Damn you, Scarlett.

See? We were soooo over you after the whole senseless Ryan Reynolds engagement thing. We thought you'd wait for us. Seriously. We sing. We play geetar. We have that whole confident yet wicked shy thing going on. We have, dare we say, *swagger*.

So we were soooo over you. We even joined the Match.com, which we are now obsessed with for no reason other than it's fun to see Communism at its worst, to prove that we are sooooo over you.

And then the Egotastic! posts pictures of you naked in a pool.

And we're back to drinking and blogging and crying and listening to Rhianna radio on the Pandorae. And thinking of you.

Grrrr.

Steeeeeerike One!

"i (sic) am looking for my male counterpart," she says. "I know my strengths as well as my weaknesses. It would be great to meet a guy who has a similar balance and who understands that "perfection" is more about the actual connection or chemistry between two people, rather then someone who meets specific requirements."

OK. She has a point with the whole perfection thing. But really? All we want is someone who capitalizes the pronoun "I" properly. We'd also like someone who gives us good, um, back scratches and rhymes with chor-- well, nevermind.

CONGRATULATIONS!

"You've just subscribed to Match.com. Your new love life awaits."

*Sigh*

The Way We Are

So all we wanted to do, really, was run to Timbaland's not-so-new hot joint, "The We You Are." Nevermind the grammar, you. We just wanted to run.

Then our iPod wouldn't update. Then with the low disk space. Then with the breaking down and flatout deleting Kate Frost (Google it -- as Sarah Silverman says, "It'll be a great later joke"). OK. Don't Google Kate Frost. Lord knows what you'll find.

Anyway, our iTunes done disappeared after multiple attempts to sync last night. Then again with the low disk space and maybe we should defrag but we can't because oh with the goddamn low disk space and we deleted Isabella Soprano too (just sayin': addiction is sooooo 2005) and then with the downloading new versions of iTunes and can't because, you guessed it, *poof* low disk space.

Dell's suck, by the way. We might invest in these new "Mac" "Books."

But wait. Voila. The iTunes suddenly loaded and then with the syncing. And now we have the Weezer and a fantastic run mix that we can't use until 12 hours from now. The Dell Gods suck, too.

So yeah, aren't you glad we're back blogging not so subtley about deleting large files that we really shouldn't be wasting anymore time staring at?

So...

Gossip Girl isn't that bad.

And now back to sh*t we never watch

Seriously with the Three Men and a Little Lady and the Beethoven's 2nd and why the f*ck is 90210 not on the SoapNet and Jesus with no The Wire or Flight of the Conchords on the On Demands and wait, isn't it a beautiful day and huh, when was the last time we just sat and played Dead Flowers on our porch and wait.

Sex and the City? We've seen one episode of this Sex and the City and we want to be full-on prepared to tell the masses why this movie, like the Indiana Jones, isn't one we're rushing to the theaters to see. Why?

Where to begin...

1. Carrie. We get it. You're young/old, oof, 35, and looking for love and hey! What's the guy from Office Space doing stealing our look with the "beard" and the jeans and the courdoroy jacket and all of these things and why do you, Carrie, type so flawlessly with no visible typos?

2. Charlotte. Christ. Always with the bra on during sex, that one.

3. Samantha. She made a tranny joke in the season 6 premiere and we *maybe* laughed. And then we wondered if we'll actually, you know, cougar. Yes. We just made it a verb.

4. Miranda. Still hot, all lawyer-MILFY with intellect and fantastic hair.

Now, then. If Miranda made a moviefilm, we'd be all over that sh*t. But we'll keep our $12.50 to see the Harold and Kumar and maybe any movie with Amy Smart that comes out this summer. In the meantime, back to the geetar.

The Kink

Just a Memorial Day gift from us to all of you:

Spiderwebs? Oof. We thought we enjoyed a li'l dirty dirty, but we got nothin' on this creep.

What, now?

You know how the iTunes Store sometimes recommends music you'd like?

Yeah.

Um.

We don't like the Hanson.

So we get these email mailings

And they say things like this:

(OMS) --

The polls are closed in Kentucky and votes are being counted in Oregon, and it's clear that tonight we have reached a major milestone on this journey.

We have won an absolute majority of all the delegates chosen by the people in this Democratic primary process.

From the beginning, this journey wasn't about me or the other candidates. It was about a simple choice -- will we continue down the same road with the same leadership that has failed us for so long, or will we take a different path?

Too many of us have been disappointed by politics and politicians more times than you can count. We've seen promises broken and good ideas drowned in a sea of influence, point-scoring, and petty bickering that has consumed Washington.

Yet, in spite of all the doubt and disappointment -- or perhaps because of it -- people have stood for change.

Unfortunately, our opponents in the other party continue to embrace yesterday's policies and they will continue to employ yesterday's tactics -- they will try to change the subject, and they will play on fears and divisions to distract us from what matters to you and your future.

