Here Kitty, Kitty…

Match.com recently rated LA as one of the top ten cities for divorced women with children: making Los Angeles less of a City of Angeles and more a City of Cougars. I’m confused. Does that mean divorced with children is appealing to men? It seems most single men want nothing to do with divorced women—particularly if they have children. Where's the fun in that? Evidently for young men, there's lots of fun in these single Cougar MILFs. 

Lately a lot of 25-year old boys have been flirting with me. When I say flirting, I mean clearly wanting to get it on with me. At least these boys have the cohones to ask me out—more than I can say for 40-60 year old men who seem more accustomed to dialing a number and having a girl show up for an hour than following traditional dating etiquette. Nevertheless, I can’t seem to wrap my head around dating someone younger than me. I guess some people do it—have sex with people half their age—because they can. Maybe it comes from a fear of dying, a quest for eternal youth—like Dorian Gray—or a mere appreciation for beauty, but I think it comes from insecurity.

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The Award For Best Actress Goes To...

Its Oscar season, and the nominees for best actor/actress in a social media performance are:

Kim Kardashian for faking her relationship with Kris Humphries to the point of buying herself her own engagement ring and pretending he bought it for her so she would not have to feel and look pathetic by still being single in her thirties.

Charlie Sheen for parlaying his personal rage into a show idea called “Anger Management” and acting sane enough to convince the FX network executives to give him a shot after he already berated and humiliated the network executives on Two and a Half Men.

Crystal Harris (25) for pretending she was in love with Hugh Hefner (85), who is old enough to be her grandfather, then having the common sense to call off the wedding five days before tying the knot.

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Wine And The Single Girl - Burgundian Babe

All too many times I have gone on dates with men who have said they love wine, and have been brutally disappointed when they order a bottle of some mundane California Cabernet like Silver Oak. I’m sorry, but I thought you were trying to impress me? Did you do your homework? Didn’t I mention that my cats are named Monte after Batard-Montrachet—the crème de la crème of white Burgundy—and Pinot Noir after, well, the Holy Grail of wines? You’d think a guy would have enough common sense at least to order French wine, if not something from the Burgundy region. Go directly to foodie jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200. And, do not expect a second date! 

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How Hollywood Ruined Valentine's Day

I don't want to sound sexist, but let's face the simple fact that women are generally more romantic than men. Okay, maybe that's inaccurate. Maybe we're just more sentimental about romance. We remember first dates, first kisses, first texts and even first fights. We remember anniversaries, birthdays and holidays. What we can't seem to forget and wish we could are the countless birthdays, New Year's Eve's and Valentine's Days we have spent alone devouring a carton of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey (which is exactly what we'll feel like after we devour it) and crying into our pillow. 

In February 2010, Warner Brothers and Garry Marshall released a sappy movie about Valentine’s Day, unimaginatively entitled Valentine’s Day with a star-studded cast of heart throb men like Bradley Cooper (yum), Aston Kutcher (double yum), and Grey’s Anatomy’s McDreamy Patrick Dempsey to pull on the heartstrings of every single and unhappily married woman in America. Unfortunately, there seems to be money in making women miserable, so Garry Marshall reinvented the not so exciting wheel, employing some of the same ensemble cast, this past December with a movie about New Year’s Eve, aptly called New Year’s Eve. Genius! Who does give him the inspiration for his titles? 

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To Google or Not to Google?

You meet a new guy online or in real life and have his name and vitals. Do you Google him? That is the question. My answer: yes and no. Clearly, I have a love/hate relationship with Google.

First, why I love Google: it gives us instant access to any information we want. You want to know Madonna's 2012 concert dates? Google it. Want to know Rob Lowe's first son's name? Google it. Now, for why I hate Google: it gives us instant access to any information we want. Google violates our privacy and makes it ridiculously easy for psychopaths, blackmailers, and stalkers to research their targets. In some areas of Europe, Google Maps in not permitted to publishing aerial photographs of people’s homes. Often, the responsibility is on the homeowner to submit a request to Google by a certain date or one is assumed to have agreed to this lack of privacy. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Just because you have satellites in space doesn't mean you can take a photo of me tanning naked in my back yard and put it on Google Maps.

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Brr, It's A Little Nipply Out.

The cold weather is here and so are my nipples, and I am not going to hide them despite a recent article on EcoSalon declaring nipple visibility a fashion faux pas. I’m not some feminist radical Jane Fonda of the 70s type women, but I hate bras. I hate the way they feel. They are uncomfortable. They bind, they chafe, and when you have small breasts, they ride up. There’s nothing to weigh them down. I’d like to burn all my bras, but I’m afraid the stench of melting fabric, under-wires, and foam in my fireplace would draw unwanted attention by the police and fire department.

When I wear a bra it looks like I’m trying too hard—like a little girl playing dress up in mommy’s clothes and using lipstick as rouge all over her cheeks. I look better braless. All flat-chested women do. Jodie Foster has proven this point year after year by wearing plunging Armani necklines to the Oscars. 

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