Cooking in Heels

Tonight, I kept my heels on. And no, get your dirty little blonde mind out of the gutter, not in the bedroom, but instead in the kitchen. I enjoyed my commute home from work, listening to my Top 25 most played songs on my iPod. As I tapped my fingers on my steering wheel to the tunes, I daydreamed about my menu that I was about to transfer from the pages of my mind to actual food form when I arrived home.

Usually, when I get home, I change out of my work wear and slip into something a little more comfortable and casual. I've always wished I could be one of those women who come home, slip into a silk robe, and strut around my home feeling feminine and sexy. But those women may or may not only exist in the movies. One day, I'll get the courage to be one. But in the interim (since I don't live alone), I'll stick to the basic sweatpants/t-shirt combo (sorry boys). Tonight however, I didn't switch into my 'Jenny Jen at home' uniform. Instead, I decided to keep my work attire on (including my heels) as if I was on the set of 'Young and the Restless'. There is something about my heels hitting the marble floor with each step, that makes my work in the kitchen seem more serious, professional and edgy. I dimmed the lights in the kitchen and put on 'Dinner Jazz', music played on my local Jazz radio station between 6-9pm catered to those who are dining with the radio on. I began to cook.

As I prepared my meal, I nibbled on a small plate of brie, garlic chips, and grapes. Ok fine, it wasn't brie, but I did have that in my house. Instead, I cut up some light mini Babybell cheese. You know, that cheese the comes in the red wax? I OD'ed on brie on the weekend (I think I've told you I have a thing for cheese plates these days) and thought I'd tone things down and go easy on a Monday, calorie wise. All that was missing to accompany this mini taste of heaven was a glass of wine, but once again, it's Monday so I poured some grape juice in a rounded, stem-free wine glass, fauxing this lavish lifestyle like there's no tomorrow.

I made a salad dressing, that I was so looking forward to. The recipe is from Jade, a brunette, bronzed, twentysomething friend of mine who would give the Barefoot Contessa a run for her money. Every bite of Jade's food is absolute pleasure. And after every bite I'm sure to tell her how pleasurable it is (there's something about reassuring people that trains them to do things again and again, and when anythings that good, they'll be told again and again just how good it is for that effect to take place, insuring future satisfaction). Again, I'm just talking about salad girls. In any case, since I live with a man, we only have salad as a side to our meals about trice monthly, so I always enforce pressure on Jade to make me salads. She always keeps me coming back for more. There is this one dressing that she puts together that I've always been in awe with. It wasn't until I dyed my hair brown (or whatever shade its washed out to be now) that I actually realized I can make this recipe on my own. She Blackberry messaged me her infamous recipe, and I saved it on my Blackberry notes, so I would always have it on me. I'll whisper this easy recipe in your ear at the end of todays posting. Stay tuned.

After my salad dressing was made, I squeezed some fresh lemon onto my awaiting chicken breast, carried my impressive long, white, mod-esque rectangular plate to the all-glass kitchen table and sat down. I lit a long, black candle, and enjoyed each bite over 'Dinner Jazz', candle light flashing across the kitchen walls. My heels were on the whole time and I think they brought this woman-of-the-house type feel to my evening. I mean we often come home, change into loose clothing, rush through meals and don't take time to savour. I savoured tonight. I savoured the music. I savoured the relaxed lighting. I savoured each bite of my meal, and most importantly I savoured time on my own. Nowhere I needed to be. Nothing I needed to do. No rush. No priorities.

Us twentysomethings are always on the go. We tend not to take time to balance our lives with a mixture of work and play. I've been raised to balance the two and I think I've learned to add myself to into that balance. Call me a loner, but I was so looking forward to my date with myself tonight. So looking forward to it. So much so, that I was invited to go to a concert tonight, and I declined the tickets because I was anticipating a nice relaxing Monday evening. Last week was chaotic. I had the long weekend off for the American Thanksgiving and almost had too much time for play. It's called balance for a reason. I mean fine dining and partying is all well and good, but when it's done four evenings in a row it loses its spark (like anything else done consecutively).

Do you find yourself stuck behind your desk after hours, as you build more resentment and your 'missed calls' list fills up? Or do you find yourself out Wednesday - Saturday night, waking up hung over for work, promising yourself 'last night was the last night'. Take time to do both. Balance it you blonde babe you. The emotionality that is twentysomething women, makes it natural for us to feel guilty taking time for ourselves, but it couldn't lead to more happiness.

Keep your heels on and let your hair down once in a while. And while you're at it, dare to cook this light, delicious dressing.

Jades 'Make Him Want More' Salad Dressing:

Ingredients
- oil
- vinegar
- 1 pack of sweet and low
- salt
- pepper

Optional Ingredients
- shallots
- feta cheese

Add almost equal parts of vinegar and oil to a bowl, but a bit more vinegar. Eyeball the dressing, I put pour enough vinegar and oil to serve two people. Add salt, a pinch of pepper and one pack of sweetener. Whisk ingredients together in a bowl.

Dice half a shallot or so and put it on top of your choice of lettuce with the salad dressing. Feel free to crumble some feta cheese on as well. Enjoy!

Since I know some of you like to get your daily dose of entertaining pictures, I've included a compilation of images of two celebs infamous for wearing heels, when they likely shouldn't be: Victoria Beckham is known for wearing her high heels to the airport and little Suri Cruise who, at three years old, has multiple pairs of high heels.












- Jenny Jen

The Who's Who of Sweatpants

It's the perfect Saturday afternoon. I'm lying in my all-white bed, watching Marilyn Monroe in 'Gentleman Prefer Blondes', in a pair of oversized, comfy sweat pants. The funny thing is, I don't know where they came from. All I know is that they are grey, Nike, and they are a mens large. I look at the tag for clues, hoping to find someones last name written on them so I can Sherlock Holmes my way out of this mystery, but no such luck. One thing's for sure and that's that they came from a guys place, likely given to me in the early a.m. hours to avoid the obviously evident walk of shame.

Whose sweatpants are you currently wearing? What is the history behind the pairs of sweats in your closet? Every pair has got a story and I got to tell you, I'm starting to think we are all a part of the Six Degrees of Separation, the sweatpants edition. Please note: The word 'sweatpants' can be interchanged with the word 'hoody' at any time.


Jenny Jen in a men's hoody that took me a good three months to give up and give back

When I realized that I couldn't solve my mystery, I got out of bed, walked towards my overly full walk-in closet, and went to grab my favourite pair of thin grey sweats - a pair that I can proudly say are my own. To my surprise, they weren't there. Knowing I couldn't blame the cleaning lady for stealing them, I started to wonder where they were last seen. Then it hit me. I'd given them to a boy to avoid his walk of shame (also to make his time here a little more cozy then the fitted, how-did-you-button-those-up-in-the-first-place kind of jeans). When I went to grab another pair, I realized the same boy had those too. I sent him a Blackberry message that read as follows: "The sweatpant police called to inquire about a couple pairs of missing sweatpants." He laughed in typical LOL fashion, and I continued, "There's a reward if you find them and return them to the rightful owner." You can imagine the rest of the conversation, but needless to say, rest assured, the sweats will be returned. I had however been alerted by him that he's been wearing 'em around for a number of weeks. I'm not surprised. Who could blame him? Thats the thing with oversized grey sweats, anything goes.

I always wore this one pair of sweats of my exes. They were grey, Roots and oversized perfection. He admitted to me that he got them from a one night stand, and that the girl took them from her brother to give to my ex. I once wore them out to breakfast with him and we ran into the girl. I'm sure she took note. I know I did, and I laugh because I know a guy who is walking around town in one of my former flames sweatpants, and he has no idea.


