“I didn’t foresee it, that you can meet somebody who you have a deep and more profound love with… I don’t mean to take away anything with Tom, but I would hope that he has the same thing—I know he has the same thing with Katie. You move into a stage where you’re able to be a more fuller person in your relationship.”—Nicole Kidman in Elle]

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The U.S. Census Bureau’s 2007 American Housing Survey was released today, revealing that housing units in this country increased by 3.8 million from 2005 to 2007. In total, there are 124.4 million housing units, 110.7 of them occupied; however, not all of them are created equal:

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Well dang, I never thought I would be so lucky as to personally weigh in on this debate! The Frisky presented both sides to this conundrum way back when, but The New York Times decided to voice their opinion in this weekend’s Wedding section (what a downer for all the rejoicing couples whose weddings were celebrated in the announcements!). Many disputes over the true “ownership” of an engagement ring have taken the couples to court, but Joana Grossman, a Harvard Law Professor who has written on the topic says, “People can spend an exorbitant amount of money on rings they cannot afford and then it is not uncommon for them to break up. But the rings are not usually worth enough to offset the cost of litigation.” I wonder if there’s a corrolation between how much a guy spends on a ring and the likelihood that the engagement will be broken—like a guy with a Porsche probably has a small penis, a guy who’s spends, say, $20,000 on a ring is more likely to dump you because he’s trying too hard to prove he’s ready for marriage. Or something.

Catherine and I cannot wait for “Confessions Of A Shopaholic” to hit theaters in February 2009 and we’re not embarrassed to say it. Based on the novel(s) by Sophia Kinsella, the film stars adorable Isla Fisher as Rebecca, a woman for whom shopping is the world’s great aphrodisiac. I wouldn’t have thought I would be THAT psyched about this movie, because the books (I’ve read one...okay, maybe two) are insanely mediocre as far as chick lit goes. But by the looks of the film’s trailer, Fisher breathes such life into an otherwise “meh” character, that it seems certain the movie will, for once, be way, way, way better than the book.

Now that we’re packing up our flip-flops and tank tops until next summer and pulling out our boots and sweaters to wear instead, we’re also swapping beaching for baking in our free time. There’s just something about the crisp air and changing colors or fall that brings out the Betty Crocker in us all and we think this storage jar with its bold pattern and modern color combo is ideal for packing cookies and brownies for our friends, or just storing our favorite baking ingredients. [$18, Habitat]

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We here at The Frisky live for celeb gossip, chocolate, and your comments.  What can we say, you bitches crack us up! So in honor of you, our smart, sexy, and incisive readers, who aren’t afraid to talk smack on the Internet, here are our five favorite comments from last week:

Best Butt Joke
Scapegoat from “The Monogamist: What Marriage Feels Like”
The Frisky’s awesomest newlywed, Annemarie, said she didn’t feel any different with her ring on her finger.  However, “Scapegoat” pointed out, there maybe another ring in married life that might muster some deeper feelings, or as she puts it—“Now you also have to give up the butt.”

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This weekend, The New York Times “Style” section had a story about guys who have embraced their love of cats. I’ve come to the conclusion that women are either passionately pro- or anti-cat guy—turns out we have one of each on our staff! After the jump, Wendy Atterberry and Catherine state their cases. Here comes the pun I have been dying to use for the last three sentences—the claws come out!

Splash News

Are you those giggles of post-bended knee joy? The pop singer supposedly proposed to his girlfriend in Italy, at the wedding of her “7th Heaven” costar. [10/1/08]

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A few weeks into dating him, when it wasn’t even clear that we were doing more than falling into bed and blogging the pillow talk the morning after, he texted me to ask, “We’re not secret right?”

“Secret?” I wrote back. “Aren’t we on Flickr?”

That’s the moment when it got, as the uselessly succinct Facebook menu options put it, both “serious” and “complicated.”

Our relationship wasn’t founded simply on this trendy sort of self-disclosure: we were just reporting on our sex lives before anyone else did.  It shouldn’t have shocked me, let alone the audience we gained along the way, that it’d all have to end online, too.  So how do you deal with a breakup like that, without breaking up with the Internet?