But those tactics will not work in this election.

They won't work because you won't let them.

Not this time. Not this year.

We still have work to do to in the remaining states, where we will compete for every delegate available.

But tonight, I want to thank you for everything you have done to take us this far -- farther than anyone predicted, expected, or even believed possible.

And I want to remind you that you will make all the difference in the epic challenge ahead.

Thank you,

Barack Obama

We do love us some horoscopes

Quickie: The universe is finally giving you the green light to proceed with your plans -- go!

Um. That's what she, well, nevermind.

Yay for the universe!

True story from within the car

So some of you -- well, the four of you who know we're back -- know we've been commuting unGodly amounts of hours for an unGodly amount of time this decade. A side effect of said commute is the ability to randomly kick sweet dance moves in the car to pretty much everything.

Yesterday, it was the Backstreet Boys.

We admit it, we have a, um, soft spot for these fellas with the weird facial hair and tough guy tattoos. Wait. Did we just describe ourselves? EFF. But we digress.

"Tell me whyeeeeeeee" is one of our favorite lyrics to sing. You try it. And tell us it's not contagious. Like the Polio or some sh*t.

Oh. And Danny Tanner's not Gay.

HAPPY FRIDAY!

A word about Fingerprint Girl

So she took us early (hey now). She had a nose ring. Always hot. No, she wasn't a cutter. She was artsy and ponytailey and laughed. A lot. She told us to relax and she grabbed our ol' sweaty fingers (seriously? OMS sweats, y'all. Why is this?) and she gently scanned in proof that we have no criminal record.

Now, then, how does one seal the deal with Fingerprint Girl?

It's the same sh*t with German Waitress at the Greek Restaurant Girl and Alexi the Hot Bartender at Kabin Girl and, Christ, Heather the Running Shoe Sales Girl who laughed when we said we look like a muppet when running through town.

Does one just say, "Hey. You hot. (Us) interested. Let's do this"? Or does one keep waiting for Cupid to smack us upside the face and be all, duh, dude, get digits? Either way, Fingerprint Girl was hot.

Just sayin'.

A word about the match.com ad girls

Anytime we log off the MySpace*, oh these dames with their braless typing on their sensual keyboards. They look nothing like the ones posing in Naughty Bookworms** glasses and kissy-fish faces with screen names like Curvy_n_Curly on the actual Match.com.

Just sayin'.

*MySpace was a "social networking" site on the interwebs popular way back in Two Thousand Ought-Four. Once a haven for online creative expression of one's self, it quickly became inundated with pedophiles and, later, reporters doing research on kids who overdosed who always have awesome, character-defining quotes like, "PATRYYYYY (sic) IT UP BICTHESSSSSSS (sic)" on their pages, and now everyone uses it to "check their music pages" even though all the real bands found on the MySpace have actual "Web sites" you can "check."

**You look it up. Just not at work. And good luck overcoming that addiction.

And now back to things we say outloud

"(We'd) tap that even though she's preggers." - Last night, walking through the parking lot.

FORE(TEEN YEARS)!

"I think playing golf during golf during a time of war sends the wrong signal."

Um. So does stuffing a sock in your pants and declaring "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED" like 14 years ago, no? Christ with this guy.

Meanwhile, Hillary's the choice for West Virginians! Why is West Virginia a state? And what's with the peach blazer? Ew. Totally out of style, this chick.

"The White House is won in the swing states," she says.

That sound? Yes. Vomit. In our mouth.

But kids! There's hope!

Note this tidbit from the AP story: "Obama picked up about 30 superdelegates in the last week, altogether a bigger prize than West Virginia offered either candidate in the lopsided primary."

See? Superdelegates! Hillary! Gets-a-steppin'!

See, here's the thing...

Quickie:
The universe can give you whatever you need, but you will have to ask for it first!

Oh with the exclamation points.

So in our time away from the interwebs (and seriously, we had no intention of coming back until, well, we saw the Hillary picture and got, um, inspired), we spent a lot of hours pondering God and the worldly ways of the universe.

We've become firm believers that if one participates in said universe, this ubiquitous universe will use its powers for good. So we've somewhat dropped our whole pessimistic "The other shoe will drop nothing good ever lasts" outlook on life for one that says, simply, "Give to the universe and the universe will give back."

So our horoscope made us happy. We wonder, though, how the universe feels about giving or- wait, nevermind. We just want world peace and a certain candidate to drop out of a certain race yesterday.

Just sayin'.

What. Michael Jordan retired like seven times.

As for this, y'all know Hillary was all kaflooey in the car with the tears and the thinking about "when" she quietly traversed the beaches of Normandy diplomatically or how she valiantly discussed race relations with the Rebs in Gettysburg and how to tell the American public both stories without *lying* and the minute-by-minute convincing of herself that she isn't killing the Democratic party by childishly staying in a race that she can't win.

Whew. That felt good.