Jenny Jen lounging in an infamous pair of the-morning-after men's sweats

Now lets discuss choices: I've chatted with some girlfriends and we realized that between all of us, we have never been given a pair of Free City's to wear home. They are always old school not so trendy sweats, something like Champion, Reebok, Nike, Roots or no-name. Do men keep their old ratty sweats around so they can pass them off to a girl without looking like a dick, but without having to see her again to get them back? I'm onto you boys. I don't want your class of '99 sweats, I want the goods.



A Saturday activity for blondes:

- Look through your closet and scope out the blasts from the pasts of clothing. Do you have a pair of men's boxers, oversized American Apparel sweat shirts, etc? Why are you keeping them? Do you still walk around the house in his sweatpants, shamelessly? Wear his sweatshirt because you're just certain it smells like him still (even though its been three months and you've worn it almost nightly as if it's a nighttime uniform?
- Make a list of people who have your clothing, and then from there make a family tree style page of the history of where they originated.
- Spring cleaning anyone? Out with the old and in with the new, bitches. Move forward and rid yourself of the band t-shirt from the guy you hooked up with two years ago. I'm sure there's a donation drop off close by. Make someone else's day as you move forward with yours.

I need to finish this off by saying the guy who currently has a couple pairs of my sweats (as discussed above) once had a great idea. He was noticing a pattern of taxing my sweats and offered me money so I can pick up a bunch of sweats for him to have in stock. We thought a Costco five pack. Not such a bad idea when I come to think of it. You can never have too many pairs of the grey sweatpant.

A Prince in Plaid

Who pays for the bill? The man or the woman? It's a first date, which the guy invited your hot ass on, and you have a great evening. You sit beneath the chandelier in a cozy little booth, and laugh over a bottle of wine and great conversation. The bill comes, now what?

Ladies, this is a controversial question. Although most girlfriends of mine say they do the whole offering thing, some are very strong to say they shouldn't offer at all and if that offends date boy, then he is not a gentleman. The consensus either way seems to be that the guy should pay, whether or not the girl offers to split it. It sets the tone and says a lot about who he is and how he was raised, dependant on his response to the bill being placed on the table.

Ever notice where waiters place the bill? When out with girlfriends, the waiter will place the bill in the center of the table, however, if there is a girl and guy together, the bill is placed in front of the guy. And sorry I need to not pretend it's just about first dates - I'm sort of referring to the whole courting process. Money has sort of become this tool used to show you are investing in someone. Whether it be for a slice of Tiramisu, a glass of vino, or a whole meal of food, us women tend to feel as though the guy should take matters into his own hands.

People are funny with money. There have been various television episodes based on who pays for the bill, how it is split (if split), etc. On last weeks episode of 'The City', Whitney Port, the shows lead, is on a blind date with a guy. As the bill arrived, she didn't offer to pay. He studied the bill awkwardly for some time and then said "Lets join forces". Cue laughter. The worst is when the bill comes, and the guy looks at it as if there is a 'Where's Waldo' scene on the bill and the grand prize for finding Waldo is 10 grand.

So ladies - care to share your horror stories with men and money? I've gotten many requests to write a piece on money. Let's just say that I've been on both ends of the spectrum. I've had nights consisting of $300 dinners, and I've had nights of splitting the bill down the middle after the guy was taking me out on a first date to make up for the original first date he cancelled.

Do we still want a prince? Or have we gotten used to too many princes dressed down in plaid?

Sometime Around Midnight

First and foremost, Happy Thanksgiving to my friends across the border! Wishing you and your families a great Thanksgiving. The great part about it is you're either off work, or off school and I encourage you to enjoy the evening with a number of cocktails, followed by a day of Black Friday madness. Victoria's Secret, I'll be thinking about you tomorrow.

A couple months ago I heard a song that really captivated me. It was a balanced mix of lyrics and the cry for an emotional need to be filled by the artist, that made me listen to the song on repeat for a good hour or two. Something about the tone really did it for me. Since then, it hasn't gotten much air play, but I heard it today on the radio and knew it would be the subject of my next blog. The song is called 'Sometime Around Midnight' by Airborne Toxic Event. Below are the lyrics to the song, along with a link to watch the music video for you twentysomethings who can't be bothered to read down your MacBook screens. You can watch the video by copying and pasting this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfLM-LwTurQ. The intensity that is this song is electrifying - and I'd like to discuss the issue at hand; that issue that anyone who has an ex has either experienced or has been the perpetrator of. The lyrics:

And it starts, sometime around midnight.
Or at least that’s when you lose yourself
for a minute or two.
As you stand, under the bar lights.
And the band plays some song
about forgetting yourself for a while.
And the piano’s this melancholy soundtrack to her smile.
And that white dress she’s wearing
you haven’t seen her for a while.

But you know, that she’s watching.
She’s laughing, she’s turning.
She’s holding her tonic like a cross*.
The room’s suddenly spinning.
She walks up and asks how you are.
So you can smell her perfume.
You can see her lying naked in your arms.

And so there’s a change, in your emotions.
And all these memories come rushing
like feral waves to your mind.
Of the curl of your bodies,
like two perfect circles entwined.
And you feel hopeless and homeless
and lost in the haze of the wine.

Then she leaves, with someone you don’t know.
But she makes sure you saw her.
She looks right at you and bolts.
As she walks out the door,
your blood boiling
your stomach in ropes.
Oh and when your friends say,
“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Then you walk, under the streetlights.
And you’re too drunk to notice,
that everyone is staring at you.
You just don’t care what you look like,
the world is falling around you.

You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You know that she’ll break you in two


Bold is an understatement, no? I have a number of girlfriends, who - over a few too many vodka soda's - have confided in me about their 'jealousy itineraries'. The jealousy itinerary is a thought out plan to make an ex jealous, with the intention of capturing his attention to win his heart. The mindset that accompanies this itinerary, is the idea that your former flame will see you laughing, looking obviously, ridiculously mind-blowing hot, with an equally obviously, ridiculously mind blowing hot gentleman , and he'll wonder what his moronic head was ever thinking for letting you out of his site. Right then and there he gets down on his knees, pulls out a little turquoise box, and the two of you live happily ever after. I see you blonde, bronzed, twentysomethings reading this with enthusiasm as you nod your head in agreement, relieved that there are other girls out there just like you. Let's get one thing straight ladies: It's called a break up because it's broken. If for some reason your jealousy itineraries do happen to work, it is just a short term fix, so don't get your hopes up. Live in reality. You two didn't work out. If you want to make him jealous for the sake of saving face (to conceal your obvious i'm-not-over-you-yet emotions, by all means, do what you will. But if your intention is to make him jealous in hopes of getting back together, the only one you're fooling is yourself. He likely feels threatened by the fact that he can't have you and that you are no longer "his". That or the fact that he's comfortable with you and someone else has taken his if-I-don't-find-someone-else-by-the-end-of-the-night go to. It's more about him than it is about you girls and I don't want to see a frown on that beautiful face of yours. Playing out the scene and performing in the role of the girl above, is likely the one who feels more hurt in the long run.

When you are the leading star in the scene as described in the lyrics, you are messing with fire. Post relationship emotions are always intensely heavy. It's so easy to recall the scent of an ex, and the way they look when laying next to you, but it's not healthy thinking. The writer of this song is toxically thinking about his past. Instead of playing the reel of bias, heart-warming memories in his head, he should instead be playing an unedited reel, compiled of both the good and the bad. It becomes so easy and almost innate to lie to ourselves to ease our pain. To obsess over the good, to not have to feel the bad. The song writer is doing just that, instead of letting go. Instead of enjoying the tunes, the libations and the crowd, he is focusing in on the destructive. The woman described is also focussing in on the destructive; too caught up with making an impact on her past, holding with clenched fists onto the nights replacement.

