Michael Buble Smurf


I met a guy at a friend's party and he found me on facebook the next day so that he could ask me out.  He had recently received his PhD and was interested in going back to law school.  Now, I LOVE the smarties, and couldn't wait to pick this guy's brain so I readily accepted his offer to have some beers at a local brewery.  After it took him 45 minutes to get ready (I assured him I wasn't going to get pretty for him) he picked me up in his huge SUV (can we say overcompensation?) and opened the door for me where good ole Michael Buble pumped from his speakers.  Really now, I'm glad that you're in touch with your feminine side, but this juxtaposition of manly meets wussy was already too much to handle.  BUT I went with him for drinks... well, I should say I had two drinks, he had one.  He talked about himself more than he should and then explained that he wasn't going to have anymore to drink because he didn't want to drive under the influence.  Fair enough, but we were there for two hours.  I'm pretty sure he could have had another one.  But I'm almost an alcoholic, so I guess I can't blame him for being responsible.

We left the brewery and he was heading to my place to drop me off when he surprised me by wanting another drink.  "Some where in your neighborhood" he told me.  Now, some of you might think that this is a bit diabolical, but I assure you that I told MB Smurf exactly what he was getting into.  I took him to the local gay bar.  In fact, there are usually transvestites there as well.  It's a local watering hole with pool and karaoke and, of course, lots of people watching.  So yes, I told him where we were going and he agreed.  Throughout our adventure there he kept moving closer and closer to me as more men eyed Buble.  I think the thing that put him over the top though, was when the two trannies in nun habits with disco make-up on, came up to him with leather whips asking him if he'd been naughty or nice.  Now I thought this was hysterical, but he was ready to leave.  He was wrapped so tightly around me I practically had to carry him out.  And I did smile in some respects, because he did survive and was a good sport about it.  Not that this was enough to win back any points with me, but I had more respect for him.

He brought me back home and couldn't find parking by my apt, so he just left his car running in someone else's driveway as he walked me to my door... then into my apt... then tried to get hot and heavy with me... WHILE HIS CAR WAS RUNNING.  Boring.  I kindly declined and sent him back to that gas guzzler outside pumping out reinvented rat pack standards.

Moral of the story: Even if you put a guy through hell during a date with the intention of just making him squirm, he will still try and get you naked.  Perhaps my hints weren't subtle enough...


New York-scapades


We hit up NY to get away from the routine of life.  As we've been in the glorious city a few times, we decided to do the Tranny Hot Mess Tour on this visit.  Yes, I do mean that there were Trannies and thus oodles of gay men surrounding us throughout our adventures.  Without going into EVERY single detail, I will go through the high lights... think of it as Tranny Center instead of Sports Center.

-Got to do the walk of shame on the subway; alas from a gay man's apt, but she's still checking that one off her list.
-Sang for two hours straight at a karaoke bar- check!
-Got hand-me-down vintage from a friend.
-Fell over in a waist-deep wave, shame.
-Kissed a sparkling giant penis on the wall.

-Slept on a doorstep to the apt that she was locked out of.  "Hi Neighbors!"
-Bought Marc Jacobs purple amazingness.
-Had the best steak dinner ever!
-Watched in awe as two 70 year old men danced in their underwear to blasting David Guetta.

-Swapped phones so as not to be tempted to drunk text/dial.
-Went to gay Bingo, then saw a straight man from Wall St strip at the same bar.
-Danced all night at an underwear party with thongs on, at a gay bar, and STILL managed to get felt up.
-Walked 60 blocks consecutively and then had some straight (shocking) men buy them drinks.
-Went to Fire Island, the Cherry Grove side of existence, but avoided the meat rack.
-Drank every type of liquor possible in one night: beer, wine, cider, champagne, sambucca, jack daniels, vodka, jager, port... after that we lost count.
-Saw the wondrous Porsche in all her chanteuse glory.
-Ate at the most tickity tack cafe decorated with fezes and red lighting.
-Took the following types of transport in 4 days: Airplane, Train, Taxi, Subway, Car, Ferry, Speedboat
-Saw a tragic woman from Long Island in a magenta fringe bikini trying to start a conga line at a gay pool; apparently even that's too gay for Fire Island.


