FIFA Eye Candy (Response)

Agent Smith:

I do agree with some of your views, in particular, the uniform of the athletes being a serious factor on hotness. If some of the (American) football players wore tight little shorts and a flimsy t-shirt, then of course I would be all about that. If you know who I could write to to change that, let me know! However, when all are put in the same uniform, lined up, and judged on hotness, my opinion is the soccer players score the GOOOOOAAAAALLLLLL!!!!! It comes down to taste and preference, really. Most women aren't into the bulky frame so much (but there are plenty who love it), and soccer players do tend to be more slender. Let's take Terrell Owens for example; he looks to be more of a sleek football player compared to the rest of the men on the field. Put him on the soccer pitch in shorts and a t-shirt and he will still look massive compared to average soccer players. Another example is Adriano of Brazil, who looks to have a big frame for a soccer player, meanwhile he's outweighed by T.O. by about 15-20 pounds. All I'm saying is that soccer players have more slender, conditioned bodies... that's all.

As for Track & Field athletes, I do oogle them with a certain fascination. However, it's almost that same awe of watching a horse run. Their bodies are sculpted for speed... it's super impressive. Track has a healthy supply of eye candy, but they are off the screen in no time at all (at least they hope so). The races are super quick for those with the best bodies, and the longer races...not so much. I don't like the long-distance runners' bodies as much as the likes of Justin "Damn he's hot" Gatlin. I know that you're a bit biased, and to be fair to you, your body is SOFA KING AMAZING. Actually, to be fair, every sport has it hotties, but soccer is a melting pot of said scrumptrulescent men (body and face). And yes, the accents make the viewing that much more enjoyable.

Some ladies will disagree...some guys will hate... FIFA is the place to see beautiful, skilled men at play. I get my kicks on the pitch.


Not~So~Cosmo

The Potty ABCs & 123s (To Agent Smith)

To Man, Kindly:

Just a few quick questions, really. It's about proper bathroom etiquette, and I assure you my aim is not to offend; rather I hope we can learn from one another. Disregard my "passionate" tone for what truly disgusts me.

Key:
1) Number One (1) is is used to describe Urine
2) Number Two (2) is the grosser of the two bathroom acts
3) Number Three (3) is a women only reference of that most disgusting monthly occurence

My Questions:

A) How much toilet paper is enough for the next person?

• Women have to use the bathroom for both 1,2, and even more so when 3 is around.
• What if you (the person leaving 5 friggin sheets) just so happens to have a Number 2 occur?
• Aren't men the species that promote preparedness the most? Why is T. P. exempt?
  

Okay, so the last question was two-parted and sarcastic, but please answer any that you see fit.

B) When do men consider enough wipes enough?

• Is there a recommended number of times to wipe?
• If so, what's the number (because I think it's underestimated)?
• Does it go undetected, or is it a shameless act that allows men to let their significant other wash their boxers with "train tracks"?
  

C) Is the idea of men and women washing their own "whites" too separatist?

I don't have any further questions for that one. I just want to know if something that displays everything about potty activities, as does light colored undies, need to be a personal matter. I'm all up for doing my man's laundry, but there are things I'd like not to see. In the same right, there are things men would like to not be so aware of with a woman's body that should be kept clean and out of sight. Does it all bowl down to either ignorance (not knowing) or apathy (not caring)?

Not~So~Cosmo

To Knock Off or Not Have

Recently a friend of mine pointed at my fuscia Dooney and Bourke Anniversary Signature barrel bag and asked if it was a “knock off.” My reply was “I don’t do knock offs. I’d rather not have than have a fake one.” Days later, I thought of this and wondered what kind of person that makes me.

The first time I can recall spotting a knock off would be in high school and it was a t-shirt. A student wore a t-shirt that read “Nik Air” as opposed to “Nike Air” (I think the Nike swoosh symbol may have even been backwards.) Now don’t get me wrong, I am totally down with bargain shopping (Target is one of my favorite stores) but I couldn’t help giggle every time I saw the shirt and wonder “Why not just get a regular t-shirt with no design?” Oh well, he was wearing it, not me.

