LIOHI Takes the Cosmo Quiz!

"Mail Sack Vlog: Part One" or "A Spoo's Guide to Bodily Fluid Placement"

"Oscar Fashion - Loves it Or Hates It" or "How to look like a radish rosette without really trying" by Nicole

You know it's a disappointing night on the red carpet when your fave dress is worn by one of the male nominees' wives. That said, this frosting-colored grecian number can TALK TA ME! Perfectly executed, by the way, as well. Minimal jewlelry and a sparkling clutch. Well done, host of Shear Genius, well done.

Oh wait, that's Matthew McConaughey's wife. Oh well. Still lovesin' the crap out of this dress.

The HATES ITs

Thank you, Vera Farmiga, for inspiring the title of this blog. That said, what the Farmiga were you thinking? The color is gorge, but the oddly-situated ruffles are reminiscent of a garnish we once saw on our plate of fish tacos at The Cheesecake Factory. It also reminds us of that fluffy gray creation Chloe Sevigny wore to the Globes. PS - we hated THAT dress, too.

Dear Faith Hill - we understand that "a Mississippi girl don't change her ways"...but we kinda wish she would. You look like a Saloon girl from an old Western town. The one standing around, fanning herself, while all the hot Saloon girls get the business in the back room.

Jennifer Lopez and Demi Moore - I'm so glad these two were photographed together. It saved me room in my "Oscars - Hates It" file for more pictures. J-Lo, please add "dresses made of lilac bubble wrap" to your list of things NEVER to do again. Right next to "Sing live on SNL" and "marry a waiter".

Demi - I'm trying to explain, in a non-vulgar way, that this dress looks like it was sewn from the extra skin lying around the office of Dr. 90210. I don't think it worked. Sick ass. Love the chunky, matchy-matchy shoes, though. That David's Bridal sure can dye the shit out of a satin platform.

Kate Winslet - you know those separates that just work together so well, you'd SWEAR it was an elegant evening gown??? Yeah, we don't either.

Sarah Jessica Parker - this dress was a bigger disappointment that Season 5 of SATC. I really liked it sitting down...from far away...not in HD. That said, you are still a fashion goddess in my eyes, and I am going to pretend that you had something WAY better picked out, but then James Wilkie drew on it with Sharpie and the twins threw up on the train. You had no choice. (...Please tell us you had no choice)

Zoe Saldana - this dress is beautiful. Kind of like how childbirth is beautiful. Oh, the humanity! I kind of want to hang her from a tree and whack her with a stick until Smarties fall out. Abrupt dip dye...and is that a SLIT?!? I need to sit down.

The LOVES ITs

Nicole Richie - There are very few 80 lb. four-foot waifs who could pull off this much of a dress, and most of them are gay men. Bravo, Ms. Richie for having the panache of a drag queen necessary to make this dress a winner. It's very "Bianca Jagger walk of shame"...in a good way!

Diane Cruger - Homegirl Loves herself some Chanel. Not that I can blame her. This dress definitely had its share of haters, but I'm rushing to its defense. LOVE the black details popping against the french vanilla crepe paper folds of the bodice and hem. And the center section, with the crimped-ruffle detail...well, let's just say it's a good thing this bitch doesn't eat solids. Another stunner from that bitchy gay, Karl Lagerfeld, that makes us want to have wine for dinner.

Shut your mouth, Molly Ringwald! I love this dress! Granted, I'd like to bust out my seam ripper and remove that art-noveau bit at the waist, and replace that cuff with a yellow-diamond bangle...but a hot dress nonetheless. It almost makes me forget about the droopy Laura Ashley florals from days of yore. ...Almost.

All in all, WAY more hates it than loves it. But hey, I got a blog out of it.

C'est la vie.

"LIOHI Fashion Poll" or "Can white guys pull off cream suits?" by Tregg

I recently got a new job where I have to wear suits Monday - Friday. I had one sick ass suit in my closet from college that I absolutely abhor. It was a time well before Justin Timberlake brought SexyBack. I've had this suit tailored once, and I still swim in it. If I didn't love the actual suit itself, I would have trashed this bitch a long time ago.

Naturally, I spent the past few weeks suit shopping, looking for good deals, planning for future purchases, etc. This is when I stumbled into Express to see what kind of suits they have.

I stumbled upon this:

Now, don't get me wrong. This is not an every day suit. This is probably not even a winter suit. But, I tried it on and I loves it.

