The Blo-Dry Bar

You know those days where your hair just doesn't do it for you? And though you blow dry it, while attempted to work your round brush, it just never looks the way it did when it leaves your 'be all and end all' salon. Well, on behalf of you blonde, bronzed, twentysomethings out there, I feel your pain. Day in and day out, on my car ride home, I always pass a cute looking Blo Bar and as I drive by I always think of how brilliant and convenient this place 'Ritual 2' is, if for any reason I need it for a post-work affair.

Blo Bar = the newest and hottest trend to hit the city. Strut your blonde, hot ass into one of these spiffy little joints and walk out a mere thirty minutes later with your hair in a 'do' of perfection. Where they blow-dry up your heavily highlighted hair just the way you want it, and you walk out feeling like the hottest thing; And let's admit it, you haven't felt this fierce since the first time you did Carmen Electra's strip aerobic's video.



Well tonight my friends, I just so happened to have a post-work affair. And though it was just a dinner, I thought I'd treat myself to a Blo (don't our boys wish they could say the same?), and I finally decided to try it for my first time. I walked into the inviting glass door, and was greeted by the charming owner. This is the first time I think in life where I didn't have a scheduled appointment. Where I just walked in without following the instructed agenda in my Louis Vuitton daily pocket calendar. The owner was inviting and was able to give me an appointment which I was informed I only needed to wait for for but a few minutes.

White, plush, leather couches sat in the waiting room and I couldn't wait to sit my hard-working, heel-wearing self on them after such a long day at the office. I was offered a refreshment (water with fresh grapefruit or coffee) and a sweet little nothing (fresh pastry, anyone?) but passed on the overly-aggressive calories to make way for my Thursday night dinner to be. The owner took my Prada parka with pride as I sat on the dreamy couches and winded down from my day.

As I sat there, I couldn't help but peruse the binded book in front of me, which had a page for each type of style ones hair can be blown dry - offering images of our favourite celebs whose hair matches the style of choice:

- The Basic Blow Out
- BedHead
- Diffuse the Situation
- The Straight and Narrow
- Big, Bold and Beautifulbedhead

As I finshed flipping through the short-but-sweet booklet, I was approached by my hair stylist, Michelle. We had a quick discussion about what I was looking for in a blow, and she then led me to the washing area, once we agreed we were on the same page. I sat down in an I-don't-want-to-ever-get-up chair, and I let my hair down (mind the pun). Michelle gave my head a good massage, while scrubbing it with the most I-don't-ever-want-to-stop-sniffing sensational smelling shampoo. And then when she finished, I just didn't want to remove myself from the comfort that was that chair. Boy, did I ever feel like an addict. High on comfort and prestige.

Michelle (aka: the fairy godmother of hair) who had just provided me with the most luxurious head scrub known to man, used her hair-brush-of-a-wand and worked her magic. As the clock struck 7, her masterpiece was created, and confidence was granted. I walked to the front counter, only to find out not a copper bill, nor a pink bill was needed. In fact, this session of hot hair euphoria only costed $30, a price that made me feel I was ripping them off.

So why do a mid-week blow? Well aside from the fact that our golden locks have the tendency to go so ridiculously limp in the snowy, frigid weather, this affordable, feel good quickie of a style allows us to feel well groomed, maintained and may just turn a few heads. With the option of sex kitten bed head, vavavoom voluptuous, simple and sleek, defused, amongst others - you can pinpoint your mid-week look of choice.

I look back at my earlier eve and reminisce about the Blo Bar. A place that was just as pink as my bedroom. A place that has all these sweet-little-nothing candies lurking around you (cinnamon hearts and conversation heart candies that so get you into a lovey-dovey/girly-girly mode. I walked in but another blonde, bronzed, twentysomething, and a mere thirty minutes later I walked out a blonde, bronzed, turning-heads, twentysomething. Yet another blonde, bombshell ready to embark yet another night on the town.

