An Open Letter to...The Red-Headed Actress Who Made Kombucha Disappear :( Sad-faced

If you follow Madde Belle: A CLOSET CASE. you would know that I am currently in Kalamazoo, Michigan for the week with the fam. Kalamazoo, a quaint college town, truly is everything Frank Sinatra once told us it was (wait, was it Franky that sang a ditty about Kalamazoo? Who knows!)

Anywho, when traveling I try my best to keep my routines intact, which includes my weekly Kombucha Juice indulgence (fermented Chinese tea that smells weird funky, but makes me feel awesome funky!). Well wouldn't you know that my Kombucha was nowhere to be found in K-A-L-A-M-A-Z-O-O--and we have one person to blame...L-O-H-A-N. I now present to you my open letter to...The Red-Headed Actress Who Made Kombucha Disappear.



Dear The Red-Headed Actress Who Made Kombucha Disappear,

Not cool, lady-friend...not cool at all. Looks like you've "TRAP"ped us again. You see, just when I was becoming spirtually connected to my Kombucha juice, you just happened to violate your pesky little probation and blame who? My beloved Kombucha--when in actuality you should have been blaming it on the "aa-aa-aa-aaa-aaa-alcohol" (Thank you, Jamie Foxx).

MEAN GIRL Red-Headed Actress, I commend you on your sobriety now (for seers, good job!), but it was not Kombucha's fault that you were going out to the clubs and suckling on the nose candy and sippin' on Gin and Juice, was it? Kombucha had minimal effect on your sobriety level, yet the moment you pointed your finger their way, my presh kombuch was taken away from the stores for "re-formulation". And let me tell you something--he didn't come back the same man. No, no, no. He is simply a shadow of his former self.

There was a time this summer when I lost all hope and was certain that I would no longer  be able to look forward to an afternoon buzz from a beverage sold in the produce department of my grocery store, but somehow, by the grace of Jesus, Buddha, God, and Barbra Streisand-- they have returned. Well--sorta. Yes, they've made a return--but I doubt they will ever fully bounce back. Certainly no bounce to be found in the Michigan suburbs.

So here I am today.
No buzz, no fermentation, no nothin'.
I'm forced to drink water.
And I'm in Michigan.
Thank you very much.
Maybe you and your little car, HERBIE, could scooch on up here and bring me a Cranberry Kombucha fresh from an L.A. co-op. Think about it.

xo,

Me

GUEST BLOGGER, TAJ RULER on "Sensitivity--has he gone too far?"

See this girl? Her name is Taj. She wrote a funny guest blog for me. You are about to read it...

*****

I am just tickled pink to have guest blogger, Taj Ruler, on today's blogsicles! Taj is an improviser, ukulele player, funny lady, and a dear friend of yours truly. She is one of the funniest ladies that I know, and having spent many a wine-induced night of boy chatting with her, I trust her with the blog today. So I present to you Taj's thoughts on the fine, fine line of male sensitivity. In 5, 4, 3, 2,1---

*****

Alright ladies, lets be honest with ourselves. We might all be strong, independent women, but we also want that special someone that we're with to be attentive to us. To hold our hands, to call us just to talk, to give us complements out of the blue, and to basically just treat us with respect. In other words, we would like them to be sensitive. 

Yes, a sensitive guy is wonderful. Having a guy treat us like we're pretty pretty princesses? What could be better! Whenever I think of my ideal guy, it's definitely on my list of adjectives that describes him. However, there is a thing as being too sensitive. It might seem hard to believe, but it's true. Yes, Prince McSensitive-Pants, I'm talking to you. So I've composed a list of don'ts that all you extra caring guys should heed warning to. Because these things might just push your princess back to her castle that's guarded by a dragon. (Note: These are actual things that have been done. I'm not just making this up.)

1. Don't write your own sonnets expressing your love for her every morning. Especially via text. 

2. Don't talk about your ex-girlfriend and how much she hurt you when she dumped you. Major turn off. You will not get into her pants that way!

