It’s almost Valentine’s Day and you’re in love. Or maybe you’re just in “lurve” (love without the O…a precursor to the big 4 letter proclamation. I fall in lurve like twice a day).

Maybe, you’ve just got a giant heart and enjoy Valentine’s Day even though you’re single.

Maybe you’re one of those permanent happy people who confuse me.

In any case, this holiday does not fill you with dread. It does not fill you with sadness or the constant need to subdue your emotions with sugar.

It’s a nice day. A pretty day. A teddy bear holding a chocolate heart kind of day (…too much?).

It’s the day for this type of mix. Read More »

Once upon a time, long after the feminist revolution dawned and yet before we could spell the word–let alone understand it–we were little girls. We knew we were equals to boys and no one was going to tell us we weren’t going to play kickball at recess with the toughest of them.

But if little Johnny knocked me over and didn’t stop to smile and help me up, well, then I told all of my friends he was a jerk. And this idea of “I’m as good as you so treat me like a princess” found itself a little home in our confused minds and it took over…without an invitation.

As we awkwardly tiptoed into the land of dating, this entire concept, fraudulent as it seems, was still very real. I’ve always been independent, strong, confident, smart (maybe a little full of myself, too), and was taught to believe that no guy could outdo me in ANYthing. So why did my mom tell me to let Eric pay for dinner on my first date? Why did my friends think it was “sweet” that he opened doors for me? How can we truly be equals if chivalry is still a card in this game? Read More »

Oh, Purple Rain.

One of those movies you can’t help but fall instantly in love with.

The horrible, melodramatic acting, the weird, convoluted plot, those magnificent songs…it’s the type of movie you used to watch on those sick days from elementary school, complaining to your parents that it was ‘the only thing on!’ but secretly loving every single baroque minute.

In honor of that fantastic film, here’s an equally ornate shot of the same name. Mix the drink up on Monday, every 9 to 5er’s legitimate sick day, and pop in the movie and chug till your tongue turns purple! Read More »

You know, I’ve never understood the allure of Prince.

Sure, his music is pretty funktabulous, and that Purple Rain movie was by far one of the most amazing, melodramatic films I’ve ever seen, but Prince the guy?

Not so much.

He’s a tiny little man who wears clothes even I can’t fit into, and seems so feminine I was convinced he was a transsexual for most of my young life (not that I actually knew what a transsexual was at the time…I just thought he was a woman who wore a weird mustache).

If you can call a man a Diva, he’s not exactly the man for me.

And the former symbol is most definitely a Diva, as illustrated by the list of demands he had for his swanky London penthouse.

The Daily Star is reporting Mr. Prince demanded his room at the Dorchester Hotel be swaddled completely in black, with everything from the mirrors to the furniture to the frames of pictures of himself also coated in inky darkness. He wanted black candles too, and, oh yeah, an oxygen bar manned by “three foxy ladies”. Read More »