There's Something About Miley

I fall into the population of people who did not watch the VMA's last night and do a play-by-play commentary on Facebook or Twitter. It was lights out around 9:30pm and with the DVR set I had little qualm with skipping it. Besides I knew with everyone else watching I would be brought up to speed with little effort first thing in the morning. Morning came and there was a theme, one name: Miley. I've seen the Smith Family reaction, watched one vlogger describe it as vulgar & read these words posted by a mom blogger: Everyday we work on changing the image of how people view our girls, than Miley Cyrus happens. I figured the least I could do was watch and share what I'm sure is going to be an unpopular opinion. 

Do you know how old Miley Cyrus is? She's twenty freakin' one, at least she will be in November of this year. I googled it. What were you like at twenty one? Let me tell you what I was like. I was the quintessential party girl. At the ripe old age of twenty I had a fake ID and was clubbing it up from Thursday to Sunday. Oh, it was confiscated by a police officer fourth of July weekend. I was utterly heartbroken and had to suffer a whole three months before I could carry on in a more legal fashion. I went to work hung over and exhausted only to do it again and again. I went home with boys, threw up more times then I care to count & even passed out in a VIP section once. This one time in college I made out with a dude and I don't know how but when I woke up the next morning my tongue was swollen. Yeah, it was like bruised and everything. It takes a special kind of dumb to allow that to happen to yourself. From about twenty-one to twenty-three I was the definition of that kind of dumb. I'm thirty now and as you can see have lived to tell about it. So before we get all up in arms about what is and isn't I'm going to tell you why we should all just cool our jets. 

Miley Cyrus (AKA-Hannah Montana) is doing what I assume we've all done at one time or another. Going a little too far to the left to tell the world who exactly we aren't. She's decided to do it by sticking her tongue out, smacking the butts of her background dancers & twerking on Robin Thicke. One day she'll realize that the tongue out to the side look is not cute. I've been known to smack a butt or two after a couple drinks. Hey, who doesn't like an ass grab? As long as the grabber has the grabbee's permission than I say grab away. As for the twerking, you're gonna tell me that given the opportunity you wouldn't shake what your momma gave you for Robin Thicke? Oh. I'm now going to step on my soapbox *clears throat* 

Celebrities are not role models. Celebrities are people who entertain us. Notice I used the world people because they are not free from making mistakes or complete assess of themselves. Last time checked we've all made mistakes and made an ass of ourselves. It comes down to parenting. See what we should be doing is monitoring things like music, social media & cell phones. Definitely cell phones, steps off soapbox.

One day Ms. Miley is going to look back at this and laugh. That's what we all do. The only difference is that for some of us this thing called social media didn't exist. I can't tell you how many times I'm so thankful that for me it didn't. 

Signed a woman who thinks it's okay to be young and dumb, Miss BB 

Today Love Can Kiss my Ass

I'm going to admit here and now that I could very well just be a menstruating crazy pants. Please tell me you put on your comfiest pair of crazy pants when it's that time of the month for you too? I started the day in an annoyed state and figured instead of putting my foot in my mouth I'd run. Albeit behind my usual schedule but if sleeping through ones alarm is a talent then I've mastered that. Oh and I might have put my foot in its most comfy position, by giving someone a small sampling of my wrath. A bit of truth mixed with some sarcasm and for his sake he's lucky that I let the endorphin's from my run do there job or shit would have got real.

I came across the photo to your left on Facebook. It was shot by my dream wedding photog, two (chics) photography. A little background, I found them at a bridal show I attended with the bestie. I am regularly bombarded with their amazing work on Facebook & today was no different. So what do you see first? I see an "older" couple which immediately sets in equal parts hope and fear. Hope that love happens at any age. I can't help but think how much harder dating as a single forty year old will be, one word: exponentially. Does the ageism shit work the same way for women it does for men? Like what's wrong with her. In forty years of walking the planet she couldn't find one bozo to marry her. On the bright side I did find one to knock me up but I don't know if that goes in the pro or con column. You'll have to tell me what you think. Oh, I don't like cats so I won't be the crazy cat lady. I do however like pigs. I only need one maybe two so they have each other for companionship purposes, while I browse over40andsingle.com and boom I'm the crazy pig lady. Not sure how that will go over with men but hey at forty who gives a damn, puh-lease!

