Adventures in Arm Candyland

KB here with a re-cap of my weekend in Vegas. Let me warn you right now - there is about to be some brutal honesty up in here. For those of you who are sensitive Suzies, you may want to close this page asap.

It was an impromptu trip. A very well established, successful ($$$), doctor asked me a week and a half ago if I could "roll to Vegas" the following weekend. It took me about 3 seconds to reply, "I have to find a dog walker, but hell yeah!" I didn't ask why or how or what for. I already knew the answers. You see, said friend is sweet on KB and although we've only kicked it on a few occasions to conversate about sports & whatnot over cocktails, it's obvious he is a big "fan" of mine (his words). I am a fan of his too. He's a very nice (at least to me), accomplished, generous, and respectful man, that can appreciate an independent woman who likes to laugh and have fun.

But I am 1000% not attracted to him and have never indicated I had the slightest romantic interest in him. In addition to the double chin, old guy hair cut, mustache, neck rolls, and a haunting layer of gray ash on his face and knuckles (perhaps from the Iceland volcano?), he also has possibly the most bland, boring, uninteresting personality I have ever encountered. And I've chatted with some snoozerific folks before.

So when I signed up for the trip I knew what I was getting myself into. I was arm candy. Plain and simple. He wanted to brag to his colleagues of his PYT companion for the weekend and impress his friends. I haven't been able to volunteer at the soup kitchen for a while because I've been out of town so I figured this would count as a charitable endeavor for the month of April.

Long story longer, I had a fantastic weekend! Flew non-stop after work Friday and back to the east coast Sunday evening. The weekend started with drinks and more drinks with, oh let's call him Mr. Snooze, his co-worker, and my BFF of all BFFs! My oldest and dearest friend from childhood has lived in Las Vegas since we were 13. I hadn't seen her in years and she is the BEST! It was so great to see her and be in her presence. My heart was so very happy to be around someone that I genuinely consider my sister.

But back to the tragic side of the tale. I ordered up shots and shots as the night went on and we danced around the rooftop bar amongst your typical tragically lame Las Vegas crowd of club goers. The place had the undeniable stench of vomit and desperation. An aroma all too common in bars and clubs in Vegas and Hollywood. Anywho, I drank enough so I wouldn't have to tackle any awkwardness when we would return to our suite at the hotel. I "passed out" on the couch and told Mr. Snooze to leave me there as I felt sick. In reality, I was definitely tipsy but not passing out drunk, and I wasn't sick at all. But I know if he tried to sleep next to me in the huge king size bed I would definitely become sick and throw up all over his ash covered body.

The next morning he left early to attend a business meeting and I sprung up like a jack rabbit as soon as the room door slammed shut. I high-tailed it to the drug store to get sunscreen, magazines, and some water, and off I went to the pool. I had a BALL! Not only am I two to three shades bronzer, I was chatting it up with the best folks ever. I was solo so I became best friends with all of my pool neighbors. The first couple I met was in their 50s and from Canada. I fell in love with them and asked if I could come visit. Throughout the day I chatted in betwixt monster size frozen margaritas. I finished my 2nd Chelsea Handler book, and enjoyed viewing the plentiful hot bodies that were fooling around at the pool. Man, if Mr. Snooze weren't footing the bill for the weekend I would have slored it up. Don't judge me! Okay go ahead and judge. Those boys were hot. There must be some hot guys-with six pack abs listserve that tells them all to visit Vegas every weekend. Yum to the yummers.

Mr. Snooze finally joins me after I had been out sunning for oh 5 hours, in his old guy shorts and button down short sleeved shirt. We chatted for a bit, which is hard because he has nothing interesting to say. Ever. Finally my BFF comes to meet us and we start gabbing non-stop. Now don't get me wrong - my bestie and I always included Mr. Snooze in conversations. We're not rude. But it was on him to actually contribute to the convo. Which he seldom did. Things finally got interesting when J, my BFF, asked him if he had any kids. I was shocked when he said yes! Not only because he never mentioned it, but also because I found it astonishing that someone let him mount them and conceive a child. Before I get nauseous, let's move on.

He explained that his child is 7 years old, lives with the mom, and he was never married. Something on his face looked like he was ashamed. I have a feeling it was because having a child out of wedlock made him a statistic. His entire steeze that he desperately tries to maintain is that he's a rich, successful, black professional with swagger and has the right to be picky, arrogant, and look down on others who are not as successful. And I'm sure he had a feeling that I would not be too pleased that he had a kid. I have to say, it is my policy not to date men with kids. But this guy could have zero kids or 100. I'd never want to do anything even remotely romantic or intimate with him. So it really didn't matter that he had a kid. What do I care?

