was on TV as the Fresh Prince and hung out with his friend DJ Jazzy Jeff. I can safely say I would not have done the deed with this version of my beloved Will. (Even though I did really love his song, "Parents Just Don't Understand"!) And regarding the questionable choice of overalls, I'd prefer to believe he was merely a victim of bad early 90's fashion--just like all of us. Honorable Mention: Hitch--during the allergic reaction.

xoxo Liz & Lisa

Should You friend your EX on Facebook? By Liz & Lisa

LISA SAYS: HIT IGNORE! I come from the dating school of thought that once you're done, you're done. If I eat bad sushi at a restaurant, I aint goin' back for more. If I get smashed on Whiskey Sours, dance on the bar at Coyote Ugly and make out with some one-eyed Jack-HYPOTHETICALLY OF COURSE ;) --It's pretty damn safe to assume I'm not going to drink Whiskey Sours--EVER AGAIN!

So, why on Earth, after ending my relationship with you, would I even be remotely interested in being your Mafia Wars partner? Or give me a good reason why I need to see that you became a fan of  In N Out?

I'm sorry, but there's a reason we broke up. And last time I checked, our relationship didn't exactly end with a high five.  So forgive me if I'm not super amped to join you in the cyberworld version of shooting the shit over a no-foam latte.

But to every rule, there are always exceptions...

And I think IF we're going to be Facebook friends, there should be a statute of limitations that expires first.

Like how 'bout a decade?

Did we share a sloppy smooch behind the monkey bars? Sure, I'll accept you!

Were you my junior high prom date who said I looked pretty in my blue taffeta? Okay!  I'm anxious to see what you look like without acne anyway!

Did I date you in high school and drink Strawberry Boons in the back of your pick up truck?  Alright! Because I'm curious to see what you look like without that mullet!

For the record, I am Facebook friends with an ex...or two...

Because our only conflict was arguing over whether or not we should show PDA in the cafeteria. So, I'll support your cause to get the thumbs down sign added to Facebook; And I'll give you a thumbs up when your status report says you're remodeling your kitchen; I'll even comment on the photo of your adorable kids in the school play! Because the worst thing you ever did to me was ignore me when your buddies walked up to your locker.

But if we broke up in the last few years, I think it's better to just forgive and forget. Because although our relationship may have seemed like high school at times-- it did end over something more complicated than you writing a different girl's name on your Trapper Keeper. Or me wearing another football player's letterman jacket.

So, look me up in ten years and if there's still a thing called Facebook by then, I definitely won't hit ignore!

LIZ SAYS: HIT ACCEPT! Come on, you know you're curious what's he's been up to and if he's traded up or down.  And the fact of the matter is that if I ignored every guy that I've swapped spit with, I'd have a lot less friends.  You see, I was quite the kissing bandit back in the day, especially after a few shots of Brass Monkey up at the Water Tower.   And I think it's just plain mean to ignore someone just because they cut my lip with their braces and used their tongue as a WMD.

Like Lisa, I'm dying to see if you had a late growth spurt and finally ditched that Nissan Sentra and your love for Steve B.  And it's so much less awkward than waiting for our um, *cough* twenty year reunion, where you're sure to get hammered and grab my ass during the group photo.

But I won't turn away the more recent exes either. Like childbirth, I've conveniently forgotten how painful our relationship was. And by the time I see your friend request, I've even convinced myself that you have enough redeeming qualities to enter my Facebook sanctuary.  And maybe, just maybe, I'm dying to know if you married that chick you dumped me for or if you ever got your snaggle tooth fixed.

So, I play nice on Facebook.

Dating for four months and you decided not to show up to my college graduation party?  No problem!  I was planning on drinking so much I blacked out that night anyway.  Oh look, we're both Susan Boyle fans!  Hurray!

Had anger management issues and tried to strangle my cat?  Merlin and I are so over it!  Oh, and thanks for letting me know you just became a fan of the middle finger and beer, just in case I was questioning my decision to kick you to the curb!

Asked out my best friend the week after we broke up?  It's cool!  I feel better after I saw the picture of you frenching your bulldog and the fact that you listed "hooking up with hot chicks" under interests.

So unless you've heard through the grapevine that your ex is a major shareholder in Starbucks and/or is dating a supermodel, I say just do it!  Trust me, It will only make you feel better about the one you're with.

xoxo Liz and Lisa

Flying The (Un) Friendly Skies By Lisa

There are certain things that baffle me.

Decaf coffee drinkers.

Jorts.

And those who lack the travel etiquette gene.

You’d think that most people on their way to Maui would be happy (give or take a crying baby or a cranky flight attendant that you make the unfortunate mistake of calling stewardess); perma-grins plastered across their faces; visions of Mai Tais dancing in their heads; their biggest anxiety over how early to wake up to claim the much coveted umbrella-covered pool chairs or figuring out which drink would cause less bloating– a beer or a Bloody Mary.

Or maybe that’s just me?

On the morning of our flight to Maui, I had a pep in my step even as I bounded *gag* barefoot through security and then spent the next five minutes frantically searching for my ID that I thought I’d lost for the SEVENTEENTH time that morning!  Sorry, Matt! (See anal traveler disclaimer, below.)

As I maneuvered my way through LAX, I looked around through my Maui colored glasses and all of the usual airport drama was lost on me.

So what if it took the cashier at Hudson News six and a half minutes to ring me up for TIC TACS!

Oh well if the Starbucks line was wrapped around the corner, they were out of sugar free vanilla AND they forgot to give me my apple bran muffin!

Too bad that a whitehead somehow popped up on my face between the walk from the airport shuttle to the gate!

Because in five and a half short hours, I’d be belly up at the Hula Grill bar inhaling coconut calamari. I was going to Maui, baby! And nothing, I repeat, nothing, was going to get me down!

Well, until I boarded the plane.

