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Sometimes, in this city that never sleeps, where everyone around you is diving into the wedding pool and you’re still treading water, it feels like nothing can pull you out. So you send out an S.O.S. distress because you’re getting tired of wading through the water. There’s always more fish in the sea – but fishing isn’t really your sport (you’re less than athletically gifted,) so you grab on to the closest raft and tag along on someone else’s journey until you gain enough strength to let go and hop back in the water. If you’re lucky, some seriously great timing will have you sailing on the love boat in some two-ships-passing-in-the-night scenario before you sink 20,000 leagues under the sea. Those even less fortunate will probably end up on next year’s “Shark Week,” featured as some less-than-flattering fish food. So in order to avoid the former not-so-friendly scenario, sit back, rest on a raft for a few. Just make sure you gain back that great white appetite of yours before some other girl gets hooked by a totally tan yacht owner. Even when the waters are rough, remember that you can always dodge the deadliest catch. And hey, if you do start to drown, there’s always a hot lifeguard to save you – and the incentive couldn’t get sexier!

I went to Trader Vic’s yesterday to lounge poolside with the girls. Being the Cali chick that I am, I of course hid in the shade, coconut cocktail in hand, observing the people around me. Through the SPF 75 I was sporting it was still a scene I’d seen before. Girls were completely oblivious to the guys around them, and spent most of their afternoon talking trash about their fellow female competitors. Ladies, if we spent less time worrying about ‘why she’s with whom,’ you’d probably meet someone as well. Then, you could be the girl people ask the eternal question about! Hey, all press is good press, right? Just because we live in Los Anjealous doesn’t mean we can’t be discreet about our insult impulse! Word vomit does not count as bulimia, so if you’re doing it to stay sans a few pounds, it won’t work. Scan the scene, and then zero in on someone worth talking about – like that cute guy in the corner. You two will be raising the Fahrenheit factor in no time, while giving them something to talk about.

My beautiful best friend got engaged last Friday night! She and my soon-to-be-bff-in-law really are completely meant for each other, so this upcoming union will be a great one. Unfortunately, there is at least a year of planning, toiling and inevitable stressing to get through before the big day. I’m sure it will be several months before my bff turns bridezilla and starts stalking the city streets, and even though I will be multi-tasking like it’s going out of style, I plan on enjoying every minute of it. Now, after getting sun-stroked from a post-engagement day by spending six hours at the beach, I headed over to South for 100hookup’s video game bash. The Sunday fun-day action was in full swing by the time I arrived and Wii had a lot of fun as the girls-gone-gaming madness ensued. Now, I am a fitness fiend and workout as much as I can, but my cardio was no match for the tennis tournament going on in the pool room. I will be upping my regiment before the next competition, that’s for sure. All in all it was a great way to end the day, and the crowd was as varied as the choice of post-NES systems. Game, set, sparks! Last night, South was totally where it happens.

A friend of mine just told me that after dating some dude she met a few weeks ago, they are now official. Guess how she found out? Apparently one morning after signing on to Facebook, she got a request asking her to verify that she and he are in fact, together. After sending out a silent prayer of thanks to Facebook for letting her know what in fact was happening in her life- she accepted the request, and that was that. There was absolutely NO communication on the subject. She just went from zero to relationship at the speed of light. So in an age where dates are scheduled through second hand parties, and texts count as love letters, is it really true that as far as emotions go people have the range of a teaspoon, and the attention span of a goldfish? Apparently so. You’ll be happy to know that said friend is, in fact, happy with the little love triangle between she, he & her 1,305 friends. And I’m fairly sure the cyber lovefest won’t hit its expiration date for at least another four months. I mean- when the most intimate conversations a couple has involve texting, how could it not? As much as I’d love to advise the clueless Cher to redirect herself into the arms of a guy that’s actually mature enough to remember how people communicated prior to the cellular age (and no, it did not involve the pony express,) I’ll have to let this cyber and cellular insanity run it’s course. I guess like Becky Sharp from days of yore, the title is in fact, the most important thing. Apparently this notion has parlayed it’s way into the hearts and minds of savvy cyber users everywhere. If she’s lucky, he might even propose on her wall! I’m sure I’ll get the event request- although the guestlist might be hidden- which will severely hinder my ability to scope out the hot single guys. If we’re really lucky, there might even be a status update! Charming.