3. Don't ask to be little spoon all the time! Your partner wants to be taken care of too! It's a two way street, yo! 

4. Don't have a picture of your mom in the bathroom. Family is important, and loving your mom is wonderful, but a picture of her in the bathroom? That's just creepy.

5. Don't write songs to say you're sorry. It might be cute when you first start going out to write a little ditty about how you like her. But then new hit singles like, "I'm sorry I dropped your toothbrush in the toilet" won't make it to the top 40 charts and it definitely won't hit a chord in her heart. 

These are just a few examples of things to avoid. Again, it is great for guys to be attentive, caring, and respectful, but also remember to have some back bone, too. Man up! Make us feel like princesses without becoming one of our ladies in waiting. 

*****

Taj and I can be found in our new video blog "The Mittens and Buttons Sing-A-Long Blog" on the YouTubesies. And with our all-girl improv team, The Minneapples, around the Twin Cities droppin' the funnies. Look us upsicles! 

Marry me by the dumpster for a week, please.

(Please note that this may be the creepiest picture I have ever found on the internets. I'm sorry.)

When I was in elementary school we played this really fun game on the playground in which we married our classmates in an elaborate marriage ceremony by the dumpster. The students would peel themselves away from King of the Mountain, and waddle over in their snow pants as two of our classmates exchanged poorly written vows and rings made out of Laffy Taffy's from our lunch boxes. The couple was always the latest 5th grade crushes, excluding the time this one girl married this dead squirrel that had fallen from a tree and we had covered with a trash can during the ceremony.

As I think about it in my early 20s, I often wonder why I never got married in those elementary school weddings. I certainly had my fair share of 5th grade crushes who were certainly biting at the bit to marry me next to the dumpster, but I always opted out. Even to my 5th grade boyfriend who romantically gave me a $5 Caribou gift card because he thought I was pretty-ish.

 I have entertained the thought that perhaps I am not "the marrying kind", but as I watch my former playmates grow up and settle down with live-in boyfriends or marry the women they love, I wonder if perhaps it is not that I am not the "marrying kind", rather I have a very low tolerance for dating.

My childhood chums have put up with a lot of foolishness on their adventures in dating throughout the years, and I (ironically) have a very low tolerance for foolishness. (Ironic because I have been regarded as possibly one of the most foolish humans to ever grace the world with my foolishness. How foolish.) I have never been able to play the game of pouting my puckers around a good gent or doing my best mating dance at the bar. No, no, no, none of that for me. I'd rather stay at home snuggled in with my Pillow Pet than endure that sort of horror.

So my conclusion is this: I am sure sometime in my life I will be "the marrying kind", and the truth is at 22 I am far too fabulous to settle down quite yet. The "foolish" games of the 20-something dating scene are definitely not this gal's style. I will not be putting on any hoochie dresses and strutting my stuff through Cowboy Slims with "mY bEST giRLIES!!! xoxoxoxo" anytime soon, but perhaps I could make myself a little more bearable to date. I could even start by not laughing at someone who asks me out on a date (this may or may not have happened in the recent past...woops)! Yay!

.....who wants to exchange laffy taffy rings by the dumpster?

Man 3G. Man 3GS. Man 4G. When am I eligible for an upgrade?

Whenever I itch my nose I swirl my itching fingers around my nose tip 3 times, and if someone were to ever come upon me while I was thinking they would find me with my tongue hanging out of the side of my mouth. That's my thinking face. I didn't come to know of these habits on my own--no, no, no, I was not-so- delicately informed of their existence. Now that I know about them, I'm extremely aware whenever they show their ugly faces.

Habits. 

We all have them. 

Perhaps you think yours are a lot less charming then my swirly nose itch, but I doubt it. 

As I took inventory of my last year, I reflected on my accomplishments, my embarrassments, my--other things that don't fit into those categories, and the men that have crossed my path like black cats.

I came to an astonishing realization: 

I have a "go on dates with different versions of the same dude over and over again" habit. 

How true this habit is. When I think about the dudes that have continually popped up in my life, the similarities they all share are pretty phenomenal. Shall I list some of them for you? 