Ashlee Simpson wears her hair Sleek and Narrow

Angelina Jolie sporting BedHead at its finest



- Jenny Jen

Flying Solo

It was the end of the summer and I was invited with a friends family on their shopping-trip weekend to New York City. As soon as I got the invite, I pictured myself walking down the streets of Soho finding hidden-hip-gems to accessorize with, followed by a vision of myself enjoying happy hour and dining at the hottest restaurant-of-the-week. Unfortunately, I imagined myself doing all these things, but edited out my friend and her family (sorrt J.)

Oh the joys of flying solo. Just you and your confidence sitting at a table for one. I am an individual who finds comfort in flying solo, and I definitely don't shy away from it. Whether it be restaurants, to - dare I say - bars, I've managed to break the by-myself barrier and embrace it. So I did take up my friend on this irresistible invite to my favourite city (and former home), but I decided to fly out there on my own a day early, so I could take 24 hours to have my own love affair with New York.

My feet touched down on the city that never sleeps in the late afternoon, and checked into my hotel. And though - as tempted as I was to throw on my fave Free City sweats and order in room service - I did a wardrobe change from the Laid Back Flyer look to City Girl Casual and left my room behind. I excitedly walked out of the St. Regis, only to be greeted with a torrential downpour (that's NYC for you!) Not one to let a rainy day get in my way, I ran down the flooded streets until I locked eyes with the 'Whiskey Trader' at 55th and 6th, and I just couldn't resist.



I stepped into a dark bar at about 5pm, just in time for happy hour. I got a table for one, and ordered a cosmo (when in rome), and when delivered, a plate of popcorn was placed in front of me. As I sipped the $3 drink while making sure to take handfuls of buttery lightness here and there, I glanced around the room at the other twentysomethings that were beginning to fill out the bar.

The thing about going to a bar alone, is not only are you easily approachable (I was single at the time, go easy on me) but it also provides you with the opportunity to meet more people since you aren't holding any one else back (like your friends who usually accompany you) when you want to make convo with others. Coming from a little miss chatterbox, you can damn well bet I want to make convo. I met a number of people that evening. I met a couple from Brooklyn who sat at the table next to me. The guy was originally at the bar with another girl, then when that girl left, in walked this new chick. When boy left for the washroom, girl told me she just met him on vacation and they are on a date. I'm still in touch with her to date. See picture below of the night we met at the bar in discussion:



I must admit, I may seem confident as hell, and I'm not undermining that flying solo is a bold move, but it is much easier to go out alone in a different city. This whole idea of being a loner or a loser if you don't have four plus girlfriends by your side just becomes irrelevant. Eventually, as we mature and grown comfort with ourselves, we realize that - though fun to party and have a night out with your besties - it does definitely hold you back in some regard.

When going out with friends we need to:

- coordinate the time we need to go to the washroom with our friends bladder's
- agree on a bar of choice (always hard when people have ex-boyfriend baggage and have to avoid certain locations they lost in the custody battle)
- worry about what outfit to wear, since we saw the same crew last weekend, we can't wear our staple I-look-fucking-hot outfit yet again
- we need to stand an arms length away while they partake in mini-preditible conversations and have to pretend we care (ie: smile and nod) until they are done, then need to ask if it's ok for us to do the same when we run into an Omg-I-like-so-haven't-seen-you-in-forever kind of friend

Why fly solo you ask yourself, and I don't blame you my social-butterfly you. There are many reasons to go percy, such as:

- you're out of town and on your own and want to enjoy a night out (and you are certain you won't run into anyone you know)
- all your friends are busy and it is your first night off in weeks
- you don't want friends and their drama to destroy yet another night out, so you bring you in all your glory out to a bar with no expectations and no reservations and go with the flow without being held back in any way
- because you can

Girls who can't fly solo:

- those who cling to their fellow blonde, bronzed, twentysomething friends at bars
- those who think it's a sin to be caught out dare-i-say alone
- those who can't put their Blackberry's away and let loose

If you are about to go out alone, I welcome you to the club. There is nothing like going for a mid-day lunch at the Four Seasons and running into friends parents in Studio Cafe. When they ask the inevitable 'Who are you here with?' nothing is as fulfilling as saying proudly, 'I am here alone.' Happy independence my ladies.