A quote to live by when feeling anger towards an ex:

"The best revenge is living well."

The lyrics in this song are all too relatable whether you are the one watching the ex or you are the ex performing. The line's in this song ring true. My favourite line is "And this piano's the melancholy soundtrack to her smile.' I love the imagery.

Below are some images of couples infamous for breaking up (and at times reuniting):

Cougars

cou⋅gar  [koo-ger] Show IPA
–noun, plural -gars, (especially collectively) -gar.
a large, tawny cat, Felis concolor, of North and South America: now greatly reduced in number and endangered in some areas.

I first heard the term 'cougar' used by a group of older guy friends. We were at a bar in a small town. One of those Cheers-like places where everyone knows your name, except they didn't know mine and I was a total outsider. I knew it too; the second I walked in and glanced around the flourescent-lit room, I prayed I could trade my Manolo's for my Uggs, and my classic black quilted Chanel for that no-name clutch-like looking bag (that I used to use as a costume purse in grade four), just to blend in and stay off the radar.

The guys I was with referred to their bar of choice as a 'cougar bar'. Not wanting to look naive, I didn't ask what a cougar was, but I thought it was defined as poorly dressed women with wavy hair, a mass amount of hairspray, tapered jeans and penciled in lipstick. As time went on and I was almost at the mid-point of my twentysomethings, I finally learned the terms' actual definition. Actual definitions vary, but for a good laugh and to bread familiarity with the cougar, check out this link: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=cougar . I learned the definition not online, but from a boy three years my junior. He taught me the term after we started - what could only be referred to as - a fun and easy love affair, if you will.

Dating a child was nothing short of exciting. So willing to please, ready for direction, an eager beaver. For you blonde, bronzed, twentysomethings out there who are considering getting with a younger guy, and you're looking for something short term and easy, I highly encourage you to go for it. The younger guy looks up to you as a mature woman who knows her way, and impressed by that, he is sure to want to impress you to show you he knows his. He is not offended when you direct him, nor does he shy away from the out-of-the-box stuff that comes up, but instead he looks at it as a learning experience. I can play a montage of good-time moments of me and the little one (not by size, just by age) and I really don't have one complaint. I was at a point in my life where I wanted something casual yet exciting, with a person that I could bring a different mentality to the table. A guy to have fun with and establish some sort of bond with. The Demi/Ashtonesque relationship wasn't just based on sex - though that being said, that was a big aspect. The other aspect was being with someone who looked up to me, was attracted to me, and was able to play with the notion that there was something a little risque and fierce about what was happening that kept us both intrigued. We had great talks and a handful of great dates and a handful of...I'll stop while I'm ahead. The cougar calls the shots, and the boy toy is on standby ready to comply. How naughty yet utterly fascinating is that?

The weird aspect of dating a younger guy, is that there are no expectations, therefore there are no disappointments. 'He's a child, he's bound to fuck up', I thought. Thats why when he did one of the sweetest things a guy ever did for me, I ended it. I knew that it would be better to end things on a high note, rather than let it fizzle out. The best part about ending things with someone who looks up to you, who is young and still has so much time and experiences to be had ahead of them, is that they take the break lightly and there's no awkward neediness that tends to follow in the more emotionally charged relationships. As relieved as you are for ending it, he is that it has ended, for he can now take his new repetoire of moves and knowledge to a bed, likely one that doesn't have a 500 Egyptian thread count. That enthusiasm, effort and willingness during the love affair and the easiness of ending things abruptly with no excuse needed, is something often lacking in our late twentysomething/thirysomething pool of men. But at the end of the day, though the junior versions are a good time, it's the senior ones with their analytical and wanting-to-settle-down personalities that reign supreme.

I had fun with my younger boy. I think about him from time to time, with a smile on my face, hoping he's doing well and is spreading his new found knowledge all over town. If he opts to go for a younger chick, she won't know what hit her! Now, when I watch Courtney Cox's new show 'Cougar Town', or hear about new older women/younger men relationships, I know I've had my fix and I'm happy he was the one to teach me the actual definition. But now it's back to real life.

I invite you to take a peak at some of Hollywood's most talked about Cougar couples both past and present:

The Toothbrush Zone

Congratulations. You've entered the toothbrush zone. It's that moment in your relationship (or fakelationship) where the guy you are seeing offers you a toothbrush from his standby collection, one in which you can keep at his place, a sure sign that he wants you back. Aside from the reassurance this offer gives, it also provides you with his clear unspoken thoughts on where you stand. It indicates he expects you to return, that he wants you to return, and that you will be returning more than once.

Let me toss some questions at you, my blonde hygienic friend:

- Do you have a toothbrush at a special someones place?
- How many toothbrushes do you have in and around the city?
- Do you have someone else's toothbrush at your place?
- Have you ended it with a gentleman, only to return to his place on a hot-and-heavy night out a number of months later, only to find your toothbrush waiting out for you on his bathroom counter?



We all remember the epic episode when Big offered Carrie her very own pink toothbrush head for his electric toothbrush, a special 'for her' one. How cute is that? I actually 'awww-ed' out loud. Carrie says, "There's only one pink brush head and Big was giving his to me. It was the most encouraging moment so far in our relationship."

I remember once being on the phone with my then boyfriend. It was a few weeks into our relationship, and he called me from the pharmacy to confirm that I use the 'Brilliant Blondes Moisturizing Conditioner.' He then proceeded to tell me that he was on a for Jenny Jen shopping spree for the essentials I use that will make me feel more comfortable in his house. Mi casa, su casa. It was heavenly heartwarming and he continued to update my toothbrushes throughout the relationship. The pink rimmed toothbrush head for the electric was my fave. I've entered The Toothbrush Zone with a few others in the past. I wonder what those once key players in my life have done with the aftermath? Is it sitting in one of their cupboards, or did it leave the same day I walked out the door?

It's nice to look back and remember what I felt when I was presented with the toothbrush. It's as if the offering of it offered a whole new level to our relationship. I remember asking a guy if he gives toothbrushes to all the girls. He filled me in, saying he would never give a toothbrush to a just any girl, because it would make her think she's always welcome. The toothbrush can invite stage five clingers, so if you are thinking of grabbing an extra one on your next pharmacy run, be sure you're handing it out to a deserving partner. No time for mixed messages these days. Blackberry has taken over that for us.

Does Louis Vuitton Make a Lunch Bag?

I stepped out of my car and put my classic Louis Vuitton 'Alma' purse on my arm. I caught my reflection in my car window - yeah, I said it...we all do it, no need to pretend otherwise - and started walking towards my office, happy about my work-chic wear. That's when it hit me, I left my lunch in the car, sitting on my passenger seat in a Pusateri's plastic bag. I walked back to to grab my lunch bag and once holding it, I thought my purse lost its touch. The Pustateri's bag is the best of the plastic bag options, since its black. But that being said, my arm is sharing holding space for it with my Louis. This my friends, is nothing short of a travesty. It was in this moment that I wondered, does Louis Vuitton make a lunch bag?

After doing a google search, I found out that LV doesn't dabble in the lunch bag area. I felt disappointed and knew I'd have to make a mission to find a classy lunch bag for the office - or as classy as a lunch bag can be. My mission took place on my MacBook; I did a google search for 'trendy lunch bags', and came across some utterly adorable little lunch bags. The kicker is that most are insulated, which sure beats a plain old plastic bag. There are tons of cute looks and I've selected a few to show for you.

