Coincidence that Valentine and VJ both start with a V?

I think not. I am quite certain there is a consipiracy here - probably brought to us by the same tricksters who created MENapause and MENstruation. But alas, we are faced with this Hallmark holiday year after year, so we might as well have fun with it, right?

Here are some V-Day cards that are a little more unique than the ones you'll find in the card aisle at Duane Reade:

Both cards above brought to you courtesy of Whimsy Press.

And for the guy who forgets the stupid holiday you pretended to not care about in the first place, this series says it all:

The series above can be purchased with love at Ella Studio.

When a card just won't do, and a tangible gift is in order to tell your sweetie just how much you adore them, try one of these. They speak louder than jewelry or tools ever could:

An absolute steal at $7.95, the Heartless Bitch stuffed animal comes with a heart shaped hole where her heart should be. Perfect for the cold, callous type. Purchase at Heartless Bitches.

And should Mr. Short-Lived rain on your romance parade, slip on this cozy tee to show him just how much you appreciated that 2 minutes. Available courtesy of the Sticker Wizard and Goth Monkey.

Now go on...let love rule.

I Wanna Text You Up

This is just plain silly, but kind of addicting in a strange way. See just how naughty the plumber (or nurse) will get with you - he has a snake that can unclog pipes.

Let's Have Text is a fun lil' site brought to us by the dirty birds and repressed sexual souls over at Virgin Mobile.

Rx Games

Drug companies are E V I L. I swear, they are going to be the downfall of our culture, our economy and morality in general.

Case-in-point: In a valiant effort to quit the nicotine habit once and for all, I was prescribed Zyban by my doc to help ease me off the tar tubes. I headed on over to the CVS with my Rx in hand, prepared to hand that baby in and pay $5 for my monthly supply of white warrior pills. I was told to HALT at the Rx counter, as the nimble pharmacist told me it would be ready in 20 minutes, and would be $295. Yes, you heard me correctly. Two hundred and ninety five dollars. Just a SLIGH T cost difference from the $5.00 copay my insurance company has me paying.

After a momentary freak-out, I managed to eke an explanation out of the pharmacist. "Your insurance company won't pay for a smoking cessasion drug. And this drug, marketed as ZYBAN, is just that."

Now hear me out. Zyban is EXACTLY the same thing as Wellbutrin. They have given the drug different names so that the crazy depressed folk don't feel like they are taking an anti-smoking drug and the smokers trying to quit don't feel like they are crazies (even though everyone knows smokers are depressed...or repressed...I can't quite remember). So I asked Mr. Pharmacist, if the Rx was written out for Wellbutrin would my insurance cover it? A big fat YUP.

So, three days and a secondary visit to my lady Doc friend and my little slip of paper has been re-zoned as Wellbutrin. Yes, she realized at second glance I must be depressed. And $5.00 later, I am the proud owner of a month's supply. Go figure. So thank you, Glaxo Smith Kline, for helping me not be depressed. Not for helping me quit smoking, which makes me healthier in the long run and reduces my risk for cancer, which down the road could cost you, insurance giant, $50k+ in reimbursed medical fees.

Good lord, Aretha

Now I like me some Aretha Franklin. I have R E S P E C T for that woman o' soul. She can croon to her heart's delight (and ours) and I would say nary a word. But when it comes to Ms. Franklin's wardrobe choices, something's gotta give, and at any moment that something is going to be the dental floss holding her dresses of choice up.

Her girls ar so big they have their own zip code. Her girls are so massive, she buys them a separate plane ticket. Her bazonkas are so ginormous, they enter a room 3 days before she does. So why, I must ask, does she wear these gowns that hold those puppies up with spaghetti straps?? Now even I would be hesitant to leave the house in spaghetti straps. Everyone knows that one spin the wrong way on the dance floor and you could be looking at spending the night in jail for assault with a deadly boob. This woman insists on wearing gowns held up by not much more than a string. I just don't understand. It's not flattering. It's not stylish. It's not hot. It defies the laws of gravity.

Thoughts?

Cranium craziness

After a monumentally bad week including police cars, screwdrivers and stab wounds, Pants and 1 were in a desperate need to forget their troubles and enjoy some down time.  On sat we packed Boozie and hopped a flight up to Canada to a lovely bed and breakfast run by a kindly old couple - good cooks and good sports.  The first inaugural Game Night ensued. Fueled by massive amounts of frustration and a bit of wine, the team that was OnePant destroyed the InnKeepers in two consecutive cranium challenges. Despite valiant efforts and great gets like bungee jumping charades and sausage necklace molds, OnePant pulled the gold metal through clutch calls like freaking DNA out of clay (its all in the twist of the wrist) and a bucking bronco rodeo. Huge thanks to our hosts, we'll post a great review on TripAdvisor.  They even had chocolates on the pillows! 

Let's everyone look forward to a better week!

It's Friday...

And this weekend couldn't come at a better time. This week has just been horrendous. Mama needs a bottle of wine and her dogette and husbandette curled up on the sofa with her, STAT.