- Jenny Jen

Have you Ever Pushed your Guy's Hand Away?

So things are getting hot and heavy with you and you-know-who and after an ongoing makeout sesh, and once he finally gets up the confidence and comfort to let his fingers roam, you suddenly jolt him into rejection mode, as you grab his hand and push it away, your tongue still in his mouth. He thinks you're playing the role of the tease, and tries again to no avail (which only makes him want it more). That is, until he gets frustrated, feels rejected, confused and has spent the past persistent moments in time trying to figure out what is going on in that blonde crazy head of yours.

What men don't know is that the hand push is the result of two things: We either aren't up to date with our waxing appointment, or it's that time of month. Either way, the hand push never means 'I want your hand there.' Yes, we are women and yes, we do tend to invest in a little game playing nature, however the hand push away is not a time where we want it, nor do we want it bad. The problem is, contrary to popular belief, men don't read minds. So as we are there thinking of the stubble on our legs and our cave women like hair down there, he is thinking that we are either a tease, or that he's a loser. I'm here to act as a mediator so this lack of communication can stop.

What tends to come next - after realization that he's not passing first base hits - is the dreaded 'Is everything ok?" question. He looks into your eyes and as you avoid his, you try to rack your brain for a pretty little excuse so you don't have to confess that it's because you're Godzilla, or worse, that you have a heavy flow. So instead you sit there and come up with an excuse that is so obviously an excuse that he then becomes sketched out and wants to know what you are hiding.



Sometimes however, us women are happy to have these two things in our way in order to prevent us from moving too fast with a guy. We have an upcoming date, or meet a babe at the bar and instead of rushing into some euphoric oblivion, we then can fake control (aka play hard to get) but not because we don't want it but because we don't have a choice. In turn he develops further respect, as do we, and the anticipation starts to develop. Check.

It has become so common place in conversations for us to use the fact that we didn't just get a wax or are on our periods to our girlfriends who ask us what's going to happen with so-and-so. 'Thank god I'm on my period' we say, 'Now I know for sure nothing will happen this time and I won't look like a little slut'. Or, 'I want to see him but I know I can't give it up too soon even if I'm tempted under the pressure since my waxing lady wasn't free.' Easier said then done my little femme fatals'. Once in the situation when we see that look of lust in his eyes, that burning sensation to act on our impulses emerges and we back ourselves up against a wall.

The solution? Either be up front or don't let your kiss goodnight result in a 'Come in for a coffee,' or a 'On top of the clothes rub down.' The boy won't be happy you led him astray and you'll have to spin a story that will look more foolish then the actual truth. And yes, skipping your period by taking extra pills in your birth control pack or keeping your waxing lady's number on speed dial is a little over board.

I Like it Stiff

'I like it stiff,' I responded whole-heartedly in response to the guys question. His brows furrowed as he gave me the once over, likely thinking 'Is this girl for real?' I smiled at him in anticipation, but he did nothing but just stand there, before saying "Wow." I smiled at him, hoping I'd get my request met.

Note to self: Work on your word choice, after all, I am a writer. I didn't mean to double-entender myself, but he did ask me what I wanted to drink. Apparently ordering a double vodka soda is shocking. Is it because I'm a pint-sized little lady or is because he offered me a drink and not two drinks (budget much?). Or maybe, is it because I'm a blonde, bronzed, twentysomething and should be ordering something pink and cliche like a cosmopolitan. As if - martini glasses are so not user friendly, and I was wearing my new 4-inch Tory Burch pumps that night - I couldn't afford the inevitable spill that never fails to occur when holding the way too widely brimmed martini glass...Especially at one of these tight, dimly lit, overpacked 'trendy' bars. A double it is. Make it a short glass.