Those aforementioned glasses started to fog up just a wee bit as I was bombarded with airplane colleagues who seemed quite a bit less happy to be on team “bound for Maui.”

WTF?

Exit Row Nazi  a.k.a. The Angry Guy OMG- Last time I checked, you didn’t own the bulk head/exit row, dude. And maybe it wasn’t your problem that I read the airplane map wrong and poor 6’2” Matt and I ended up crammed in the row directly behind the exit row instead of in it.  But when, by the grace of the travel gods, the seat next to you remained empty after we were told to turn off “anything with an on/off switch”, I took it as a sign. Matt could sit there! And I didn’t have to spend the next five hours obsessing about my mistake and instead could focus on far more important matters like immersing myself in my Bride Wars iTunes rental.

Not if the Exit Row Nazi had anything to say about it.

I kindly asked you if Matt could move into the empty seat next to you (more as a formality, than as an actual request-BTW) and you snidely replied that you “liked your space” and your answer was “no!”  WTH crawled up your ass? You were already in the Holy Grail of economy class seating. You already had four freakin’ feet in front of you–more leg room than someone in first class.  You really wanted more?

Ever the negotiator, I didn’t give up. I decided to appeal to your height. Surely you’d feel bad that another tall guy had his knees shoved up under his chin?  Not. The tall plea was absolutely lost on you. You were just bound and determined to be angry guy.

Well angry guy, you f***ed with the wrong girl.

Because somehow you managed to IRRITATE me while I was trying so hard to bask in my Hawaiian, euphoric glow. And nobody f***ks with my glow!

And I was more than done with you because saying NO to giving us that seat was not the first time your angriness had reared its ugly head.

Remember when you crammed your tattered, brown leather bag into the overhead bin and shoved my new, sassy Tory Burch beach bag to the back– annoyed because somehow I didn’t get the memo that the space was reserved for you? And need I remind you of when I tapped your shoulder and said, “sir, sir, excuse me sir” simply to let you know that your pillow was jammed in my tray table–and you acted as if I was asking you to hold my tampon box?

So, when you told me that my man could not move into a seat that–incidentally–you did not own, that was it. I decided to go over your head and I told on you! I asked the flight attendant if Matt could take that seat and she said, “yes!”

So, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!!

The Barefoot Guy

The fact that you could walk into that airplane bathroom without even so much as socks on your feet, made me want to pull out my barf bag and puke my six dollar, pre-packaged turkey and pesto sandwich into it. For the love of God, my friend, couldn’t you have at least put on a freakin’ flip flop, if not for your own sake, then for mine?! No one should have to even THINK ABOUT what you were stepping on in there. No one. I wish I had your address because I’d send you a vat of antibacterial gel. Although I’m not even sure a case of Purell would help anyone after that.  I feel like I need to be hosed down like a prison inmate after just walking in there.

The Chatty Cathy

Remember when I mentioned my Hawaiian euphoric glow? Well, that didn’t mean I was so happy that I was going to be your in-flight entertainment. Watch a movie. Play Solitaire. Count Sheep. Anything. Because there was no way, especially after angry guy, that I could even fake interest in the story of how you were supposed to go to Mexico and stay in a five star resort, but changed your trip because you were petrified of contracting the swine flu. You made me want to put on surgical mask and start coughing just to get you off my jock.  Didn't you understand that Anne Hathaway and Kate Hudson were waiting?

The Frustrated Flight Attendant

Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed the envelope and asked you for a pen to fill out my agricultural clearance form after I’d already  asked you to take sides in my battle with angry guy. (Although, for the record, you chose very, very wisely!) I kind of get why you’d have a short fuse because you probably have to deal with so much shit on every flight that this blog post represents every day fodder for you. I can’t imagine how, flight after flight,  you put up with the call button whores; the “I’m going to get drunk on little bottles of booze” boozers; the people who put TWO bags in the overhead bin; the people who refer to you as stewardess.

Or maybe those things just bother me?

But I mostly can’t understand how you can physically deal with that much air travel because (TMI alert) just ONE flight can completely jack me up–for days. So, I wouldn’t want to share my pen either… if I had to use that bathroom and then couldn’t use that bathroom, if you know what I’m sayin’…

ANAL TRAVELER DISCLAIMER: Because I got up on my 30,000 foot high soap box, it’s time for full-disclosure.  I have a major case of traveler’s OCD. I definitely bring new meaning to the word anal when I travel.

Imagine a Type A, overly caffeinated, Aries on crack.

I have many "day of" travel rules. I must print my boarding pass at home. On the way to the airport, I can’t have a conversation about anything un-airport related because I have “I must make my flight” tunnel vision until I get to the gate. Until I’m on the plane (and sometimes, even after), I check, re-check and check again that my ID is in my wallet. (Again, Matt, sorry about when I almost turned the car around because I thought I’d left it in my wallet–on top of my car!) I must stop at Starbucks on the way to the airport AND after I go through security because I love my coffee and I read somewhere that you should never order it on an airplane. (Although I’m not sure if that’s even true & if it is, I can’t remember why you shouldn’t.) I have to be at the gate one hour before departure. (I have access to the Admiral’s Club, but can’t really relax when I’m in there because I’m worried about losing track of time!) And those are just the MAIN rules.

But at the end of the day, if something isn’t going right on the morning of my flight,  I’m not going to make you pay if I’m cranky.

That’s what my travel partner is there for!

Just kidding! (Sort of!)

xoxo

Chick Lit is not Dead presents: 25 Things Liz and Lisa want to know about Sarah Pekkanen

If you love chick lit as much as we do, you're going to love author Sarah Pekkanen. Her debut novel, titled The Opposite of Me, will be published  early next year by Atria, a division of Simon and Schuster (we can't wait!). If you're a fan of writers like Jennifer Weiner and Emily Giffin (who will be featured on our site next month- woo hoo!), we think you'll adore Sarah's novel about the tangled relationship between two very different twin 29-year-old sisters (and you know how we love sisters!)

