Tony No-go

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Dear Jessica,

Didn't you learn the first time about talking about your relationships? We are all completely thrilled for you that you have found the love of your life in Tony Romo and even that you feel the need to share it with However, don't you remember how this played out last time? You had several TV shows, a singing career, clothing/hair/edible body lotions lines then your divorce hit, and your relationship was more exposed more than Britney's and Paris' privates put together. Do you really want your name splashed across E! News or CNN's ticker if this ends badly?

Take a note from Ms. Beyonce. Stop talking about it. Or, if you do, choose your words and interviews wisely.

Now, is that tuna or chicken again?

Your former and could be again fan,
Allison M.

Breaking up is hard to do

How can we be lovers if we can't be friends? That's Mike Bolton is thinking right now and wishing he didn't write that song either. After a long ass engagement to Desperate Housewife, Nicollette Sheridan, he's back on the market and prowl without all the hair. (Michael grow back the hair. It was the best part of your videos.)

Since she's probably a cougar at heart, she realized she needed to spread her cougarness with all the young pups in Hollywood. Next on her list - Justin Timberlake, Jesse McCartney or the kid from Hairspray. Look for wild clothing, heavy make-out sessions and run ins with the paparazzi on Robertson Blvd.

Rock on, Nicollette. And now, a moment of silence for the next 3:52 as I sing loudly to my favorite Michael Bolton song ever.

meat market

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Since I was single this past weekend with the BF at a bachelor party, my friends and I rallied together for a late dinner, wine drinking and then dancing at Velvet Dog. It was beyond a blast of a time. I had such a great time with everyone. From 8:30 to 3 a.m. I was completely entertained by each of their hysterics, including the almost argument we had with a bitchy girl at D'vine and all of the creepy men on the Velvet Dog's rooftop. I know, I know, I know. I knew what I was getting myself into, but we haven't been up there in forever and we now have our fill for the summer.

It was packed with boys with button downs, gold chains, white tanks underneath, slicked back hair and even the super pimp himself in full attire. You know it's a good night when you run into Rod Stewart. What gave him that idea? (Note to self: Find the superpimp and interview him.)

Anyway, only me plus one more ended up heading to the rooftop with two old college guy friends who we thought would serve as bodyguards. We were so wrong - they ended up dominating the dance floor with their crazy moves and scamming on other girls.

Because I wasn't inhiberiated, I noticed the guys around the dance floor. Have you ever actually looked at the guys that swarm around when a group of girls are dancing? I'm going to think you haven't because you had one too many drinks. But, really, it's quite amazing. They sit, stare and point with their friends and then make the move only tools make - they come up from behind you, grab you by the waist and thrust into you. OK - no one likes that. You do realize that, right? This is not the Roxbury and you are not Chris Kattan.

The BF calls it "freaking" on girls. I guarantee he and his friends used to go to
W.6th, hit on girls and take them home by "freaking" on them. He even gets this stupid grin as if he's remembering his days in the basement of Blind Pig. Damn, I wish I could go back into time to see that. He claims he's too old for W.6th anymore. I'm not - best people watching EVER!

So, ladies or gents, what is your exit strategy when boys/girls try to "freak" on you?

marathon runner

Monday, August 25, 2008
Yesterday, I decided to get in with the spirit of the Olympics and head for one long ass run/walk over to my friend's house. The BF had just returned from his 72-hour non-stop bachelor party in Chicago. Since he was going to occupy the living room for the next 12 hours and I was "moving too fast" around the place for him, I decided to run over to my friend's house. Truth be told, I'm really out of shape. I mean, it's bad. I'm 25-years-old and a 12-year-old could beat me in a mile. Hell, I bet I can't even run a 10-minute mile. (OK, it's not really that bad, but this last month has thrown my work outs for a loop. I was doing so good before!)

I leave with no cell phone (yes!) and start running to her house. I figured I wouldn't be back for awhile because it's about 3 miles to her place and the BF would be passed out, so no one would need to reach me. By the time I visited with her neighbors, drank a gallon of water and ran back, even though they insisted on driving me home.

(Editor's note: Hello! My whole point is to get back into tip-top shape.)

Anyway, it had been almost two hours since I left and I had no idea of time because I was in my own little world, listening and singing along to Rihanna. I walk up to our place, dripping in sweat because I thought I was Jackie Joyner Kersee and the BF is walking out of our place, looking around for something.