Anywho, this new development pretty much opened up pandora's box in terms of my status as arm candy and his contstant, nagging inquiries regarding my level of interest. Here are a few high(low)lights of his line of questioning and comments throughout the weekend:

"So I've lost 15 lbs since I met you back in January, I want to lose 15 more. Then maybe you'll be into me."

(KB response: I lowered my head, half smiled, and ferociously sipped from my margarita.)

"Does my having a child bother you?"

(KB response: "Not at all. I do have a policy of usually not dating men with kids, but we're not dating so it really is not any of my business. Were you ever going to tell me though?")

"Well you'd never be around him so I wasn't planning on telling you, no."

(KB response: "um, okay.")

As soon as I told him I wasn't trying to date anyone right now, he changed his story up and began to say that he wasn't looking to get married, but he just wanted to "hang out" and get to know me and fly me out to wherever he is to do so.

KB response: "To be honest, I'm really still in the phase of dating bad boys that are jerks, because they're disposable, and you are definitely not disposable." (Good shit right?! I gotta write that one down to use in future "It's not you, it's me" explanations when rejecting an advance.)

"I was talking to my partner and told him how beautiful you are but that you'd likely be more into our friend who plays in the NFL, you know with huge muscles and stuff. I bet I'm not the usual type of guy you like."

KB response: "Well, you know, I've dated athletes, models before, and personality counts too." (Then I lowered my head and ferociously sipped my margarita. Or was it a cosmo? Whatever).

"My best friend and I realize that we probably think we are more attractive than we actually are."

KB response: I lowered my head, half smiled, and ferociously sipped from my Diva cocktail (ingredients: fresh strawberry, peach vodka, and club soda).

"It's hard for me to date because usually after about two months the woman will ask me for money, to pay her bills. I know with you, not only are you beautiful, but you're smart, funny, and independent."

KB response: They ask you for money because why else would they be with you? I bet they are all mildly to somewhat attractive? Aim lower fella and maybe someone will stick around because they actually find your old man steeze appealing.

(Okay, the real KB response was: I lowered my head, half smiled, and sipped from said Diva cocktail.)

AND HERE IS THE KICKER!!! (You may want to sit down for this)

Saturday evening around midnight, after I pleaded with Mr. Snooze to let me go to bed and not stop at yet another bar (I don't know if he really just wanted to be out or was trying to get me tipsy enough to try something), I put on my huge over sized law school t-shirt and yoga pants and slipped into bed on the furthest side away from him. I literally was in side plank pose position, taking up no more than 4 inches wide of the bed. He was approximately 5 feet away from me, which was too close for comfort.

So as I pretended to read my book intently (I had finished it already at the pool) I was genuinely getting very sleepy (Did I mention I popped a sleeping pill at a bar earlier?) and couldn't wait to fall asleep and dream of anything without awkwardness or ashy skin. Mr. Snooze said good night and I turned my head to say the same when I saw a sight so horrid I will pay thousands of dollars to a hypnotist or brain surgeon to remove the image from my memory.

He was topless.

You guys, picture Steve Harvey, Bill Cosby, Al Roker, and shit, I don't know, any other older semi-fat cornball guy. Without a shirt.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

I really was preparing myself to vomit right there on the bed.

I quickly turned my head back to my book and said a prayer to the Lord to send me a diversion. Let him have indigestion, let there be an alien invasion, a fire alarm, an earth quake. Anything that would make him put a shirt on.

And then he said it.

"I know this is a platonic friend weekend, but could I get a kiss?"

At this point I did in fact throw up a little in my mouth. And prayed for death.

After the longest 5 second pause in history I said, "Um...I'm cool...I don't kiss friends, I find it to be very intimate and I am just not comfortable doing that. I'm exhausted. Good night!"

I turned my head, closed the book, and miraculously fell quickly asleep. Popping that pill was the best move ever. I'm seriously considering naming my next dog or first born child Ambien.

I slept for a solid 8 hours and was awoken by Mr. Snooze, who had gotten up earlier, got coffee and was putting mine next to me on my nightstand, with a variety of sugar substitutes and creamers for my choosing. It was a very nice gesture and I decided to forgive him for putting me in the most awkward position ever the previous night and subjecting me to the bone-chilling sight of his bare torso.

So it's Sunday and you know what that means for KB. Brunch! The hotel had a fabulous one and after we put our bags in the lobby and checked out, off we went. Unlimited champagne would surely have me tipsy enough all day in order to survive the last leg of the trip. Off we go to brunch, where my Bestie is waiting for me! Of course she was going to come with. Duh! I paid for brunch for all of us since I felt a bit bad for inviting my bff to just about every single outing that weekend. I wish I could have asked her to stay in the hotel with us, saving me from all of the awkward and vomit inducing interactions with Snooze. And ps: Mr. Snooze benefited from her company too - at just about any place we were at, the wait staff and passers by commented on how lucky he was to be in the company of two such beautiful young ladies which made him light up with a huge grin. So there.

