Toughed.

Spotted. Suprise. Pull the glitter and ribbon off your blue Tiffany package. This surprise is wrapped in a big black box. The kind the weak dodge. The smitten loathe, the player lives for, and the naive don't expect. Everyone gives. Everyone Receives. Everyone Feels. For some a loss, for some a gain, for some it just is. Confused yet Ms. Plastic Montag? Ladies and Gents.. lets break it down. Brad and Jennifer. Princess Di and Prince Charles. Jessica Simps. and Nick Lachey. Tiger Woods and Elin. McDreamy and Gray. Summer and Seth. Got the picture? This surprise is whats left on the inside after the infamous... no, notorious... legendary... familiar... yes.. the common breakup. Its that feeling you get that you didn't expect. I'm talking the kind that makes you wonder if what you saw was real. Like a lion. With a pink mane. Sorry boys this b isn't looking for sympathy or pity. I can handle a surprise and a little pain. Its time to own the single life. It's just a warning for the weak and innocent. So dry your eyes pretty ladies, and swallow your pride handsome men. Its time to get tough. Cause the little black box surprise is bound to hit your doorstep anytime. I think next time this b will wrap a pink bow around it and send it right back.

xOOXXo

**B

Southern.

Spotted. Southern Paradise. Throw out your flip flops, hang up your bikinis, and say goodbye to Mr. Kanye himself. This paradise moves to a different beat. Fake baked, platinum blonde city dwellers..sick of nights out on the town with men wearing your same true religion jeans..smaller size? Yearning for a Brett Farve of a man in your life? Meet Greenville, South Carolina. Where the twang is thicker than the creme on grandma's pumpkin pie, the cowboy boots make stilletos look old school, and the belt buckles turn plain Janes into Sexy Suzies. Diamonds, Pearls, Cashmere? Lame. A woman in shameless plaid is a woman that shines in the Carolinas..Don't you agree Ms. Daisy Duke Simpson? But the blue prize winner in the south is not their homemade smashed potatoes, fried okra or fresh biscuits and gravy. Its the home grown meat. "Ya'll" never sounded so hott. Wrangler jeans never looked so good. Feeling blue? He'll serenade you while sitting by a campfire. Feeling hungry? Don't worry pretty lady, in the land of milk and honey a woman never picks up the tab. Need a lift?...Right. You really think he's coming over in a beamer? No mam. A big green tractor is the Ferrari of the south. Forget the gel-wearing Ed Hardy Boy. Send him to the Jersey Shore. This b's southern men have only three concerns. Football. Football. and Women. Lets keep it that way.. So Yes. This B has found her paradise. Too bad only the G.R.I.T.S can enjoy. Time for the surfers to boot scoot and boogie on out of here. This Carolina ain't just for anyone.

XXoXo

**B

Charmed.

Spotted. Bella J. Alone? Hardly. Ladies and Gents, Sons and Daughters, neighbors and foes...the summer sun has set but the tan remains for this pretty lady. And who is to blame for J's precancerous yet absolutely-worth-it summer tattoo? Lets call him E. Tall. Dark. Can I throw in Italian? Independence is overrated when you have a foreigner at your side, and on your lips. Confused? Curious? Speechless? Prepare for envy. This story throws Rapunzel out the window. Let me explain. Wasn't it only six weeks ago J was seen transforming the usually considered "boring" Idaho into Hollywood Celeb's A-list vaca spots? Correct. But hot spots are overrated anyways. Why not take a hiatus to the DR? Fresh fruit on the beach, toes caressing sand, and Juicy in the disco at sundown. Sold. and done. Boys? Who needs them? Lie. Meet E. Noted for his bulging biceps, and freakishly serenading eyes.. sources say this man in perfection spotted J from across the ocean. On a yacht of course. Ladies, bring out your wedding video before you curse your man. Beach bound-frolicking afternoons turned into star gazing Caribbean sky nights. Italian love songs? A daily routine. Italian Accent? a crave. Italian kisses across the balcony? no fantasy needed..this is J's reality. Did I mention dancing? I'll stop there. Thank you Michelangelo, Versace, Boticelli, thank you. But as history proves, the summer sun must set and the Italians must go home. Italy sounds brutal after a month with a blonde American huh E? As for Bella Beautiful? On to a new adventure of course. Where? Those italian smitten lips are locked. CIAO.

xOxxO

*b*

Goodbyed.

Spotted. Tags. Not the kinds you see on that silk Bloomingdales blouse or around the necks of our pink tie-dyed poodles. No. These tags are far less desirable. They are the tags completely unnoticed next to that disgusting couple lip locking their good byes. They label the accessories of the fanny pack wearing dads, red-eyed college bound teens, island hoppin women. Still can't get a hint? Luggage tags. In and out. Back and Forth. West and East and South and back again. Where will these diamond-stunted tags take b next? West coast? Done. East coast? owned. South bound revisited? Sold. But friends, Utahns and countrymen...no diva is too sensitive to miss a four year casa. Leading music on the raised bed of a shoebox dorm, plush Ogden condo getaways, studying in the hole, dodging rm's, Marshall 5 love, broken hearts, regretable bff hiatuses, 5-mile runs, salad bars, perfect in pink-and better on the field, exclusive Wal-mart shopping extravaganzas, twenty...twenty...twenty.., family members for best friends, best friends become family, grandmas-janitors-rock stars-safari freaks-gutter girls..popcorn, out-of towners, all-night longers, luvsackers, vacationers, stalkers, ditchers..polka dots, chocolate covered cinnamon bears, tears over two years ahead, handing numbers to men in cars, one-man concerts in whitie and gabbie, fake rages, harder-than imagined class work, obama fans for a week, brainwashed in the barlow, Prosser Paradise, one dollar candy, thoughts, kisses, prayers, and change. --How do you summarize four years of bliss? Impossible. But Perfect. Later Utah these tags have a mind of their own.

911 cover-up, your mascara's running.

B.

Ditched.

Spotted. Decked-out. Lip gloss shining, legs smooth as butter, and an outfit that even Beckham would envy. Perfect? Almost...Where is the stunning Beau to decorate this golden arm? Surprise Surprise, this Queen stands alone. Nothing a Prada bag can't fix. Funeral, sudden illness, saving a life? I'm sorry sir maybe you failed to read the rule book-an automatic no show is an automatic out. Back to the dugout, life is hard when the Queen owns the field. Batter-up.

XOxO

*B*

Wedded.

Spotted.  White dress.  Creme cupcake dishes. oh and that man they call the groom.  Four soon becomes three but not without a table full of four-inch thick iced chocolate cake and a nighttime of dancing first.  Ladies and Gents..grab a hankie, tears are a sure accessory as this world wide hearthrob adds diamonds to her finger.  I'm sorry Mrs. jackson I am for real.  

xOxO

*b*

I like.

Spotted.  Perfection on wheels.  a b must have.

xOXo

*b*