We adore Sarah and are so excited to feature her in the inaugural edition of the 25 things Liz and Lisa want to know series.  Regularly, we'll be asking our favorite Chick Lit authors 25 "hard-hitting" questions that inquiring minds want to know!

So big props to our girl, Sarah.  And I think after you check out her answers you'll see why we heart her so much!

Chick Lit is Not Dead presents....

The 25 things Liz & Lisa want to know about Sarah Pekkanen

1.  Inside my purse, you'll discover: My all purpose tool from Sephora -- a rosy-colored smudge pot that can be used to give color and glow to lips, cheeks, eyelids...; a wallet with Starbucks cards and expired coupons I swear I had every intention of using; a crumpled juice box; a cell phone I'd die if I lost because it has a bajillion numbers programmed into it; a hairbrush, breath mints, hand cream and other emergency grooming items; a random sock, and a pacifier (not mine, I swear).

2.  My secret talent is: Solving puzzles on Wheel of Fortune before any of the letters are turned. Why couldn't I have a useful talent?

3.  If stranded on an island, the five things I could not live without are: Assuming I can't name people, I'll say 1) a big friendly mutt; 2) sunscreen (I'm whiter than a sheet of paper and I'd burn to a crisp); 3) a fishing pole; 4) a grape vine with grapes suitable for eating AND turning into wine; 5) matches (I was a terrible girl scout -- only in it for the Thin Mints -- and I just don't get the whole rubbing two sticks together thing).

4.  On my nightstand you'll find: Haphazard piles of books; a glass of water, and a jar of overpriced face cream that lied when it said it would make me look just like Angelina Jolie. Damn you, overpriced lying face cream!

5.  When I grew up, I wanted to be: A writer... some dreams do come true!

6.  My worst job: During the summer between junior and senior year of college, I waitressed at a pizza joint where the owner made his employees pay if people ran out on the check (which happened more often than you'd think). Plus the owner's son snorted coke and picked fights with customers, which didn't inspire big tips. And possibly led to lots of people running out on the check.

7.  My comfort food: Chocolate and a glass of crisp cold white wine

8.  The location where I write: My bedroom, my car, and, more than once, a table at Chuck E. Cheese! (Hey, I've got three little kids. I swear I didn't go there for myself...)

9.  Three songs on my IPOD's most played list: It changes, but now it's Alicia Keys' No One, Coldplay's Vida la Vida, and Andrea Bocelli's Romanza

10. If I was on the cover of US Weekly, my headline would read: Ordinary, Minivan-Driving Woman Turns Down Proposal from Brad Pitt; Her Grateful Husband Vows to Take Over All Laundry, Cooking and Cleaning

11. The three books that make me think of my childhood: Go Dog Go, anything Nancy Drew, and Little Women

12. My favorite Chick Flick: Sleepless in Seattle

13. My favorite Chick Lit book: Bridget Jones' Diary

14. My "must see" TV: The Office and American Idol

15. My Starbucks order: Grande Chai if it's cold out. A coffee frap if it's hot and I need a little extra tickle of caffeine.

16. My favorite curse word: Freaking, if that counts. If not, the other f-word will do in a pinch.

17. My celebrity man crush: Ooh, so many to choose from... John Cusack. No, Taylor Kitsch from Friday Night Lights. Wait, wait -- Johnny Depp. No, actually, I suspect Johnny doesn't shower enough for my liking. Definitely John Cusack.

18. My celebrity girl crush: Jennifer Garner. So fresh and wholesome! And those adorable dimples!

19. My writer crush: David Sedaris. He is brilliant and original.

20. My last meal before execution: Tranquilizer-laced chocolates. First I'd generously offer to share with the guards...

21. Three words to summarize my book: Perfect beach read!

22. It took me _____  to write my book. Nine months -- and a lot of chocolate, one God-awful early draft, a few revisions, more chocolate, a little whining and procrastinating, a firm talk to myself about meeting my goals, a promise to myself that I'd meet my goals after I checked out PerezHilton.com ...

23. My book's original title: Way Beyond Compare

24. Right now, I'm working on: Book number two, which doesn't have a title yet. But I promise it'll be juicy and fun and satisfying. Er, the book. Not just the title.

25. Chick Lit is alive & kicking because: It never really died -- it just faked being dead so George Clooney would give it mouth-to-mouth!

If you want to read more about Sarah, Click here to check out her awesome website!

I'm a (book) swinger By Lisa

My name is Lisa Steinke and I'm a swinger. A "book" swinger, that is...

I'm ready to face the cold, hard reality that I no longer believe in book monogamy.

I just can't seem to commit to just one novel anymore. I can no longer live in denial as the Jenga-like stack of reads on my nightstand stares me down each night...Each book calling out to me that it should be the one I choose.

I've got saucy books-- Lisa, pick me I have really.. big... WORDS.

Needy books--Lisaaaaa, you haven't held me since last Tuesday....!!!

Arrogant books--Lisa, I'm on the New York Times Best Seller List-- as if this is really a hard decision for you.

But the book I'm going to crawl into bed with is completely dependent upon what kind of mood I'm in. I might need a little romance one night. But the next, I might need a hardback...if you know what I'm sayin' *wink* *wink*

So, that's why I'm currently reading several, er, ten different books.

Yup, I'm seeing ten books at the same time.

But it wasn't always this bad...Really, it wasn't.

In the beginning, it was two, maybe three tops. But before I knew it, I was in double digits...

And now I'm a full-blown book whore.

I read around. I do. I can't help it. I want to be with them all... I'll be in bed with one but I'll be distracted, thinking about the other. It's not that I don't LOVE book "X", it's just that book "Y" is new, exciting, different...

