Stay tuned for Target's version of this gem....

I can just imagine the switchboard overload at WME the day this gem came out... "Am I or am I not white hot enough to neccessitate a fashionable but precautionary measure such as the Anti-Pap Clutch?" Because there's nothing worse than wearing a defensive evening bag and not getting the change to use it.

The Anti-Paparazzi Clutch is sure to be number one on the Christmas List for sad celebs this year. The ones who call the pap themselves on their way to Don Antonio's (Lauren Conrad I'll never forgive you for foiling my attempts at privately consuming enchiladas) and the ones who feel they might be fading out of the spotlight...

What this bag is great for however, is taking those epileptic shuterbugs down a peg or two... So Tourists, epileptics, and Disco Strobe Light Owners beware, the Anti-Pap Clutch was designed with you in mind. So I'm going to go with, um, not the new black, but maybe that's only because I haven't found out which of my enemies are prone to seizures... I'll get back to you.

Dear Straight World,

I don't know if you are aware of this stereotype, but within the lesbian community, people often say that there is a tendency to (quote, unquote) "U-Haul" relationships. "U-Hauling" a relationship is when you move way too fast, for example, if you were to move in together on the second date because we're so in love, oh my god! Soul mates! How did I live before I met you?

Now, as with many stereotypes (like African Americans are good at basketball or all Asians are geniuses who know Kung Fu), there is some truth to this. Evolutionarily speaking, it's in a cave woman's best interest to talk her mate into settling down. The cave baby can be safe at home supervised by the cave mom, while the cave dad is out there fighting sabre tooth tigers and bringing home the wooly mammoth bacon. While our cave men were trying to shoot sperm into anything that walked, women had to get really good at convincing them to be faithful. And thus, the blow job was created. This works out well for straight people, because they've got a nice push-and-pull thing going in the beginning during the "dating" process, until the woman eventually wins (as we always do) and they get married and stop having sex.

Now when you put two women together, on the other hand, both of your evolutionary ancestors just want to stay home and make babies (or adopt Asian ones - Kung Fu babies!). Without one person trying to pull away to go sow wild oats, things are bound to move a little bit quickly (hence the U-Haul). This creates two (equally annoying) problems:

1. Relationships tend to start at warp speed before you've had a chance to really vet each other. One OkCupid date, you blink, and all of a sudden you've got 3 cats and you're filling out adoption papers. You haven't left your bed on a Sunday in a month, your friends have given up on asking you to do things, and then all of a sudden. . . wait, what? You get anxiety from sleeping in the same bed as someone? You want to take our future children to church? Your ex-girlfriend was a witch, like for real? You don't like eggs?? I can't date someone that doesn't like eggs! What will we do at brunch!? (That last one is actually me. I hate eggs. And I also got dumped for it once. True story.)

2. People get totally freaked out when they perceive the relationship to be going too fast, because (among other things), everybody hates fitting into stereotypes. just like everybody hates turning into their mother. "I really like you a lot, but let's not 'U-Haul' this thing." If you like hanging out, then hang out! If you want a day to hang out with your friends, go hang out with your friends! If you really like each other so much, is it the worst thing in the world if you end up hanging out a lot? Sure, life balance is important, but imagining life imbalance for the sake of avoiding being a stereotype is just silly.

So I guess my point is, be careful with your heart, but that being said, cat shopping on the second date is still the new black.

Los Angeles in 2005 called, and it wants its rolling blackouts back

Hello internet world! Miss me? I woke up this morning after a bit too much jungle juice and flip cup last night, and I knew it was time to come back to Blogland, USA. I haven't been this hungover since my bithday (March 26th, if you want to buy me a present), and I magically felt snarky again. So in honor of my hangover inspiration, here are three tell-tale signs that the party you were at last night was totally the new black.

1. Your lights are still on. Not just your bedside light, I mean ALL of the lights. Bathroom, kitchen, and if you have other rooms in your apartment/house, then those are on too. I don't know what those other rooms may be, considering my crappy studio apartment has exactly 5 light bulbs in the whole place, but you get the idea.

2. You're naked, regardless of whether of not you had bed company. And by naked, I mean maybe your underwear and the stamp from the bar you were at last night. Or you wake up in all of your clothes. And by clothes, I mean your theme party costume. Preferably with something on your face (glitter, fake eyelashes, something you double-sided taped to your shirt, etc.).