All Smurfed Out at Coachella


Our story here isn't so much about individual smurfs, but about being smurfy in general.  This is a photo of us at our favorite musical event in SoCal.  Here you'll see our hand crafted rompers along with matching fannypacks.  Don't judge, just let the jealousy flow.  Our adventure began with costuming ideas, which we will address in another blog, and ended with an empty polo field.  For those of you unaware, Coachella is a 3 day music festival in the desert.  Yes, that means 100+ degrees F but also a lot of diehard music fans.  We set out and bought our 3-day pass along with the other necessary, um, items to take along to such an event.  We bought our camp space and gathered our things, only to realize that we had way more space than we actually needed.  Hanna's lightbulb went off and decided that it would be fun to share the campsite.  A few posts on Facebook and we had a nice little crew of friends who we would be sharing the weekend with.  This, my friends, is the definition of smufy- sharing the adventure with others and taking a chance that we might all have more in common than we realize in this relatively small world. 

Smurfs in Power


Ok, this is going to be a bit of a rant, but wtf is up with men who are my superiors and are ALREADY married or in a relationship  hitting on me?  I don't know if it's the chase or the thrill of the hunt, but these shennanigans have got to stop.  Your world exists with one woman in it, and as this isn't Utah, I suggest you keep with that one.  If you're done with her, do yourselves both a favor and be and man and END the relationship with her instead if incessantly looking like and idiot to those around you.  You should not be confiding in me all the things that are unsatisfactory about your current relationship, and you definitely shouldn't be telling me how hot I am after every sip of beer you take.  Thanks for nothing, jackass.  Let me fill you in on a few things:

A) I look better because I'm being sympathetic and giving you attention
B) BECAUSE I don't see you as an option or a threat
C) BECAUSE I don't like you and know you're in a relationship
D) AND BECAUSE you're my BOSS.

That's the end of the story.  Stop trying to flex your power over me because you think that chicks dig men with power. You're right, we totally do love men with power who respect their job and their partners.


Wussie Smurf and Dentist Smurf

I was at a local watering hole with my good friend Smurfette, when two
smurfs approached us. They appeared to be on the average side: middle
aged, average looks and personality, and one was a dentist... at least I
thought they were average. After chatting about nothing for a while, I slipped away to go to the bathroom, when another smurf started to chat me up. He
was a massage therapist, but hopefully he had a day job. Let’s just
say Clay Aiken would have had a firmer kung fu grip. 
“How does that feel?” Wussie Smurf asked. 
“I don’t feel anything,” I yawned. Another pointless conversation, but I do think I blew his mind when I told him I had 6 types of oil in my kitchen alone: canola, olive, sesame seed, almond, grapeseed, and truffle... alas, no massage oil. I
digress. I was trying to figure out how to get out of this slick situation when I  received a text from Smurfette telling me she was outside ready to go. When I got out there she showed me one of the greatest texts of all time. I cannot describe it, I won’t try. Just enjoy this real life text: 
this is one of the songs I wrote recently. Tell Barbara to drop that
looser and hang with us. 
Dork Mofucka Dentist: 
My name is DMD
 That's a dental degree
 when it comes to rhymes and you read the facts
 i'm better than that motherfucker dmx
 Even in the webster under "rapper"
 in the alfabet
i'm before that gangster. 