Anywho, being the bestie of all besties, we leave Mr. Snooze alone to pile up his plate with gross seafood and other old man type food, and go to her car parked on the rooftop parking lot and hang with Bob. Yes!!! Possibly the best time of my life. I begin to describe to her the awful details of the previous night but it was just too much. She was choking on her tears and laughter when I tried to describe his bloated stomach and gross old guy curly chest hair with gray hairs making cameos here and there.

We somehow make it back to brunch in a reasonable amount of time and control our giggles and try not to be obvious that we had been speaking of Mr. Snooze. We got our grub on and sipped champagne, and I began to feel better about speaking ill of Snooze. Bob helped me realize that I shouldn't feel that guilty about it. Because even if he was actually attractive to me in the slightest way, I don't find his personality appeasing at all. My bestie remarked earlier that she thought he was funny, but then realized he hadn't said one humorous thing all weekend. I was the one with the hilarious seinfeld-esque observations and insane descriptions of extremely awkward moments and situations. He would just chuckle and make lame follow up comments.

He also exhibited many extremely annoying habits like constantly being on his cell phone as if he was that important and popular (I kept waiting for the blue tooth to come out that would seal the cornball deal), and making references to his wealthy lifestyle - including his four houses, two BMWs and a louis vuitton man bag. Gross to the yuck. Even a classically hot guy loses mad points if he exhibits such nauseating behavior. And he kept making excuses for going to never heard of, lower tiered schools for college and med school. Again, none of this mattered to me. He could have graduated at the top of his class from Jesus H. Christ School of Medicine and be an Oxford Scholar with a genius grant. It wouldn't change my feelings toward him.

So after my bestie dropped us off at the airport, we of course waited for our boarding time at an airport bar where I continued to drink margaritas and prayed that the plane was full so we wouldn't be in a row by ourselves. The Lord heard my prayer and miraculously Mr. Snooze had a penchant for aisle seats and I always have to sit by the window so he was totally cool with sitting apart. And a semi-cutie sat in betwixt us! Although anyone with a BMI under 35 and under 40 years of age was semi-cute at that point. But I digress.

I finished my second book and was able to part ways as soon as we got off the plane since he checked a bag (LV of course, yuck) and I desperately needed to rush home to walk my dog who hadn't been out since the dog walker came earlier that morning.

I damn near ran to my car, sped home, and gave my dog the longest embrace ever.

I am so happy to be back and more happy that I'll be hopping out of town again soon. This time with a bestie from law school for part of the trip, and then with my Kingston clan for a super fun reunion in Miami. No one over 40 allowed. Save for Jay-Z, Janet, J.Lo, and Mimi.

I have to say it was definitely a worthwhile trip, awkwardness and all. Despite my opposition to any and all romantic advances, Mr. Snooze appreciated my company and said he had the best time partying with me and my girl. Haha. I'm sure he was pissed how much time we were a threesome and not a twosome, but understood how much we missed each other and was seemingly okay with it. And besides, when we were alone it was such a task to conjure up any kind of delightful conversation. Snooze city. I only have so much material and was damn near out by Saturday night.

That concludes this adventure in Arm Candyland. It was worth the awkward situations, and now that my bestie and I already had our Vegas reunion, we are going to relocate her post-bachelorette party to LA over Memorial Day weekend! Yipee! We had planned on having it in Vegas but since the Arm Candy retreat covered that, off to LA we go, where we plan on reliving some of our favorite childhood activities. Lemonade Stand anyone? Actually that's a cute idea. Of course this time around said lemonade will be spiked with vodka. And we'll give discounts to all hotties.

I hope you enjoyed this here tale. I wish it was part fiction, but trust me, everything above really happened. For better or for worse.

Until the next time...

Smooches!

KB

Random Thoughts: Is it just me...?

Is it just me or have you noticed that the media refers to President Obama as "Mr. Obama" or just "Obama" or his full name, "Barack Obama"?

I don't remember the media referring to GW as "Mr. Bush" or "Bush" (stop giggling) as much. Can some think-tank conduct some kind of study to determine if my observation is fact? I just find it disrespectful addressing the President (whoever it may be at the time) by anything but his formal title.

Is it just me or do pregnant people and new mothers completely erase from their vocabulary normal measurements of time? One of my dear friends sent some gorgeous pictures of her growing belly and proclaimed "Can you believe I'm 33 and a half weeks already?!" I immediately furrowed my brow and thought...she's 11 months pregnant?! That can't be right. So off I went to my calculator and figured it out. Um, preggers people can you please just say you're 8 and a half months pregnant? Your non-preggers friends would appreciate it. Also, new mommies: After your kid turns 4 I think it's okay to stop calculating his/her age in months. Little Kev is 49 months! They grow so fast.

