Food for thought... As I sat at a local bar enjoying the day yesterday while discussing life, liberty, and the persuit of happiness.... A theory was presented...

...Still trying to wrap my mind around it's factuality.

The theory went something like this: "If you are not a good cook, you are not good in bed."

I have been pondering this thought ever since.... I see some correlations.

- Cooking takes patience, as does sex.

- If you put two ingredients together that just don't go... It is not going to taste good. Similarly, if two people have sex that just do not match, more than likely the sex is also not going to taste good.

- Cooking is in the eye of the beholder. Personally, I hate King Ranch Casserole.... But some people could eat it until the end of time... Similarly, sex is in the eye of the beholder as well. Some people enjoy D.A.P.- I personally do not.

But in the famous words of Elle, "Let me think of the best lay I have ever had.... James. I am certain he could concoct a batch of wonderful brownies and weed- but anything else is highly suspect."

So what are your thoughts?  ¶ 7:56 AM 1 comments

  And the winner is...... Guess who went on the auction block last night?!?!?
  ¶ 7:21 AM 2 comments

  ...We would not be good friends if we did not show our support!


So, we set off on our bountiful duty to support our friend, by having "a few" drinks at Mickeys.


And then we went to go find our beloved Scotty... Who, for the record, was stone cold sober.


Then these fine boys purchased our Scotty (For a steal of $700- the most any single bachelor went for...)


And here were all of Scotty's team mates that went up on the Auction block...

Fun times had by all- By all I say. By all...  ¶ 7:10 AM 1 comments

  We have LOST our Mind... But Found our Inner Drag Queen

We have a fantastic friend. She is the famous Jew Yorker..... The Naked Jew herself, Miss Nili B.

Poor little Jew has been a little sad, and I vowed that she would laugh today....

So I called my craziest cohort. And she quickly came over with a large bottle of Whiskey, and we set out on our mission.

Since my mother was not home, we played dress up. We busted out the fox fur coat, our most obscene makeup, and we went to town...



This Kiss is for You, Nili B... We wish you were sandwiched in between us...

She wants you to want her,

Kisses, to all that I love.... Especially to Nili B.

All you people out in the blog world, tell Nili B. how wonderful she is, tell June and I how crazy we are.... Don't worry, it is all in the name of friendship and love...
If you will excuse me I must go find my drink now...  ¶ 2:24 AM 3 comments

  Pardon me while I bitch.... But you should be used to that. **** Disclaimer: This post is a combination of my ability to fling truthballs of mass destruction, PMS, and general irritation. Anyone harmed by the words probably deserves it.****

Yesterday, my formerly favorite Canadian friend compared my blog to two day old pizza. He informed Elle that she had too much time on her hands as she is politically informed. He then made some rude retort to Robin.

Well, Styles. I think in all of this, you have misread your job description.

We, as in all females who read this blog, are fabulous. And if we are not fabulous, we should be treated as fabulous individuals all the same, as this is my blog and I make the rules.

Divas are pains in the ass, we need emotional stroking, tales of what makes us fabulous, and compliments. We do not need criticism, bitchiness, and general cattiness.

So, let me be the one to lay out your job description: You are the resident flirt. You flirt with anything equipped with two legs. You also compliment, compliment, compliment. You tell us how we do not deserve the horrible things that happen to us. You tell us we deserve all of the world's finest offerings. You encourage us to purchase ridiculous items such as large pieces of jewelry, Chanel anything, and Corture. You also defend us from the blog stalkers that find it to be an excellent idea to rain on our parade. YOU DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES tease, berate, or irritate.

Simple enough. When you find it in your heart to conform to these rules, you will again reign as my favorite canadian friend.

Sincerely,
Queenbitchheaddivaextrordinaire.  ¶ 8:24 PM 0 comments

  Chivalry is Dead A very wise man (Elle's Daddy) once said "Elle, all men should treat you like a lady until you prove yourself otherwise. And if you ever prove yourself otherwise, I do not want to know about it."