And my whoreyness has never been more evident than while I've been trying to pack for my trip to Maui this week. I haven't been facing the usual packing dilemmas like how many pairs of espadrilles to bring, how many sundresses are absolutely critical or if I really do need aviators and Jacki O's. My true struggle has been deciding which lucky books get to travel with me to a romantic and relaxing vacation in Aloha land.

My instinct is to grab four or five so I can have options, but realistically, I'll probably only read two or three because I plan to be doing *cough* other things with my very human lover.

And although this space issue is a problem a Kindle could easily solve, I just don't think I could whore out with Kindle the way I do with my books. Call me old school, but I'm a gal who needs a little foreplay...who loves to hold and caress her book, to bury her nose deep within its pages and inhale that glorious new book smell. I just don't think I could go all gadgety even if it came down to not having the room for another pair of wedges or needing to forgo that lime green Banana Republic sun hat, even if it was an impulse buy...

So you'd think that knowing I have this problem... Knowing that I'm already juggling ten different stories from ten different books (just keeping all the names straight is a full-time job), that I'd stop adding to my fictional and nonfictional harem. If only it were that simple. If only I had the will power to avoid that place called Barnes & Noble.

I imagine asking a book whore to stay away from Barnes & Noble is like trying to convince an alcoholic to stay away from the bar. Aint .gonna. happen.

So, I pull into the parking lot and tell myself that I am allowed to go inside but I'm not allowed to buy anything. Not even a bookmark. I'll just see what new books are out. No harm in that, right? Just because I'm on a diet doesn't mean I can't look at the menu...

But once I'm inside and all the books are surrounding me-- New fiction, Best Sellers, Recommended Reading, Bargain Bin (actually, I never stop there--even I have limits...)-- I can't help myself.

And before I know it, I'm picking up a book and reading the back cover. Then, the first page.

That's not cheating, right? Books A, B, C, D and E will never have to know. But then...

I. want. it.

I. must. have. it.

I. am. going. to. buy. it.

And as I walk out of the store with my green, plastic bag (I know, I know... I need to go canvas) I vow that I will NOT read the new guy. I'll take him home, put him on my shelf and only after I finish the other books will I even dare crack him open.

But that's never what happens.

I get home and somehow he ends up on my nightstand, staring at me. Begging me to open him. Taunting me with his promises of new and different protagonists and exciting plot twists.

Until finally, I cave.

And that's exactly what happened after my most recent "browsing" excursion to B&N. Even though I obviously had plenty of books to take with me to Kaanapali, I couldn't resist the urge to see what else was out there.

And as I exited with Laura Dave’s, London is the Best City in America (hey, I didn’t have it in paperback & after devouring The Divorce Party, I decided I have a total writer crush on her!), Cathy Yardley’s, Turning Japanese (it sounds so fun!), Alison Pace’s, City Dog (one of the narrators of the book is the dog-- how clever is that?!) and *throat clear* Candy Spelling's, Candyland (c'mon, who isn’t curious about that mansion?), I tried not to feel guilty for being unfaithful to the books faithfully waiting for me at home.

So which books made it into my brand spankin' new Tory Burch beach bag?

A true book whore never reads and tells...

Although please let me know if you come across any books that could help with my disorder. Anything along the lines of…

Book Whores Are People Too!

Don’t Turn That Page! An Addicts Guide To Faithfully Reading

or

Confessions of a Book Swinger: How One Just Wasn’t Enough...

xoxo, Lisa

RULES OF THE POOL by Liz

I'm currently on an exhaustive, fattening, frustrating, yet joyful adventure, otherwise known as the family vacation. I've actually started to relax a bit, although it was hard at first. Upon arriving, I realized that although I had managed to fit the entire contents of my house into my minivan, I had forgotten tone crucial thing.

The kid's bathing suits!

It's hard to break the news to toddlers that although Mommy packed fourteen pairs of flip flops and 30 DVDs for a seven day trip, she couldn't be b0thered to pack a bathing suit for the pool. *cue angry crying*

But don't fret.  Although Lisa talks a lot of shit about my close relationship with Raj, my Mailboxes Etc guy, he really came through. One frantic call to him at 6pm and those suits were sitting on my doorstep early the next morning.  I'm not quite sure who he had to blow to get them here but I'm not complaining!

So now that the swimwear had arrived, we were ready for eight-hour days at the pool.  And I must say, my fellow vacationers are quite entertaining.  Especially after a few Pina Coladas.

So I've made a list of a few favorites that have caught my attention.

1. The Inappropriate Uncle I wanted to give you a pass because  you told me you liked my bathing suit when I walked up.  But I couldn't ignore the fact that you made out with your trashy girlfriend on the next chaise over and were taking kamikaze shots while you were supposed to be watching your 6 year-old nephew.

2. The Creepy Grandpa Um, if you think I'm going to let you take my four-year old over the bar to get a smoothie after we chatted for five minutes, you're smoking crack!  She is way too young for her first roofie.

3. The Hot Bitch Okay, Hot bitch.  I just want to go on record to say that I don't think you actually gave birth to that baby you're holding.  Your body is smokin' and there's not a stretch mark in site.  And you're even drinking DARK beer!  Why do you have to be so cruel?

4. The Looker Upper Downer Please stop. You keep making me look down to make sure I'm waxed in all the right places and that my boob hasn't popped out. I've tried to convince myself that you are looking me up and down because I'm so fabulous but I think we both know better.

5. The Splash-me-nots I'm sorry that you thought you were making a smart decision by moving over to that "small pool in the corner" to get away from the drunk coeds.  Because if you hate loud noise and don't want to get splashed, you've just entered Hell, otherwise known as the toddler pool.

6. Social Butterfly, Pool Edition Yep, that's me!  Just can't help myself.  Move away quickly if you don't want to talk.  Especially after my second Pina Colada.

7. The "It takes a Village" couple The fact that I'm actually sitting in the water watching my kids does not mean I've become your pool nanny.  How many times to I have to save your 18 month-old from drowning in a foot of water before you get your ass in the pool?