1. He usually thinks he's  very funny. 

2. He has fabulous hair. 

3. He is goal-oriented.

4. He finds me mildly amusing sometimes.

5. He thinks very highly of himself.

6. He looks just like the one before him. (Please refer to the sketch)

7. He is supey Awkward Turtle. 

8. He is a journaler. (It's all about the journal with these boys. I don't get it.)

9. He likes himself. A lot. 

10. It's very possible he likes boys sometimes. 

That is just a tasting menu of their qualities, but it's pretty consistent with most of them. Now don't get me wrong, some of these things are fabulous! Goal-oriented, hair maintenance, but some of those are definite dealbreakers. So what makes us go back for different versions of the same thing? I'm not exactly sure, but it will require some soul searching from all of us--that's for sure! 

7 minutes of heaven in 20-11

I bet you made a New Year's Resolution list this year, didn't you? No, no, I'm not knocking on your resolutions--(remember my resolution was to be more POSITIVE this year?! To knock your resolution would be a perfect example of negativity, you d-wad!).

Anywhos. Resolutions. They can build us up, or break us down. One year  I resolved to be a dolphin trainer, that didn't work out for me in 1997--so I was let down for my entire year. Last year I resolved to write a blog on dating and romance as a 20-something. Lots of peeps read my babble in 2010--that was a good resolution last year. 

So what about this year? Well this year my best friend, Nick and I, have decided to issue a challenge to the world. I am happy to announce that 2011 will officially be known as:

"SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN IN 20-11"

That's right, peeps! I have issued you a challenge to aimlessly make out with countless numbers of people for 7-minutes as many times as you possibly can this year! After all--it IS 2011! 

Let me answer some of those burning questions you are having: 

Q. Do I have to be in a closet to partake in the 7-minutes of Heaven smooches?

A. Certainly not! Our ancestors have traditionally 7 minutes in heaven'd in some of our nation's finest closets, but with this new decade upon us, I encourage you to find other places to find 7 minutes of bliss! 

Q. Should I know my kissing partner before I spend 7 minutes with them?

A. Not necessarily. The world is your make-out oyster. Have at it! Mouths open, tongues out! Let's go, people! 

Q. Will I be timed?

A. Yes. I will be by each and every one of you with a stop watch, ensuring that you are only making out for 7 minutes. Anyone over 7 minutes will be issued a ticket and be expected to show up in court--LOVE COURT! 

Please feel free to leave any of your other questions in the comment box below. After leaving a comment please go find the nearest person and spend 7 minutes "M and O'ing". I will be checking on you soon. 

It's 2011 and I'm baaaaaack!

Well, well, well...look what we have here...I'm baaaaaack! 

Please let me start out by saying...

Happy 2011, my peeps!

I decided to let your hangovers fully recover before I whipped out the 20-11 blogsicles. Hopefully we've all put clean clothes on, showered the stank of rotten tequila off us, and at least attempted to regain our dignity. 

Well, I spent my holidays patiently waiting underneath the mistletoe for a smokin' hot man to accidentally trip on my strategically spilled egg nog mess and just happen to plant his face on mine. When those efforts proved unsuccessful, I abandoned the mission and dedicated my time to putting my face in my new furry boyfriends--

PILLOW PETS!

(They are pillows! But they are also PETS! Whaaaaat? Yes.)

So here we are--2011. Obama may have brought us change for the new millennium, but 2011 is going to bring us into this new decade in style. I'm feeling good about our chances here, people. Reaaaaallly good. 

So who is Madde, the Blogger, in this new decade? I think she's optimistic. It was recently brought to my attention that I am somewhat of a charming "Debbie Downer" type. I don't make vacations to Disneyland as miserable as Debbie, but I sure do love to point out those flaws in people. Woops! So Madde is going to make an attempt to keep it positive in the new year. Afterall, it's a new decade--why not usher in a new fabulous her!*

*Note: This is a New Year's Resolution. I make no promises. 

My horoscope says that 2011 is really the Gemini woman's year...so let's rock it out, shall we? 

xo