That, my friends, should be a proverb of the twenty first century. While in my state of dazed and confused yesterday evening, a dear friend took place in a horrible conversation via AIM:

(Notact): So we will do lunch tomorrow?
(Lady): Yes, we need to catch up.
(Notact): Heyyyy!!!!!!
(Lady): Hey what?
(Notact): I have been thinking about having sex with you lately
(Notact): Not just with anyone I want to have sex with you.
(Lady): Thanks?
(Notact): Oh you are welcome.
(Notact): So what do you say we put an end to all of this sexual tension and have sex tomorrow, after lunch?
(Lady): I think that is a terrible idea.
(Notact): So negative
(Notact): Always so negative
(Notact): So I will see you at lunch tomorrow?

This, is a true conversation. Dead truthful, only names have been changed to protect anonymity. I cackled in delight upon hearing of the conversation last night.... But upon further review this morning, it is HIDEOUS! And therefore I thought I would share this memo with you lovely people. Chivalry is dead. The idea of a consummate southern gentleman is dead, or at the very least, both chivalry and consummate southern gentlemen are on life support. What happened? Where did it all go? Did we get so wrapped up in equal rights in the twentieth century that we ended up flushing the idea of manners down the toilet? Maybe. Who knows. But so help me Savannah, seedy and disgusting behavior must cease to exist for the greater good of human kind. If I had a time machine, I would transport myself today to the days of Scarlett O'Hara, when the male species was not, for the most part, genetically mutated.  ¶ 4:47 AM 3 comments

  Smurfette... Wanna know what sucks?

When A situation unintentionally removes the tiara from your head, rips the wand from your hands, and makes you feel like you should paint yourself blue and run around singing with all of the other blue little people.

I hate that feeling, I hate the feeling of less than fabulous. When said feeling occurs. THere is only one thing to do.

Step One: Swear off all real food, eat celery sticks, drink water, and GET SKINNY (Being skinny makes anyone feel fabulous)

Step Two: Contact your most kiniving girlfriend, and proceed to act like Lucy and Ethel (Thank you. Elle)

Step Three: Be the nonchalante person you know you are but don't feel like being. (Jealousy looks good on no one and goes with nothing)

Step Four: Hold on tight, and weather the very un-diva storm (This too shall pass)


***** Editor Note: Note the time stamp on this post, the lack of fabulousness has taken away my ability to sleep. This will be used to my advantage, it gives me plenty of time to exercise.****  ¶ 4:04 AM 1 comments

  Lets play a little game... The name of the game: Guess what I did this weekend?

I will give you a few hints. There are two things you are reaching for...

1) A dining establishment

2) I viewed a movie, that I myself never thought I would view....

Guesses can be left in the comment box.

Noooooo Cheating! June doesn't get to play.

In other news... Mr. Pants and I submitted A WORD to Urban Dictionary, and it made it in!!! Go vote for it. Vote early, vote often...  ¶ 8:15 AM 2 comments

  All this talk of Bedazzlers makes me wonder... You may have noticed my fellow divas trying to point something out...

And in the spirit of laughter, I will admit to my "sin."

I, Ms. S'Ghetti, sequined the socks on a Michael Jackson T Shirt for a member of the male species.

Carry on...  ¶ 7:26 AM 2 comments

  VD, what a day... Yesterday was just special.... Really quite special. Extrodinary. Really.

After such a day, I have decided to allow you fine folks in on the conversation that takes place in my head... In the form of a valentine letter to myself.

Last night, while driving to my destination, partaking in some... Err... Breathing Treatments (Thanks So Not Right for that term!!!) I was propositioned my a male in his late twenties. Was he driving a Mercedes? No... He was driving a Mitsubishi Mirage. Was he dressed to the hilt? No, he was wearing a dew rag. What did he say? "Yo, Baby! Baby! Baby! Baby! Where's Yo' ValenTIME at?" (Note that spelling of valentime is not a typo)O quickly rolled up my window.