Tomorrow night is game night with Ette1 and Pants. We have a little Cranium and Scattergories action in order, accompanied by lots of treats. My strategy? Get them both heavily liquored up before game time and then beat the pants off Pants and Ette. That's how we do up in suburb-land.

Happy weekend to all, and to all a good night.

As a service to our readers

We like to tune you into the best of pop culture, sometimes that includes great gifting ideas (wine bra, gold poo pill), sometimes it's movie reviews (Lars, Juno) and sometimes it's great Web sites. This one is a must see.

www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com
"Pictures of hot chicks with total and complete douchebags. With Commentary."

It's a brilliant concept, wish we thought of it... here are some examples:


Enjoy!

Techmology

Technology is grand, ya'll. Just check out this nifty invention, known as the Wine Rack. A sports bra that you fill with the nectar of the gods, this sports bra-like boulder houlder pumps up your rack and your blood alcohol level. There is a tube that is attached - suck it and get drunk. Your boobs will deflate, but who cares about a rack when you have a buzz going on some good Pinot. At $29.95, this is surely my gift of choice for all my upcoming girlfriend's b-days. And of course, one for myself. It may give me Pamela Anderson-esque breasts, but who cares? I don't - I'll be too drunk to care.

Still laughing...

Got a mani today and the sweet (but obviously senile) manicurist asked me if I was a junior or a senior in high school. She was about to lecture me on my knuckle duster, for being a way-too-young bride. When I finally picked myself off the floor from laughing so hard (hello, 30th birthday around the bend) and brushed the nail clippings off my bum, I asked her if she was serious. She told me I have young skin and don't look a day over 18. I think I am in love with my manicurist.

And just for fun...

My new obsession

Totally can't take credit, this is 2's discovery, but I am freaking cartoonizing everything. Check out how cool:

Six more weeks

With all the news about celebs being admitted to psych wards, the presidential race and Heath’s toxicology reports, no one is talking about Phil.

Groundhog Day came and went on Saturday without so much as a CNN news alert. Up on Gobbler’s Knob in Punxsutawney little Phil saw his freaking shadow and we are doomed for six more weeks of winter. They take this stuff very seriously. Here's what they have on the official site:

Phil's official forecast as read 2/2/08 at sunrise at Gobbler's Knob:

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

On Gobbler's Knob on this fabulous Groundhog Day, February 2nd, 2008
Punxsutawney Phil, the Seer of Seers, Prognosticator of all Prognosticators,
Rose to the call of President Bill Cooper and greeted his handlers, Ben Hughes and John Griffiths.

After casting a weather eye toward thousands of his faithful followers,
Phil consulted with President Cooper and directed him to the appropriate scroll, which proclaimed:

"As I look around me, a bright sky I see, and a shadow beside me.
Six more weeks of winter it will be!"

Go Vote

OR for Barack...he's not only full of progressive ideas, he's a HBM (that's a handsome black man, for those of you who don't know).

Improv Is Fun

And this is just hilarious. I'm surprised no one got arrested for possible "terrorist activity." Grand Central is swarming with army dudes in camo just waiting to tackle people who stand out from the crowd - or in this case, who stand completely still in the crowd.

Go Vote

(For Hillary please)

Buying Embarrassing Things at the Drugstore

We've all been there. Whether it was a yeast infection (thanks, B.C. pills), diarrhhea, dandruff..there are certain 'conditions' that should remain private. Like, it makes me uncomfortable when the guy in front of me in line is carrying a box of condoms AND a jar of Blue Star Ointment (with it's fun commercial tag line, "Jock itch! Ring worm! Psoriasis! Even cures fleas and ticks!!") There are some things that should just remain private. The imagery I often leave CVS with is just plain wrong.

Now, don't get me wrong. We all have ailments. And I am no stranger to them. But isn't there a more discreet way of purchasing certain products than standing in line with 20 strangers, (all who check out your purchases in moments of hostile judgment), and then be rung up by a 17-year old high-school geek who's checking out your Monistat box and then staring at you in disbelief, as if you just walked up to his register with boils or locusts crawling all over you or something. And then to make matters worse, there's always some behind-counter debate surrounding embarrassing products. Like when the two cashiers start a conversation while you are being rung up; "Hey Shirley, is it the Monistat that's on sale this week or is it the VAGistat?" You know what? I don't care about the stupid 50 cents I'll save. Just put the damn thing in the bag and shut up. And thank you for sharing with all my fellow shoppers the status of my VJ.

The grocery stores have gone high tech, offering self-service check out lines. These offer good opportunities to get free produce (you know, saying you have 2 avocados when you really have three) but more importantly it offers you the freedom of not having to feel judged buying 16 Entenmann's cakes, 3 gallons of ice cream and Star magazine. Why can't drugstores follow suit? I want an "Embarrassing Items Self-Checkout Line" at my local drugstore. No more dirty looks with my Tampax and greeting card purchases. No more judgments passed when I am buying diarrhea pills for husbandette. Just privacy for those moments meant to be mine and mine alone.

Talk amongst yourselves...