Below, is the KOKO Kate Lunch Bag in Brown. The thing I love about the Kate bag is the fact that it's actually incredibly cute. I never thought i'd hear those words uttered from my mouth (or typed by my fingertips!) but alas, it is so. This insulated bag has a hot or cold retentive interior. The thermal interior is water and stain resistant, which is perfect for me since my watermelon Tupperware always seems to splash and stick its way over the inside of my Pusateri's bag.



Now check out this next hot little number. Below is the Vy & Elle lunch bag made of vinyl recycled billboards on the front and back? How totally captivating. I actually have a thing for this one. I think it's unique. Talk about setting a new tone for the office lunch bag. Oh and get this, it has an adjustable body strap with 1' black nylon webbing. A definite statement piece.



Lastly, is this lime green Metro Basket by Picnic Time, is a kitschy play on the picnic basket. This picnic basket-like tote for one has a waterproof interior and expandable drawstring top. Expandable is key, especially when you're packing a big salad in a too big for words Tupperware. This bag comes in a variety of colours.



With these options, I can now be assured that I can avoid the embarrassment of the plastic lunch bag that so obviously threatens the Louis, and I can now use something that plays with the tone of the workplace. They can be purchased online, simply just copy and paste the name of the lunch bag into google, and find the price that works best for you, since they are sold on the Ebay's and Kaboodles of the www world.

My next lunch issue is grocery shopping. So here's the deal: On Monday evening I go to the grocery store and guesstimate my appetite for the week. The pressure is on as I try to get just the right amount of food and snacks to last for the five day work week. Once I get home from grabbing everything, I end up wanting/craving/anticipating the various selections I chose. The night of my shopping trip is my night of lost control, always. There's this pressure thing going on where I have all these amazing fresh fruits and baked goods and I'm concerned it will go bad before I've had a chance to get my hands on it. So night 1 I'm essentially snacking the night away.

This past week was a huge success. As I prepared my final work week lunch on Friday morning, I finished the last piece of turkey, the last slice of pepper, the last 100 calorie snack pack (you get my point here). Victory, I thought (as I pictured Johnny Drama.) I adequately guesstimated my food intake for the week. No leftovers. No moldy bread, no moldy fruit, no gone-brown avocados. I found it full heartedly pathetic when a girlfriend asked to meet me for a post-work drink and light dinner on Queen west one night after work, and I said no, rejecting the offer with full knowledge that I have a full fridge at home with ingredients just waiting to be mixed together to compose my dinner.

Tomorrow is grocery shopping night and I'm going to make effort to not feel the burn of the overpacked fridge. Instead I'd like to have a more laissez faire attitude towards it, and a cute little lunch bag to pack my food for the day in. Bon appetite.

- Jenny Jen

Thursdays own my Heart

At 10:30 p.m. on a Thursday evening, I rolled into my driveway. As I walked into my house, I felt a sense of comfort and happiness. I had a complete day. Did the 9 - 5 thing, and then did a quick catch up with a friend, before meeting another friend of mine for dinner on Ossington, the newest 'it' spot in the city, for now. We managed to find an evening that worked with both of our overly-busy schedules and easily decided our restaurant of choice: Delux, Located between Queen and Dundas, this hip hot spot was a no brainer. One of those small, I feel like i'm in an exclusive industrial art gallery kind of place, was the home for us to sip on our glasses of wine (hers red, mine white), while catching up on about three years worth of 'The Life and Times of Each other.'

I walked into the restaurant and loved it immediately. Like a hidden gem suddenly found, I felt proud to be in there, as if I was in on a dining secret that no one else in Toronto knows about. Consider this me whispering in year ear and filling you in on its overly welcomed existence. Though I tend to dine later in the evening, we met at 7pm. The early crowd was tamer, and more calm than expected, but when you are catching up with a close friend who you haven't had a face to face talk to for almost three years, nothing else really matters.

The deal: So my fellow blonde, bronzed, twentysomething friend Robyn has been in my life since I was a child. We met one summer at a summer day camp (camp run at a country club, who am i kidding?), bonded immediately, and have been friends since. We loved being a part of camp plays- In the Wizard of Oz, she was cast as Dorothy, and I was cast as Auntie Em; In Beauty and the Beast I was cast as Belle and she was my Lumier. And boy, do her candles shine bright! Robyn is a staple in my life. You know those cards that say friends forever that you give to your closest friend at the moment and then regret a year later when that friendship has faded into the background along with last seasons, well I have cards from Robyn from when we were 12 years old, and those words still apply today. She is one of those friends who you don't talk to for a month, but the second you speak again it's as if you just got off the phone. I consider her family, and as Carrie Bradshaw says, "The most important thing in life is your family. There are days you love them, and others you don't. But, in the end, they're the people you always come home to. Sometimes it's the family you're born into and sometimes it's the one you make for yourself."

Robyn is part of that extended family I have made for myself. That's why I was extremelly caught off guard three years ago, when she told me she was offered a job in Montreal. For three years we did Starbucks catch ups when she was in the city. Well needed, but not the same of knowing she's a half hour car drive away. Having her back is so monumental. Welcome home girl!

Back to dinner: So here we are sitting at this restaurant and though I was distracted by our convo, I was almost relieved when her Blackberry went off with a work related call, just as our appetizer arrived on the table. We started off with a mushroom and cheese tart which was so melt-in-my-mouth to do for. Despite the obvious fact that there were mushrooms inside, I actually debated whether this was a dessert. As I politely cut a piece, I noticed what looked like a maple-like sauce on the plate. The flavour was as sweet as I imagined it would be. The tart was unique and light and I could actually focus on the flavours of every bite since she was occupied on the phone. I think my moan of delight went over her head. For my entree I had the Roast Chicken and risotto, which I sort of rushed through in anticipation of dessert - get this - cookies and milk. Our freshly baked chocolate chip cookies came on a long white plate, with a glass of milk at the end of the plate, perfect for dipping. Robyn and I gave each other a knowing smile after our first bite, and a moment later, the long white plate was empty. Who could blame us?

As our glasses of wine emptied, we closed up the conversation for the night. 'The Catch Up' never fails. We pretty much tackled all the key subjects in our lives, paying intrinsic detail to the parts that need attention paid to. After agreeing that this was well needed, three years in the making, we've decided to do bi-weekly dinners, travelling to Toronto's latest and greatest up and coming restaurants. And as always, you can read my selections and thoughts on them here at blondebronzedtwentysomething.com.

I highly recommend Delux. There are no signs outside the restaurant, but it can be identified as 92, which is the number it occupies on Ossington. It's one of those places you drive by and try to look in to see what it actually is inside, without getting in an accident. I stepped out of the restaurant content with my evening. I had good tunes on in the car for my commute home, played some 'crazy or on a handheld device' as I informed you about in my last posting, and I arrived home to enjoy some down time while listening to jazz music and baking in the kitchen. Those warm, insanely perfect chocolate chip cookies brought out my sweet tooth, and it wasn't going to go to bed just yet. I always make sure to have an Emergency Brownie kit in my kitchen for evenings such as this, and boy did it ever come in handy. In less than a half an hour, I was staring down a pan of low fat bitching brownies, ready to be tackled (Take that Rachel Rae!)

Ever fiend a chocolate fill but nothing seems to conquer that craving? Be sure to buy a box of Betty Crocker's Low Fat Brownie mix. I'll put up an image on the weekend to ensure you grab the right box.

Bitchin' Brownies for Blondes:

- pour the mix from the box into a medium sized bowl
- add 1 egg
- add 1/3 cup of water
- mix all three ingredients with a spatula in the bowl until completely mixed (about fifty strokes)
- grease a 9" pyrex dish
- once mixed, place the mix into the greased pan
- place in oven for 25 minutes
- let cool, and enjoy!