Is it just me or is it time to remove "Negro" from the race section on the Census form? I was startled when I saw "Black, African Am., or Negro" as the second choice after White.

Is it just me or have some recent reports of Toyotas going nuts sound mad suspect? Not one has been confirmed to be the car's fault, and all signs are pointing to human error. I have a sneaking suspicion that a few crappy drivers are using the recall to excuse said crappy driving. Case in point: I was in a large parking lot of a shopping center last night, stopped behind a car, as we were both making left turns to exit the lot. The car in front of me was not going more than five (5) miles per hour when she ran directly into the pole on the other side of the two way lane. She was going so slow I literally watched in slow motion as she busted the left headlight of her car into the pole.

As I witnessed the slow-mo crash, I asked aloud, "Is she going to keep going and roll into that pole?" Yup. Clearly no one was hurt, and when the woman pulled over to take a look at the damage she created I couldn't help but chuckle. She was older - around 60, so it's not like she was texting or updating her facebook page on her iphone that caused her to be distracted. At least I hope not. She was driving a luxury looking SUV. What brand? Toyota! Twenty bucks says she tells the dealer the car accelerated on its own.

Is it just me or has the downright f*ckery and tomfoolery going down in Congress gone way too far? All of this violence and upheaval...over making sure the citizens you supposedly represent don't die in the street after being kicked out of a hospital because they don't have health insurance. And I still do not get the rationale that we can't afford healthcare...but the war? Sure! More military spending! Um, shouldn't we be putting money behind programs that keep people alive?

Finally, is it just me or has Mother Nature been a straight up b*tch lately? I mean really. Enough with the devastating earthquakes and never-ending snow storms. (Side bar: we are expecting snow overnight in lovely pittsburgh. It's gonna be MF april next week! what in the ef.)

Meanwhile, I almost had a heart attack last week when I was sitting on my couch with Kingston watching something on Bravo when all of a sudden an extremely bright light flashed through the windows in the dining room. I jumped up and was terrified. Did some crazy neighbor just snap a picture of me?! The flash was so bright! Then I heard it. Thunder! That flash was lightning. I felt like a narcissistic fool (ain't nobody tryna take a picture of me in my yoga gear sipping a cosmo), Kingston rolled his eyes, and went back to sleep.

Thanks for letting me vent...my random thoughts.

Smooches!

KB

Content City. Population: Me.

Whilst sipping $17 vodka&diet cokes with Jake and his bestie at the W this past weekend in NYC, Jake confessed that he hasn't blogged in awhile because he just hasn't felt inspired. I totally hear that.

I rarely feel the urge to post more than twice a month or so. Jake's buddy suggested we write about what we like. Jake insisted he needs more structure, a focus to narrow down the topics on what we blog about. Well, we have yet to come up with a central theme (besides f*ckery and tomfoolery) but I am going to follow Jake's friend's suggestion and write about what I like. The focus today? Pittsburgh.

Yes, kittens, I like Pittsburgh. It can be boring and weird, and there's an extreme shortage of eye candy, but dang it there are some really positive aspects about this place that I really dig.

For example, I was returning to my car after purchasing my happy juice from the wine & spirits store (don't judge) when a meter-maid approached me and said, "Will you do me a favor and put a quarter in the meter so I can rip up your ticket?" I stared at her in complete disbelief and confusion. "Huh? Wait, what? Oh! Okay! Thanks!!" And I promptly put in a quarter, thanked the meter maid again, and went on about my way.

Who does that? Chile, I still talk about the $80 jaywalking ticket I got in LA in 2000. Jaywalking. And the light was GREEN, but the red hand was flashing. I asked the cop, "Isn't someone being maimed or raped right now?" Ugh.

Last night I was all kindsa hyped to celebrate my first St. Patrick's Day in the 'Burgh. Snooze. I had fun catching up with a few buddies but per usual, there was NO talent and I was ready for bed by 7:30. The highlight of the evening was the bartender. He kept filling my glass everytime it was less than half full with a mischievous yet welcoming grin on his red face. Oh and ps the drinks were $2.50 a pop. And they weren't on special.

My friends asked me when I was moving out of Pittsburgh since I've been leaving almost every weekend for destinations with decent nightlife, weather, style (I saw no less than 10 outfits in NYC I plan on replicating), and of course, attractive mens. I told them I ain't leaving for a minute. The thing is I really like Pittsburgh. During the week.

