If you like it then you should have put a ring on it

Hello loves,

It’s 11:00 on a Thirsty Thursday…if you’re reading this, there is a chance that you might be newly single…or perennially single. Or not. Two years strong me and my boo…and it’s me and Detective Stabler tonight. But I digress…

Kind of like Kanye’s Workout Plan, I present Boo’s He-Tox.

30 days guys and dolls. 720 hours.

Rule #1 Do not contact the ex-target. That means no “accidental run-in,” calling from blocked numbers or third party torturing—for example, do not call his mother or sleep with his best friend.  Call your boss, bbm your friends…DO NOT CONTACT THE EX. Even if he/she contacts you. NADA. Social networking is a bitch. I had to defriend and block. Childish? Perhaps—but there was no way I was going to be subjected to his “Single-ing & Mingle-ing” Status while my I waffled posts somewhere between melancholy & Shera Man Haters Club. Keep the ex out of the newsfeed & refrain from cyberstalking at all costs. Freeze your account if you have to. Hate me. You’re welcome.

Rule #2 Remove all pictures, mementos, love tokens from the ex. I’m not saying search & destroy, but box up & store—out of sight. In another county if possible. Grieve it & get it outta sight. There is no sense in prolonging the misery. You cannot stay in a relationship because of how fantastic it used to be or how photogenic it might have been.

Rule #3 I am dead serious about Rules #1 & #2

Rule #4 Do you.  Self-preservation time is OVER.

• Dress chicly. New boots are an excellent start.
• Be a cheerleader. Step outside yourself and do something for your token homely friend. I’m kidding…kinda. Seriously, do something good. Go to an animal shelter for christsakes.
• Drink tons of water (good for skin & hangovers)
• Be a good friend. You will need someone to take that call when you’re headed to crazytown. Be that person too.
• Smile & laugh…(relieves stress, pretties you up).
• Sweat…a lot. By that I mean work out, silly. Release those endorphins & you can ogle objects of desire.
• Get drunk (just checking if you’re paying attention). But do it…”responsibly.”
• Sleep. With all the suitors headed your way you will need your beauty rest.
• De-friend bores and dickwads (they drag you down).
• Journal. Track this journey and see where you end up. And if you’re not happier…this was all Princess Boobs’ idea!

With that, celebrate yourself. Throw a party and invite the cutie from spin class. Put your hands up single ladies…and dudes.

I needed hetox from a TOXIC four-year debacle of a relationship because it provided a great way for me to learn who I am and how I could live independent or completely void of knowing, seeing or learning about him. I needed to reclaim, and at points get introduced to, my ability to control how I let others access my life, how I feel and what I do. And now I am getting tired…

So in the end, have I relapsed?? Hells yes! But like I said, I love me some me.

What’s past is prelude.

Xoxo,

Boo  

Catwoman Suit and More Incongruent Thoughts

I drank a kale shake without bananas this morning.....it was absolutely horrendous.

I love the site Texts From Last Night. Sometimes I try to picture the people engaged in such absurd tangled circumstances. Then I realize some of them look familiar...and I check my phone....

Anyway, an ode to Texts From Last Night. Only this was at 7:45 am.

Alligator Jack: Morning! How's life in the fast lane?
Boobs: Good, thanks for checking in. How was your drunken return to work? Did you swing open the doors and yell "I HAVE RETURNED, BOW DOWN BEFORE ME"
Alligator Jack: uh, something similar. You should buy a boat and call it Life in the Fast Lane, so I can ask you that more often.
Boobs: Dude, I DO live in the fast lane. Why just last night I read a book, got stoned, and stared into my dogs eyes and communicated with her for 3 hours via blinks.
Alligator Jack: Oh.

Tits Mcgee Waterparkapalooza

I should take a moment, and correct me if I'm wrong Boo, to help make sense of our blog title. We are two girls (girls in that condescending way...) who currently reside, play, drink, and occassionally work in the city of Buffalo. So, girls in the Buff has a double entendre if you will...if you will meaning, if you speak french.

We're loud and proud of our roots (I'm not actually from here, but admitting where I originated from would just open up a whole new can of worms...but let's just say I KNOW SNOOKIE is not from the Jersey Shore..why? Because I cared enough to google search her), but sometimes Buffalo can be a frustrating place to live. And not for the reasons that might immediately slap you in the face-weather, poverty, declining population, shadow governmental agencies dictating community planning....no, no, no, no, no, NO! It's the lack of theme based water parks.

Why does everyone else get a water park and we don't?  Our entire city, NAY, the entire northeast, midwest, west, east, south, and up, can thank us for the Erie Canal.And what goes through Canals? Other than barges? Water....so, that finally brings me to my original point. Our city, NAY, our country flourished because someone had the awesome idea that transporting goods via canals was far more efficient than whatever else they were using at the time...Had GM been founded yet?  So, water water water water.....

What better way to pay tribute to the very thing that defined our country in the mid 1800's than a themed water park. But not like any other water park....Buffalo needs to be different.

Let me take one step back.  Back to the controversial revialization of Buffalo's historic waterfront, which dates back to right before they (whoever they is) decided to burn the old downtown community and pave over the original canals. I can imagine the moment that that parking lot was built over the original opening to the canal, there were a lot of people going....hunh, well fuck me, that might have been a mistake.