Me: Nearly out of breath, "Heeeyyyyy."
BF: "Where have you been?"
Me: "Um, being an Olympic athlete."
BF: "I called Michelle and she said she hasn't seen you. I was going to drive around and look for you."
Me: "What? Why would you do that? Where would you even start?"
BF: "I don't know, but you've been gone for two hours and scared the shit out of me."
Me: "Awww, you were going to search for me."
BF: "Yes. Who goes running that long?" Then he notices my condition, "Wow- you are a sweaty mess."

Who said getting in shape was pretty?

Friday Fodder

Friday, August 22, 2008
This is about the time where Jessica Simpson's stock starts dropping. Honey, we've all been burned. Granted, I don't think it included an entire VH1 episode, Rolling Stone article or CD courtesy our the ex-hubby, but we've all had our share of bad relationships and can empathesize with you.

I used to love her voice, her style and personality. I was rooting for you. However, when you make snarky comments on radio shows about another girl calling or texting, your stock takes a plunge in my mind. You are an artist, right? Take your anger out in your music. Write a song. You'll make more money that way... Hello.. doesn't anyone remember "Cry me a river" and what that did for JT's career?

And, don't deny it, you totally are that girl that looks through his call log.

Sleep lines

Thursday, August 21, 2008
Dear sleep mask,

You help my nightly slumber. You block out the light because I'm too lazy to buy curtains to cover the mini blinds. And, because I can't decide if I just want to buy all new furniture and a new mattress or stay put with my curret stuff. Do you see my decorating dilemma? But can you please not leave marks on my face well into my day at work? Coworkers notice these things, point them out and laugh.

Allison M.

Love on TV

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The BF has a major crush on Abby Ham. For those of you not in the Cleveland area, she co-anchors the morning news on channel 3. I can't recall when I first noticed his undying love for her. Seeing as we get ready in two separate bathrooms in the morning, I thought I'd hear him talking to someone but I wasn't quite sure. Then, last year, she was in Cleveland Magazine you would've thought he struck gold. He took it from my office and kept it on his desk for months. This is when I noticed his local celebrity crush.

Every morning, he talks to the TV. I'm not kidding. He has one-way convos with the TV every morning. It's hysterical. I should film a snippet and post it. Here's a little sampling of what I hear:

"Good moooooorrrning Abby." (Pretty much what he says every day.)
"Not a good look for you, Abby."
"Did you cut your hair Abby?"
"Allison, your hair kind of looks like Abby's."
"Ohhhh, Abby, that's not a good look for you."
"Oh, Abby, are tanning? You look tan."
"Abby, you look great today."

Abby, if you read this which you probably don't, my BF would love a 8x10 signed glossy of you for his office. And, it would be priceless to see how embarrassed (read absolutely excited) to receive it.

master oven

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Toaster ovens and boys go together so well. Boys are toaster gods. They know exactly how to use them in the best combination with the microwave. Before I moved in the BF, I didn't own a toaster oven. Never thought I would really need one considering I had an oven in my apartment. You can broil and bake in that one just fine. Who needs to ovens? Right? Wrong says the BF.

Back story -
When we first moved in together, he had the oldest grey, because the white had deteriorated over time, toaster oven you've ever seen. It was screaming to be thrown out but it worked every time, so says the BF, so he couldn't throw it out. Well, he did pitch it a few months later after multiple people asked how old the toaster was. We replaced it with a new silver version from 2008. Ever since then, it will occasionally burn things that "the other one never burned." It was $50 - what do you want?! Needless to say, I get shit every time the toaster f's up.

But, he can still cook anything and everything in there. Last night, he made me (awwww, I know) a frozen french bread pizza.

BF: Put it in the microwave.
Me: Eww, you're crazy. It won't be crispy.
BF: Defrost it for a minute and a half then put it in the already warm toaster oven that I'm starting for you now.
Me: How long do I put it in for?
BF: 1 minute 30 seconds
Me: How do you know that?
BF: Because I do.

Don't mess with a guy, his microwave or his toaster oven.

Friday Fodder

Friday, August 15, 2008
Dear mask stealer,

Please return my inexpensive sleep mask back to my nightstand. It really helps me block out late night TV watching and the morning sun. I had you on my trip to Charlotte, remember packing you and now you seem to have dissappeared.

Allison M.