Suddenly, I realized that my hatred for this day was forever cementing in the thoughts of my head... So what did I do? I began telling myself how wonderful I was. It went something like this:


Dear Rebecca, Dear Dear Rebecca,
You are a splendid human being. You do charity work, You make others laugh, hell you even listen to people and their problems. You have lovely skin, you exfoliate regularly, and you moisturize to boot.

This strange man that propositioned you knew he did not have a shot in hell at becoming your 'Valentime' because clearly, you prefer males that can properly pronounce words, not to mention the fact that you have never dated a man who wore his moms panty hose on his head. Clearly, this male thought that Valentines day is a day that any female will take anything she can get her hands on...Not so.

Why is it not so? Because, fuck it! You are fabulous. Because you are a ball of magnificence. And remember, no one loves me better than me.
Love,
Me.  ¶ 6:50 AM 4 comments

  Hell on Earth If we all had our own personal hells, Valentines Day would be the central theme of mine...

Hearts Everywhere, people searching desperately to find that one special someone to say the elusive 'I LOVE you' on that one special day of the year, buying idiotic stuffed animals, buying disgusting cheap chocolate, and sending flowers that passed their expiration date three days ago. All so they can say "I was loved on Valentines Day." Did they neglect to remember the other three hundred sixty four days in a year?

I would like to take a moment to reflect on how very blessed I am that I have people who like/love/adore/appreciate me, And I would also like to take a moment to tell all of the people that I like/love/adore/appreciate that they mean so much to me.

I would be ever so lonely without their company. I would have lost my mind a long time ago. And most of all, I would not be who I am without their support.

So without further adue, I have decided to retract my feeling on the 'Dreaded Day' and instead, I have decided to like parts of it. Parts I do NOT like are as follows:
-Anything heart shaped
-Anything overly cheesy
-Anything with the words 'I love you' Scripted on it
-Mylar balloons in the holiday colors
-Dead-ish flowers (And Carnations are always dead-ish in my book)
- Crap Tastic Candy

IF you see me this year, I will do my best to wipe the scowl off of my face, and replace it with a chipper smile, I will also do my very best to muster up the words 'Happy Valentines Day to You Too' without choking on them or spitting out pea green soup.

So happy 'This holiday is really quite stupid' Valentines Day to those that I like/love/adore/appreciate, may your day be whatever you want it to be. (Even if what you want is on my dreaded list.)  ¶ 7:58 AM 0 comments

  A picture is worth 1000 Words It was a drunken day, so I appologize in advance for the very.... Interesting... Pictures. Not to mention the blog that got put on kiss our tiara, but Jack had invaded our bodies.

Some wanna see "grills" We wanna see C's. We love you Coco



A very drunken June getting her reccomended allowance of water... Yes. That is right. That is ALL we were drinking. OK, I am lying...


.The Chanel Cake. A Masterpiece in it's own right.  ¶ 7:34 AM 3 comments

  It's a Chanel!

Brings a tear to my eye. Really it does.

Note the pearls encrusted in the logo, the fine perfection of the frames, the superiority...

That being said... June, Elle, and I will be having a Birthday party for the new addition to the family. We will be naming said sunglasses, eating cake, and allowing the sunglasses to mingle amongst themselves...

That is happening Sunday.

Stop laughing, I'm serious.  ¶ 9:17 AM 6 comments

  Comedy Shows, Improvs, and thinngs such as that freak me out. Why? You may ask?

Simple. Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, way back in the sorority days, there was a 'date party' planned. The destination: Some comedy club in Fort Worth. So we found our dates, made our baskets, invited the dates (and of course they accepted), and off we trotted.

We get there, we sit, I was sandwiched between my date, who we will henceforth refer to as Kake, and Junes date who will henceforth be referred to as Goat.