Sounds blonded down enough for you, right? That's what I thought. Bon appetite my little blonde baker you.

- Jenny Jen

Handheld

Ever since October 26th, 2009, life on the road has changed. That was the day the music died. And by that, I mean, the day where the ban on using hand-held devices while driving, was put into effect in Ontario. This was a plan implemented by the McGuinty government, to make Ontario's roads safer. Ever since that Monday morning, I woke up an all new me. The second I get into my car (note: before I even put on my seatbelt), I plug my headset into my Blackberry. I'm all set and sure to not peak over at my Blackberry, and have been pretty good at doing just that. However, I've become a handheld-device detective and at red lights (or in bumper-to-bumber traffic going south on the DVP at 9 a.m.), I'm glancing around at the cars around me, trying to 'bust' someone. Have you found yourself in the same position?

Based on my observations, it seems as though many Ontarionians are on the ball. But being on the ball doesn't mean we aren't using our devices, it just means we are using bluetooth, or a handsfree mode. So here I am, glancing around, and everyone on the road looks like they are either a) borderline crazy, or b) in an in-depth phone call. I've found entertainment in playing 'crazy?' or, 'safety crazed,' as I look around at people seemingly talking to themselves in the safety of their car, using gestures, and expressions, and deciding whether I think they are on the phone with someone, or whether they are talking to themselves. I then begin to wonder what I look like while I'm gossiping my hour commute home from work, as I tackle back-to-back phone calls with friends.

When I used to be in the broadcasting industry, and worked at a TV show, the shows host sat down with me one day and we discussed how I can get on the air. I remember him telling me his trick of the trade is talking to himself. He suggested I take time while driving in my car, to talk to myself out loud. He said people may look at me as if I'm crazy, but it's a great way to get comfortable with how others judge me, and comfortable with filling silences. This was a few years back. If I was still trying to pursue that dream, I'd likely test it out now. It's interesting that now that so many people are sitting in the cars seemingly talking to themselves, that I now feel comfort in it. I remember last summer, driving on a road trip up north where I was meeting someone. On the way up, I heard some classic, sing it at the top of your lungs, road trip type tunes. The luxury of driving a long distance alone, is getting to take control of the music, and singing along - you guessed it - at the top of your lungs. Being a twentysomething, I was always concerned what other drivers would think. That's when I would pull out my Blackberry, put it on my ear, and pretend I was talking to someone on the phone, "At first I was afraid, I was petrified," I'd say into the phone, as I tried to give the most Gloria Gayner-esque voice I had in me. Needless to say, on tonights drive home from the office, I decided to put in The Beatles Revolution CD, sans the Blackberry Mic.

If you are a resident of Ontario, here are some basic facts for blondes on the new ban, as indicated on news.ontario.ca:

- Under Ontario's new law, fines of up to $500 can be levied against distracted drivers who text, type, email, dial, or chat using a prohibited hand-held device

- Ontario joins more than 50 countries worldwide and a growing number of North American jurisdictions that have similar distracted driving legislation including Quebec, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Labrador, California and New York

- Teens and young people under 35 are the most frequent users of cell phones while driving

- You are able to voice dial. The device should act similar to how you turn on and off a radio, it doesn't occupy your hand

*Need to call 911? All drivers CAN use hand held devices to call 911!*

Drive Safely my fellow blondies.

- Jenny Jen

This Just Got Awkward

My power suit is on. The elevator doors open wide, as my petite frame steps out. The sound as my 3 inch heel hits the ground, breaks the uncomfortable silence in the long, brick exposed, modern looking hallway. As I take each step, there is one consistent thought running through my head, 'I hope I don't see anyone.'

I am a people person, so this silent wish may come as a surprise, but after struggling with the we-are-the-only-two-people-passing-each-other-in-this-overly-long-hall debate as to whether to smile, nod, say hello, look away and pretend to act distracted, I go through more anxiety then one should endure, just to get back into her office from a washroom break. I work in a four story building which is comprised of a number of offices.

It all began on Friday morning. I walked past the other person who was making their way back to their office. I smiled politely (if you were to see my smile and label it, you'd for sure label it 'polite') and the person smiled back at me. As I continued my on-going walk, I smiled to myself and thought 'that went well.' But later that afternoon, when I was faced in another hall run-in, I decided to do the same. I smiled as the person and I got close, and the person just continued on. I felt foolish. As I continued walking to my office door (was it always this far?) the sound of my black 3 inch heels had never seemed so loud.

Whether you are at an office, at school, or at an appointment, chances are at some point, you've passed someone by and at that moment you've had to decide how you are going to handle it. The classic and typical awkward situation is when you are riding in an elevator with someone. Have you ever gotten into the elevator, relieved no one else was inside, when all of a sudden you see someone heading towards it? Consider me guilty of pressing the 'close' button in elevators when that situation occurs. Oh, by the way, I don't just press the close button once. I'm a naughty little elevator close button clicker, all to avoid the trials and tribulations of stranger-on-stranger action. But, when the person manages to catch the elevator door in the knick of time, I shake my head at myself for being such a jackass, and guilt clicks in. It's only the two of us, and...why is this elevator ride going in slow motion? Some people get nervous so they break the silence with a wisecrack, while others may pull out their Blackberry's and bbm for dear life. I've always been a smiler - I do the closed mouth, polite smile with a subtle head nod.

I decided to not let the hallway passerby-er get me down, or from throwing me in a pattern of unfriendliness. Today I did it. As I walked, and walked, and walked, and walked down the never-ending narrow hall, my heels hit the hardwood floor. I realized that since I'm trying to test my theory, then of course I'm not going to see anyone - so just when I thought it was a safe bet to look right and catch myself in the reflection of the overly clean office window, a woman (not in heels) turned the corner. I said 'Hey,' and you know what she did? Nothing. No hello. No smile. So what gives? Is there a hallway etiquete book I should be reading? Am I too friendly?

I remember when Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) just started at Harvard in Legally Blonde, she walked around campus helloing and whats uping everyone who passed by. I remember watching extras on the set give her weird/perplexed looks, almost shocked at her friendliness. I felt embarrassed for her, but then as the movie went on, I admired that she'd say hi to everyone and befriend those around her. There is nothing like a girl with confidence. When I head to the office tomorrow, although I'd like to avoid any awkward hall situations with other people who work in the same building, I'd like to pull an Elle Woods and let the ones who don't respond just roll down my back. Perhaps they gave her those looks because of her pink ensemble. And I'm not going to be wearing a pink ensemble. I'm going to be wearing a black studded one!

- Jenny Jen

The Bachelorette

The evite made its way into my over-crowded inbox, and caught my eye immediately as I scrolled my hazel eyes down the screen. The caption wasn't what caught my eye, it was the knowingness of what this night will entail. 'Stagette' it read, with a 'save the date' to follow. For the past month I've been looking forward to the stagette, held for a fellow blonde, bronzed, twentysomething very good friend of mine. She's one of those brides who wants to tamely celebrate her 'last night of single hood' with class, elegance and laughter with her closest girls. Considering my only friends who have gotten engaged and married thus far are my guy friends, I've missed out on these bachelorette parties i've hear oh-so-much about.



My friend made it very clear that she didn't want any penises (penis straws, penis cake, male strippers, etc) involved in her night. Instead, we got a sleek, white limo bus to take the lucky number thirteen of us down to one of Toronto's finest restaurants, 'Noto Bene.' Over a bottle of Moet (compliments of the groom), we toasted the bride, to a night of class, and no ass. I kid, I kid. We toasted the beautiful bride to be on her upcoming nuptuals, before digging in to the deliciousness on our plates, which, by the way, were placed down in front of all thirteen of us at the exact same time. As each course was delivered, I became more entertained with the proper process of being served, than I was with the fact we were being watched by many diners in the restaurant. A table of twentysomething ladies is always sure to get a double look. The prix fixe menu is something I admire. Always have, always will. I'm not fond of decision making, especially when I have a long list of tempting offerings on a well constructed menu in my freshly manicured hands. So having three options for three courses to select from, makes my dining experience flow smoothly, with ease (a prix fixe menu with a matching wine tasting menu is my secret fantasy, but thats for another posting).