But yet another double standard to add to the ever-growing list. Us women get looked at or questioned when ordering a stiffy, yet guys do it (while ordering a shot at the same time) and get away with it scotch free. Why is this? Does a double-kinda-dudette make a guy fear his masculinity will be challenged? Are they too expensive (sorry honey, I can only afford a single)? Or is it just not the typical order, so it is just questioned to ensure they heard our pouty little mouths' right? I don't know the answer, but I do know that the responses I get to my drink of choice are getting kinda old. It also made me think, what other drinks do girls order that blow guys away?

I think the red-bull vodka fad has put a dent in a number of wallets. A beer is fair game, but a $20 possibility of seeing boob at the end of the night, not so much. Tequila shots are pretty impressive, so long as he doesn't have to hold your golden locks back come end of evening. The red wine...save it for a intimate setting and not a sweaty, steamy, electronic playing club (out of place much?)


At the end of the day my little lush's, if the guy digs you, your drink of choice is not an issue for him. The funnest guy I ever dated in history of dating would start a tab at the bar, and when he'd do so, he'd point to me and say "She's here with me tonight. Get her and her friends whatever they want and put it on my tab." His intention was for me to have a worry-free, fun time and he was more than happy (on a number of occasions) to promote partying. He did so time and time again, and I must admit he was just the funnest person to party with. P.S. Former flame, if you are reading this: on behalf of my girlfriends and I, thank you. You're a dime a dozen.

Here are some of our favourite female front-women who may too like their drinks extra stiff:

When One Pulls out their Blackberry: The Domino Effect

I sit at a table for two in the middle of a chic restaurant near my place. One of those restaurants where everyone is slowly sipping a glass of red wine, as they banter over lamb and risotto. As I sit at my candlelit table, I peer around, people watching as if there's no tomorrow. Other folks do the same. Eye contact is made, then broken. I catch a guy on his Blackberry, as his (pressumed) girlfriend/date sits across from him. I watch her so obviously pretend she doesn't care and/or isn't offended by him clicking away as if she isn't even there with him. I wonder who he is pinning in the middle of this intimate restaurant, and why he is pinning in that current moment while she fidgets. I zoom in on her discontent and his oblivious.

Sitting directly across from me, is the man who shares my dinner table. Well dressed in faded black jeans and a 3/4 length plaid button up, he pulls out his turquoise covered Blackberry Bold and I suddenly feel a sense of relief. I can now pull out mine too, I think to myself, as I reach into my Prada Antik Gathered clutch, and pull out my pink covered Blackberry alternate. I anxiously check my Bbm and text message inbox, looking up at him to ensure he's still on his Blackberry so I can resume sending messages on mine. Plus it definitely helps that the guy I'm dining with is my brother. No 'Who are you messaging?' and 'Why is he paying more attention to his phone then me?' questions emerge out loud or in my head. (Ever notice how curious you are about other people messaging in your pretty little presence, but never think twice when you are playing the hypocrite heroine?)

Blackberry Etiquette. There is definitely such a thing, but what are the rules and when do we get to break them? I must say, that I love when I'm out for dinner with a friend, and they reach for their beloved Blackberry. It's like a permission slip for me to use mine. A go-ahead, a nudge, it's ok Jenny Jen, you can use it conscious free. They set the tone by pulling out theirs, I can certainly follow suit with the knowingness that I cannot offend the other by pulling out mine (And yes my few male readers who read my blog off their girlfriends computer, I'm still talking about Blackberry's here.) But is the pulling out of Blackberry's appropriate behaviour in general? Should we be whipping out our Blackberry's left right and center when out for dinner with friends, waking up in someones bed, shopping for groceries and at red lights? Are we pushing the Blackberry limits too much in social gatherings?

I'm in the camp that thinks pulling it out is justified, dependent on the circumstances and so long as the other person is on theirs too. We've become such socially connected little butterflies in this day in age, and it is totally understanding that messages and calls are coming through and some are just begging to be responded in a timely fashion.