Feel free to give me your knee-jerk reactions to this. But please keep in mind, I live in California, the weather is mostly nice, and I'm fairly dark complected with dark brown hair. Just think about it.

"Wow, that Navid's girlfriend is such a skank" or "WHAT THE HELL AM I WATCHING??" by Nicole

I think I might like bad TV.

I'm seeing the alternatives flash before me on the cable guide.

Bones. The Biggest Loser. The Office. Ace of Cakes.

As I sit there, scraping the inside of a greek yogurt container (maybe with my finger - whatever) I marvel at all the options that lie before me. Some nominated for Emmys and Golden Globes. Some, even winners.

Who is my winner? Friggin' 90210 The New Class. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not even invested in these characters - I've missed like 30 episodes! I don't even like their names! Silver? Who's named Silver? (Yes I know, it's her last name. Don't interrupt.)

The story is ludicrous and the acting is - ooooooooh - I wonder where she got that top...

And there it is. The clothes. I watch these stupid goddamn shows because the clothes are cute. I am officially shallow.

But hey, at least I'm self aware.

Gucci, Chanel, Louboutin, that's how they get us! That's how 90210 and Melrose Place and The City and those damn Kardashians trick us into watching their stupid shows. I know it! They're manipulators, all of them!

But not Gossip Girl. That show is brilliant.

"Two Girls, One Face" or "Someone's Publicist Needs Fired For Approving These Photos" by Tregg

On your left, a promotional photo of a certain pop star on the inside booklet of her latest CD.

On your right, a still frame of a teen dramedy star in a commercial for Tuesday night's episode.

Britney, meet Jessica Lowndes. And vice versa.

Seriously people, my headshots from when I tried to do modeling at 16 years old were better. And I was wearing a lot of makeup for those pictures because I hadn't started taking Accutane yet.

"Oh, no she DIDN'T" or "Peg Bundy called, she thinks you look sick ass" by Tregg

Now, I've taken issue with this whole campaign from the jump off.  I've politely kept my mouth shut.  But now, my journalistic injunction is being involuntarily lifted by the code of conduct I hold for myself.  After all, I was voted Best Dressed Class of 2002 at Vermilion High School.

Britney Spears, while she has been through the ringer in the past few years (don't get me started) was once Donatella Versace's muse.  She's now doing a Candie's campaign.  For Kohl's?

Oh, hell no.

Furthermore, they decided to stick her in this banded, faux leopard--which is probably made of velvet, sick ass--jacket with leater--read:  pleather--piping.   I don't know what era that is from, but it is certainly not from 2009.  

But more importantly, I find it hysterical that Britney cannot even muster a hot face for this picture.  You know there were about 500 shots in this outfit to get a good look, and we get THIS.   Bitch knows this outfit is trash, and can't fake it.

For that, I salute you, Britney Spears.  Now go wipe some fried chicken grease on this coat and get a frappucino.

“Fash-Inspiration Du Jour: Rick James” or “How To Manage Adult ADD Without Really Trying” by Nicole

There are some things in this life one should dare not try to explain. Of course, there are people out there who refuse to leave things to the imagination…but I digress. For whatever reason, as of late, wearing a giant silver ring on every finger suddenly sounded like a fantastic idea.

I am now, and have always been, a creature of impulse. I didn’t even realize I had an impulsive personality until I met my friend, T (not Tregg). T possesses just about the most irrational and immediate behavior pattern I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. She acts quickly, whole-heartedly, and often without consideration of the alternatives.

…It’s like looking in a friggin’ mirror.

Luckily, I’ve managed to harness my impulsivity (read: raging ADD) in the workplace, but not in my personal life. And CERTAINLY not in my relationship with clothes (See post featuring Lady Gaga, below). In that aspect of my life, possessing the emotional restraint of a bunny rabbit has leant itself to a series of phases: there was The “I’m Only Going to Wear Dark Denim” Phase, The “No Outfit is Complete without a Cardigan” Phase, and, most recently The “One Can Never Have Too Much Black Sequins in Their Life” Phase.

In an attempt to exhibit some semblance of growth in my almost-mid-twenties, I’ve been making a concerted effort to act more shrewdly and cerebrally. But, there’s something about a naked left hand that I can no longer abide. I have no rationale to go on except that once your hair is long (like mine – thanks, you guys!), chandelier earrings can’t really be appreciated, and necklaces make me want to scratch my neck all day – and then hang myself.