8. The Chatty Grandma Please stop talking about the sensual 90 minute massage you got from a man named Hans this morning.  It's too much, even for a social butterfly like myself.

9.  The Judgey McJudgersons Yes, I'm aware my daughter looks red.  Yes, I've applied sunscreen in the last 90 minutes.  And no, I don't want to borrow that lame-ass UV protective hat your kid is wearing!

10. The Bully Your daughter just bitchslapped my son and took his floatie and you're not going to say a thing?  It's on whorebag!

xoxo

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past By Liz & Lisa

The May 1st release of Ghosts of Girlfriends Past got us thinking about how the world is getting smaller and smaller.  Remember the good ol' days when you could just speculate about what all your exes were up to?  Now you can find just about anybody in two clicks on Facebook and, for us, it kind of takes the romance out of it.  I mean, how can we fantasize about the one that got away when we find out that instead of becoming a physical therapist he’s been delivering packages for FedEx for the past ten years?

So, in tribute to what we hope will be a wonderful movie with a happy ending, here are Liz and Lisa's Ghosts of Boyfriends Past... Disclaimer: Dates and certain events have been changed in an effort to protect the identity of our ghosts.

LISA'S GHOSTS

The Husband

I was married once, sort of.

I got a long-term boyfriend practically the second my UGG boots hit the pavement of my college campus. Apparently this guy didn’t mind my unibrow or the twenty-five pounds I packed on as I single-handedly kept Carl’s Jr. in business. Already showing signs of becoming a serial monogamist, (dated the Mullet Man for a year in high school) I jumped at the chance to be in another relationship.

Sure! I’ll give up all opportunities to make out with young, hot, frat boys with rock hard abs and stamina so I can “settle down” at the age of 19!

WTF?

At least my "hubby" had a great body. Well, a great body that, allegedly, he was sharing with others…

According to sources, he may have been doing a lot more than guzzling beer bongs at his fraternity mixers. And although his indiscretions were never confirmed, I did find a wonder bra in his closet once. And panties under his bed that other time. (A fraternity prank, he swore!) Oh, and there was also that day his other girlfriend called.

And even though we could put some Jerry Springer guests to shame with the way we argued, we thought it would be a fantastic idea to move in together!

I even bought a leather chair and matching ottoman. *cue gag sound*

I became the consummate nagging wife. Why weren’t you home right after class? You never do the dishes! You need to stop seeing your other girlfriends!

When it ended, I vowed that it was finally time to be the sorority slut I never got the chance to be! I was free!

Well, until The Egomaniac commanded my attention.

The Egomaniac

It was a short, but loving relationship. Oh so loving.

The egomaniac was incredibly devoted. He really  knew how to love, praise and worship…

Himself.

So when the egomaniac left me, I wasn’t surprised about the person he left me for…

Himself.

After the egomaniac told me he was no longer in love with me and madly in love with himself, I cried…

Tears of joy! (And Bob Steinke danced a jig!)

What a relief! My arms hurt like hell from holding him up on that damn pedestal. I was exhausted! Turns out, it was a good thing I took a year off from dating, because I was going to need all my energy for flying around in Never Never Land.

Peter Pan

It would be so much easier if men told you exactly who they were on the first date. If Peter Pan had done that, our date would have gone something like this:

Peter Pan: “Hi, I’m 35 and I never want to grow up; I play Nintendo during all of my free time; I have a weekly (even if I’m on my death-bed) date, not with you, but with my man-boyfriends; I’m still best friends with all of my ex-girlfriends who, BTW, are all still madly in love with me; Oh, and I have a slight Oedipus complex. So tell me about you…”

Me: “Check please.”

But that’s not how things went down. I found him handsome and charming. He was smart, had a sexy job and was a homeowner. He seemed so grown up and ready to settle down! How did I get so lucky?

Well, I gambled on the wrong man-boy. In my armchair psychologist opinion, he was a textbook commitment-phoebe. He wouldn’t admit to being afraid of commitment, he was just really picky; He kept all his broken-hearted exes at arm’s length (Liz called it his menagerie) just in case. In fact, the framed picture of his most recent ex was still sitting next to his bed until I kindly asked him to take the f***ing thing down!

I finally told Peter Pan our “fairy tale” was over after he freaked out when a drunk, homeless guy slurred that we looked very much in love as we walked by his shopping cart.

Then I bought the guy a forty and gave him twenty bucks for saving my life.

LIZ'S GHOSTS

Wannabe Romeo I met Wannabe Romeo at a training class for my first real job after college.  He chatted me up while I checked in and faster you could say 401K we were completely hammered in the hotel bar. It was a whirlwind week and by the end of it I was convinced I had met someone really special.  Too bad he lived on the other side of the country.  Oh well, right?

Fast forward to three months and three visits later when we made the BRILLIANT decision to move in together.  Because it’s meant to be!  Kismet!  Not only do I have a real job, now I’m going to play house too!  I’ve officially arrived!

Six months later… Um…we don’t have as much in common as we thought.  And I found a girl’s number in his pocket last week.  But I’m sure it will be fine.

Six months after that…  Yeah, I don’t know about this.  Why didn’t he mention his affinity for Medieval swords and his passion for history?  And he’s really friendly with other women, especially my mom. It’s kind of creepy, even though my mom is a total Coug...

Nine months later…  Made the walk of shame out of a party last night after wannabe Romeo almost got his ass kicked last night at a party for fondling someone’s wife.  And I’ve been starting to spend a lot of time with BFF and think about Boy Toy.

Two weeks later…It’s over  The only thing I’m sad about is that I waited so long to leave.  But I’ll be okay.  I’ve got the BFF and Boy Toy to comfort me.