There are only a few more days until my favorite coming of age retro ritual makes its comeback. I’m referring to, of course, the Bar Mitzvah Disco that’s happening this Saturday! Half the incentive to attend is to relive my fashion “don’t” era by parading around in eighties ensembles that should have never left the house- let alone made it to the runways. So grab your bf, bffs, and/ or beau of the moment and make sure to match your crimped hair to his equally entertaining flock of seagulls do, and get yourselves to the dance floor. At least this time the horah won’t be such a horror, thanks to the little issue of an open bar you can now fully enjoy! See you there this Saturday, and I’d get your tickets asap, so you can turn your attention to more important details, like which spandexy mistake of a skirt will out 80’s your inner circle of friends. Everybody wants to rule the world, but only a select few can rule the dance floor.

Recently I took a little staycation to vacation destination of girls donning tramp stamps and guys with more needle usage than L.A. Ink: The E.R.! On this little impromptu adventure, I developed a little checklist to pass the time. Ladies, allow me introduce you to my “you know you’re a single hookup female if” checklist! So without further ado, you know if:
1. You postpone your trip to the emergency room in order to put on your makeup, just in case you meet a hookup doctor, aka McDreamy.
2. Morphine becomes a welcome substitute for martinis.
3. While on the verge of death your grandmother pauses to tell you to put on blush because you’re looking a little too pale.
4. You decide to cut the hookup MD search short due to all the sick people trying to cramp your style.
5. You request a new hospital gown because the one you’re supposed to wear isn’t flattering. And the green color makes you look sick. Eww.
6. Hospital food makes fasting look great. And coincidentally does great things for your figure.
7. You start to wonder why the hell non-essential organs are included in your body if they are, in fact, non essential. You make a mental note to write a strongly-worded letter to HRH asking for a suitable reason.
8. Somewhere between the morphine and the lack of food you wonder why you couldn’t get to the ER on a day when your hair is actually working for you.
9. You conveniently voice your Chanukah list while writhing in pain. After all, you learned the hookup guilt thing from the best, and isn’t imitation the sincerest form of flattery?
10. If Jerry’s Famous Deli delivers, you’d like to get the chicken soup hooked up to your IV.
11. Last, but certainly not least, you wonder why this ER is allowed to exist when it is nothing like Seattle Grace. Make mental note to seek out the magical med center that comes complete with various McHotties, in addition to morphine
If you have said yes to two or more from the list above, seek medical attention immediately. And do it on a day your hair is working for you.

There are those times when you venture out into the world and expect to meet someone. You have your girls, you’re ready to meet that guy and wearing stilettos that will get the job done. Then there are those times where you go to lunch with your grandmother and end up leaving with a date. Apparently a hot lunch was the special that day. I walked in for a much needed break from the sale seeking scavengers at my all time fave department store, and before I could even make it to the hostess I was being seated by a hot server – in his section (which I’m sure he had nothing to do with). Long story short, my sexy server and I didn’t waste any time – and I didn’t hesitate to order that day’s special right off the menu. So I guess the moral in this hopefully happily ever after is (which btw is hopefully not a TBC kind of saga) is that dates are hiding where you least expect them. And even when you think they’ve been taken off the menu for good, nine times out of ten the chefs in sunny So Cal are still happy to oblige. Besides, ordering what everyone in America has privy to is so completely last year. So make sure to be so 3008, instead of two-thousand and late, and you’ll score a McHottie over milkshakes post-haste. And in this horrendous heat – keeping cool has never sounded so hot.

