Bitch Slap of Common Sense: Don't Look Stupid

Ladies, ladies, ladies.

It was over 70 degrees today in Los Angeles. 80 on the valley.

Take. Off. Your. Scarf.

Take. Off. Your. Scarf!!

You're wearing a scarf. Wrapped fifteen times, so that it looks like a lavender goiter protruding from what used to be your neck, but what I now assume is some sort of scarred/ Frankenstein bolt appendage since you choose to put eight pounds of fabric around it.

You're one step away from looking like a Dickensian ragamuffin who will ask me for porridge.

Whatever cute shape you might have is ruined because you look like you killed a muppet and attached it to yourself as some sort of gruesome prize.

You look stupid. Literally. You look like you have little to none of the sense God gave you. It's hot! It's not scarf weather! If you can wear it with short shorts and a tee shirt, TAKE IT OFF!

I don't care if Jennifer Aniston does it, young lady! She looks stupid too!

Now that we have that settled....

Can we discuss the Uggs?

I mean, It was over 70 degrees today in Los Angeles. 80 on the valley...

POOP Not GOOP: Freaky Gwynnie!

Dear Gwyneth Paltrow,

We got your latest GOOP missive about how your daddy flew the two of you to Paris, that one time, for togetherness, or something. And then you told us all about how great Paris is and that we should all go and stay in your nice hotels.

The only problem is this thing. The recession. You see, the Poors are hunkering down and trying to avoid the shit being flung by monkeys on street corners, at them, the monkeys having been sent by the investment banks to destroy us all. With monkey shit. So we can’t go to Paris this week, oh noes!

But we BHBs have a jolly, super fun proposal for you! See, we think you really want to prove that you’re Just Like Us ™ (i.e. The Poors) and that you’re not a completely out-of-touch Richie from McRichieLand. So we want to have an uproarious Freaky Friday Experience with you, in which we switch lives, for a week, and we jet to Paris, to sample the snails therein, and you come to our houses and try to figure out what the hell that smell is. And pay the rent.

So, awesome, right??!!1!

Here’s how it will work.

Happy Great Freaky Friday Experience:

1. Send us your black American Express card number. We totes won’t give it out.

2. You will fly to us. Bring Formula 409 (that is a cleaning product - your maid might have some) and Hobo Beans, to eat.

3. We will do whatever it is you were going to do that week. We act, so no one will notice when we, both, take over your movie role or whatever. Or, we are also available to:
3a) Go to your movie premiere with Joaquin Phoenix. If he shaves. We don’t care if he’s batshit, we just don’t like the beard.
3b) Eat a lot for to make restaurant recommendations.
3c) Consult a Guru so we can write a GOOP about being one with an inner aspect. PS it would be great if that inner aspect were Pot.
3d) Go shopping for items so expensive they will pay our rent forever once we sell them on eBay.
3e) Be introduced to James McAvoy and Matthew McConaughey, because you know them, right?
3f) Flip our awesome blonde hair.

4. You will have a great time at our place(s). Our husbands are available for grilling but not sex, ok?
4a) Don’t worry, we have no sexual interest in your husband.


And that’s the program! Is that great or what? You nourish your inner aspect all over the fucking place and we get lots of pedicures and a break from Life.

Call us!

Stuff Babes Like: LOLLost

So, we dislike many things. Ann Coulter. Stupidity. Panties that ride up.

But we like many things as well. We like LOLLost. It's like I Can Haz Cheezburger, except with Lost.

And we like Lost. Well, Lucy likes Lost. Lucy thinks it's a super de duper show, and not just because the hott men have a tendency to remove their shirts, but that helps.

So check out LOLLost. It's awesome, or we aren't Lucy and Ethel.

OK, we're not Lucy and Ethel in the real lifes, but follow the link anyhow.

Bitch Slap of Common Sense: You are a Weirdo

Lucy: So this girl I knew in high school found me on Facebook. I told her I was writing a romance novel, and made a joke about heaving bosoms. She read it as me talking about how much I like having bosoms. Isn’t that funny?

Lucy’s Hubby: Yeah.

Lucy: I told her I did like having bosoms though.

Lucy’s Hubby: So you haven’t talked to this girl in 10 years?

Lucy: Nope.

Lucy’s Hubby: And your first conversation you mention heaving bosoms.

Lucy: Yes.

Lucy’s Hubby: This, honey, is why people think you are weird.

Lucy: Oh. Really?

Lucy’s Hubby: Yes.

Lucy: So that’s why.

Lucy’s Hubby: Yes.

Lucy: Well, okay. Do you think I’m weird?

Lucy’s Hubby: Yes.

Lucy: Do you mind?

Lucy’s Hubby: No

Lucy: Well that’s good. I do like heaving and having bosoms.

Lucy’s Hubby: I like you having bosoms, too.