The BFF aka The Safety Net

He was always there for me. I cried on his shoulder about Wannabe Romeo and he helped me move my stuff out of the apartment.  And okay, I guess I knew the BFF wanted to us to be BF/GF. And while there was no one else I’d rather spend time with (except for Boy Toy!)  It just didn’t seem right. And not even his high-paying job, beachfront apartment or super sweet family could change the fact that kissing him felt like kissing my brother. I even tried getting completely smashed and tried again.  Nope, then it just felt like kissing my brother while drunk.  Even a crazy trip to Mexico didn’t bring me on board. I’ve never tried so hard to love someone in my life.

Letting go of The Safety Net was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made.  But I think we both knew it was time for me to take a leap of faith.  Too bad his super sweet family STILL hates me for it!

The Boy Toy

Watching your boyfriend hit on other women constantly can really get a girl down. But I give Boy Toy full credit for putting the swagger back in my step.  Boy Toy was super-easy on the eyes and never said no to a midnight drunk-and-dial. And although he wasn’t going to create cold fusion, he served his purpose well. I didn’t even mind that I had to explain what quirky meant and who Jane Austen was.  I’d never felt so smart and sexy in my life!

But even though our random rendezvous gave me something to look forward to, I soon grew tired of watching Beavis and Butthead incessantly and his inability to be on time.  It was time to say goodbye so I could concentrate on finding a man that understood the difference between your and you’re and could spell Mississippi.  But I’ll always be thankful to Boy Toy for helping me get my groove back.

xoxo

Liz and Lisa

Road Rules By Liz and Lisa

Our first book signing tour was this past weekend in the Midwest. First, we'd like to give a big thank you to all of the WONDERFUL ladies who hosted us. Laurie and  Jacki; Kristin and the women of Serendipity; And Jamie and Cathy. And we'd also like to give a shout out to all of the AWESOME Chick Lit loving women we met--and instantly friended--on our mobile Facebooks. (Hey, we're whores, we don't waste any time!) Well now that we're home, we decided that after you embark on a journey that mixes poorly caffeinated airport travel, the uncanny ability to sit next to multiple non-hint taking Chatty Cathys in every terminal, drunken public speaking and the inability to remember the name of a person who has your own name, that we should establish some rules of the road for next time.

NEVER, EVER, EVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF A VENTI AMERICANO

There are certain times you should probably never talk to me.

Before coffee. Before coffee. And, um, Before coffee.

This is one of the many "lovely" things Liz and I have in common. So you’d think that knowing this…that understanding if ONE of us can be a bee-yotch face before Starbucks that the TWO of us together could, well, be f***ing bee-yotch faces…that we’d NEVER, EVER, under any circumstances skip our Venti Americanos….especially before a four-hour flight.

Not so much last week.

The morning of our trip to Chicago, Liz was frantically trying to get everyone what they needed before she left for the weekend (A husband, two kids, two dogs and some prima donna guinea pigs!). And I was at Ride-Aid buying her every shape and size of the 3-ounce size travel containers and a box of the FAA approved quart-sized Ziplocs for her moose, perfume, shampoo, conditioner, hairspray, toothpaste, two moisturizers and four different lip glosses. (I had to bribe her to carry-on because there was no way in HELL I was stepping foot in that O'Hare baggage claim! ) So I didn’t see her desperate Facebook message on my wall.

Rough morning! Please stop at Starbucks and tell me I look like I've lost weight the minute you see me.   Thank you!

Because the thing is, if you properly caffeinate us, we can handle anything… A ridonckulously long security line, a pervy TSA agent with a foot fetish and even a loud talking Boston accented seat-mate with body odor.

IF you properly caffeinate us.

So there we were at the Long Beach airport that we usually heart so much because it's so small that they board the passengers old-school by leading them out to the tarmac and rolling out a makeshift staircase. Usually so easy. But it's amazing how an airport experience can change when you realize your only option to turn your day around is a pot of coffee that was probably brewed eight hours earlier by a woman in a hair net. Let's just say even after I dumped six bags of sugar in mine and Liz filled hers to the rim with cream, it still tasted like ass in a cup.

DON’T BE A FLAT STANLEY You know how celebrities talk about their "good side" and their "bad side" when they pose for photo shoots? Well, I always thought that was a complete load of bulls**t. I mean, how different could someone really look if they faced the camera from the left v. the right?

Turns out, pretty damn different.

My photographic light bulb moment happened before our first book signing while Liz and I were posing for pictures. We were ready to roll, wearing our sassy dresses and Liz sporting her curly hair. I stood on the left and Liz on the right. Behind the camera, Matt was snapping away with a concerned expression as he checked the LED screen after each shot.

WTF? I asked.  Then I grabbed the camera and gasped.

"OMG. I’m a f***ing Flat Stanley!"

Liz and Matt pulled the camera away from me and evaluated the pictures. And through maniacal laughter, they agreed. "You look like you, but one off. You are a cardboard cut out of yourself!"

So, after much practice, we discovered that my left side is really pretty damn bad. If I angle it toward the camera, I look like a Flat Stanley. And if I open my eyes a little too wide, I look like Flat Stanley, The Runaway Bride. Apparently if I want any chance at a good photo, I have to be on the right side, tilt my head to the left and my chin downward. And then, as if that's not enough, I still have to angle the right side of my face toward the camera. (WTF?)

The anti-Stanley solution seemed simple—I’d just switch sides with Liz.

Not so fast, she said.

Because just like our major in college, our choice of sorority and even our affinity for Midwestern men, we also have the same f***ing good side!

And so began what we like to call The Fight for the Right! Stay tuned for more pictures to see who won...

KNOW YOUR LIQUID COURAGE COCKTAIL OF CHOICE I was pretty nervous about talking in front of the groups at our book signings. To put it mildly, my past public speaking attempts had been disastrous-all involving a red face, huge sweat rings and the inability to form a sentence. I was pretty sure if I attempted to utter a word about our book, It would go something like this:

Buy our book. It's real good. Thanks for coming. Bye!