Thus begins the “Silver ring on every finger RIP Rick James” phase.

…I give it a week.

"The Power of Parental Suggestion" by Tregg

This weekend my mom was in town helping me move to a new apartment. I love her dearly and knew her help would be invaluable. Because let's face it, if this blog didn't hate monotony, "Moving" would be the Sick Ass of The Week, every week.

Of course, the blessing of a parent's visit is that they'll buy you stuff. Food, maybe some clothes or a tank of gas. But when you're moving and a parent visits, you can expect a lot more. Or at least if you're parents aren't tightwads.

So on her last day, my mom and I find ourselves at Target. Yes, Angelenos, that Target on La Brea and Santa Monica. As usual, even at 8:30, it was overrun with people. I would never go there that late without the deadline of my mealticket's, I mean mother's, departure to her home state looming within hours. Why would you run to Target on a Monday night? And why would you run there to get batteries and chocolate like the couple in front of me? Oh...

My mom knows a lot more about setting up a home to me, so bascially our shopping trip proved to be a lot of "Tregg, do you need _____?" "Sure, mom."

This is where the guilt comes in. I was trying to not be frivolous, but every time she suggested something, I realized how great it would be to buy that now rather than wait and get it later.

For example, shower cleaner. I definitely needed it, but sometimes I feel it is an unnecessary purchase since one only cleans his shower every so often. I can save some money by not buying that, right?

"Do you need some body wash?"
"...yes."

"How about fabric softener?"
"Yes"

"Distilled water for your iron?"
You guessed it, "Yes."

I feel like my mom could have sold me a broken VCR that night. I was powerless to say no to her, partly because she was right, and partly because I felt she'd be hurt if I said I didn't need something she suggested.

"Oh, look at this new laundry detergent scent."
"Mom, I don't need that."
"Why, you ungrateful little bastard!"

Or at least that's how I imagined it would go.

The moral of this story is, your mother is always right and knows everything. Listen to her advice. And she should probably sell real estate in this poor economy. I'd buy a condo from her.

"A Sequins of Events" by Nicole

While perusing my closet this morning, in an attempt to find something sensible to wear on this rainy workday, I started to think about how our clothes reflect our lives.

Take my closet for instance - if a casual, non-objective observer were to look through my wardrobe, I am certain the picture they formed in their head of the wearer wouldn't look at all like me. In fact, it would probably resemble someone like this:

Sadly, I am not Lady Gaga. My life doesn't resemble hers at all. I have a full time desk job, and my nights are spent either at the gym, watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians reuruns, or thrift shopping (most recent score - a $5 vintage Dior jacket...thanks, you guys!).

So why, you ask, do I own a sequin bolero? I don't know.

The leather pants? Can't help ya.

Lace gloves? Patent leggings? Fur capelet? ...Who the hell knows.

It may be that, in my head, I yearn for Gaga's beautiful-dirty-rich lifestyle - or at least I want to dress like I do.

All I know is that, when it comes to my closet, Gaga would loves it and PETA would hates it....and maybe that's enough for now.

...Oh, give me a break, it's vintage. The animal would be dead by now, anyway.*

*Disclaimer: when it comes to animal cruelty...we hates it. No furry little bitches were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Loves it - "When ELLE freezes over", by Nicole

Hi. I'm Nicole. And I'm a fashion magazine addict.

"Hi, Nicole."

It started, innocently enough, back in the 90s, with a subscription my Nana purchased for me as a way of helping me with my "sell a bunch of magazines and get a 5 pound Hershey Bar" school fundraiser.

The now defunct Sassy Magazine turned out to be my gateweay drug into a world of glossy materialism. Others followed. Seventeen. YM. Teen. Teen Prom. Your Prom. Your Teen Prom. ...I was hooked.

My addiction has been a significant presence in my life for 15 years. Some loathe it, some enable it, few understand it. I loves it.

But, lately, with the economy floundering along with impulse shopping and careless spending, I've really been trying to turn over a new leaf.

"One a month. One magazine a month is all I **gulp** need."

After all, at $3.99 a whack (even more for the spring and fall issues!), that gloss don't come cheap.

So, with a wallet free of funds and a heart full of determination, I wandered into Barnes & Noble to begin a new tradition: I would pick up every new fashion mag in the joint, grab a comfy chair, and thumb through each until I had found my one monthly purchase.

Then it happened. Usually one of the most annoying occurances known to (wo)man, and certainly THE most annoying when you're trying to read a magazine on the elliptical machine; one of those god-damned cardboard subscription thingies fell onto the floor.

