How to Spot a Stud

V day is only days away. For some this means a night out on the town complete with roses and fine wine, for others it is a night at the movie with girlfriends and a few angry cocktails with extra olives. For others, it is a mad dash to grab a date in time for the big day.

So here are some scientifically proven signs that a fellow is interested:

a. smiling with eye contact--eye contact that lasts almost three seconds, but no more, then it is just creepy.
b. showing off pecks, puffing out chest, just like the birds on animal planet do.
c. "accidental" touching of potential partner...ooh no, you have some lint on your boob, let me get that for you!
d. genuine compliments.

A male with not totally initiate, they do need some indication from a female, so don't be afraid to give it a go.

For those looking for a lady, the tell-tale signs are as follows:
a. darting glances, averting eyes.
b. "accidental" touching...oh you spilled a little soup on your pants, let me clean that up for you!
c. touching face, giggling.
d. genuine compliments.

Now, hopefully you can have everything you want this v-day, and if not, you can at least have some laughs with your friends watching the rest of the bar crowd play the games of courtship.

Netflix Guilt

So I'm not a Jew, so the whole guilt thing isn't really my shtick, but I was recently informed of a little thing called "Nextflix Guilt."
And boy oh boy, am I guilty.

Netflix Guilt is said to be when one hangs on to a movie that has arrived from their cue, but for some reason cannot find it in themselves to watch it. For my boyfriend, it was Benjamin Button, and the excuses were endless. For me, it is currently Grey Gardens. It arrived on the 30th of December and sits quietly in its little white sleeve, just waiting. Its not like I don't have the time, I am currently watching St. Elmos Fire just to see Rob Lowe's earring, so if I've got time for man jewelry, I've got time more Grey Gardens.

I find the same problem on my instant cue. Nearly 200 movies that I have identified as wanted to watch for some reason or another, but every time I open the cue, I cannot find it in myself to watch them.

Why dear Netflix must you torture me so?

The Perfect Boot

Six minutes into the new day, and it's already got me down. Maybe it is because this week's Housewives reminded me that Rita is dead and Dexter will be a single dad serial killer. Or maybe this week's Brothers & Sisters reminded me that Rob Lowe still thinks he is better than every successful show he does. Maybe its the Oscar noms all going to Inglorious Bastards, or maybe it is because Howard Zinn is dead. It is probably just because I have to be up in six hours and I'm to bummed out to sleep.

So the one thing that always makes me feel better? Other than narcotics or a rum and dc?
The perfect cowboy boot.

And how, you might as does one identify the PERFECT cowboy boot?

M-Material. The best boot is ALWAYS real leather. Don't let the fake stuff fool you.
It may look good, but does it smell like leather?

A-Attention to detail. Is the sole actually stitched and made by hand,
or is faked with plastic?

G-Gut feeling. Do they make the butterflies flutter in your tummy?

I-Instep. Fit should really come after all of these others.
Why bother trying them on if they don't make the cut?

C-Cost. Don't think that wonderful shoes should cost an arm and a leg. My favorite boots were a mere $30.





Love the photos? Get them here.
Love the boots? Get them here.

The Wrath of Bobbi

Ok kids. Bobbi ain't pleased. Granted yesterday I spend the day photographing nearly sixty pairs of cowboy boots---yes orgasmic, I know, Today I put on my brand new western lace-ups--a miraculous deep eggplant, and I'm pretty sure I invented the phrase "putting on the wrong side of the shoe." Because I know for a fact that when I woke I was indeed on the proper side of the bed.

I spend the day toiling over a Mad Men esque party dress for a heftier lady. Don't get me wrong, She is a sexy beast, but I'm much better at making clothes for ladies with no boobs, no tummy, and no butt. After so serious meltdowns I decided to throw in the towel and start draping a kimono bathing suit for the chick. Apparently our director thinks it is wrong for fat girls to wear bathing suits that would not comply to Amish dress code.

So now I'm a little pissed, and I'm pretty sure my bathing kimono is pretty ugly, but I just don't give a damn, so I come home to a phone conversation ending in the rape of my checking account by the good people at CHASE, a sore wrist, and a nagging pain at the back of my skull telling me I gotta figure out my life, because it cannot be spent making garments to cover up women who aren't ashamed of what their momma gave them.

And if that isn't bad enough, 97% of Flixter users are excited for Wall Street 2. Seriously? At least it beat out the next Twilight by 2%. 2 fucking percent.