Kake and Goat were members of a Fraternity which shall remain nameless, this particular frat happened to be our favorite pond to fish in for delightful distractions. (Which, by the way, it is just a very bad idea to date out of the same sespool incessantly. But that is neither here nor there. Just a little piece of advice)

So, there we sit. And there the comedians go. And what's that? They want an audience member? Who do they pick? Yes. That is right, me.

I am not usually shy, but these fucks at the comedy club begin asking me questions of who I am with, my past relationship, why we broke up, etc. I chose not to answer. But June being the fantastic friend that she is, answered for me. They proceed to drag me out on stage and I am forced to partake in this improvisational "fun." All in front of Kake. Who, in turn, went back to his frat and shared the story with everyone. And everyone, in turn, began asking me about this "fun" experience.

It was Heinous. Horrible. Hideous.

That being said, I will be frequenting a comedy club this evening. Wish me luck.  ¶ 9:36 AM 2 comments

  Declaring War on my Disorganization It hit me yesterday while driving.

I am morbidly disorganized.

At any given point in time, I have more than three to do lists that I am working on. Currently, I have nine.

I spend hours in my car every day, currently the things that are traveling that do not belong are as follows: Scissors, Tweezers, Three bottles of lotion, Cuticle Scissors, two coats, an extra pair of shoes, a bra, several books.... You get the idea.

In my room, I have five stacks of mail that I have not yet taken the time to go through, a stack of twenty dvd's that I need to put away, and I have some serious feng shuei- ing to do.

Bottom Line: It is getting out of hand. I AM DECLARING WAR ON MY DISORGANIZATION. Beginning Saturday, I am going to become a scheduling fiend. There will be a place for everything, and for everything a place.

Saturday will here to forth be referred to as 'Organization Day'

Oh god, Saturday is going to suck.  ¶ 9:24 AM 3 comments

  S'Ghetti, The Owners Manual I, Ms. S'Ghetti, am a complicated soul. In an effort to further explain this complication, I have decided to explain five things that might make me make sense. Doubtful, but it may help.

1) When something big happens my stock answer in regards to my feelings/emotional state is 'I am fine' and I probably am, but it is advisable that those closest to me come lay their eyes on me just to make sure.

2) I have quite the affinity for telling the truth, even when the time is not exactly right. It is advisable to just accept my truthballs of destruction, without complaint. (This does not mean agreeing with me, when you don't... It means that I should not be punished for saying what I think)

3) I have several habits that I know are less than desirable (previously mentioned truthballs of destruction, dirty looks, etc.) I am aware of these habits, It is not necessary to point them out every time.

4) I leave my closet light on incessantly. I like it on, it makes my clothes happy, and it irritates the piss out of those that live with me. If you live with/near me, you must learn to turn it off.

5) I know people, and consequently, I know the flaws in people. I see the best and worst of everyone. If you ask what your flaw is, I will tell you. This should not make you angry or enraged, because the bottom line is: you asked.  ¶ 8:21 AM 5 comments

  A real life seedy motel experience When you make friends, you hope that you have something in common with them: good taste in clothing, a sense of style, recognizing the need for pedicures, etc.

When you have been friends for a long time, and you find out you have something in common from your sorted pasts, it is not always a good thing.

Seedy Motel, Seedy Motel, SEEDY MOTEL.  ¶ 12:58 AM 6 comments

  My puppy is a maniac...

Damn thing wants me to wake up at 4 AM and play..... DIVA's DO NOT interrupt their beauty sleep for anything.


Pssssst- Styles.... That is the 'Dead Grandma' Necklace  ¶ 12:56 AM 2 comments

  Wrenches and Screws and Drills, OH MY! I, Ms. S'Ghetti, did something amazing.

I did something totally unexpected.

I assembled something, CORRECTLY, and I even used power tools.

Thank You, Thank You, applause are not necessary. Really. I know, I am amazing. Thank you.  ¶ 7:54 AM 9 comments