"%$#&#*$^#$@&!!!!!!."

I picked it up and, while I moved to annoyedly shove it back into it's appropriate spot, I read:

"LOWEST PRICES EVER. THIS OFFER WILL NOT BE REPEATED. TWO YEARS (THAT'S 24 MONTHS) OF MARIE CLAIRE FOR $10!"

This couldn't be real. This had to be one of those hallucinations that people have when they're crossing the desert on a mule or something. I investigated further.

"SUBSCRIBE TO ELLE NOW. GET 12 ISSUES FOR $10! THAT'S 80% OFF THE COVER PRICE!"

"GLAMOUR AND LUCKY! ONE FULL YEAR OF BOTH FOR ONLY $15. NICOLE, IF YOU DON'T FILL OUT THIS CARD RIGHT NOW AND TOSS IT INTO THE MAIL YOU ARE A RETARD!"

The universe was clearly sending me a message. I had spent the last 15 years shelling out...let's see...an average of three mags a month times roughly $4 each times twelve months equals...A SHITLOAD OF MONEY! ($144 - gross.)

I am happy to say that I will never again purchase a magazine at the newsstand price...well, not counting those People Style Watch special editions...those things are hot ass. Instead, I am making a huge step for myself, and maybe one for womankind. I am now the proud owner/recipient of four subscriptions totaling only $35. That's about equal to the cost of 8.5 checkout-line issues!

Instead of hates-ing on my past glossy financial blunders, I decided to move forward, think positively, and continue to act like a responsible, almost mid-twenties recessionista and put the rest of the money that I would have spent this year into my savings account.

How hot ass is that?

Review: "The Fashion Show" by Nicole

OK, I'm not going to lie, I kind of wanted to hates this show. Tregg and I have been Proj Run groupies since Austin Scarlett's corn husk dress. I mean what's not to love? Between "What happened to Andre? and "It's a motherfuckin' walk-off", PR is a gold mine for quotes alone! I may never recover from the devastating loss that occured when Bravo (cooler than E!, gayer than LOGO) lost PR to sick ass Lifetime...with their Reba and their Dean Cain movies. Hates it.

That said, even though it won't be shown on my fave network, I felt it would be wrong to turn my back on the dynamic duo of Klum and Kors...not to mention that adorable I-want-you-to-come-live-with-me-and-be-my-gay-houseboy Tim Gunn.

Allegiance be damned, I tuned in to The Fashion Show last night at ten because - well, frankly, PR doesn't start till fall and I was up watching a Millionaire Matchmaker marathon anyway so, why not, right? I mean, come on, a girl can only go so long without watching a bunch of gays run around a fabric store with twelve dollars trying to find material to make brocade hot pants - am I right?

Verdict - LOVES'd IT!!!! This show was a hoot and a half. If for no other reason, you should tune in to admire gay-as-a-picnic-basket Merlin's extensive hat collection. I still don't quite get why Kelly Rowland is co-hosting, or why she is any kind of authority on fashion... I just keep hoping she'll start working lines from Destiny's Child songs into her comments on the designers' projects.

"OOh, child. If I wore that bolero, you can bet all the boys would Say My Name."
"That Bandage Skirt is too tight to be practical. How am I supposed to run to the bank to pay my Bills, Bills, Bills in that thing?"

Here's hoping. OH! The funniest thing of all - Bravo kept their sponsors! Oh, really Lifetime? You thought you were gonna get Tresemme? We think not!

I can hear Tim Gunn now. "Designers, I'm sending in your models. You are to send them to the Mane & Tail hair salon..."

Delish.

Is It Just Us...?

Or does this picture look just a smidge familiar...

We wonder if they have Kiddie Spinning Classes at Promises?

Good luck, anyway, Lila.

"I'd like to phone a friend." or "On the fence about another Black Eyed Peas song" by Tregg

Why does this always happen to me?  It's been years and years, and yet, when confronted with this situation, my reaction is always the same.  Confusion.  Indifference.  Negativity.  Resistance.  

But every time the final conclusion is inevitable.  I fuckin' loves it.

Such is the case with the latest offering from the Black Eyed Peas.  Boom Boom Pow.  I am still in the middle of my see-saw of emotions toward this song, and I am having an incredible case of deja vu akin to the days of "My Humps" back in 2005.  I hated that song.  The video was trash, and I had the sinking suspicion that "lovely lady lumps" would become part of pop culture vernacular.  The idea of this song becoming a mainstay at parties and on my iPod was too much.

