Saturday, March 13, 2010

NB1: One-Third Life Crisis

I am having a one-third life crisis. I guess it would help to have a few deets about me to understand this crisis here. I am nearly 30, have an actual grown-up career, and have a b/f. My crisis involves an internal conflict between the ready-to-settle-down-and-wear-a-white-dress-and-be-domesticated-me and the hey-I’m-still-young-and-so-I-better-do-all-the-cool-things-young-people-do-before-its-too-late-me. **NB2 note - I HATE conflict, so I accepted my husband's marriage proposal 2 years ago and am now happily without internal conflict, but with 2 times the laundry, 3 times the grocery bill, and 16 pounds of extra weight. I am an accountant, but even I cant figure out that math. But hey, now I have an excuse to avoid the "cool things young people do."**

Now it may seem like this is a pretty harmless crisis. Its not like I am going to go chuck my b/f of five years and date a 22 year-old, b/c frankly I can’t stand 22 year-old boys and the thought of dating makes me want to vom. Oh yeah and also because I heart my b/f. So what’s the problem, you may be asking. I mean, it doesn’t really affect my day-to-day life until I go shopping. That’s when these two bitches inside me really start going head-to-head. Part of me is like “oh I’ll just go to J Crew and pick up a polo or two and maybe I should get it monogrammed too” and the other part of me is like “Ooh, jeggings! Omg and red snakeskin platform heels! And didn’t Kim Kardashian mention that the nautical look is going to be hot this spring?” It’s exhausting and I hate conflict so I end up buying everything in sight. Oh, and I’ve developed an unnatural obsession over Kim Kardashian within the past month. Probably because of her shoe dazzle fabulousness. I think that’s it. Oh and on Sundays I flip between ANTM marathons and Platinum Wedding Marathons. While doing online makeovers and researching places for my pretend destination wedding.

And yes, I realize I have no life. Whatever.

The worst songs in America: Why I listen to the easy listening station

**NB1 here. I just wanted to clarify that I do not particularly agree with NB2's views noted below. I happen to love Lady Gaga and her catchy melodies and lyrics and, although I sincerely hope Kesha is saving her earnings since she will probably not be famous for very long, I can't help but dancing in my seat. And also I refuse to succumb to a life of nothing but Phil Collins and Sarah McLauchlan. Okay, passionate qualification over. Enjoy!**

***EDITED TO ADD: I obviously listen to the repeat station including Lady Gaga etc, since I happen to know the words. And I don't particularly like Phil Collins. But repeats of Bad Romance make me want to die a slow death.***

My commute to work is somewhere between 20-30 minutes. I am lucky, I know. But I am also cheap, and decided against purchasing XM satellite radio. So whenever I get in my car, I turn to the radio to provide a distraction from my increasing road rage issues. Over the last month, I hear the same 6 or 7 songs on the radio all day every day. And when I pay attention to the words, I want to swerve my car into the 18 wheeler in the lane to the right of me. Either that or forget to look in my side mirrors and crash into the woman who has comfortably snuggled into my blind spot while putting on her makeup.

I am ok with ridiculous songs, but some are just AWFUL. I can’t take it anymore. Here is what I mean:


Sexy B*tch (aka Sexy Chick), by Akon

They say she low down, it’s just a rumor and I don’t believe ‘em: Dude, rumors are normally right on. You should totally believe them.

She’s nothing like a girl you’ve ever seen before: oooh, does she have a 3rd boob? or maybe a 2nd nose? Cause, as a girl, I doubt there is something she has that I don’t

Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood hoe (actually lyric finding website, I think the correct lyric is whore): Well, probably true since my house is surrounded by people in their twilight years. No offense to the elderly, I am sure some find a way to keep it sexy

I am trying to find a word to describe this girl without being disrespectful: Too late. You basically called her a whore already. But just in case, other words you might use would be street-walker, lady of the night, Ru Paul, or hooka, unless you find these words disrespectful as well.

Moving on -

Tic Toc by Ke$ha – was the “$” necessary?

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy: sucks for you girl, waking up feeling like a man

Put my glasses on, I’m out the door, I’m gonna hit this city. Before I leave brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack: Um, gross. Morning breath + Jack equals certain fire hazard.

Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t comin back: wait, you are leaving for the rest of the day and night? Wow, you have serious energy. You just said it was the morning when you woke up. I am confused.

Boys blowin up our phones, phones: well, it was that or talk to you in person, and you brushed your teeth with Jack. You should have used Peppermint Schnapps

Ain’t got no care in the world, but got plenty of beer: Are you saying beer is only for pensive people with borderline depression?

Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here: So the club lets you bring in beer? Wow, I am sort of jealous. But where are you storing it all night? Carrying it around until you “see the sunlight” might make for a bad night

But we kick ‘em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger: Do you know who Mick Jagger is? Have you seen Mick Jagger? Didn’t think so.

Now the party don’t start ’til I walk in: Clearly, you are bringing the beer.