My trip to the DMV: Manhattan License X-Press Office:

Ain’t nothing "x-press" about it.

Went to DMV to change soon-to-be-expired license from Phila to NY address (only 6 years late)

• Enter express office, enjoy greeting from surly information desk attendant. Receive number, proceed to camera line:
• Wait in camera line, approximately 28 minutes
• Try to ignore heavy breather who is lurking behind my back in line, giving me the occasional nudge with his bag to show just how anxious he is to make the line move faster, a task for which I am not responsible obviously.
• Next in line, try to memorize eye chart in case eye sight fails and they make me go see a doctor for glasses
• Pass eye test and get picture taken (Done right? No)
• Take number, wait to be called
• Play brick breaker on blackberry (say that 5 times fast!) for 20 minutes
• Number called, yay
• Meet surly license person, hand over 20 forms of I.D. (Done right? No)
• Take number wait to be called
• Stare at wierdos around me, listen to surly greeter tell some poor non-English speaking man that he’s in the wrong building
• Resume brick breaker, gain high-score, approximately 33 minutes
• Number called, yay
• Meet surly license person whose personal, desk-top boom box is playing Jesus songs, hand over many forms of I.D.
• Pay $43.50 (Done right? No)
• Receive stupid paper temporary license
• Wait 3-4 weeks for real license to come in mail

The DMV sucks.

Superbowl confusion

Who do you root for when you hate both teams in the Superbowl? I was faced with this very question this weekend. As a sad Philly fan (who knows her team may not win a Superbowl in her lifetime) it makes watching the big game a bit of a problem. I want to be cool and hang out with friends and drink beer and stuff, but what's the point of watching a game if you aren't rooting for one team over the other? And this weekend became difficult because I hate both the Giants and the Pats. The thing is though I hate the Pats way more than basically any team in the NFL, so I went with the lesser of two evils.

The Pats suck for the following reasons:
-They cheat, all that illegal video taping
-They already won a bunch of times, so it's someone else's turn
-Tom Brady is not that hot, I don't get why women swoon over him, he kind of has a case the dumb face.
-Tom Brady isn't in any really fun commercials. Like those Peyton Manning pep talk commercials crack me up. I know Peyton didn't play this weekend, it was his brother, but just the relation makes it fun. I'm hopeful that Eli will follow in his footsteps and do some good commercials.
-I don't think it's fair that the Pats cover all of New England, pick a city.

So I'm glad the Giants won, it makes me believe in the underdogs, and gives me hope that some day in the future, perhaps when the stars all align, a philly team could possibly win something, any team, any contest will do. Here's to the dream.

Things To Do on Super Bowl Sunday (Besides Watch the Game)

If you're anything like me, today is just another Sunday, albiet with some extra thought placed into the culinary selection for the evening. Like, are we going to have cheese pizza or pepperoni? Should we make 7-layer dip or are 6 layers glutonous and substantial enough? Should we drink domestic or imported brew? These choices are difficult I know. But once you survive that task, here are some activities I personally find a better use of my time than watching 300 pound men run full force into each other. For hours.

1) Today would be a great day to read Honest Abe's biography. He was depressed. You are also depressed because you hate football. Use his symptoms to claim your own case and try to score some free Rx drugs from your Super Bowl hosts.

2) Take up pottery today. This will really give new meaning to Super Bowl as you can create your very own super bowl.

3) Go to an amusement park. All the parents are home drinking their asses off while their kids get in to trouble playing with matches in their bedroom. Now is the perfect opportunity to visit Disney World! No lines for Space Mountain!

4) Go shopping. Offer your company to the poor retail souls who got stuck working Super Bowl Sunday's shift. I mean, they have to work either way, you might as well use this opportunity to go try on 400 pairs of shoes just for fun.

5) If you're pregnant, stuff a water balloon in your crotch and make it pop. Everyone watching the game will think your water broke, and you can sit back and observe as they all see who is the least drunk to drive you to the hospital.

6) Spike everything. Nachos, guac, diet cokes...make sure everyone who does watch the game gets real sauced. And then just videotape them doing stupid stuff. I promise you will be able to use these videos in the future for bribery purposes.

If all else fails, just suck it up and watch the stupid game. But be sure to ask questions throughout, not because you care, because it's really fun to annoy people.

Freaking Weather!

I got one of the best blow outs (I’m talking hair guys) of my life last night, from a totally hot, Israeli, straight hair stylist and now the rain is threatening to ruin it. It’s so bouncy and smooth and sleek and looking like a Breck commercial and the stupid weather is going to screw it all up. Just a few drops will turn my lovely strands into a frizzy mess. I love my curly hair, don’t get me wrong, but moisture is like kryptonite when I’m trying to go straight. I’m so ready to pop outside the office to get lunch, but am seriously scared that it will do damage to my look. Now I’m weighing the risks, is a bad hair day really worth an egg salad sammy, or do I suck it up, snack on the salt and sweet n’ low packets I keep in my drawer and still look cute? I’ll have to mull it over. Maybe now that I’m a Veep I can make one of my underlings go pick up lunch for me…