Scents and sensibility

Thursday, August 14, 2008
The nose is a very impressive part of our body says me, the person with no medical degree. Smells trigger everything for me. Curve for women reminds me of 7th grade, Lovespell from Victoria's Secret reminds me of senior year of high school and then Pink Sugar reminds me of my friend Erin. Maybe because she had 75 perfumes, all of which smelled like sugar in a bottle! You name it, the girl had it!

Anyway, what about the smells that remind you of your past relationships/people? For some reason, if I catch a whiff of a past smell, it can send me into major hurl mode. Just to make sure I wasn't the only who thought this, I asked a coworker and she agreed. She said it can bring back all memories, good or bad. Good point, Mo!

The BF bought body wash and it's one of those smells. OMG! It's such an overpowering scent mixed with a metal-ish scent and freshness. (Bad description, I know.) I nearly puked when I smelled the bottle and need to replace it ASAP. Like tonight. Because the BF refuses to shower in his bathroom because the shower supposedly leaks, he showers in mine with the horrific smelling body wash. Then, when I get in the shower, I smell it again. Blah.

So, what smells remind you of past relationships/people? Coolwater, Curve, Lacoste, Burberry?

One bucket

For some odd reason, the BF really wanted to take me to the driving range this week. I've never had a real desire to go because a)you can't talk a lot, b) you can't really yell "FOUR" like they do in the movies, and c) you must have patience for the art of golf. All of which are qualities that I don't posess. But, for the sake of trying new things, I ventured to the greens with him to spend some QT and let him try and teach me the game of golf.

(Editor's note: We don't do work out activities together. I can't work out with him. If we go for a nice walk in the metroparks, he tries to push me over the edge of the cliff. Not funny. I don't like working out with people in general so it's no exception with him.)

Anyway, back to our golfing trip. We attempted to go the day before but because the BF knew all things golf, he forgot to call them and ask if they'd be mowing. Because if he did call and ask, he would've been told that they were mowing the driving range that evening.

All in all, I don't think I'm that terrible of a golfer. I don't know if my spastic movements are right for golf - I have a lot of energy. But, maybe if you give me more lessons (like 35) and I think I could become pretty competitive.

This is rough:

Here's where I start to get a bit better.

I only lasted one bucket of balls.

Give it to me

Monday, August 11, 2008

The BF is way more responsible than I am when it comes to spending money on frivolous things. I feel that it's built into a woman's DNA to spend oodles of money on make up, shoes and those designer purses. (Or maybe it's just mine.) When I see the half-yearly sale or pass a Coach outlet, I can't help but find an amazing deal. Just a month ago, I found this Coach bag from earlier this season at 60 percent off. (Actually, I can't find this year's one but it looks similar - only slightly brighter.) I basically stole it!

However, since I'm making a conscience effort to pay down my credit cards, I've only been allowing myself certain cash only splurges. That summer bag being one of them this season. I've really made an effort to purchase everything on sale and with this slumping economy, it's definitely helping my closet out. Thanks, Mr. President!

Last week, I signed up for the best and worst e-mail - Shop it to me. I finally have my own little online personal shopper - free of charge. I was able to pick between which brands, all of course had to do with something designer, and I receive e-mail updates with all my sale items. I'm talking Michael Kors, BCBG, French Connection, Kate Spade and Nine West - my fave all time shoes because a 9.5 fits me every time. I've already received four e-mails since Friday and I've only peeked because I'm supposed to be saving money! Damn, why do I get myself into this!

Real world meet up

Saturday, August 9, 2008
If it weren't for Alexa, none of us (semi famous) peeps would've gotten together Saturday night. That means, there wouldn't have been any meeting Everest, talking with the Chef or his Widow, stuffing ourselves full of pizza, fries and some apps/desserts compliments of the chef, causing a scene with the young girls from the PD, laughing hysterically over relationship stories, or meeting Nom and friends on the rooftop for cornhole and beer drinking. Taawd and Mel - you missed the amazing impromptu flip cup game that happened.

Here's what I've learned after meeting these bloggers/ now real world friends -
-Mel will never cut her hair again.
-You can't see inside Tawwd's place from Route 2 (although I think he wants us too)
-We all agreed that we are now more than ever obsessed with Bar Cento, the atmosphere, the food and Magic Hat #9
-The BF shared his love for Abby Ham over and over. This is a whole other post in itself.
-Alexa wants a 8x10 signed glossy of Carl Monday
-Yes, I was embarrassed when he told the PD girls we are semi-famous (We aren't! OK, maybe Mel is. Yes, hello - she was in the 25th anniversary of Cleveland magazine! That is major.)