And finally -

Telephone, by Lady Gaga/Beyonce

Hello, hello baby, you called, I can’t hear a thing. I’ve got no service in the club you say, say (or see, see): Fact: no service=no call. What you meant was you can’t hear because you are in a club with music. Which makes me wonder how you heard the phone ring.

I cannot text you with a drink in my hand: wow, she is being responsible and not condoning texting while drinking. It’s great to see a pop star being responsible

Stop callin, stop callin, I don’t want to think anymore: Stop answering.

Not that I don’t like you, I am just at a party: Um, I am thinking you don’t like him

And I am sick and tired of my phone ringing: Turn. It. Off. End of problem.

I have these conversations in my head almost every time I hear these songs, which is 5 times an hour on the radio. Which is why I listen to soft rock, the best of the 80’s, 90’s and today. It’s awesome and plays everything from Sting, to Meredith Brooks, to the guy that won American Idol. And I don’t think they play the same song more than 1 time a day.


Rule #1 - Never Share a Karaoke Stage with a Couch

Hi. V here. Let me tell you about my weekend.

On Saturday, my aunt decides she wants her b-day party at a karaoke bar that is in the non-classy side of town (I come from a long line of karaoke’ers from the non-classy side of town) and I’m like, yeah I’m down, whatever, and I entice a couple of friends to join me with promises of not staying very long. To our surprise two burly men drag a couch onto the stage and all of a sudden the karaoke bar turns into a strip club, complete with a stripper named Diamond. I could not make this up if I tried. Half of me is like, “woohoo! two bars in one!” because I love a good deal. The other half of me is like, uh, I hope this doesn’t cut into the karaoke rotation b/c I really want to sing.

Anywho, after the trainwreck named Diamond is over, a couple people sing and then its my turn. The joy and adrenaline of hearing your name called at a karaoke bar is like none other, by the way. So I go up and give it my all. I am in the midst of an extremely passionate version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” when I engage my power stance. Yes, a power stance. Don’t act like you don’t know. So somehow, while in power stance initiation, I manage to catch my brand new Kim Kardashian Shoedazzle hotness on the stripper couch, which I guess Diamond was too lazy to haul off with her. I hobble a bit but power through the end of the song with not a hint of struggle in my voice. I felt like Kerri Strugg or whoever that Olympic gymnast was that broke her whatever and did the flips and won the gold. Go me.

Anyway, turns out I sprained my ankle. Badly. And here I am sentenced to wearing unflattering flats everyday to the office as if I have given up on life. I wish there was happy ending but no. There is however a Life rule: Never share a karaoke stage with a couch. And a stripper named Diamond. On the non-classy side of town.

P.S. I lied. I was singing “What’s Up” by 4 non-blondes was in the middle of the part where she says “Yeah yeah yeah! I said he-ey, what’s going on?!” Don’t judge.

What are we doing here

Welcome to Two Non Blondes. We are, in fact, two girls who are not blonde.

Nonblonde 1 (or V) and myself (Nonblonde 2), are perfect skinny (in our heads and only in the morning when we are laying in bed and the fat lays flat. By the way, the smart ass in italics is NB1 :) ) brunettes who spend a good portion of our day emailing about the truly important things in life (see life lessons/rules below) and other random thoughts. Since we are nice people (the term “nice” is used loosely), we thought we would share with the rest of the world.

A recurring theme in our conversations: basic rules of life. Most of these are based on actual persons or events witnessed by one or both of us. Some recently noted rules include:

1. You should date someone who is bigger in stature than yourself, because you automatically look smaller when standing next to them. Same theory applies to surrounding yourself with people less intelligent than your self. Who doesn’t love being the smart one in the room? (And being the person who makes the most money. Shallow, yes. But rewarding. When feeling down just surround yourself by people who majored in something interesting and now make nothing. Life is better just like that.)

2. Hand sanitizer is not an acceptable alternative to hand washing, i.e, using soap and water, after using the restroom, even if it is made available in public restrooms. Yes, I am talking to you woman on the second floor, and I am fairly certain that if I wasn’t standing at the sink, you wouldn’t have even bothered with the Purell. (Gross)

3. On the topic of public restrooms, likely the last stall is the handicap accessable stall. If there are four stalls are available, use the first or third stall. No one wants to be forced to use the handicap stall if they don’t need to, and no one wants to pee directly next to you. It’s proper etiquette, not to mention required personal space. The same goes for urinals, I have been told. (Yes, several of our life lessons involve bathroom etiquette. It needs to be preached.)

4. Join an online shoe club. Even if you never purchase a shoe, the “personally selected shoe styles” are delivered monthly and are a source of great entertainment.

Ooh, Millionaire Matchmaker is on. That show makes me feel like a genius.


P.S. I know you are all like, oh two chicks, double the reading pleasure. This is most likely not going to be the case. In actuality, we are just each twice as lazy as a normal person and therefore can only maintain a blog if two people perform the task of one. Whatever. Please keep reading. Please. Hearts, NB1