I spent the day with my partner in crime at an amusement park. It's basically PDA overload. Hand holding, smooching & don't forget the giant stuff animals as a token of ones love and affection for the other. It was four hours of being reminded that I'm single. That this will not be the summer I sit on a bench and share a romantic moment eating funnel cake. Yes, eating funnel cake is extremely romantic. Just go with it, thank you. Want to know the best part of all? The person I was with wanted no part of holding my hand and wiped my kisses off. I still love her with all my heart though!

Last but certainly not least are all my married "friends." I use air quotes for two reasons, one because I love them and two because its more like perusing Facebook photo albums with titles like "The Happiest Day of my Life" *vomit* but still I look and think that will never be me. I should work on that, huh? The thinking not the looking. Some days to have and to hold is a little hard to choke down, like today for example. 

As I looked for a proper way to conclude I found a Facebook group entitled: Bacon-loving Hipsters can Kiss my Vegan ass. I love bacon. I love hipsters. End scene. It's Saturday night and there's a bottle of Pinot calling my name...

XO, Miss BB

Single but Ready for the Taking

I find myself navigating unfamiliar terrain. I met someone, this someone is a man who I've been seeing. But up until this very second I held off making a formal introduction because I wasn't sure how to write about him. One major source of my writers block was naming him for me a lot goes into a "name." I've been thinking about this for awhile and decided to go to my go-to girl  for some much needed inspiration, Carrie Bradshaw. I found that Cosmo had ranked her eighteen boyfriends. They even admit to it probably being completely biased. There is nothing better in my book that that kind of truth! So you're probably wondering who I picked, right? It was a no brainer, Aidan. 

Some background on Aidan, the SATC character not the man behind the pseudonym which I'll get to in the next paragraph. Aidan came in second place which should come as no surprise. The Aidan/Big debate is/was a real thing. Were you Team Aidan or Team Big? I was Team Big. Sometimes you meet someone and their just your someone. Carrie had eighteen boyfriends ranging from the politician who I loved to Berger who broke up with her on a post-it, a freakin' post-it. Let us not forget her Russian love affair which had her packing her bags for Europe only to give up attending her own party for his, being left alone & pissed the fuck off! Um, enter Big stage right and there you go. It might not have been perfect but love isn't perfect it's messy and inconvenient the definition of the love that is Big/Carrie. 

Let the record reflect I don't want a Big/Carrie kind of love which is why I'm introducing you to my Aidan or least getting to it. Next paragraph, I promise! There was version 1.0 Aidan with the long hair who said things like, "“You’ll let me into your apartment, but how do I get into here?” while placing a hand over his own heart. Then we met Aidan version 2.0, he had a better haircut, abs, but was still essentially Aidan: A rustic, sappy metropolitan hippie who ultimately stuck around way too long in the face of Carrie’s indifference. I'll take a metropolitan hipster who makes me laugh and puts his hand over his heart over a Big any day. I mean you were right there with me through my Big saga. 


So, you made it to the part where I tell you about the Aidan behind the pseudonym. He's a gentleman. He puts thought into our dates. He's all these really awesome things that have nothing to do with how he looks. Like being a perfect speller, possessing the ability to choose the correct form of your & you're and even though he's the worlds worst text messager I don't hold it against him. Oh, want to know the best part? He's tall! As a girl with a dating history riddled with men vertically challenged it's like going from dating Kevin Hart to Shaq. Me dating Shaq? Well not really Shaq. Aidan, except that's not his name but something tells me you put all that together. That's all you get. Let's call it me keeping you wanting more. 


You want more, right? You and me both. Stay tuned. 


XO, Miss BB