So, in the interest of time, mostly mine and not yours dear reader, there's a lot of public money out there to be spent on "recreating"this dead dormant land in downtown Buffalo. I'll spare you the details, but  very recently Bass Pro decided not to be a non-tax paying member of our city despite the $35 million we were willing to throw at them. Following the devastating loss of such a respectable company, the community scrambled for ideas. You can bet your ass Boo and I had some of our own. "Tits McGee Waterparlapalooza" floated to the top as being the strongest.

Details:
All lifeguards are women. Safety First.
All the lifeguards wear Hooters like outfits, short shorts, white t.
Part of the fun is, whenever the hell you want to, you get to spray them with water. THEY ARE NOT WEARING BRAS-OMG.
There's of course a Lazy River...only at Tits McGee Waterparkapalooza, you are floating in the comfort of two humungous inflatable breasts. And for those willing to pay a few extra dollars, you can float in a huge vagina, nestled oh so comfortably right below the clitoris.

We didnt submit this plan to the Mayor yet. We're still negotiating some of the finer details and logistical questions....like is this kid friendly. We're not quite clear on the answer yet.

Boo's Bit of the Day...

For those of us who appreciate good penmanship & grammar...or not...the greatest cartoon EVAH!

xoxo,
Captain Grammar

Ruminations, deep thoughts, and whipped cream

During one of our morning smoke breaks (Boo doesn't smoke, Boobs on the other hand, smokes furiously through flu, scabies, rheumatoid arthritis, and earthquakes), we briefly discussed creditors, becoming mature adults through automatic billing, and the Katy Perry feat. Snoop Dogs California Dreams Girls video. Neither of us are prudes (self described or other), and while we each enjoy a little Katy Perry in our lives, we both found the "war" scene at the end of the video to be, well, disconcerting I suppose.

Here is a snippet of that conversation:

Boo: Why would she want to kill gummy bears?
Boobs: Because they are part of Snoop Dogs army.

Clearly.

Further Iterations...and Introducing Boo!!

Hello loves,

First things, first: I love me some me.  Also I am highly qualified as the prototypical egomaniac with an inferiority complex. Hence, a blog. Brilliant. Add in my uber bodacius life coach Boobs as a partner in crime—chronicling every socially awkward, inappropriate moment with charm, wit & some sick dance moves—double brilliant.

You’re welcome world.

Full Cuckoo Disclosure: It’s the truth, even if it didn’t happen.

Ever since the onset of young adulthood, post-graduation from Tailgating U majoring in Bad Decisions, quarterlife crises have begun appearing regularly for this 21 + 6 year old. Law school might take the cake but men (who go to Europe and never call for instance), food & Buffalo sports teams also factor in heavily. Consider that a partial teaser…

Reader’s digest version of the current situation: I am currently in a relationship that I have enjoyed for almost two years…a lifetime. I have a job that I think I love, but doesn’t pay the bills. So I am blessed to receive some pretty serious support from my fam. We’re talking groceries, rent and a pony. For reals. I am now coming upon a point where I desperately need to seek some independence, but the details or means to such an end are not clear. Poor little white girl. 

Plus I’m Catholic. Double the pleasure, double the guilt.

I understand that there are crises in this world that trivialize my pain into making me look like an overindulged and underslapped little brat, but it is my pain.  I’m not asking for sympathy, empathy or any “thy”…but I will not justify my melancholy to anyone because I don’t have to.  But you can judge, laugh and feel better cause I hope to do the same later on at my shenanigans.

Princess Boobs, (I have many iterations of quarterlife crises and petnames for my co-author) likes wine. 

I prefer whine.

Brilliant.

Xoxo,

Boo

Iterations of a Quarter Life Crisis

While my partner in crime experiences another extension of her quarter life crisis (boo, I love you, but it's true...your words, not mine), I'd like to share my recent experiences with a gentleman (and I use that term loosely).  Well, it's more a lesson that has become clearer, based on my recent dating trends.

I love to date way past the expiration date. I read the label, I know it expired a month ago and whatever is in that container smells of vinegar, fecal matter, fish heads, and is inevitably chunky and growing something fluorescent. But I stick through it, like a real life Super Trooper. And the outcome is always the same. I dedicate time, resources, sometimes cash, to making this stinky ass relationship not stink. And its impossible. A friend threw me this gem the other day, which I think is relevant, concise, and simply poetic-"sometimes life hands you shit and you're expected to make lemonade. The problem is you have to know when the shit is shit and when it's shit with potential."  It makes less sense now, but I like the idea of making lemonade with poo.

So, here I am, once again, digging through a "relationship" with a sociopath, who has the most beautiful green eyes, and rationally recognizing that the expiration date has come and gone many moons ago, but unable to let it go, just yet. I have to test it out, just one more time...maybe two.  Update: I tried once more and was still able to swallow the sour milk that had expired...note, that IS NOT a sexual euphemism..or is it?

On another completely incongruent side note, a friend just returned from Indiana where she was visiting her aunt and uncle. They are both teachers, having graduated from highly esteemed establishments, AND they love their wine. I love wine too, so I love people who love wine.

Well, my friend started to feel under the weather, and she was advised by her aunt that she needed some vitamin C. And clearly, the only way to ingest Vitamin C, was to put some OJ in her wine. Like a mimosa, but without the bubbles.

Needless to say, friend is still sick, but she and I went out last night for a glass of wine. And it was wonderful.

-Boobs.

Cee Lo

Oh Cee Lo.....