When I confessed my fears to Liz, she gave me her crooked smile. "You don't think we're going to do this sober, do you?"

"Er, I'm on the wagon, remember?" (A story I'll save for another post--but I had been alcohol free for 29 days.)

She knowingly pointed her finger at me. "Blondie, I’m going to let you in on my secret recipe for public speaking success. Cocktails plus no food equals great entertainment!"

I was off the wagon faster than you can say dirty martini.

And let's just say that after two, er, three and a half of them, I was very comfortable in front of a group. Maybe even a little too comfortable...Turns out, as a buzzed public speaker, I'll tell you which characters in our book are incredibly thinly veiled and how much of the book is autobiographical!

Liz's secret recipe also had another side effect...You run the risk of being unable to remember a name--even if it's the same as your own. So Liz and I would like to take this opportunity to give an extra special shout out to the other LIZ...whose name our own Liz could not remember...

Even after talking to her for twenty minutes.

But at least when Liz puts her foot in her mouth, she's wearing a really sassy shoe!

PRACTICE HIDING YOUR WTF FACE

We've been friends for so long that we pretty much have the same brain and we think a lot of the same thoughts. We actually have mental telepathy...and it really comes in handy in social situations. Like when you can't exactly say what's on your mind because you might, well, offend-EVERYONE.

We can talk serious shit with a simple eyebrow raise, the ever so slight narrowing of an eye or a partial smirk. So, as I'm sure you can imagine, this superpower can be incredibly helpful when we want to scream to each other that the chatty Carl sitting next to us in the terminal is a DOUCHE BAG who needs to shut the f**k up! Or when we want to scream that the guy in the skinny jeans with a male version of a camel toe SUCKS for blocking the aisle as he tries to stuff his over-sized suitcase in the overhead bin.  And when you meet two stuffy women at one of your book signings.

Usually when people ask us what  I’ll Have Who She’s Having is about and we tell them it’s the story of two sisters who fall for the same man—and one of those sisters just happens to be married, the response is usually along the lines of  That sounds juicy! or What a fun read!  Or if it's not their cup o' tea (which we totally understand!) they politely move on from our table.

Well here's how it went down when two ladies (let's call them "Mrs. Stick Up My Ass" and "Mrs. Even Bigger Stick Up My Ass") approached us at one of the signings.

Mrs. Stick up my ass: "What's your book about?"

Liz: "It's about two sisters who fall for the same man. And one of those sisters is married!"

*cue crickets*

Mrs. Even Bigger Stick up my ass with scowled expression finally speaks: "Married. Really. Hmm."

Liz: "Yes, but she just had her first baby and she's lost and she doesn't feel connected to her husband..."

Mrs. Stick up my ass: "Hmm..."

Lisa: "We also have a blog. Why don't you take one of our cards and you can read more about us and our book..."

Mrs. Even bigger Stick up my ass picks up the card and holds it between her pointer finger and thumb as if it's covered in swine flu germs.

*cue more crickets*

Liz and I look at each other and smile our, we'll definitely blog about this smile.

*cue mental telepathy moment*

Liz: WTF?

Lisa: They both need to get f***ing laid by Tim Fortune.

xoxo, Liz & Lisa

Watch Two episodes of Sex and The City & Call me in the morning By Lisa

A) Martini B) Xany

C) Box of thin mint Girl Scout Cookies

D) Sex and the City

A, B, C or...D?  How do you deal with stress?

I've been known to toss back a cocktail, or six, to escape.  On more than one occasion, I've poached a few xanys off friends who are "afraid to fly." And at the end of a really, really stressful day where I've been over-thinking the shit out of everything, I've straight up gone to town on an entire box of thin mints. (BTW--I highly recommend removing the two rows of cookies and immediately discarding the box--and its shameful calorie count-- into the trash can. Out of sight, out of thighs, right?)

But my first choice to take a "brain vacation" is not necessarily A, B or C....because as good as they all make me feel "in the moment"... it's the next day that aint so perty.

So, in honor of the one-man show I used to perform as a child, Dr. Steinofsky,(long story, but I will tell you it involved a white lab coat, my mom's reading glasses and monologues about psychology?!), I'm going to give you Dr. Steinke's, er, Dr. Steinofsky's, number one stress cure-all. The best part about this remedy? You won't feel like ASS ON A STICK the morning after!

My prescription for pain is to watch at least two episodes of Sex and The City. Sorry, my beloved Grey Goose, but I prefer a dose of Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte to get me through.

Put simply, I'd much rather empathize with Carrie's latest Big drama than think about my own big drama. I can get lost in the funny one-liners (Samantha: "The guy I'm dating has the funkiest tasting spunk" Carrie: "Excuse me, can I cancel my rice pudding?") and am no longer obsessing about the fact that the interest rate on my credit card "suddenly doubled".

I love the entire series (well, with the exception of Berger-sorry was just "not that into him"), have worn the shit out of my DVD collection and have watched the movie more times that I can count (even twice in one day recently while I was writing)...but even the most die hard fan has her favorites. So here are mine. If you need an escape, I advise you to watch at least two and call me in the morning!

Season one, episode one- Sex and the City. Disclaimer: Sex and the City premiered 11 years ago (um, yeah you read that right!) So, if it's been a while since you've watched that first episode, you need to brace yourself for a few things. Carrie's hair is pretty bad (short and way too dark), there are a lot of boxy blazers (and Miranda's not the only one wearing them) and there's also that whole "talking to the camera thing" (thank God that stopped), but it's still Sex and the City! And this episode is a classic because it's when Carrie and Mr. Big first meet! So, is this a must-watch that will make you feel better? "Absofuckinglutely!"