And yes, I will hang out with each and everyone you again!

***And, we also met out Suzanne of Life on Mars.

Keep it in the pants

Let me first start out by saying, Mr. Edwards, I thought you were intelligent. Really. But, like most other d-bags, you cheated on your wife - idiot! Hello - you are really famous. This stuff sells newspapers! Did you really not think it was going to get out?

From this article:
"I am responsible for it. I alone am responsible for it," Edwards said on ABC News "Nightline.

No shit, Enstein. No shit. Although I'm sure the chick with the badly bleached hair had something to do with it, too.

Well, what we have learned here. Let's try to do the opposite that politicians have done this past year and find another vice of sorts. Yes, Mr. Spitzer, that means you too.

What about hair twirling? That doesn't seem to hurt anyone or be controversial. Then again, Edwards does pay $400 for hair cuts, right?

Can I buy you a drink?

Thursday, August 7, 2008
Boys like to be hit on just as much as girls. Yep, that's right. You all act like you love going to up to girls, making the first move, starting the casual conversation and wasting valuable dollars on martinis that she'll drink and walk right away from you. HA! But, you also enjoy when the tables are flipped and the girls approach you. Example: The BF was hit on by a girl at bar last night. After a company softball game, everyone heads to a bar in Tremont with drink and food specials, plus an awesome patio with cornhole. Anyway, this morning he decides to tell me the story and gloat about his victory.

"OH, and I didn't even tell you what happened last night?
Me: What?
BF: I got hit on. (very proud by this acheivement)
Me: By a girl?
BF: Yep, and I still got it.

Editor's note: After men have been in a serious relationship, they must feel that they don't "have it" anymore. Why would you think you would lose "it?" You had it in the first place, you landed a girlfriend, so you obviously still "have it." You don't lose it just because you have been monogamous with the same girl. I get it

Me: You still got it?
BF: Oh yeah. They still flock to me.
Me: Ignoring his obvious glory he wants me to acknowledge, She really hit on you?
BF: Yep.
Me: Did you get her number?
BF: Uh, no, I know better than that.
Me: So. You gave her your number.
BF: No, idiot. But she had her phone sitting on the bar the whole time just waiting for me to give it to her. She asked if I had a girlfriend right away.
Me: Wow. She cut right to the chase.
BF: Then she asked if it was serious.

I surveyed a few guys to ask their opinions and they feel the same way - they love it. One even said, "Girls are used to being hit on all the time. It's a new thing for guys - and we love it."

Golden Girls

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

I can't tell you how much I love little old ladies. They just tell you like it is. They all, I swear, have this uncanny ability of getting exactly what they want without really asking for it but throw in a bit of flattery to make it worth your while. Case in point - our trip to East Coast Custard yesterday evening.

The BF and I sit down outside next to these lovely white-haired older ladies and both comment on our delicious our ice cream looks. Picture Sophia and Rose from Golden Girls.

Old lady: Oh, Doris, doesn't their ice cream just look delicious?
Old lady's friend: Oh yes, it looks great. What did you get?
Me: Chocolate chip custard with almonds.
Old Lady: Oh my. That is what I want. I hope that's what Connie is getting me.
Old lady's friend: Oh, I hope she does, too. That is just what I want to order.
Me: Did you order this?
Old lady: No, I told her to surprise me. I hope she gets me that but you never know with Connie. I hardly get up here without someone taking me. I do love this place, don't you?

Thinking at this point that this lady wants me to get off my ass and go to whoever Connie is to get that ice cream. I look inside and notice the long line.

Me: She probably didn't order yet. Do you want me to tell Connnie to get you this?
Old lady: Oh. No. Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll surprise me with something scrumptious.
Me: Are you sure? I can. Who is she and what's her name?
Old lady: Her name is Connie, reddish hair and with a good-looking fellow in glasses.

She totally got me. So, I did my great Samataitan deal, went inside and found Connie who looked at me with those "Who the F are you eyes" and she ordered her mother the ice cream.

With the whole 57 seconds it took to find Connie, those two old ladies already interrogated the BF with how long we've dated, are we married and where do we live. I walk out just as the woman says to me, "I told him it's about time you two get married. You are a fine looking couple." The old woman's friend says, "Oh yes, one fine looking couple. It's about time."

There you have it.