I was overly impressed with my selections, and every melt in my mouth bite was better than the last. I've got a soft spot for dessert, so when I finished my molten cake, I couldn't help but flirt with the apple crumble. It did its job and I left the restaurant hand in hand with my girly whose tying the knot, completely satisfied.

The limo took us to our next destination, Yuk Yuks. We laughed over vodka soda's, and all and all, the night was a perfect one. No sloshed up bride with regrets to be known upon her wake up. No naughty pictures to be concerned about making there way onto Facebook. Just good times with good friends, and a clear head to celebrate such a monumental moment in our friends' life.

The wedding is in one month and I cannot hardly wait.

Bachelorette Parties of Other Blonde, Bronzed, Twentysomethings

Kendra Wilkinson celebrated hers at Guy's nightclub in Hollywood



Christina Aguielera had a four-day celebration with her girlfriends in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico


Photo by: Meg Smith

Britney Spears and her crew celebrated her last night of singlehood at the Fairmont Hotel in Santa Monica

That Couple

How long does it take you to figure out if they are that couple? You know, the couple where you tell one of them something, you have them swear to you they won't divulge this information to their significant other, and then the next time you see the significant other, they bring it up? As you let out a meek smile, with terror behind your eyes, realization hits - your friend is no longer one, but half of a two. From now on you know everything from your horror story (which you endured during your last brazilian wax session) to how far you really went after that first date (too far, but hey, thats what happens after you split a bottle of wine and follow it up with a few shots, right?) will be a story not just shared between you and your friend, in the circle of trust, but instead, this friend will be inviting her special someone into the nest, the one in which you built.

I have a policy. Even if I ask someone not to tell their partner something I'm about to share, whether its a story, a piece of gossip, an opinion or just advice I'm seeking, I now do so, expecting them to tell their partner anyways. It's oh-so-easy for them to reassure me, but I know that when you're in a long-term relationship, there's a secret code. You trust your partner, you know they won't tell other people (which they always do anyways), so you go ahead and fill them in. You may hold it in a bit, but as soon as that first silence comes up, there you are, ready to fill it, foregoing your friends wishes. Problem is, this ends up leading to you getting busted.

For a while when I noticed this 'three's a crowd' of information sharing thing going on, I decided to have a 'No Couples Clause' where I only went to my trustworthy single friends. Single trustworthy cousins are even better than friends (no offence girls) because they are blood related. Blood relatives are like vaults - how can you screw over your own blood? Well it had been a long time coming. I was seeking advice regarding a work related issue with a guy I'm close with (whose field of work made him the ideal go-to guy), and did the whole 'before-I-tell-you-please-assure-me-you-don't-tell-your-wife' thing. I was assured and I went ahead. Before the conversation closed, I reminded this person not to tell their wife, or anyone for that matter. I felt good as I hung up the phone. I felt good knowing I can get quality advice from someone whose knowledge in the field would benefit me. That was until yesterday, when I ran into his wife. Almost on cue, she said her husband had told her about my work related issue (unbeknownst to her that him and I had a secret non-sharing agreement)...I clenched my teeth, as I nodded my head knowingly. I knew the situation was too good to be true when I hung up the phone the day I broke the clause. How did I let myself slip? They had always been that couple! That's what I get for being blonde and dropping my morals. The full 'No Couples Clause' is now back in full effect, because of this one person who couldn't keep it to himself. He's ruined it for you all you other-halves out there.

A few of my close girlfriends are close friends with this one particular couple who are the epitome of that couple. I've met said couple on a number of occasions, and I'm always sure to keep mum, as I've heard the freedom of sharing they possess. It's as if anytime someone talks to one of the two, the other one is on-standby, just waiting to hear the news. They are one in the same. Do you have a couple like that in your life? How do you tackle it? Do you embrace them lovingly, and knowingly, as you accept that you've now gained an extra friend through relations, or do you catch yourself holding back from them knowing they are a duo, a partnership, a double package?

Tips for Blondes of Who are Friends With That Couple

- Speaker phone. When you call your friend, ask if their significant other is there, and if so, asked to be placed on speaker phone. You may as well hit two birds with one stone. You know your friend is going to tell their partner anyways so you may as well have your own story told in your own words.

- Hold back from Blackberry Messaging your friend. Tone can be misinterpreted and their favourite sentences can be cut and pasted to make your story more juicy when they share it with their partner. We've seen it done to celebs many times...they get interviewed by the media and the reporter picks and chooses the most exciting sentences to tell their story. Please ladies, don't allow your friend to be a reporter.

- Reframe. Understand these are your friends and their significant other is solely an extension of them. Chances are they aren't talking about you behind your back per se, its more so talking about you because you are important to them and your well being and 'happenings' are ones in which they care about. Reframe and realize that its nothing to take personal.

Been There, Done That

As a beautiful, blonde, bronzed, twentysomething I'm almost certain you've been either the giver of information that has been passed on to a friends partner, or the receiver of info from a friend, which you've passed on to your man. Either way, always be cautious and aware, no matter what end you are on. Know that it can get back to the other, and if so - be prepared to deal with it in a way that best suits you and your needs, and if you are sharing info about a friend with your guy, be sure to consider your friend and your loyalty to her as well.

As for me, I decided to take the high road and not bring up this issue, about my backstabbingish friend who told his wife. I have reframed and realized his intention was probably good, and realize he likely didn't tell her for any other reason then that he cared. I could've confronted him or his wife, but I decided that at the end of the day, I'm the one who broke my No Couples Clause, and if it bothers me, I can not play a role in it next time, by not sharing tales with someone who has got someone else.

- Jenny Jen

CNN Jen Part II - Disgrace over Prejean on LKL

If any of you read my blog post from last night, entitled CNN Jen, you know how riled up I was about Carrie Prejean's utterly disgraceful appearance on Larry King Live. Well as those who missed it last night are finding out today, there has been much backlash, with viewers supporting Larry and resisting Carrie.

I was so taken aback, that after I posted on my blog, I logged onto CNN.com and posted on Larry King's Blog. My comments have been published on CNN.com. Check them out by copying and pasting this link: http://larrykinglive.blogs.cnn.com/2009/11/12/carrie-prejean-threatens-to-leave-larry-king-live/ and looking for me, Jenny Jen.

I'd love to hear my readers comments on the spectacle that was last nights Larry King Live episode. If you haven't checked out the clip yet, scroll down to my CNN Jen post and be sure to take a peak. Cue in to the 57 second mark.

- Jenny Jen

CNN Jen

I'm a news junkie. Whenever I'm in my room, my TV is always on channel 33, CNN. Today was an extremely long day. 8 hours at work followed by an almost four hour dinner at Barbarians, a steak house in Toronto, where I had incredible wine, champagne, caesar salad and steak. That being said, a smile formed across my face when I caught side of the time on the clock, as I pulled onto my driveway. Midnight. My eyes lit up, knowing that I have made it home just in time to catch my boy Larry King, on the Pacific Standard Time showing of Larry King Live. Yeah, I know, takes a lot to make me happy...