Mine and my friends Blackberry's at our dinner table at a friends cottage


Here is a list of when I think you're in the clear to peak at your mobile device:

- when the person you are with has theirs out
- when you excuse yourself from the dinner table while on a date, to check in with your friends who you have plans with following the date (a little hush-hush wouldn't hurt a fly)
- when you have multiple missed calls from someone and you want to let them know you'll get back to them at a more suitable time, but don't want to rudely answer the phone while at the table. In this case you can send a quick text or Bbm beneath the table; in a little more of a subtler fashion, though obvious nonetheless
- when you are on the date-from-hell and need some friend out there, somewhere on your 107 friend Bbm list to come save your 'I'm-never-going-on-a-blind-date-again' ass
- when the person you're with goes to the washroom. Us Blackberry addicts live for this moment almost as much as we live for the moment when our company pulls out their phone. This is the most opportune time for you to get away with checking what your little flashing red light indicator is going on about. But don't be fooled, your friend who left for the "washroom" is likely doing the same thing
- if you are expecting more people to meet up with you and those who you are with, it is understandable that you'll be direction texting and what to wear, 'this is what so-and-so is wearing' messaging. I mean come on, of course that's ok!

When not to pull out your mobile:

- on a first date. If you must use it, pawn off the washroom as an excuse
- while out for dinner with your parents and anyone who is 40 years+. They just don't get how we can't miss a thumb-typing minute and you'll end up having to use up conversation in defense mode, listening to a flurry of sentences that start off with the words, 'Back in my day...'
- when under the influence. Alcohol+cell phone is a cocktail that doesn't mix well together. Save it for the morning when your impulses and lack of control aren't in full force.
- near water. There's nothing like dropping your mobile in a hot tub, sink, or even toilet. Get your shower over with and then send a text. No one like's an anxious, always-there responder anyways
- at a friends birthday. Chances are all your friends are there anyways. Blackberry's are addictive, but no need to just do it for the sake of doing it. Put the phone aside and put all your attention of those who you are with. Same goes when you're having a lovey-dovey night in with your significant other. Since this person is so used to seeing you message your life away, they will probably feel appreciative that they have your utmost attention
- at the club. Pull that baby out at the club and you're just asking to lose it. We all remember my tale of 'What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, Including my Blackberry,'from a previous post. We also don't need Beyonce and Lady Gaga's new hit song Telephone to tell us that we shouldn't be interrupted while on a girls night out

Who Wears What and Why?

Pop a bag of that fat-free (faux) butter popcorn, throw on some comfy-yet-girly clothing and settle up in front of your flat screen and watch your way through award season. Award season: the opportunity for us blonde, bronzed, twentysomethings to watch celebs strut up and down the red carpet as we sit and judge. And boy do we ever judge.

As I sit in front of my screen and dip my hand in the popcorn bowl, I give a full body look down to the actresses that grace my screen. Some I envy and wish I had a ball-type event to go to so I could pull such a ridiculously insane dress off, but other times I sit there wondering 'what was she thinking?'

One things' for sure, we don't need award season to judge other women's outfits. Whether at the club, in the office or at a morning-after local breakfast joint, we are always giving women the expected look down with our taunting, judging eyes. With an outfit comes a stereotype. Specific looks invite our creative little minds to come up with the following thoughts:

- omg wtf am i not wearing that outfit? i die!
- cute: what a little muffin, that girl looks like a sweetheart
- trampy: enough said
- goody goody: take off a layer girl! loosen up
- trashy: at least I won't wake up in a frat house after taking them all home
- wealthy: that bitch
- label whore: i envy her, wow, those shoes, but label whore
- chic: if I were twenty years older (and married to the president), i'd so wear that
- sophisticated: that's what our thirties are for
- cheap skate: we all know that itty bitty glitzy dress is from Forever 21, honey
- the re-wearer: um, did I not see your bff wear that in her most recent Facebook album (posted last weekend)?
- the flirt: tasteful. She shows what she's got but doesn't overdue it. We always back the flirt.
- the girl who is in the same outfit as you: kill me. ok fine, kill her first. how dare she.