But eventually it wore me down.  I found myself paying for the electronic jukebox at McMurray's at Wittenberg to play the song NOW.  I would pay the extra 50 cents to trump the next bad rap song some townie would play.  Play "My Humps" NOW!

How could the Black Eyed Peas do this to me?  I'm never usually a fan of kitschy music.  Gimmicky songs never do it for me.  I have loathed everything Sean Kingston has subjected me to.  But the Peas, man, will get me every time.

So I write this blog to help sort out my feelings, but I'm coming to realize while I may not be there yet, I will be soon.  I am going to love "Boom Boom Pow."  It's only a matter of time.

"Tell me about it, stud!" by Nicole

Lately, I've been considering making a certain...investment. Considered retro by some and pathetic by others, I've been pondering it for quite some time. Recently, I opened up to a good friend, looking for reassurance, a second opinion, anything(!) to help me feel...well...here's what happened:

Nicole: "Spoo, I want to buy a Bedazzler."

Tregg: "Spoo, you crazy. HAHA."

Nicole: "I want to stud all my clothes."

Tregg: "I want someone to stud ME."

OK, not the reaction I was hoping for. But, COME ON! What better way, in these recession-astic times to save some cash? Instead of spending money on the overpriced rocker-ish clothes dominating the stores, I could just Bedazzle the SHIT out of the ones I've already got!

I wonder how difficult it is to drive studs through a leather boot, anyways.

A Bedazzler runs about $19 on Ebay. You think they'll throw in 500 square silver studs for free? I'm working on it.

"Listen to me!!" or "Why I hate old people." by Tregg

Besides from the obvious cons of aging, today at Starbucks I was reminded of another reason why I dread getting older.

Two people in front of me in line was an old woman.  She didn't look like the sweet, demure grandma-type.  She was more the "I'll smack you with my cane" type.  I watched patiently as the following scene unfolded:

Old woman:  "I'll have a green tea."

Barista:  "Do you mean a green tea latte, or an iced green tea?"

Old woman:  "From the pitcher, a green tea."

Barista:  "Ok, do you want it sweetened or just add some water to it?"

Old woman:  "Five iced cubes, green tea."

Barista:  "What size would you like"

*Old woman fumbles with her hands, trying to mimic the shape she wants."

Barista:  "Tall, grande, or venti?"

Old woman:  "Grande."

Barista:  "Ok, that's one iced green tea, grande."

Old woman:  "LISTEN TO ME!  *claps her hands together* I want a green tea, five iced cubes, from the pitcher."

Barista:  "Ok, ma'am.  Is that all?"

*she gets her drink*

Old woman:  "Is this a grande?!?!"

Granted, I paraphrased this, but suffice it to say that the woman couldn't accurately explain her order, and the barista was being as understanding as a saint in trying to listen.  I continue to think that Starbucks baristas are the most patient and pleasant employees on the planet, and this further proves it.

When I got up to the cashier, the barista apologized to me for the wait.  I told him he did a great job handling her, and he had told me that's the third time in two weeks she has yelled at him.

I know she may have been losing her mental acuity, and Starbucks isn't exactly the easiest place to place an order, but I still don't know why old people get off on thinking they can act as rude as they want to people who are being perfectly nice to them when they don't immediately get their way.  The sense of entitlement that so many people get when they tip the age scales over 60-65 really annoys me.  Don't they realize soon they will need to be taken care of by their much younger family members?  I will be much more inclined to spring for a swanky retirement home if my parents don't act like angry bags of skin.

I mean, I love my parents.  Definitely no Shady Pines for them.

"Actually, I could wait to see you again." -by Tregg

Let me explain.

I was looking up a picture for this blog on Google Images (I'll wait patiently for my product placement fee).  I was hoping to find a nice and perhaps slutty picture of Miley Cyrus to go with the headline.  Well, friends, this is one of the pictures that came up.

WHAT??!!

Wow, Ruben Studdard has really let himself go.

Ok, now onto business.

Semi-recently, I was on AIM and saw a friend online, and I wanted to say hello.  I clicked on there name and typed the simple three-letter word:  "hey."

Oops.

I accidentally clicked on the screen name BELOW the person I meant to contact.  Now, instead of saying "hey" to someone I saw a few days ago, I accidentally initiated conversation with someone who was in my advanced trigonometry class senior year of high school.