Season two, finale- Ex and the City. Can you be friends with an ex? That's the question Carrie asks in this episode. And it's a question I think we've all asked. I'll admit it. I've failed miserably at trying to be friends with an ex. Let's just say I learned the hard way that it's not a good idea to hang out with your ex in London while trying to pretend you're not still in love with him...even when he tells you his "other" ex is also in town. (True story!) So when Carrie and Big have their lunch and he drops the bomb that he's engaged, I feel her heart break. And when Charlotte asks Carrie how "she's not in a hospital or something" after hearing that news, I can empathize with how, even when your heart physically hurts, you have to keep going. And it's your GIRLfriends who you can always count on to help you through. (Xoxo!)

Season four- Ghost Town. I'll admit it, I was on Team Aidan for a while. So I love when Carrie starts to admit she wants him back. (He did get really hot after he cut the hair, lost the tummy & those turquoise rings!) This is also the episode where Steve and Aidan open "Scout", Samantha breaks up with her lesbian lover and Miranda (and her cat, "Fatty")  think there's a ghost in the apartment--which, for whatever reason, I find really funny... (Well, it could be because, in a particularly desperate single woman moment a couple years ago,  I came dangerously close to custom-ordering a cat. ) Hence my favorite line: Charlotte: "When I lived alone, I used to get scared. But now that Trey and I are back together, I feel so safe." Miranda: "What are you saying, Charlotte, I have a ghost because I'm single? That's discrimination!"

Season four- Baby, Talk is Cheap. I'm picking another episode from season four because I like so many of its story lines... Steve only having one ball and wanting to get a ball implant that's not FDA approved (Miranda: "Do you want a pinto next to your penis, Steve?"), Miranda getting pregnant from her mercy f**k with Steve, Carrie and Aidan try to make it work but then realizing they don't work...This particular episode also hits especially close to home--yet again. I, like Carrie, might also be guilty of throwing rocks at the window of an ex-boyfriend I was just slightly desperate to get back together with. I'll spare you the gory details and simply say, "That was the last time I opted not to ring the doorbell!"

Season six finale- An American Girl in Paris, Part Une & Deux. I'm all about the happy ending. It's why I read chick lit, write chick lit and love romantic comedies. So, naturally, I love the ending of the series because all the ladies get who and what they want. And even though they experience very real struggles along the way, everything is tied up in a perfect bow at the end. Just how I like it. (Favorite parts: When Big meets the girls in the coffee shop (his first time there) and tells them they are the three loves of Carrie's life and a guy's just lucky to come in fourth. When Miranda says to Big, "Go get our girl"... And then of course when Big goes to Paris and tells Carrie she's "the one"... Hey--even though I'm a robot, I'm still a total sucker for all that romantic love stuff!

So, Dr. Steinke's bottom line? If you're feeling stressed, watch Sex and The City, go see the latest romantic comedy (only one year 'til the next SATC movie!) or read a good Chick Lit book.

I have one I can recommend...

xoxo

Alma Mater Matters by Liz

Who says you can't go back?

Lisa and I were honored to be recognized last week by our Alma Mater, Cal Poly Pomona as part of the Golden Leaves library program. We were proud to be included with many other distinguished alumni authors!

We were told to prepare a little something to say, but with Lisa was out of town,   my limited public speaking skills and I were left to fend for ourselves. So I put on my naughty librarian suit and dragged my husband along to take pictures.  And as we walked through the newly remodeled Library, I tried in vain to remember spending time in there as a coed.  But besides recalling one all-night study session with someone I was crushing on and an odd Lexis-Nexis flashback , I couldn't even remember checking out a book!  My husband was very perplexed by this.  How did I graduate?  And I told him that I did what I always do.

I winged it!

That's right, people.  I don't like to over-prepare.  Outline, schmoutline!  Test?  Let's skim the material and see what sticks.  Giving a speech at the library for published alumni authors?  Just get up there and see what comes to mind!

And so that's what I did.  I told myself not to be intimidated that I'll Have Who She's Having was sitting on a table next to In Sputnick's Shadow: The President's Science Advisory Committee and Cold War America.   Or that the lady before me was reading about Chaucer.  Or the fact that the Dean of the Library kept talking about pedagogy and I had no idea what that was.

When my name was called, I took a deep breath and made sure I had appropriate cleavage showing. Don't judge, I was just playing to my strengths.  And what I may be lacking in vocabulary, I make up for in boobs!

Then I sauntered up to the podium and told them about our journey to publication.  How every agent out there, said, Like this manuscript a lot but sorry, Chick lit is dead, maybe take out some pop culture references and call it Women's fiction?...That Lisa and I looked around at all our educated women friends that were DYING for a good book with a happy ending and said SCREW THAT!  CHICK LIT IS ALIVE AND WELL!  That's right, I told them.  Get ready people, because women want to read GOOD books about other women.  And we want movies made from these books!  And no, we won't call it Women's fiction so you can feel better about reading it!  IT'S CHICK LIT, DAMNIT!

Okay, so maybe I didn't say it quite like that.  But I did say screw.  And crap.  But not f*ck. I didn't think it would be cool to drop an F bomb when the President of the University was sitting five feet in front of me.

And then, because I hadn't really um, *cough*, prepared, I just starting saying stuff.  I  told them that sometimes my brain likes to go on vacation. And when my brain packs up and heads out on vacation, it doesn't want to read about someone's kid dying or molecular biology. My brain wants to have a margarita, a happy ending and some chips with guacamole.  In that order.

And after that, I proudly held up I'll Have Who She's Having and said they should pick up a copy if their brain wants a vacation too!

And while I'm sure that some in that room just dismissed me as a dumb blonde with a fluffy book, there were others who came up to me after and told me they agreed.  And in that moment, I knew that I made the right choice to take a stand for Chick lit. To show them who I really am...

A thirty-something girl with too much shit going on that sometimes just wants a good book and a glass of wine.  Oh, and liposuction.  But that can wait.  For now I'll take the wine and book.

xoxo

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.