3. Your TV is on, blaring the menu page of whatever DVD you put on to "fall asleep to" last night that you watched for exactly .8 seconds before passing out. And if you wear glasses, you're still wearing those too.

Blacking out is the new black.

If I Don't Go Away, How Will You Miss Me?

And. . . we're back. Okay, I'm back. I got tired of waiting for other people to post. I was trying not to be a blog-hog, but apparently being a blog-hog is the new black.

Sometimes there are things in your life that are just a little bit TOO awesome. I know you're thinking, "but KC, how can something be too awesome? Doesn't adding the word "too" mean it's not awesome anymore?" No, seriously though, it happens. These overly awesome things can be activities, people, foods, drink specials, cat massages, whatever! And sometimes you just get so friggin' into that thing that you start to let the other awesome parts of your life slip. I'm not saying it's bad to focus on one aspect of your life every now and then, but it's a good idea to keep things balanced.

I hadn't gone out on a week night in two weeks. I had totally fallen victim to the "stay-at-home-lesbian syndrome." Why go out when there is cuddling here?!?! I may have been caught complaining about getting "too much sleep." There were definitely cats involved (I have the fur on my jeans to prove it).

These two weeks were totally awesome, and I'm sure that I will continue to have stay at home cuddle nights with my totally awesome chick. The question is: were these last two weeks a little bit too awesome? I was totally ignoring my favorite drink specials, not to mention my favorite drinkers. Sounds like it's time to hit the town. Right after Glee is over, that is. . . (I have to get my cuddling in sometime).

Taking a break from things that are TOO awesome (such as this blog) is the new black. Just don't go away for TOO long. ;)

Liquor in the Front. . . Yard

I got a letter in the mail today alerting me of a public hearing about putting in a liquor store across the street from me. It was from a lawyer and mentioned something about the "environmental impact" this might have, so I'm pretty sure they were trying to rally the troops against it.

Um. . . do they know me? Clearly not. I wouldn't complain if they put a liquor store inside my building. I wouldn't mind buzzing in homeless people for it. Hell, I might even consider chipping in towards their rent. Basically, I really hope they open this thing, and I'm thinking of going to the hearing in support of it if I'm not too drunk.

Liquor stores within walking distance are definitely the new black.

That's (not-so) Brisk, Baby!

Due to my extreme lifestyle, I have a bit of a caffeine addiction. It’s not anything I’m trying to quit, I’m not opposed to addictions for addictions’ sake. I enjoy it (tastes good), it does what it’s supposed to do (keeps me awake), and it gives me an excuse to go walk outside and get a little bit of sunlight during the day (to go to Starbucks, Rite Aid, or the Panadaria down the street). I actually feel the same way about cigarettes, but instead of giving me an excuse to get sunlight, cigarettes give me an excuse to take a break from dancing and talk to hot chicks.

Recently I bought a case of Brisk Iced Tea instead of soda, mostly just to change it up, but also partially because I thought it might be a little bit healthier. Last night I had a normal amount of sleep,which generally requires 1-2 caffeinated beverages the next day. I had two Iced Teas today and felt nothing. I looked on the can, and it said there were 8mg of caffeine per 12 fl oz. This meant nothing to me, so I googled it and found this super cool website, http://www.energyfiend.com/the-caffeine-database . Turns out Brisk Iced Tea has only a tiny bit more caffeine than a cup of decaf coffee (which has 6mg), whereas a regular 8oz cup of coffee has 145mg of caffeine. I’m pretty sure a cup of coffee is healthier than 18 high fructose corn syrup-filled Brisk Iced Teas. Look at that, I learned something at school today! I’m thinking about making a word problem out of it.

Additionally, I now have a long list of really hilarious energy drinks that I can’t wait to try!

“Crunk Mango Peach” and “Who’s Your Daddy” are the new black (and Brisk Iced Tea is not).

Call Mr. Flintstone, I Can Make Your Bed Rock

I have in the past, by multiple people, been accused of being a little bit "aggressive" when it comes to the bedroom. Not that I am pulling out whips and chains (though I don't mind a little spank every now and then *wink*), I'm just aggressive in terms of getting things started and making a relationship move in that direction. Now this strategy has worked pretty well at getting me laid. Unfortunately, this strategy sucks at locking down a girlfriend. While guys seemed fine with the term "boyfriend" meaning "a sex slave who buys me dinner every now and then," girls apparently get all offended that I don't want to "know them as a person" or hear about their "feelings" or something. Lame sauce.