My job is the cat's meow, and it's so easy living here. It's no surprise the 'Burgh was voted "Most Livable City" 4 years in a row by the Economist. During the week my routine is mundane and predictable and I love it. The weekends here are usually boring yet relaxing and that's fine...sometimes...but mama needs to live, so it looks like I'mma be a weekend warrior jetting off to locales that fulfill my fun, fashion, and flirting needs.

Sounds like a plan to me.

My name is Kelle Belle von Benson Simone. And I'm happy to be here.

Wherever you are, I hope you're happy too.

Smooches!

KB

The J&K Show hit the road...again

Picture it: Summer 2008. Jake was in LA after driving down the coast from Frisco in a convertible. I know, cliche much? Jokes. Jake comes by KB's crib and the pair frolic at the beach for days on end, making pitchers and pitchers of Sangria before said frolicking.

Now picture it: March 2010. Rainy NYC. J&K are in town to celebrate the impending birth of a mutual bestie's babe. Cue the pitchers of Sangria and commence the frolicking. It was as if we had just seen each other the other day.

After getting entirely too giddy on champagne and pink cupcakes at said friend's baby shower on the lower east side, J&K and crew head back to KB's hotel room to kick it with our old buddy Bob.

After the crew leaves, one of Jake's besties I've only admired in pictures (yummers!) comes by and the trio heads to the bar at the W where we discuss everything and nothing at all. Most notably Jake's amazing idea to get rich quick: raffles. As in raffling off an old sweater. Or a house. Jake's bff and I exchanged bewildered looks ("they already have that, it's called Ebay"), and wanted to confirm it wasn't the drinks or bob making his idea sound absolutely ludicrous. Nope, it was ridic all on its own.

But we heart him nonetheless. And his hot pink messiness. Who books a flight from the wrong airport? Chile, somehow both J&K made their respective flights, after a long embrace and tearful goodbye. Okay, so I was tearing up because my fake eyelashes were a b*tch to take off the night before and left my eyeballs sensitive. Those tears were real. So much has happened since the last J&K meeting on the road. And I think our readers would be proud. We've accomplished some pretty admirable thangs since our last meet-up (bar exams, cross country moves, flourishing careers, new dogs, old dogs, loves, likes, and everything in between) and I foresee nothing but more fierceness in the future.

The next reunion is hopefully just around the corner. A touch of tomfoolery and f*ckery was just what the doctor ordered.

Smooches,

KelleBelle

Preggo Pick-Me-Up

It's about that time when folks get really SAD (seasonal affective disorder). More than a few friends are ready to bust out and re-locate to costa rica and join the peace corps. One in particular has been having some rough days, bursting into tears at a moments notice. It may have more to do with hormones than dreary weather, but she's in need of some pick me up tips asap for her well-being and her babe to be.

You see, I currently have four friends that are pregnant. Seeing as how my usual advice - to make lemonade and add vodka when life gives you lemons - won't apply to them for the next few months, I had to think of some mood-lifters in crappy weather/times:

Vodka.

Oh wait. Strike that from the record.

Laughter.

Be it from TV, movies, friends, books, co-workers, etc., laughter always puts you in a better mood. Regardless of the weather.

Sun breaks.

I know for me, even three days away from the gray skies and piles of dirty snow on the ground was a complete mood lifter. I really think the trip was medically necessary for my mental and physical health. It's hard to not get sick from the constantly freezing temperatures and snowy walkways.

If you can't take a sun break in the near future, create your own sun vacay at home. Grab some non-alcoholic margarita mix, coronas (only if you are in your 3rd trimester), chips & salsa, a kiddie pool, pics of the beach, Bob Marley cds, and slap on a sun dress or maybe even a bathing suit. Yes, you will look utterly insane, but you should be laughing extremely hard at yourself by this time as you look in the mirror and take in your futile attempt to convince yourself summer is coming. Just picturing my super-pregnant friend in a bright red bikini with an umbrella hat in her apartment in Brooklyn is making me giggle. And I'm not even SAD! =)

Food.

This is the one time in your life when you can gorge on any and every comfort food you ever desired and not be judged. You'll be paying for it with extra long post-partum work-outs at the gym, but for now, get to grubbin'. I bet you'll feel much better when you are sipping some super rich hot chocolate followed by a philly cheesesteak. You'll be in a food coma soon enough and will forget all about the depressing weather outside.

Hope this helps! Off to happy hour. :)

KelleBelle

More Random Thoughts

If it looks like a killer, acts like a killer, and has killer in its name...don't f*ck with it.

I grew up at the beach, love aquariums, and have been to SeaWorld many times. In fact, up until the age of 8 I legitimately set my sights at being a mermaid as my career goal. However, I have always respected the ocean and feared it. Stepping on a sand shark as a child can do that to ya. Look, I feel awful for the family of the trainer that was pulled to her death yesterday by a killer whale during a performance at SeaWorld, but let's be real. It's a killer whale. Hello. Combine anything with "Killer" in front of it and captivity, and this is what happens (ps this was the third death this whale caused).