"Remember that time we made funny graphs on our TI-83s?"

With Lady Luck never being on my side, this person was not "away" and was probably right in front of the computer and saw my message pop up.  While we have no dark clouds over our past to make for an odd conversation, I was still hoping said person was watching porn or some other consuming activity that would keep me from having to come up with more idle chatter to follow up my random "hey."

He did reply, and I think I tossed in such cliches and self-confessed cringe-worthy conversation techniques such as "long time no chat" and "how's Ohio treating you?  Oh, sounds fun."  Luckily, we both bored ourselves in Guiness-record speed that this conversation did not last long.

Now I'll add "People I don't chat with but keep on my buddy list to look popular in the event someone else other than me uses my computer" to my list of friend categories.

"You've heard of the random ass song, too?! I LOVE that random ass song." by Tregg

I want to admit a weird thing that I do.  Every time I do it I feel kind of like a loser, but it never stops me from repeating the action.  And no, I don't mean removing toilet paper rolls when I see the sheet coming from behind.  I always want it to come over the top from the front.  I never understand why people put the rolls on backward.  I mean, I guess some people don't care, so it's just a 50/50 shot, but seriously, people....

But I digress.

I won't speak for Nicole, but let me know, spoo, if you do this too.  Or anyone else, let me know if you do this.  Have you ever had someone ask you if you have heard of some really obscure song, movie, television show, etc, and you have but were convinced no one else had seen or heard of it?  When that happens to me, I always reply:  "Yes!  I LOVE [that thing]!"

What?  Those who know me know I'm not too easily excitable.  I do however, get really excited when a random interest of mine is somewhat validated by a friend.  They don't even have to like or love the thing they asked me about, they just have to have heard of it, and I am thrilled.

For example:

Friend:  "Have you ever heard that song 'Best Best' by Missy Elliott?"

Me:  "Yes!!! I LOVE that song"  

Friend:  "Oh, really?  That song is trash."

Me:  "...oh, well I mean...I don't love love it.  It's ok."

LaLoves It

Wow. We can't remember seeing Lindsay Lohan looking this good since...

Since...

Well, ever.

Whatever Sam Ronson is selling, we'll take twelve. Kudos, Lesbos.

"A Tale of Two Hickeys" by Tregg

Wanna take a trip down memory lane with me?

For some reason, this story always sticks in my head, and lately I felt it would make for an entertaining post.  I hope you agree.

Picture it:  Springfield, OH, November 2004.

I had recently been talking to a guy who will remain nameless.  Not to protect the innocent, but to not give this horrendous individual more attention than he deserves.  Long story short, this tale does not ultimately end well, but within the confines of the time period this story will retell, it is a pleasant experience.  

I invited this certain individual over one evening to see a play on campus with me.  We had a good time, and he ended up spending the night.  This was our first time doing anything together more than going to a bar or having dinner, so it was a fun evening.  The night was very innocent, let the record show, but as I saw him off the next day, he noticed there was a hickey on my neck.

He said,  "What's that on your neck?"  in a tone that clearly indicated he knew I didn't burn myself with a curling iron or trip and fall on a vacuum hose. 

Playfully, I replied, "Oh, I don't know..." and kind of smiled at him.  He gave me a semi-confused look back and got in his car and drove away.

A few days go by and we are talking on the phone, and I tell him that I had fun the night he stayed over.  He sounded kind of unsettled, and replied, "Honestly, I was kind of upset that morning when I left?"  I asked him why he would be upset, seeing as how I thought he had a good time.  He replied:

"Well, you had a hickey on your neck."

"Yeah, that was from you."

"....oh, it was?  I didn't realize I gave you one.   Really?  Wow, that's embarrassing, sorry"

He thought that I had someone else over and got a hickey from them in a recent enough amount of time that it wouldn't have faded by the time I invited him to stay over?  I'm not sure what the technical definition of slutty is, but I'm sure that would qualify for at least one of its meanings.  And I'll have you know, I am no slut.

I've always enjoyed thinking about that.  Imagining him driving home thinking even though our new "relationship" or sorts had just started and wasn't exclusive, that I would be promiscuous enough to have multiple people to choose from that could give me hickeys.  Who even gives hickeys these days anyway?

Later on in the week, I was changing after dance class and our male instructor whom I always assumed loved it walked past me and said:

"I see that thing on your neck, you bad boy."

"I, uhm....it's razor burn...?"