To combat my overly-aggressive tendencies (ironic choice of the word "combat" there. . .), I have given myself a "3 date rule" (i.e. I'm not sleeping with anyone unless we have gone on at least three dates). Which means that I haven't had sex in three months. And still no girlfriend. Even lamer sauce.

On the plus side, I'm saving a small fortune on bikini waxes.

Maybe waiting is the new black. . . ?

Here Kitty Kitty

While jogging around the hood the other afternoon some dude rolled down the window of his mid-nineties Toyota Corolla and screamed “LOOK AT THAT ASS!” in my general direction.

What the fuck?  What is this dude trying to accomplish?  Does he expect me to swoon?  Run over and jump in his car and start planning our sexual escapades?  Has anyone ever started a relationship from a moving vehicle? Even a really really casual one?  Am I out and about to catch the eye of a winner like him?  Better yet, does he think that I haven’t looked at my ass? 

Newsflash dude, I’ve seen my ass.  That’s why I run everyday in attempts to make it disappear so that losers like you don’t catcall me.

Assholes. Stop it!

Catcalling is not the new black.

Most Exciting Day Ever

So part of my pre-Coachella “diet and exercise” plan includes a daily run/walk situation which basically consist of me huffing and puffing around Los Feliz or Silverlake in awkward sweatpants whilst listening to decidedly un-Los Feliz/Silverlake music.  Just imagine a large-assed girl shuffling around the neighborhood in white, gatherered, capri sweatpants slowly jogging and being unable to resist throwing a hand in the air when Beyonce says, “if you liked it, then you should put a ring on it,” even though no one else can hear the music coming from her purple nano.  Yeah, that’s me. Pretty embarrassing, but whatevs, not as embarrassing as being a fat girl at Coachella.

So as I am jogging around today and spacing the fuck out who do I bump into but A REALLY SEXY VAMPIRE!!! OMFG!  No, not an actual vampire, but someone to plays one either film or television.  I even got a head nod as I shuffled by the sexy vampire as he walked his dog!  Then I got another one when I waddled by the sexy vampire on the return part of my loop.  So this is what I know:

1. A sexy vampire lives in my neighborhood (because who drives to another neighborhood to walk their dog unless there is a park or something)
2. Said sexy vampire is neighborly (though I do not plan on inviting him into my house because we all know that’s terrible idea)
3. Where the sexy vampire lives within about a quarter square mile (Shout out to google maps for making stalking easier!) 

I’m not going to name names, because I plan to actually stalk this person and don’t want there to be direct evidence on the internet.  If you’re a lawyer and reading this, let me know what needs to be more vague here.

I cannot wait to go jogging in full hair and make up tomorrow!

Having a sexy vampire for a neighbor is the new black.

Panty Raid!

Ladies and Gentleman, I have a problem.  No, it’s not my drinking problem. That’s already been well documented and discussed. No, I’m not smoking crack.  Although Dr. Drew is starting to make me think that I might be the only person in America who isn’t.  I am compulsively buying expensive undergarments.

Like every girl, I love pretty lacy under things.  I have rationalized the necessity for $15 Hanky Panky  underwear for daily wear, none of that Victoria’s Secret mall lingerie bullshit here.

But the problem has gotten REALLY bad since a little boutique known as Panty Raid opened in the neighborhood.  Now, I literally have to walk 30 seconds from my morning coffee spot to the most adorable little lingerie shop in Los Feliz.  I can’t stop buying panties!  The need for matching bra and panty sets is becoming overwhelming.  I can’t even go to the gym if my sports bra doesn’t match my underwear.

I’ve also discovered something amazing; garter belts.  Garter belts completely eliminate the need to wear tights.  The truest saying I’ve ever heard in my life was Edina from Absoultely Fabulous who simply said, “I'd just once like to take my clothes off and not be marked by them...”  I’m in full agreement with that statement.  I mean, even Kate Moss is probably left with that tragic flesh-seam running down her stomach when she wears tights.  Not only does the garter belt eliminate the aforementioned seam, but it also doubles as a purse of sorts for items such as a Blackberry, lipstick, cigarettes and small handguns.

It also gives you that added jump in your step if you know you’re wearing sexy lingerie, even if no one else does.

Sexy lingerie and garter belts are the new black.