So listen, I have a lot of hobbies: krav maga, ice skating, eating, and rationalizing for dudes I should care less about. Well I have recently come to realize that this behavior is completely unacceptable, and clearly, a guy I have to justify for is simply not worth it. I tell my friends the same BS all the time. The whole rant about independent women, you’re too good for him, he thinks flannel is the new black….and hello! If I just took my own advice I’d be a damn prophet! So my New Year’s resolution in July (because let’s face it – one resolution is NEVER enough) is to stop rationalizing for the various starving artists I fall for and drop them like they’re hot. Strength is the new black (because hello, unless you’re living in Seattle – flannel is NOT). Thus, the excuse “my phone died,” is no longer a valid form of date avoidance, and certainly not for the sole purpose that Mr. Clueless thinks it’s too late to make plans and is hoping you’ll just GPS yourself right over to his house instead of going through the hassle. Well let me tell you – I’d rather sit in 405 rush hour traffic in order to get to some g-d forsaken dive’s happy hour in lieu of making monsieur’s make-out wishes come true. So, in conclusion, things no longer on my list of things to do include being understanding for said lame excuses, in addition to deleting numbers like it’s going out of style. Queen was clearly before their time when they said “Another One Bites the Dust” – or maybe they were just dating in Hollyweird.

There are really great guys you date, and for whatever reason, things don’t work out. There are the monsieurs you manage to stay friends with after whatever dating debacle you happen to endure. Then there are the jerks you meet that have you wanting to bolt after you’ve said “hi.” Finally, the most mythical of the courting realm: the disappearing date. The one you meet, everything’s going rather swimmingly and then before you know it, you’re treading water by yourself again – back to square one, and searching for those other fish in the sea. So what gives? This black-magic born creature is incredibly suave, floating from conversation to kissing and back with the ease of some early-era born gent. He makes you feel at ease in the situation and just when you are completely satisfied with you first rate date performance, he completely vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing but a cell number. And clearly his phone is broken because he doesn’t ever return your messages and that can’t be right. So after you figure out that the cell phone provider is indeed the wrong target for all your frustrations, you find yourself back at square one, ready to go on another great date with some other fantastic variety of guy, and hoping that this one can’t hide behind various other forms of Cali camouflage. Or at least hoping that this time you won’t be eaten alive so easily. In fact, maybe this time, you’ll be the one to prey and play him. Evolution is a great thing, especially when it comes to dating Darwinism.

When living in Los Scandalous, one expects to receive invitations to fabulous events on a regular and somewhat tiring basis: Club openings, restaurant debuts, ex-boyfriend’s house warming with his new love? Sure, we’ll go with it. Recently, I found myself in such a predicament. So, for your convenience, here are some guidelines to polite protocol for just such a situation. Starting with the most basic, be nice to the new Mrs. Ex. I know you’re secretly hoping she accidentally chokes on some of the crudités she made for the occasion, but the polite thing to do, (should your wishes come true) would be to administer the Heimlich. I know strenuous activity wasn’t on your agenda, but you can’t get enough cardio, right? Furthermore, invisibility, contrary to popular belief, is not a super power of the new girlfriend – so acknowledge her! Compliment her on her new interior decorating career! Tell her it does look like Martha Stewart exploded in her home! Simply put, killing her with kindness is a less messy murder strategy (and blood doesn’t go with your outfit!).

Finally, after following the aforementioned Ex-etiquette, the final suggestion I have is to ignore her twiglet status and eat in front of the Ex and the new GF. Sure, she may be so thin that she disappears when turning sideways – but don’t let that optical illusion deter you from the dip! Guys love a girl that eats – so you’re being completely irritating to her with your calorie consumption – as well as reminding the Ex why it was super fun to date the former fling! Also, think of this as a nouveau networking opportunity! Hot guys travel in packs – so see what other options you have at the scandalous soiree! And with this So Cal heat wave, 31 Flavors has never sounded so good.