Smashed: Sorry Bout Your Luck Gimparella - Prince Charming Married the Girl in the Flip Flops

Hey B! If you can still drink a cosmo without shame, then I think I should be able to rock my skinny jeans. It’s all about the styling damnit!

Buuuuut...we’re keeping it real, aren’t we... Well then shit - I don’t know that I would wear them on picture day if that’s what you’re asking. *sigh* Fine. I’ll take them off and put on some big girl pants - but if I do, there are some other bitches out there who need to make some changes too...

First, you know those shoes you bought at Nine West? You remember...the ones you bought during season three of Sex and the City. The ones you bought the super-long jeans for (and then wore the jeans with flip flops and fucked them all up)? Well, if you can’t walk in the shoes, it is time to throw them OUT. SATC is on TBS now for fuck’s sake. The only person not wearing flats these days is Victoria Beckham - and you are not her. I can’t even count the number of women I see every day gimping around like Quasimodo because their shoes are too tight, or too high, or too fucking cheap. Trust me, you do not look cute teetering around like a crackhead. And no one really believes you’re walking that slow because you’re too elegant to rush - we can all see that limp you’re trying to hide...not to mention that blister oozing out between your heel and the Aldo pleather. Hey, don’t get me wrong about cheap shoes - I have at least one pair from Target. Just because they’re Jimmy Choo’s doesn’t mean you automatically get a pass. If you can’t do a fucking pick-and-roll in those things you shouldn’t be wearing them. Take this as fair warning from here on out - if you’re standing between me and my train, and you can’t hustle in those shoes, I will push you down the Subway stairs and step on your fake Gucci bag on my way through the closing doors.

And now it’s time for the lightning round:

Signature bags: Make you look like a walking billboard (I make exception for LV - the real shit). And yes, I know some of you are pathetic enough to buy them because you want people to know you’re carrying a Coach bag. If you think that way, you should probably be using your money to make your Rent-A-Center payments instead of buying purses.

Jewelry with your name in it: See above re: SATC. You are not Carrie Fucking Bradshaw. Unless you live in the hood and carry a weapon, in which case you can do whatever the fuck you want.

Gladiator sandals: These are the reason the Empire fell. And the reason the guys at work call you “Cankles”.

I think this is enough for now. But depending on where this whole fedora thing goes, we may have to have another chat...

Baked: Demon Denim

In my line of work I see many tweens and teens everyday. (I know...who in their right mind would let me around their kids? It’s cool- I have a split personality) And I just wanna throw this out there to their over-protective and “involved” parents: WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU WHEN YOUR CHUNKY TEENAGER PUT ON THOSE BUSTED ASS SKINNY JEANS WITH HER BUTT CRACK HANGING OUT? Not only should these girls’ parents be fined, they should be helping their kids pick better friends. Obviously, if your BFF tells you that your size 12 ass (and don’t think I’m a hater - I haven’t seen a single digit size since I had a single digit age) looks “totally awesome” in those jeans from Forever 21, then she fucking hates you and wants to steal your boyfriend. Not that you could even GET a boyfriend if you’re wearing demon denim. Take note: This friend rule typically goes for us more “experienced” females as well. And we didn’t get experienced from wearing fucking skinny jeans (too hard to take off).

Skinny jeans are obscene. Let me solve this fucking atrocity: these sausage casings should not be made in sizes larger than a 4 -or maybe even a 2. Dear designers- Just because there are people out in this world that will buy tacky, ill-fitting clothing does not mean that you should make it. Now that that’s off my chest, Imma go slip into my stretch denim boot cuts and drink a cosmo (or four).

Caption Contest!

A battle royale - hot potato style.

Smashed: (Girl A to Girl B) This is just a preview of what you'll look like at 40, you fat bitch!

Baked: Is this what Daddy means when he tells Mommy to blow him?

Smashed: I bet Marilyn just had swamp ass too...

Baked: (Girl B to Girl A) God, stop being such a slut! Your junk is showing.

Smashed:  Look alive!  Stranger with candy at my 3 o'clock!

Baked: (Girl B to Girl A): And you look like you belong on the Lucky Charms box with that stupid fucking hat on.

Is this thing on?

Testing...testing 123...*taps mic* Hi. I'm Baked. (everyone: "Hi, Baked.) So yeah, we're on the bandwagon. For me, being late to a trend is really nothing new. Hell, being late in general is nothing new for me. (Smashed is always on time- she thinks it's rude when I'm late.) But with the whole blogging idea, she is right next to me. Late. I think we both decided that this would be a fantastic idea after one *cough*four*cough* too many bottles of wine.

If you give a shit about reading other people's blogs and read this, enjoy our version of hot potato- better known as hot fucking potato.

PS- WTF is wrong with a Cosmo? (S- you know I still drink that shit!)

Anybody up for a Cosmo? Or perhaps some rollerblading?

Can I possibly be doing this?  Starting a blog?  Really??  I mean, seriously.  It’s like I’m wearing Hammer Pants.  Or sporting the Rachel cut.  Or using an aol email address.  Or being a vegetarian.  This shit is so 2003.  But, in my defense, I’m originally from the South and we’re traditionally a little slow to catch on (see, e.g., slavery).  And I was reasonably tipsy when I first agreed to this (and, appropriately, agreed to be called "Smashed").

Sure, I know plenty of people with blogs.  But I don’t fucking read them!  I barely listen to you when you’re talking to my face, and you want me to read 2,000 words on “my kids say the darndest things”?  “Oh,” you say.  “But my blog is about politics and dialoguing on the issues that affect Americans everyday, surely that would interest you?”  Uh, no.  You are not Arianna Huffington, and I am not sober enough to follow your finger, much less your logic.  What?  Your blog is a dialogue about literature?  Well, sure, I like to read!  But the most literary thing I’ve read in years was historical fiction about the Tudors, and that only got my attention because they use the word “cuny” a lot.  Pass.

And yet, here we are.  Apparently I am an asshole too.  I think I am funny enough, or interesting enough, or possibly just anonymous enough to do this.  Or perhaps I’m just bored.  Not bored enough to read your fucking blog though…