After high school came college, credit cards and weekly trips to the mall. Not-so-Cosmo (my roommate at the time) and I are certified shopaholics. It was then that I started to acquire a taste for the finer things in life. No more RAVE or Charlotte Russe for me. I was all about Express, Nine West and Burdines. Clothes are just clothes, but let’s just say anyone can cook a sirloin and serve it up as filet mignon but after that first bite, you’ll know the difference. I had to eventually realize that I could not have filet every night and that when Target became my new favorite (the sales rack at Macy’s is a close second.) That’s when my then boyfriend, now husband, introduced me to the heavenly world of Dooney and Bourke and thus forth created a monster. (I now check all D & B bags for authenticity.)
I have subscribed to Elle magazine for the past 3 years and every month I would open it up, flip through its glossy pages and drool over the beautiful Louis, Chanel and Gucci bags that are WAY out of my price range. At least they were for now, unless I wanted to buy one from the guy who knew a guy whose cousin works for the distribution factory and can get some off the truck. Mind you, these were in a huge bag Glad bag. Did he really think I was that stupid or desperate? Save that for someone else. Part of getting such an extravagant bag is the trip to the store, the quality and the service. Why else would anyone pay that much for a purse? After that ricockulous experience, my sweet boyfriend got me my first D&B, a white IT medium bucket satchel. It came with a few words also. He wanted me to know that he realistically see spending $1000+ on a purse but $300 was A-OK. Sigh. What a man! I don’t blame him. Since then all purses and wallets have been strictly D&B. I just found out there is an outlet store near me and IT IS ON!

One day I will have my Louis. For now, D&B is serving me just lovely. Choosing not have over knock off so far has worked beautifully and I never have to think if someone knows whether or not my bag is real (by the way, women who have a real one or chose not to get the fake one, they can tell.) A real one is going to cost whole heck of a lot more but it looks so much better, lasts so much longer and in the end you should get your money’s worth. I think that makes me a sensible, practical, shopaholic woman.

Respectfully,

Daphne

FIFA Eye Candy

If anyone cared/noticed, I totally dumped posting any blogs for the weekend. Partly because I was so friggin' preoccupied with World Cup Soccer (wooohoooo), but mostly because I was intoxicated for most of the weekend. Any posts would have consisted of frayed, witsy comments, and ramblings about hot European guys. In England, pubs will either open early in the morning or stay open for 24 hours for futbol fans, but in the States, where they frown upon morning inebriation more than soccer itself, that would be unheard of. The earliest me and my friend could get seats at any sports bar was noon; whereas the morning games kicked off at 11 a.m. Hmm, what's a girl to do? Well, other than start drinking Chardonnay before noon in her pjs whilst yelling German at the television...

Soccer is perhaps the only sport that would make me a morning lush or morning yeller. I get so excitapated that it borders on psychotic. I'm not a sports bar/bar person, but I'm less annoying screaming and slamming my drinks down there than at home. There's just something about soccer. I even notice my female friends go ape shit when we're all watching a soccer game; way more than any other televised sport. Which brings me to today's topic: Women and Soccer, a beautiful union.

I have a few hypotheses as to why women around the world really dig soccer. The first is the attractiveness of the athletes, especially those legs. Soccer players' bodies are more toned and conditioned than most athletes, which I attribute to running up and down that monstrous field. Football players tend to be bulkier, basketball players are taller, less bulky, and soccer players, ahh in the words of Goldilocks: "just right". Not only are their bodies absolutely statuesque, but their faces are equally as gorgeous. I'm not taking anything away from my American athletes, but world soccer offers an array of European/Latin/Universal eye candy that no other sport allows (save the Olympic Games). What adds as a cherry on top are the accents of the players during interviews. It's no secret women love guys with accents. If you want to see me absolutely gaga, just witness me whenever Thierry Henry, David Beckham, or Christiano Ronaldo are on the screen. Mmm mmm Good!! With the combination of beautiful skill on the field, and beautiful features amongst the players, women tend to enjoy soccer games as much as the men folk, but for other reasons.

My second observation, which came to me over the weekend of debauchery, is that soccer is a rare sport in which I can drink wine while watching the game. I've tried watching football and drinking wine; it didn't quite fit. Beer is the chosen drink during sports; wine is a bit too civilized. However, soccer is that elitist sport that I find myself at the bar ordering another glass of wine rather than another pint (which is equally appropriate for a soccer game). Even when I'm yelling and cheering my team on, I still like to retain some of my femininity and gracefulness with a nice glass of white wine.

My final guess at why women love the game is that it is extremely fast paced. I have the attention span of a five year old, so the two non-stop 45 minute intervals almost force me to stay glued to the tube. There are no long elaborate breaks or time-outs that would cause me to leave my seat or channel surf. Most appealing is that it last for two hours, two and a half hours tops. Two hours of drinking with a sport feels a little better than drinking for more than three hours, and allows for a little more comprehension by the end of the game. I've drank during football and basketball, and by the last few seconds of the game (which is nearly half an hour in real time); I was too toasted to even concentrate on the last, climatic plays. It kind of takes away from the game at that point.

The combination of beautiful, European men, the acceptance of wine as a suitable drink, and the fast pace of the game, gives soccer a sense of culture and sophistication that women absolutely adore and easily follow. Perhaps it's seeing Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham donning Chanel sunglasses while rooting on her husband, England's most beautiful midfielder David Beckham, that adds a certain allure to the game. Whatever it is, I'm sold. Don't get me wrong, I truly love the sport in the sense that it is absolutely exciting and fast paced, but it's also just plain fun to look at.