 You think he is tough cuz he has ho's,
 slangs dope, shoots guns and all,
 Shit I'm dealing with drugs like tylenol.
 Using my special skills, 
I can make my own grills, 
They are not just cool and not just charmin', 
They even have perfect margin. 
Florida got a mouthful of cavities, 
Cuz his grill was done by a bunch of nobodies. 
Now he is calling me to fix his smile, 
Cuz he has an overbite over a mile. 
I just pimped up my baby's smile, 
She was hot before now she is off the dial. 
When she walks down the street and smiles, 
She distracts all the drivers. 
Constant honking and that is no lie, 
She has to wear earphones just to get by, 
And guess who she listens to without no end, 
Her motherfucker dentist boyfriend.

The answer to your question is yes...Yes I did rap this out loud on the street, and yes I did dance along.
Note to smurfs: if you’re trying to impress a chick, write a rap about your occupation. 20% of the time it works every time.


Pantera Smurf, Magician Smurf and watermelon


It had been a long day for the sisters by 4pm.  Our hangovers were just now subsiding and it was time to get out and enjoy the overcast day.  We started out with a lovely little wine bar, and not feeling particularly inspired as to what to do on the 4th of July, we bought some gelato and did a walk around the block.  We came upon a hotel with a rooftop bar and decided that it would be as good a place as any to watch some exploding gunpowder.  We found an empty cabana, grabbed a few beers and sat down.  Let me clarify, the table in front of us was not empty, it contained a bowl of watermelon slices and a bowl of half-eaten cookies.

"How much you wanna bet this is gonna be eaten before the end of the night?" asked Barbara.
"Oh, someone will definitely get drunk enough to eat it, that's a non-issue," yawned Hanna.
"But, which ONE will be eaten first?  The delicious, untouched watermelon?! Eh?  OR the chunky chocolate chip cookies with bites taken out of them?"
"I'm gonna have to go with the watermelon."
"We'll see."

Just then a few guys in oversized sweatshirts smiled sheepishly and brought over a pink colored drink which they offered to Barbara.  Now, we don't expect that men buy us drinks, even though it is a very nice gesture.  HOWEVER, when there are just two girls sitting together and it's still light outside, I think it's pretty obvious that you buy both girls a drink!  Anyhow, one particular guy was extremely shy but totally mesmerized by Barbara.  He would not leave her alone and what was worse was that she was actually entertaining his flacid personality.  "I'm waiting for him to come out of his shell.  I keep asking him questions and he only agrees with what I say."  There was nothing outside of "I've been abducted by aliens" that could have made this guy interesting.  And when we finally asked him what his favorite band is, he not only couldn't come up with one, but when we asked for the top 3 the first word out of his mouth was "Pantera".  Boring.  Now I totally understand why you're wearing a huge blue hoodie and outdated jeans, because you're still living in the 90's.  However, Barbara was still giving this loser the benefit of the doubt.  Hanna's the only one who's heartless.

Speaking of which, she was sitting off to one side of the cabana now not drinking for fear of falling asleep.  She was greeted by another man who was very into himself, despite being a friend of Pantera.  Come on guys, when you rock out with a loser it doesn't speak very highly of the rest of the crew, especially when they're the first one to hit on a girl outside your group.  Let the charismatic ones make connections, then let the others be wingmen.  That's the evolutionary order of things.  So this guy decides to chat up Hanna who indulges him because it's more entertaining than falling asleep.  Now, sarcasm is Hanna's MO, so she really puts this guy through the ringer and he does surprisingly well.  She asks him what he does for a living (yes, that is an acceptable question) and he leans over and tells her, straight-faced with a twinkle in his eye "I do MAGIC".  Really?!  Barbara leans over and asks with a smirk on her face, "Do you have one of those t-shirts that says you're HUGE in Japan?" To which Magician smurf replies matter-of-factly, "I don't need one because it's true."

At this precise moment, as Pantera smurf has been left unattended for a mere 5 seconds, he leans over and takes a cookie from the table and offers it to his other friends and proceeds to take a bite out of it.