Now excuse me while I harvest honey for my tea from some killer bees. Mmm deathly.

Movie snooze.

I finally saw Avatar. I'm not sure if the extreme hype affected me or what, but I don't see what's all the hub bub. It was entertaining, but so was Jurassic Park, The Matrix, and Alien. I do love that phony ponies played a major role in the flick! I wonder where the studio got the hair from. Probably Star Beauty Supply on Crenshaw and Normandie.

News snooze.

While home in Cali for a much needed sun break I noticed the striking difference between what is considered "top news" in LA and in Pittsburgh. Here were the first four "top" news stories:

1. Extensive coverage of the Tiger news conference.
2. Rain possibly in the forecast. (Ooh scary! B please.)
3. Kim Kardashian did an in-store to debut her "celebrity" cupcake: pink vanilla frosting.
4. Hemp Con 2010.

I think by the 20 minute mark or so they finally touched on the health care bill debate, jobless rates, and the upcoming gubernatorial race.

In contrast, Pittsburgh evening news usually leads with a combination of the following (at least these last few months):

1. Snow.
2. More Snow.
3. Awful road conditions causing accidents due to the never-ending snow.
4. Snow.

Then they'll get to local crime and national news, but not before they talk about hockey and football.

Thanks for letting me ramble. I needed a brain break. Back to the grind...

Smooches,

KB

Random Thoughts

Tiger broke his silence today. And said nothing. Snooze. But yo T - ease up on the little debbie snacks while you're holed up in the crib avoiding the paps. No one wants to see a chubby cheetah. A muscular man-whore is much easier to watch.

In double standard news, a small plane crashed into a building in Austin, TX yesterday. The pilot was allegedly aiming for the IRS which occupies a few floors of the building. To quote Mr. Jake A. McKenzie: "Why won't they call this white dude what he is: a terrorist."

In the latest observation of the wack side of Pittsburgh, my fav gal pal and I had a random, hilarious conversation Wednesday evening reflecting on the lame nick-names folks out here go by, and the vanilla government names behind the cornball made up monikers. To give you a few examples:

"Knowledge" is a thick white boy with Heavy-D esque eyeglasses (shaded a bit) and an edged up beard. Real name: Matt.

"Image" is a passive black man with dreads and an odd sense of humor. Real name: Billy.

"Free" - Unless he stans for 106 & Park or is recently out on bail, I don't get it. Real name: Walter.

"Black" is extremely high yellow. So shouldn't his name be..."Beige"? Real name: unknown. Likely Gilroy or Stacey.

With the help of Bob, said gal pal and I (both having vanilla government names) anointed ourselves Glitter (her) and Glam (me). We plan on getting bedazzled jackets and airbrushed t-shirts with our kick-ass new nick names emblazoned across them once we find a swapmeet out here that can provide such services.

Xoxo,

Glam

Time for "Ask KB"!

I'll get straight to it. A gal pal in DC sent me and a few other ladies an email requesting our advice. She is a single, 28-year-0ld fierce professional young lady who generally has her ish together. She is attractive and fit...and that is where her request for advice comes in.

Said pal shares my general guidelines of suitors to be very wary of: professional athletes, musicians, politicians, trainers, etc. You get the idea. These types are not strictly banned from consideration, but one must proceed with caution if you decide to date them.

So here's her question: should she date a trainer at her gym? Her boot camp instructor is hot and seemingly a very nice guy. Young (25) but has displayed mature characteristics: owns his own home, is at work (her gym) everyday at 5am, and when he speaks exudes a level of maturity beyond his years.

She never considered him as a potential suitor because of her guidelines above. But at a recent boot camp class one of the regulars (a "yenta" about 20 years her senior) suggested that said boot camp instructor and her would make an incredible couple. This yenta made the suggestion to him and said it just loud enough that my pal could hear it. She blushed and pretended to not hear it.

So she sends the email asking if she should pursue this potential hookup. Here's what I was thinking of telling her:

Pros:

1. Schedule similarity. They are both early to rise and early to bed in order to be up and ready to get it in at the gym. Therefore there wouldn't be the problem of scheduling dates, because both know they need to be turning in by 9/10pm. I know for me, it has been hard to date someone who doesn't have a similar schedule because "no, I can't meet you out for dinner/drinks and a hip-hop show at 9pm on a Tuesday because I can't sleep in til 11am like you, sir."

2. Physical fitness. They both hold exercise and healthy living (with the occasional over-imbibing on the weekends) as important parts of their lives and are both physically fit. Their kids would be guaranteed athletic scholarships to the college of their choice at birth. Said pal has broken up with folks in the past because they were lazy slugs that made fun of her healthy eating and "nazi" exercise regimen. Yes chile, her ex said that! She promptly kicked Mr. Chunky Mc Laze to the curb.