It's common place for us to make such snap judgements on others based on their outfit of choice. It's no wonder many people out there have someone they don't like, based on a preconceived notion. You know the saying 'Don't shoot the messenger'. I think this applies regarding this topic. We make assumptions that have no basis. And let's not kid ourselves, as we look back through old photos when we thought we were the shit, it's sort of an embarassment how we actually looked. Let's give a girl some credit here ladies.

A girl goes out in a tiny little backless black take-me-home dress. Instead of judging, embrace her for her courageous confidence and 'I don't care who's looking (but I really do)' attitude. Weren't you her once in her shoes? Ok maybe not those YSL knockoffs (does it say SLY on it?) but you get where I'm going with this.

The chic dresser may be a rocker in disguise. The cutesy could be naughty behind closed doors. We judge other women's outfits as if it were our jobs, but lets all go a little easy. A woman tends to wear out an outfit that provides her with a specific state of mind over an actual look. Let lady work that attitude! And instead of spending time focussing on her assumed faux-pas, spend that energy on your beautiful self!

Here's a look at my fave dresses from last night:










- Jenny Jen

Piercing Periodical

Do you know someone who has a piercing you know where? I love that I type you know where and as you read it, you come up with a kinky, naughty little area where you envision said piercing. So? Where did you picture it?

Well I used to have a piercing you know where (clue: above the neck but not as tame as you'd think), and I have a very close friend who has a piercing you know where (clue: below the waist, not as tame as you'd hope) and then I have a combination of friends who have them in other more eclectic places in-between.

Common 'OMG you did what?' responses you get for the following piercings:

- tongue
- nipple(s)
- lip
- labret
- very private parts for her
- very private parts for him

Have you ever had any of the above piercings? If so, what encouraged you to get them? What encouraged you to get rid of them? Are you guilty of judging someone due to a particular peculiar piercing you'd never even dream of getting in your most wildest fantasies?

Back in my pre-twentysomething days, little young and naive me decided to get my tongue pierced. I had a day off at summer camp and all the kids were getting nose rings on their days off. I wanted to conform (isn't that what are teens were all about?) but since I longed for a future career in Broadcast Journalism, I knew I couldn't ruin my pretty-little-face. After all, the after math of an ill-devised decision is a hole or scar to last a lifetime.


Jenny Jen with her tongue piercing way back when

With the justification in my head, I confidently headed with one of my best guy friends about an hours' drive away to a CD store I heard about up north that is known for doing the back room pierce. I knew someone, who knew someone....an urban legend kind of tale...that made me find comfort in the - what sounds like a sketchy - situation. I got an adorable diamond-looking bar (oxymoron much?) pierced through my once-innocent tongue. Unfortunitely, my first dinner back home from camp when I was still in the midst of 'hiding it from my parents' stages, I accidently swallowed that diamond piercing, a classic case of the ball not being screwed in enough. Boy did I ever pray to not have any x-rays anytime soon...

So I troubleshooted the original piercing malfunction, and as time grew on I became fluent in the tongue pierce This piercing became so common place that I totally forgot it was there until six years later. It wasn't until I started dating my then boyfriend, that I even thought about removing it. But that's the thing about mama's boys - he knew it was time to bring me home to meet the parents (awww) and thought just maybe it would go over mildly better if I removed that piece of wild decision-making from my mouth. That and the hour plus lecture from both of his Dr. parentals.

You know what they say about a girl with a tongue ring. But what about boys? I definitely knew and/or dated a few guys back in my day that had tongue piercings but they seem to be long gone now. Fad dismissed? With age comes maturity. That goes for all piercings in my humble opinion. Sure belly button rings and nose rings were all the rage before we reached our twentysomethings but now most of us have but a scar to show for it. I remember a day in age where girls would rant and rave about a boy who knew how to play with her piercings. Truth is these days, the women who still think that, aren't the kind of girls who share those stories, since their piercings are hidden in a very, secure, secretive, and so to say seductive kind of place.

Some have a fetish for piercings, others just caught on to a craze we call 'experimentation'. Either way, piercings on different parts have had their ups and downs in the trends category.

Here is a compilation of some of our favourite pierced former and present celebs:












Hope I haven't encouraged any spontaneous decisions you naughty little readers you!