Not~So~Cosmo

Summer Slumming

Friday morning started with me in a foul mood all the way up to the entrance of my office building. I was walking up the drive, staring ahead, but at nothing in particular... you know, kind of Wistyish, when this guy with a machete caught my eye. Come to think of it, maybe the huge ass machete caught my eye...hmmm. Anyway, I see this Spanish guy (I'm not a complete racist, it's important to the recap) with the machete, and he does this double take look, and says, "Heeey, Laady". Now for some unknown reason, that was the hottest thing ever. It made me say, "Hiii", all breathy and what not. He was totally gorgeous, and he had the best accent. Mmm. So, I go into the office, but not without looking over my shoulder once to confirm he was still looking. He was. Hahahaha...

For the rest of the morning, I sat at my desk watching him work, and watching him watch me work. Damn, we were both some watching folks. I did this until I had errands to run. On the way to the car, homeboy is laying out with his coworkers taking a siesta, or what-have-you. So he calls to me something, and I just answered, "No" without knowing what he had said. I thought "No" was a safer answer to any question than "Yes", until I was corresponding with Dawn and thought, "Wait, what if he asked, 'Do you mind if we gang bang you'..." So no more "No" answers unless I know the question... I proceeded to run errands with every intention on not returning, but the way he was staring was making me all "intrigued".

So what did I do? What any of the characters from Desperate Housewives would do; I returned to do some minor work for my boss. LOL!! I can't even say it with a straight face. On the way to the door, he was pushing out a trash can of leaves, so I threw my lollipop stick in the trash can and said, "Thanks" while laughing. He gave me a look like, "oh no you didn't", so I asked if he wanted water. He did, and I took it out to him, and that's when it happened... "Do joo speak espanish?" NOOOOOOOOO!!! If that were going to happen, I'd rather we had not spoken, and just gotten it on, on pure instinct alone. No, I don't speak Spanish! I never found the need to. I told him to learn English for himself, and walked away, but not before crushing his chances completely. I called, "What's your name over my shoulder, and he replied, "Jose"... no way Jose...

I let him into the office later with his coworker to have a cold drink and a place to rest, but the thrill was gone. He went from dark, mysterious stranger to "the lawn man Jose". Ugh! What's worse is that he was trying to convey to me that I should take classes to learn Spanish for him. Not to be a bitch, but if I'm going to learn to speak Spanish, it will be for a man who's taking me to the south of Spain, or someplace that is equally fantastic. For a machete slinging worker, not so much.

I am as likely to sleep with some random lawn guy as G. W. Bush is to win a spelling contest, but that I even contemplated it started to weigh on me. "Why do I keep daydreaming about this sweaty guy anyway?" ran through my head all day. Then I realized, it was the intense stare. That stare that a foreign guy will give you that makes you feel they are undressing, penetrating, and leaving you with a single stare. It is the language barrier; the gift and the curse all in one. Because spoken communication is a handicap, the only way to convey interest is in the universal language of sex; which is usually consistent around the world (general signs anyway). That coy flirting and getting-to-know-you banter had to be abandoned. Without the use of spoken words, we were reduced to what we are, animals in heat. At least, that's what I felt like. Then again, I live in South Florida. I'm always in heat...

Not~So~Cosmo

5 WAYS TO PLEASE YOUR MAN...AND YOURSELF

I briefly touched on my annoyance with magazines that proclaim they can teach you to please your man. I used to read said magazines, and after a year's subscription, realized I could have bought any number of Karma Sutra books. "501 Ways to Please your man...306 Ways to Get the Ring...191 Ways to Have Him Come Back for MORE..." AHHHHHHH!!! Ladies, it neither be this complicated or contrived. If you really want to be pleasing to your man, I would suggest any of the following methods:

1) Ask your man
2) Give oral
3) Thoroughly enjoy giving oral
4) Make a good sandwich
5) Shut up during sports

Allow me to explain each point...

1) Ask your man:
Every guy is different; therefore, he will have different needs and desires of the other men you've been with. Would you drive and maintain a Minivan as you would a Mercedes? Ah, such is pleasing your man. Your man has custom made wants and desires that appeal to him, and they may have custom made desires based on the attributes of their woman. Reading this post, a magazine, or asking your platonic male friend for advice (please stop, you're giving the poor guy blue balls with all those questions) does not do the trick alone. Ladies, if you want to know what to do, ask him!

2) Give oral!:
Once again, this will be a custom made art to fit your man's wants. A magazine will not tell you to deep-throat, but your man's hand on the back of your head will. Voila, nearly $4 will be saved by going in the direction your man is eagerly leading you. It is not a mystery. (Also, don't use teeth ever! Unless he likes it.)