3. Lifestyle. Continuing with #2's theme, because both parties begin their days so early, they both (at least my gal pal does) must turn in early. Thereby decreasing the likelihood that dude is an irresponsible drunken fool that hangs at skeevy bars during the week picking up chicks. No guarantee on what he does with his weekend time, but during the week my money is on him turning in early.

4. He's good with kids. Dude teaches a "Fit Kidz" class 4x a week where he guides 3-7 year olds through various exercises while their desperate housewife mommies are in spinning class/pilates. I have to say there is nothing more attractive than a man who is good with kids. Especially one who doesn't have any of his own!

5. He sees her at 5:30 in the a.m. No makeup, bed hair, crappy workout gear, and half-asleep. My friend, like me, rarely leaves the house without her "face" on so the fact that he has seen the "real" her is definitely a plus. And especially since she makes it a point to run into him on her way out of the gym looking fierce in full hair/makeup on her way to work. He sees the au natural her, and the everyday wow version. All that to say if they do spend time together, there will be no surprises when he rolls over the morning after. Ha!

Cons:

1. He's a trainer. Even the yenta flirts with dude. But who can blame her? Trainers are known to be hot and they are in the unique position of seeing you in your most vulnerable state: no makeup, messy hair, breathing heavy, and sweating like a pig. It's a somewhat intimate relationship. Trainers have to touch their clients bodies and guide them through exercises...mmhmmm. You see the danger this occupation poses.

2. Youth. He may appear to be mature but she hasn't seen him with his friends. 25 is 25. And yes, he may be disciplined with his work schedule but she doesn't know if he's out tipping cows and slaying skeezy chicks when he's off the clock. Sad, but true.

I'm thinking of telling her that she shouldn't completely shoot down the idea of the hookup, but let him pursue her. Or rather, let the yenta do what she does best: meddle.

KelleBelle

Koast to Koast with KB

Hi my lovelies!

I am coming off a whirlwind series of trips spanning the country. I cannot wait until this weekend. Finally, I'll be at home and I have zero plans besides snuggling with Kingston and catching up on TV I have missed.

As I mentioned before, I went home to So Cal the weekend before last to celebrate my birthday with my besties and Mama Belle ("MB"). Here's a summary of my trip:

Saturday: Arrived in LA at 9:30am and went straight to the nail shop for mani/pedi's with MB. Then home to spend final bonding time with Chester, my ailing beloved dog of 15 years, followed by a sad trip to the vet to say our final goodbye. Mama Belle really should have done this weeks ago but she wanted me to see him one more time before he was put out of his misery. It was for the best, and after the vet, MB and I walked down to the beach and reflected on our 15 years with him. Then we went home and I went to bed at 8:30pm and slept for 11 hours! Amazing.

Sunday: Boot camp class at my old gym, then birthday brunch at my house! Was the best!! MB made the most slammin' brunch spread ever and I believe I consumed an entire XXL size bottle of champagne (who needs orange juice?) by 4pm. Around 6pm one of my college buddies and I went down to the pier and ended up at a fun bar...where I met a cutie in betwixt taking birthday shots with fools from high school. Silly, but incredibly fun.

Monday: Rain soaked southern cal so I took it high school style and hung out at the mall with said cutie. Had a ball and concluded the day with a fabulous authentic Mexican dinner, complete with the best margaritas I've had since Cancun '07. Went home, hung with mama belle, packed my bags, and hopped on my plane at midnight. Slid into Pittsburgh at 10am Tuesday and went straight to the office. Work.

One of the disappointments with my trip home was that my bff Elaine and her daughter La-La missed their flight to LA from New York and couldn't get on another flight. She really needed this vacation and mama belle pulled out all the stops to welcome the two lovely ladies to casa de belle. She even hit up her bootleg hookup on crenshaw blvd. and got mad dvd's for La (Alvin and the Chipmunks, The Princess and the Frog, etc.). I was so very sad because if anyone deserves a vacation and some sunshine it was Elaine. And the birthday brunch was supposed to be for the both of us, as her birthday follows closely after mine. But I had to tell her that although it was unfortunate she couldn't make the trip, there must be a "reason" (as corny as that sounds) that she couldn't make the trip.

Well reason, meet KelleBelle. One of the main reasons Elaine wanted to go to LA was to meet her new niece/nephew. You see, her brother Bob lives in LA and was expecting his first child the day before we were to arrive in LA. Guess what? That baby didn't arrive until two days after Elaine would have left LA anyway! So she is now going to LA next week to meet her new niece!

On to the next coast.