- Jenny Jen

Little Girl in the Big City

It's as if I forgot that I write a dailyish blog. Sorry all you blonde, bronzed, twentysomethings out there, but while you were nursing your hang over and constantly refreshing your Facebook homepage in hopes for some online action, I was in the process of moving into an apartment downtown. And it feels so good to say that I've finally made it. I'm sitting on my cushioned bed in my new to-be-painted room and I'm sorta, kinda liking it.

It's refreshing to live in a new environment, and it helps that I live in one of the best areas for the greatest food in the city. My meals this week have been above par to say the least. Last night after moving in my beloved wardrobe on one of the coldest days this city had to offer, I decided to put on a cropped blazer, a mini, and killer shoes and head over to another savoury meal of food. And fine, while I was there I just so happened to stumble upon a bottle of vino and a cheese plate, but that was definitely not pre-planned. No. The great part about enjoying more than my share of wine with my meal, is that I was able to walk home in a shorter amount of time it would have taken to call a cab. I kid not. How cool?

So here I sit pretty content with all that I've got accomplished in the past few days. And I get by with a little help from my friends. It's so amazing how willing my friends were to come lend a strong, heroic-like hand to help me pave my way. And who knew men were so strong? I watched on admirably and am so appreciative.

There is just one tiny, little final touch that needs to be completed sooner rather than later. My walls. They are so un-Jenny Jen it's not even funny. I've got a tin of primer and a tin of my chosen colour sitting next to me and I cannot wait to paint the town. Hello Barbie pink, goodbye phsych-ward-lockdown-room white.


With my new place comes a beneficial asset; a roommate. My roommate acts as a dj, a second half, constant company, and a helping hand. Plus he brings a new crew of people here constantly (yes, you heard me right. He) I'm not one to complain about easy-on-the-eye men sitting on my couches, drinking my beer. Fine, not my beer. Beer I purposely bought with the very intention of hostessing up a storm to my guests. My male guests.

Are you considering moving out? Tempted to move in with a roomie? I've composed a David Lettermanesque top ten list as to why you should move in with a male roommate.

10) He takes out the garbage. That's right. He's the man and he wants to show it. 'Honey - allow me' he says as he juggles 4 garbage bags down the stairs. 'My hero' you think as you sit on your fit-ass without having to ruin a nail.
9) Able to open jars and cans on demand. How convenient.
8) Brings cute boys to the apartment. Enough said.
7) I can bring cute boys back to the apartment without fear that my boy will wake up in my roomies room the next morning (Or does that only happen in the horror story section of Cosmopolitan magazine?)
6) Free washroom. There's a reason why the lineup is always longer in women's washrooms then men's (unless you are at a Baseball/hockey/football/soccer game/strip club). Hello shower, mirror, hair straightener and all the other secretive and intriguing stuff us blondes do in the washroom. This haven is all yours sister.
5)Always has your back. There's nothing like knowing a man is in the next room, on call if anything happens. Like a random sketchy person coming to the door. Let the man deal with that. Or freaking out over hearing a sound. He'll protect you. (No, my roommate is not Batman, Spiderman or Superman but pretty damn close my friends.)
4) Privacy. Boys aren't gossipers. There's this no-questions-asked feel. An indifference so to say. No who-just-called you's, and who-was-just-over here's.
3) Honesty. Before you head out for a date, he can give you a guys overly-honest opinion on what your outfit says and what to most definitely change.
2) Wake up with a surprise guest in your bed (what did I do last night?) In walks your knight and shining armour of a roomie to storm in and play the role of the jealous boyfriend. Peace out remnants of last night. Hello grade 9 drama skills being put to good use (a la Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass in the first episode of this seasons Gossip Girl.)
1) Your clothes, purses and jewellery don't go randomly missing. Let's face it, this little sucker is not trying to borrow your newest fendi and fitted Lulu Lemons, but instead you have the option of bundling up in his oversized oh-so-comfy winterized hoodys.

If only someone sent a memo to Ernie and Bert.

- Jenny Jen