Trying to make a decent living during the recession proved to be too much for your favorite Romance Couple, J-Baby and J-Bird. We've left all of our worldly possessions (mostly tweed blazers and extension cords) behind and moved into this cave. It's only a little bit constantly moist. If you think about it, this really isn't any weirder than when friends you know from college start hopping box cars and living in filthy condemned buildings. We're just taking it a step further by eliminating all traces of humanity-- cutting out the middle man, as it were-- to live like either 1. Bears or 2. ascetic saints.
Follow our cave experience in a series of upcoming blog posts: 1. J-Baby and J-Bird Are Roughing It 2. J-Baby and J-Bird Don't Know What To Do About Food 4. We Miss Our Apartment 5. The Tension of Cave Life/Starvation Puts Strain on Our Relationship 6. Hello, Mom? I Thought Maybe I Could Move In For A Little Bit
Having consulted our noted weather gods, the groundhogs, we Fredenburgs maintain that winter will continue much as it was. While some families might find the soggy, cold conditions to be ceaselessly dreary, we find it is an excellent time to show off our "fashion" sense. We actually killed the groundhogs used to make our winter predictions and made these hats out of them. We're protected against the elements, and as an added bonus, we're protected against bad winter juju.
Rachel recently called me (with barely concealed glee in her voice) to bring to my attention Kansas City's most recent mention in the "news." Evidently, Kansas City topped the list of Worst Cities for Dating compiled by the crack team of sociology grad students and other human behavior/survey taking experts over at the Axe Body Spray Department at Cornell University. From the article: AXE, known coast-to-coast for their dating game expertise, came up with the idea of finding "America's Best and Worst Cities for Dating," using 24 distinct criteria including, among others: population density, percentage of singles, frequency of hooking up, dating venues such as coffee shops, bars, and intimate apparel stores and flowers and jewelry bought as gifts. I also suspect that Axe Body Spray sales in the highest ranking towns were through the roof.
Having in my possession an entrepreneurial spirit, I have come up with the perfect solution to Kansas City's woeful lack of dating and it will make me rich. Firstly, I will ad some new, even sexier Axe Body Spray scents to their arsenal (which currently includes such scentsations as Phoenix, Tsunami, Kilo, and Orion): Banana Ala Flambe, Sagittarius Rising, Blurt, and Sour Cream n Onion. I propose to set up a sort of couple factory, probably near the entrance or in the parking lot of a community college. It will be called Romance Alley or Fredenburgtown, whichever sounds more conducive to hot hook ups (so Fredenburgtown). It will be comprised of a series of stations much like the layers of hell in Dante that patrons will pass through on their way to lasting togetherness. Station 1 Men file through showers that spray Axe Body Spray (ABS); emerge reeking of "appeal." In a separate line, women are sprayed with a makeup gun and a fire hose filled with Clinique Happy. The lines converge at Station 2 A smokey, poorly lit bar that serves nothing but long island iced teas. 3 drink minimum. Stations 3 and 4 A Victoria's Secret, and finally, a DeBeers retailer.
Of course, I haven't forgotten the hipster set. This leg of Romance Alley/Fredenburgtown will be housed in a warehouse in a recently gentrified area. The ABS showers will instead spray armpit sweat collected from bike messengers onto both sexes. Station 2 would include cheap domestic beer as an option and have mood music provided by a local noise band that no one can profess to like but who are very popular regardless. Stations 3 and 4 would be a bookstore specializing in first editions and a coffee house with surly employees and foul coffee.
Things have gotten pretty grim here in Kansas City, aka Romance Couplelove Wonderland For Lovers Only Paradise. The temperature has dropped so low that I have to wear wool gloves even while I do the dishes, giving me a case of "dishpan hands" so severe that I might be a medical marvel. Also, as you may have read, a recent debacle involving very ineffective composting worms has left us with a kitchen overflowing with wet garbage. Those worms are either truly lazy or truly dead. Worst of all, we have been faced with a sudden onslaught of seasonal allergies that threaten to ruin the season. Jamie and I were about to do some Holiday Stabbing (gotta keep the relationship fresh, am I right ladies?) when a sneezing fit caused him to carelessly fling the knife. "You missed the bullseye, stupid!" I cried. CHRISTMAS IS CANCELED.
With the holiday season drawing ever nearer, you're probably wondering, "What should I get Julia and Jamie for Christmas?" Well ask no more: we are only accepting His and Hers items this year. Fellow crafters, why not knits us some His and Hers sweaters? Fellow credit card holders, why not call up Lillian Vernon and get us some of those sweet monogrammed terrycloth robes? We aren't just two strangers living in an apartment together; we are a couple, dammit, and we want our robes, bath towels, mugs, keychains, ipod caddies, toothbrush holders, and shoe trees to show it!
Soon we'll have our own David-and-Victoria-Beckham-style fragrance, complete with a copycat ad campaign. The ads will gratuitously feature Jamie and myself looking underfed and sullen or on the verge of groping each other whilst wearing impeccably starched shirts and lounging on sheets with a very high thread count. The fragrance itself will have to scream "Oppulance," but also, "Sensible Budgeting," "Do It Yourself," "Home is Where The Heart Is" and "Superiority." In other words, I'm crafting this solely for the olfactory delight of one, Martha Stewart. Additionally, the fragrance needs to be distinctly Jamie/Julia. I don't know, I'm thinking notes of bergamont, sandalwood, jasmine, apple pie filling, high fructose corn syrup, Tide with bleach, and Pantene ProV. It will be offered in traditional eu de toilette and also in a gallon tub viscous format sure to be popular with society dames and those concerned about not being sticky enough.
Can we have an honest moment, you and I? Julia doesn't write this blog. I do. I started this blog as a joke (at the readers', and most of all, Julia's expense) and it turned into a year and a half long love poem to my friend-- caustic tone notwithstanding. Now that Julia has moved to Kansas City, it's getting increasingly difficult to generate topics. I actually started reading the blog that Julia and Jamie started together to steal topics, when I realized just how redundant that is. Basically, this new blog gives a much better (funnier, more accurate, more adorable) account of the G Rated exploits of Julia, because it comes straight from the source. So it is with some regret that I resign from my post as Julia Fredenburg's ghostwriter. I'm letting this blog go the way of the Edsel--lumbering into future obsolescence with noxious fumes blowing everywhere, a major embarrassment to America's once proud automobile industry.
Let's do our part, faithful readers, to keep Julia as internet-famous as possible. Check out the new Julia-Jamie blog here-- keep abreast of the romance of the century! I think Julia and Jamie can be the new Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens if we all pitch in. There might have to be a scandal involving racy pics; I'm not sure what shape this will take, as my creative stronghold on the public perception of Julia's life is effectively ended. As long as we're being candid here, might I just mention that if I didn't live in Sacramento I would be third-wheeling on this relationship like you wouldn't believe! Might I also add that I am so jealous that they are a couple who BLOGS TOGETHER that I am almost physically ill just thinking about it. In this world ripe with meaningless encounters and pathetic craigslist missed connections, the kind of love you can blog about (and with) is rare indeed.
If for some reason you are interested in keeping up with me and/or you just love total banality, go here. If not, then I urge you to check out the new blog, her flickr, and jump on my campaign to get Julia Back To California in 2k9.