"You win!" whispers Hanna.  "Can we please go now?  We got the lamest guy eating herpies infested cookies over here and then the magician who I'm sure could conjure up some roofies if we stay around here long enough."
"Yes, but how do we escape?"
"Fireworks are starting, but they block our exit.  There has to be a fire exit around here somewhere.  You go to the bathroom over there and if you don't come back in 30 seconds I'm leaving too."

So Barbara left, soon followed by Hanna who was almost intercepted by Pantera.  She did a swim move though, and skipped away down the fire escape.  When she reached the bottom she didn't see Barbara but received a text- "Karma's a bitch.  I slipped down the staircase and my leg got caught under me and my heel got caught in my underwear."  Yes Barbara, Karma is a bitch.


Genie Smurf, Smurf Mayor, and Tannest Smurf

As this is the first post, I will explain the platform: We are not here to make men look stupid, they usually do a pretty good job of that on their own.  We are actually appreciators of men, and we enjoy the abundant variety- tall, dark, handsome; short, red, awkward; straight; gay; successful; loser... they can all provide some sort of entertainment.  We will not throw anyone under the bus by revealing his real name so instead we will use smurf references for easy understanding.  That way you can keep up with the times we will undoubtedly accidentally run into the same smurf, as I did last night.  Oh, and for the first few posts we will need to catch you up to the chaotic karma that is our life, so bear with us.


I left work after a bit of a slow night and walked with another smurfette to the local drinking hole.  No sooner had we started on our way when an older gentleman followed us, walking at an excellerated pace to catch up to our speedy gait.  He reeked of booze and spoke in a thick accent, asking where we were headed and what we were up to.  He told me that he was known all through our local area, to which I replied, "you must be very popular" and he agreed. Even old men can be tools.  He then begged me to guess what he did for a living.  As we were in a part of town rife with restaurants and bars, I suspected he sold meat or booze.  Wrong.  He told me to "think outside my American box" so I guessed that he sold obscure animals to the zoo.  Wrong again.  He bored us, but luckily we had arrived at the busy bar and could plan our escape.  Wrong AGAIN.  Now some of you are thinking, "he's just a drunk old man, tell him to piss off" and I should have but I couldn't when he wasn't being rude, just annoying.  After we got our first bucket of delicious depressants he proceeded to tell me that he could grant wishes.  Damn!  A Genie!  I should have asked for a million bucks in retrospect, but then again, I had just started drinking and I wasn't on any hallucinogenic drugs so naturally I wasn't biting.

I made a comment on an innocent bystander's spectacles, and he was quick to pick up on my genie dilemma.  He looked as you would expect Where's Waldo to look after a business meeting and he attempted to step in and save me but to no avail.  So his move was to start sharing blatantly all the things he was going to do to me when he "took me home to bone".  Really?  Grown men in pleated pants still say bone?  I suggested that perhaps I know what he does before we go back to his place, and he told me he was an entrepreneur and that he was mayor of our little neighborhood of restaurants.  Wow, a Genie and the Mayor in one night!?  It must have been a full moon.  He assured me that the right amount of money would buy you into any mayor seat (of that I have no doubt) and then wandered off with his enormously tall friend.  Rude!  At least I could have checked Government Official off my list of people to bone... then again...

The third man to attempt to hit on us was unbelievably tan.  We're talking worse than Magda on 'There's Something About Mary'.  And if you're wondering, yes, his hair gel was offensive too.  He tried twice to chat us up, and on both occasions I confronted him about his possible addiction to sunlight and suggested he go on celebrity rehab with Dr. Drew.  He was overshadowed only by another guy who seemed to be promoting my porcelain-ly challenged friend as a rockstar.  Who cares?  This guy proceeded to tell us that we were both beautiful. Thanks. And that he would buy us a drink if we could spell his name correctly.  What's with all the F$@%ing guessing games at 1am?  But in this case the joke was on Rumplestiltskin Smurf... he'd hit on me two weeks prior.  Same lines, same challenge.  Boring.  Lucky for me, I did not have to remind him of this as last call was made at the bar, and smurfette and I made our escape.