So I change out of my sequinned black dress, and throw on an ivory, silk pair of pajamas from Victoria Secret, as I get into bed and turn on my TV, with channel 33 already on. I'm exhausted and plan to forego my blog entry for the day. But something changed. That something was fellow blonde, bronzed, twentysomething, dethroned Miss California USA Carrie Prejean, being totally awkward, a horrible interview subject and an embarassment to watch, on tonights show. I was looking forward to her interview, thinking that it would be a great success for her to come onto Larry King Live, defend herself for all the issues surrounding her for the past seven months (from the backlash of her answer to Perez's 'legalizing same sex marriage' question, to which she expressed that she found it unnatural - to word that there's a 'sex' tape of her, by herself, which she sent to her boyfriend at the time) and to clear her name.



Her name has been constantly criticized, as is her character. She was essentially dethroned back in June 2009, for breaching her contract agreement. At the time, media portrayed her as someone who was extremely difficult to work with. I remember reading those articles and feeling sorry for her and being disappointed in the media for doing such seemingly one-sided reporting. I felt as though her side of the story has gone untold. But she did a good job telling her side tonight, while on Larry's show to promote her new book (the title will go unmentioned in a boycott kinda way), which ironically is about what she's gone through the past year. I say ironic, because she spent the entire interview avoiding Larry King's questions. She laughed awkwardly many times, likely out of nerves. I felt uncomfortable watching this interview. Larry King, one of the top interviewers out there, tried time and time again to get the answers all the viewers wanted. Essentially - at least at first - he was there to hold her hand and help her clear her name. If she wasn't going to answer any of the questions, and was just using the show to promote her book, she shouldn't have agreed to do the show. Not only did she tell Larry a number of times that he's being inappropriate (and by inappropriate she was referring to the fact that he asked her questions about the Sex tape settlement she came to, a settlement which occurred today, which is a major news story. Totally not inappropriate.) She took off her mic, said she was leaving, again told Larry he was being inappropriate, and then when he changed the direction of the interview and took a call from a caller, she was about to walk out. CNN producers likely came in on Larry's earpiece and told him to go to commercial, which he did, and when the show returned, we see Carrie (a smile plastered on her face all the while) saying my publicist told you I won't accept any callers. I encourage you to watch the clip below, cue in to the 57 second mark:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0E8_Jhs58tg

Larry King = one of the top journalists. Carrie Prejean = totally inappropriate. I felt as though it was so disrespectful of this twenty-two year old. Larry King is one of the best in the biz. I always like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but little miss EX-USA has really dug her own ditch. If you've watched her mockery of an appearance, but be sure to give some feedback on my blog on your thoughts.

If I were Larry King, I would've asked her to leave. I'm shocked he apologized to her. I'm shocked CNN went to commercial. I'm shocked the media was so accurate with how they have described her as a difficult person over the past number of months. Perhaps I'm biased due to my love and respect for Larry King. I have my Bachelor of Journalism, and King is pretty much my idol (alongside the other great, Barbra Walters). I'm angry with the way this interview went. I felt it was important to express my disappointment and disgust for someone who - as a guest on someones show - would be so disrespectful.

Since I spent four years in University learning how to report, how to interview others, and spending hands on time in the field, I have a knack for seeing whether a certain celeb is a good interview subject, or bad. The bad ones are change-the-channel bad:

- awkward laugh to fill in the uncomfortable silence/avoid answering 'tough' or 'touchy' questions
- one word answers, giving the interviewer nothing to work with
- rehearsed, written by their publicist kind of answers, making them un-intriguing and too much of a product than a person
- inappropriate, un put together answers, making them seem raw and unkept

I have a list of people whom I would never want to interview, who encompass all of the negative interviewee traits on the list above. But i'll fill you in tomorrow. Let me know your thoughts on the clip.

- Jenny Jen

Threesomes

My jaw dropped on the hardwood floor last night and I had trouble picking it back up. 'Can they actually show this on prime time television?' I asked my twentysomething cousin, as my waxed eyebrows furrowed and my bronzed forehead scrunched. It wasn't necessarily what was shown, I realized, it was what was discussed and more so what was implied, as the camera did a close up on three characters in CW's 'Gossip Girl', lying in a bed together, dressed only in sheets. Two girls, one guy.

Prior to this shot we see the once-squeeky clean Hilary Duff in the role of Olivia, lean in to stick her tongue down her boyfriend in the show - Dan's (Penn Badgley)- throat, followed by her enthusiastically leaning in to kiss Vanessa (Jessica Szohr), her roommate on the show. The camera did the extreme close up we've learned to love to hate from Soap Operas, and as the two women swapped spit, we see Dan watching on with a little boy at a candy store look in his eyes, before he leaned in to kiss Vanessa to join in on the trifecta of fun.

Today I was able to finally watch the 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' episode I PVRed on Sunday. I'm ashamed that I missed it. I love this show so much, if I could marry it (or it's creator), I would. On this weeks episode, Larry David, the shows' main character, finds out from his ex-wife Cheryl (Cheryl Hines), that she was invited by another couple to be involved in a menage-a-trois. The over-the-top show has Larry trying to talk Cheryl out of following through with the threesome, as he claims if she's going to do it, it should be with him and someone else. Just to be sure the threesome doesn't work out, Larry storms into the office of the man who asked Cheryl to be in a threesome, and expresses his distaste.

Later in the episode he finds out the woman from the other couple, Virginia, (played by Elizabeth Shue) is wearing a neck brace, and he says matter-of-factly "We all know there are only two ways to hurt your neck, one is a car accident, the other in cunnilingus."

On my way to Starbucks to write today's blog, Britney Spears newest single 3, was on the radio. She sings:

1, 2, 3,

Not only you and me,

Got one eighty degrees

And I'm caught in between

Merrier the more,

Triple fun that way

Twister on the floor

What do you say?

Three is a charm

Two is not the same

I don't see the harm

So are you game?

This song is currently number 8 on the Billboard's top 100 songs of the week, and has been on the chart four weeks. It has already hit number 1.

And lest we forget, the threesome scandal that surrounded McSteamy and his wife, actress Rebecca Gayhart back in August. A 'sex' video was released, which features resident Doctor McSteamy, actor Eric Dane, from Grey's Anatomy, his wife and previous Miss Teen USA winner, Kari Ann Peniche all undressed, discussing their options for porn names, as they pass the camera around, before ending up in a jacuzzi.

It is quite obvious that the trio was under the influence. For (ironically) three days in a row, this video hit the 'top 5' search list on google, when it first hit the net on August 17th.

Have threesomes made a come back? What is the sudden appeal of the threesome? What was once uber risque to discuss, has now made a household name for itself. We are surrounded with images and songs proclaiming the excitement that surrounds an extra person in the bedroom. As Britney implies in her song '3', threesomes are treated as an upgrade; something fun, that shouldn't be judged. 'Gossip Girl' states it is one of the top fifteen things every college student must do before they graduate. What does that mean for us twosomes out there? Do you think the media is pushing the cards, or do you think that they are opening up something we explore behind closed doors, yet find somewhat taboo to openly discuss?

I felt somewhat bad for McSteamy and his wife, when news broke out this summer. The scandal came with a sense of shame, as if they have done something wrong, which is looked down upon. We are so often judging the actions of others, negatively labelling them as a certain type of person if they engage in these less talked about sexual situations. Perhaps the media will take away the sense of embarassment that people feel when words of their sexcapades come out.

Do you think the media has gone too far?

Meet the Parents

So you've had a certain someone in your life for some time now. You're past the awkward phase and worrysome girliness of where you guys stand, and you're finally comfortable with this striking gent who has captured just a little bit more than your eye. He's come over to your place, you've gone over to his, and you're content. The question that begs to be asked, is when is the right time to introduce him to your parents?