3) Thoroughy enjoy giving oral:
Ah, yes... this is a bit trickier. A job done well is a job well done, but if you throw in eagerness and enjoyment, the job becomes PHENOMENALLY done. No man wants to feel like he's raping your mouth (not to be crude, but it's true). Don't give a half ass attempt because he really likes it and you have been wanting the living room remodeled and blah blah blah. NO! Do it because you love him, and he loves oral. It's a few moments of selflessness out of your day to show him you care about him. Also, a man's squirming and speaking gibberish because you're doing it (and doing it and doing it well) will totally boost your ego.

4) Make a good sandwich:
I know, it's silly, but we know men like to eat, and a sandwich is the quickest, neatest, most satisfying snack/meal. Guys love sandwiches, so make them. They don't care how much you've been slaving in the kitchen over a 5 course meal (you're only wearing yourself out and taking away time from "dessert"). They'll be more prone to think that's craziness when all you had to do was throw some cold cuts on some bread, and if you think it's enough meat, go ahead and add two more slices and some fresh cooked bacon, trust me. Cooking in general is appealing to a man, but I find good sandwiches just make them happy. If it sounds like I'm trying to put all of us women back in the kitchen, oh hell well. At least I'm not suggesting you be in the kitchen for hours.

5) Shut up during sports:
This is important! It's a very small matter, but it's the little things that drive people crazy. DO NOT TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS DURING THE GAME. For one, he's not even paying attention, and second, it's totally rude on a woman's part. If your man wants to spend an afternoon vegging in front of the tube, leave him to it. Unless you're going to add some insight to the game he's watching, pipe down. I'm a female who loves her sports, especially futbol, and when guys try to talk about a not-so-Soccer topic, I get really pissed. I mean, for Christ's sake, the game is on!!!! It is not rocket science, and it is a matter of proper manners. No One Is Above It.


If this is too offensive to the eyes, go pick yourself up a magazine and start practicing sex positions instead. I mean, the mag will even show you how it's done with pictures. Ooh, and they'll even tell you the oodles of money to waste on items he'll barely notice. (Do you think he knows the difference between "Sweet temptation", "Romantic Wish", or "Jergens"?) I prefer both using my head and pleasing my man in the same manner I liked to be pleased. It works. Of course, you don't have to take my word for it, it's just from some woman, anyway. If you'd like insight that is closer to home, please visit http://Mantrix.blogspot.com, and ask Agent Smith, the most manly man that I know what he would suggest. Men have wonderful insight into what they want, and so shall you.

Happy Hunting
Not~So~Cosmo

Call it Witsy, but sometimes I just think in haikus...I hope you know what a "haiku" is...

A girl...
Why don't I ever
Use the voice inside my head?
Is it too heartless?



A Lady...
I detest that tone
You always seem to take when
Things don't go your way


A Woman...
You're just a bully
Hiding behind your armor
Displaying weakness...



Miami
The Heat feel the Love
Everyone has Once felt

When It's The First Time

Whimsically Witsy

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is J. Brown (for those who have not had the opportunity or honor of meeting me). I'm a Florida girl, born and raised, and I enjoy my "life is a beach" mentality. As I explained on my homepage, WITSY was born when my best friend pointed out how I am the smartest and ditsiest person he knows. I go from profound to dumbfound in the blink of an eyelash. It makes for good laughs and mocking, so it's all gravy. Since a certain celebrity thought that Chicken of the Sea was some canned aquatic bird meal, being dumb is considered "cute". However, it is not as "cute" if you're not so cute. What a vicious web we weave.

I chose the name "Not So Cosmo" because there is a particular magazine that I feel is dumbing down the average girl. This magazine includes tons of information on "What's in" from fashion to celebrity news to ways to be a better sex partner. Please allow me to harp on the last mentioned. For starters, it is hard to take the advice of how to please a man from some woman. Furthermore, must there be so many various ways to please a man. "501 ways to make him want you". UGH! Who has the time for all that. That list should be no more than 5 basic human needs, with the addition of enjoying every minute. I love men, fashion, and celeb gossip as much as the next girl or guy, but really. How many times can I read the hundreds of ways to please a man, when I am reinforced by every man in my life to keep things simple?

I don't wish to attack the magazine itself (I used to read it back in the day myself), but the train of thought it promotes... hmmm... not so much. With Witsy, I hope to expose a way of thinking that is outside of the box when it comes to the ways women and men conventionally think. Hell, I want to expose that there is no box! It's just us, our interactions, and our time together, so this site is to point out our mutual thoughts and follies. I hope to hear other peoples' opinions about life, good times, bad times, and everything in between. Free-thinkers are most welcome to leave me comments, questions, and suggestions either on this site (preferably) or through my email address: mschief12@gmail.com . Life is a work in progress, and so is the Wisty website. Enjoy!

Jacquelyn
Not~So~Cosmo