Upon returning to Pittsburgh, I chatted on the telly with Elaine. I told her that since she missed the birthday brunch we should do something special for her birthday. She mentioned she hadn't had a birthday party in 10 years. Chile, that's all I had to hear. Before she could confirm her desire for a party I was already mentally planning the menu. The next day I created two versions of an Evite and told her to get ready, because the party is coming to her!

So last friday night there I was in my kitchen, feverishly baking a birthday cake, two dozen cupcakes, and assembling appetizers in my cooler. Grinning like a fool all the while. You know this is my joy! Up at 6am on Saturday, I hit the road at 7am and arrived in Brooklyn, NY around 1pm. After a stop at the liquor store and flower shop, I was in full party planning mode and turned her apartment into "Suite 457" - the hottest club on the block!

We had a friggin' ball honey and everyone loved the cocktails, appetizers, cake, oh and did I mention the tower of cupcakes adorned with "E" in various colors of frosting? This is not a game. Since I don't have a large squad of friends (yet!) in the 'Burgh I have been feening to get my hostessing game on. And for Elaine? I'd travel to the other side of the moon to honor her.

I hit the road early Sunday morning (reeking of alcohol and love!) and got back to the crib around 4pm. Passed out at 9pm and was up at 5am Monday to begin the week as usual.

A friend mentioned she's having a party in DC this weekend...I thought about it briefly, and then looked at Kingston who had the phone book open to Children's Protective Services. I suppose I should stop leaving him before he gets taken away. :)

Smooches!

KelleBelle

Twenty-Fine!

Kittens,

Today is my birthday.

As you know, KB prefers to bake birthday cakes and throw parties for other folk's birthdays...and would rather keep it moving on my birthday as if it was just another day. Of course, the annual sipping of pink champagne will definitely happen, but besides that I really don't think birthdays are that big of a deal. Especially this one.

Today, I turn 29 years of age. I thought 30 was the big birthday to get all hyped about? Well, at least the majority of my b's did. Chile, these broads lost their minds with the grand parties and vacations to commemorate them...living on earth for 3 decades. To quote my favorite host on The View, Joy Behar, "Who cares? So whaat?" I mean really, I honestly don't look at birthdays as this monumental occasion/excuse to party like a rockstar. Perhaps that's because I feel like everyday is a celebration! Real talk. I have amazing friends/family, HD TV is awesome, my booty has never been firmer, my job is the bee's knees, and Kingston is growing more fur on his head. Everyday is like my birthday! If there were more hours in the day I'd go out and dance, drink, and celebrate life every night.

So back to today. I'm in high spirits as I am known to be in. Minding my business as I am known to do. I walk into the office and begin to start my day. One by one my co-workers come in and wish me a happy birthday. Two were especially annoying.

Well wisher #1 is a new co-worker who would be considered cute in the white world, is single, and somewhat "hip."

Him: "Happy Birthday, birthday girl! So how are you feeling about 29 and almost out of your twenties?"

Me: "Um, I really don't make a big deal out of it. Just a number."

Him: "Really? I'm 33 and I loathed turning 30. I just wanted to sit in a dark room and hide."

Me: "Are you serious? I thought only girls get that dramatic. No offense."

Well wisher #2 is my favorite co-worker who is my mom's age and on her 2nd husband after a failed first marriage in her 20s.

Her: "Happy Birthday! Did I just hear (co-worker #1) say he was 33? He's single, right? Anyway, you know I didn't marry my current husband until I was 35. So there's still hope."

Me: [I get out of my chair, stand in the middle of my office, put my hand to my forehead and wipe the imaginary sweat away in dramatic fashion] "PHEW! I was really getting worried!"

Womp womp.

Then I hop on Gchat and one of my besties says, "Happy Birthday! You better make this a good year! Last year of your twenties!"

Barf.

Thanks for the reminder. It's in the same vein as those jagoffs that send New Year's greeting texts that say, "Happy New Year! Okay, let's get it! This is our year!"

What does that even mean? And unlike my bestie, the "Let's get it!" text senders are monumentally underachieving individuals. Thank you sir for reminding me to be productive in 2010. Had you not sent the text instructing me to do so, I would have quit my job, stopped paying taxes, acquire an addiction, and suck off the government/society's teet for the rest of my existence.

Anywhether, thanks for all the well wishes. I am so very excited to be going home to La-La land this weekend and relax with mama belle and a few besties from law school. While I am still lurving the 'Burgh, a girl needs some sun and sand every now and then. Nahmean? ;)

Smooches!

KelleBelle

[Ed. Note: Many thanks to Mr. "Weezy F. I got a lot of babies" for inspiring the above T-shirt, which perfectly captures my feelings towards birthdays and life in general. Well done sir, well done. ]