Well, I may not have the answer of when the right time is, but I definitely have an answer to when the wrong time is. The morning after. We've all been there. You are ever-so-softly and quietly walking down the stairs, your hair all over the place (a rats nest would be an understatement), you're wearing his t-shirt and whatever the first pair of sweats were that you could find on your floor, and you're hoping to get away with 'The Sneak Out'. Getting him out the door without a sign that he spent the night. If you are a twentysomething who doesn't have the luxury of having your own place, this is likely a scenario you've endured. Just when you thought you were at home free, one of your parents pops seemingly out of no where (You hid his shoes! How did they know you had company?) Busted. Luckily though, it's not some random whats-his-name you met the night before, and you can at least feel slightly less slutty, since they've heard his name tossed around the past few months. Emphasis on slightly. The introduction is awkward and as your face begins to grow hot, with a pink hue to match, you pray they don't shake hands. Then what? Do you kiss the guy goodbye? Perhaps hug? Give him a formal handshake? As your parents stand at the door with you as you send Casanova off, you question what the proper goodbye is, before shutting the door as quickly as possible and tucking down your head in complete in utter shame.

Avoiding or Delaying the First Meeting:

Chances are the guy can't hop out of your window (or climb out if you live in the basement). So how do you sneak him out successfully? If someone else is home, is there a successful way?

- Be wary of whether or not you have dogs. Dogs tend to lend a hand in the giveaway. Barking the second you open your door an inch to check if the coast is clear, will definitely ruin your chances at subtlety. If you have dogs and want to ensure you don't get busted, perhaps opt for his place instead.

- Don't set the alarm when you guys roam in at 3am. This allows the early removal of said guy. Set your alarm for an early hour before you know your parents rise. You can send him on his way and claim the good 'ol I-was-tipsy-and-totally-forgot-to-set-the-alarm card. This avoids the noise of the alarm being set off in the a.m. from potentially waking up your parents.

- Check in with the parentals before you go for an evening out to ensure there are no family brunches at your house and no cleaning ladies, the next morning. You may be able to sneak him past the parents, but having extra bodies in the house may blow your cover with people who are way more judgemental than your 'rents.

- Research can save the day. Shoot your parents a text when you wake up to see what their plan is for the day. Middle-agers always seem to have To Do lists to conquer on weekends. It would be just your luck if they have something going on that morning. You can work the timing of 'The Sneak Out' accordingly.

- When in doubt - if you are not ready to run the risk of having the man in your life meeting your parents just yet - then call him a cab. I feel like a rat just saying that, but it puts the pressure on to ensure he's out before they get up. Explain and apologize, but put yourself and your need for no awkwardness first. At the end of the day, Romeo will understand. If he takes offence or holds a grudge, maybe he's not the guy for you after all.

For Those Brave, Blonde, Bronzed, Twentysomething Soles Who Dare to Introduce on The Morning After:

It may make you feel a tad ok with the idea when you hear this: A thirtysomething friend of mine who is now married, first met her mother-in-law in a morning after experience. Sure it was awkward. For a while, she avoided going back to her now-husbands house altogether, and spent many-a-days replaying that 'episode' in her head, feeling mortified every time. That being said, the moment comes and goes and we all go on with our lives. I don't recommend doing it, but just so you know, there is still some hope.

- Make it short and sweet. Introduce them on a first name basis, but don't stop walking. Do the introduction as you continue to send him out the door. This ensures that no discussions come up, and no lingering.

- If he stayed the night, chances are you've...done what you've done. So no need for at-the-door make out sessions, staged hugs or the typical morning after peck on the cheek in front of your parents. They don't need to see that. You have two options: Say goodbye and shut the door, or do 'The Walk Out', in which you walk him out to his car, (or friends car, or cab, etc.) and say goodbye to him outside. Not only does it make you look considerate, but it's a mature way to take ahold of the situation.

If You are At His Place:

- When you go out of your territory, you lose control over how 'The Morning After' will pan out. My advice ladies: go to your place, get a hotel, or don't spend the night.

- Walkout basement bedrooms are a pre-meeting the parents-girls' fantasy. You can get on out at your leisure. Be wary of guys who have basement rooms with cold cellars in the basement. Nothing like a parent walking downstairs to get more water bottles to stock in the fridge and having to pretend not to see you in bed with their son.

- Avoid guys who don't have a washroom in their bedroom and whose parents sleep with their door open. Nothing beats the feeling of getting caught like walking past his parents room in his sweatshirt and a pair of Hanky Panky's to go wash off in the washroom.

The best way to avoid meeting his parents is not putting yourself in that position in the first place. You may be blonde, but you're brighter than that. Suggest your place, or feel free to take him up on his offer of a hotel if it comes up. Just remember, in the morning you'll need to do the walk of shame, and that may be tougher than meeting the parents. Especially when you're at an upscale hotel.

- Jenny Jen

Post-Date Night

My hipster friend and I ended up at this quaint, trendy French restaurant on Harbord called Tati, last night. We started off with a bottle of wine and the cheese plate, and managed to make our way through steak frites and mussels for her. The food was ok, the service was ok, but the conversation and the wine were above and beyond.

Men. Sex. Love. Money. Fashion. Am I forgetting anything?

Men: What defines the men we fall for. What deters us from the ones we ignore. What type of men do we attract. Which men have shaped us to hold the views we have now towards men.

Sex: A basic who, what, where, why, when, how discussion, with an extra admission on my friends part of her most in-the-moment, shocking behaviour beneath the covers.

Love: Lost and Lust. Comparisons. Need for it, want for it/need to avoid it, want to avoid it complex. Lessons learned.

Money: Who pays for what when, in regards to dates and dining/drinking with the opposite sex. Issues. Expenses. Love for it.

Fashion: Our outfits (we both arrived to our Date Night in LBD's). Other diners outfits. Trends.

We were the the lone ranger table for two, surrounded by middle aged couples on double dates and a few group parties. A well put together couple walked in hand-in-hand (think Brad and Ange, but not as beautiful, which made them so much more realistic) and we spotted them whispering sweet nothings for to one another. My friend made mention something to the envious effect, and I totally reframed her thought. We are the lucky ones - it's a Saturday night and we have it all. As we eyed the double daters around us, I said to her "That is going to be us in a few years, and we are going to be looking over at the table with two well dressed, fun, free, twentysomethings in complete jealousy. Remember 'when-ing' and 'I-wish-that-was-us-ing' like there's no tomorrow."

As the evening progressed, the lights got dimmer, the restaurant started to empty, and our feet began tapping to the tunes softly played in the background. We easily paid our bill - which I want to take a second to discuss, in a second - and went on our way. Easy Bill Paying = not questioning whose meal was $4 more, who drank how many glasses of wine from the bottle and then calculating. Split bill, generous tip, done and done, night continues with ease and unawkwardness. There is nothing worse than going for a meal and arguing over a couple dollars. Classic case of Uneasy Bill Paying = once went on a dinner date. Bill came and we split it 50/50. 'Date boy' asked the waiter for $2 back, and when the waiter gave him a toonie, he asked for two loonies instead, and then proceeded to give me one. Cheap much? I told him to just keep the loonie, that 'I'm not that hard up for cash.' Anyways, back to Date Night, my friend and I pulled out our Blackberries and started figuring out the rest of our evenings' plan. We stopped into a convenient store where we got Sugar Free Red Bull, our drug of choice, and engaged in drunken banter with the stores owner, who promoted an in store photo shoot. Hot. And this was just the appetizer of our night. It was followed with two different house visits, a hidden gem bar and a long cab ride home.

Having a great friend to go out with makes a night. As Dave Matthews sings, "Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters." Below, are some of our fave celeb besties past and present.