So Madonna of me

Growing up with a very starch, strict Catholic mother leaves a child resenting religion a little. I hate it when people are not open to learning about other cultures and beliefs other than what they were taught to believe in. Last Friday in the salon, I noticed that Mojgan, the esthetician, and probably one of the nicest human beings I have ever met, was wearing a red string around her left hand. I asked her what it stood for and she explained it is a Kabbalah practice. The string is supposed to remind and help a person stray from doing evil, gossiping, and help a person become a better individual. I’m certainly not in the market to change religions but I love this idea. Early this morning, when my eyes were still have swollen from not sleeping last night, Mojgan knotted a red string on my left arm 8 times. An hour later, I slipped off the wagon when laughing over how crazy Brit Brit is. Mojgan, in such a sweet manner, corrected me. I quickly zipped my lip and recovered gracefully. Unfortunately, not everyone is behind my new commitment. After telling my mother about my new challenge, she chewed my ear off, questioning why I would give up on being a Catholic after 27 years. I tried to explain the only thing I was giving up is all my bad habits but she still doesn’t get it. I don’t blame her though. She grew up being taught by nuns, way before Second Vatican occurred. Here’s hoping my string can last longer than a week.

Loves!
mer

When hair stylists fuck up

My mom started my modeling career when I was about 18 months old. I started out doing Gerber and baby formula print ads. Eventually, after learning to talk, I was picked to advertise Welch’s grape fruit juice, represent some children’s hospital, even sang the Oscar Myer song in attempts to sell more bologna. To this day, the only way I can spell bologna is by singing the song.
Before every audition my mother would spend a countless amount of time on fixing my hair, which I am sure amounted to no more than10 strands. She always had me stand right in front of her, mirror in front of me, and as she was fixing some new coiffure, she’d repeat over and over, “hair makes the woman.” I never really gave this a second thought until last week, while working the front desk at Carter Barns, I decided to experiment with my hair. Corey didn’t have anyone coming in until later in the afternoon and offered to add red highlights to my hair, which at time sounded like an awesome idea. It was the worst experience ever. From the scorching water he used to wash my hair to the burning sensation I felt as soon as he left red hair dye in my hair for over an hour, the whole process was a nightmare. The results were far worse, as you can see from the pictures.
As soon as Corey finished styling my hair, I was on the phone with Van Michael requesting an emergency appointment with my regularly scheduled hair stylist. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for change. I rarely have the same hair color twice. But I definitely cannot pull off the bright red. And people treated me differently. Usually men are all so very sweet to me and cant do enough for me, and women are typically way bitchy with me (which I have now learned to take it a compliment). However, with me looking like a crazy punk, strangers perceived me to be someone entirely different. Men were extremely rough with me, talking to me like I was druggie girl who didn’t amount to much. Women tried to avoid eye contact with me but just as they think I wasn’t looking, I caught them stealing glances at my head. I even got approached by an elderly woman with a hunchback selling tickets to the circus. She said I looked like I loved clowns. I’m deadly scared of clowns.
So, I got my hair fixed thanks to my hair stylist genius, Ron Rock. It’s not totally back to normal (it’s a million times darker than I had it before) but it’s a million times better than what Corey did to me. Next month I’m going back to Van Michael and to add the lighter highlights around my face…and to add more 20 more pieces of hair to my head. Finally, I can go through life with thick hair. Can’t wait!

Loves!
mer

Best. Show. Ever

Every season I think they cant get any funnier, but naturally they have. I love the Office so much, possibly even more than Sex and the City! I have decided every week I'm going to post an Office highlight in hopes of persuading others to watch more often. I like the direction the show is taking. Just feel bad for Dwight :(

All I want for Christmas are ear muffs.

Today, as I was busy changing from a golden-brunnette to a red-head, I told my hair dresser my deepest desire to relocate to Manhanttan. He in turn told me stories of living in the city back in the early 80's. He lived in the Village in a very runned down studio. One day, as he's eating raw cookie dough, (which just so happends to me one of my guiltiest pleasures), he notices some of the chips in the half eaten log are moving. The chocolate had been replaced with bugs. A couple months later, minutes after showering, his ear begins to itch. He takes a q-tip and swabs out his ear. When he pulls the stick out, he notices bite marks on the ball of the cotton. Come to find out, a roach crawled into his ear in the middle of the evening and found it cozy enough not to leave, I fear I will now have nightmares for a long time coming. Apprently, these type of stories are far from uncommon. Last summer, David Sedaris wrote a story for the New Yorker in which he retells the time when 2 worms randomly crawling out of his boyfriend and his boyfriend's mother's legs and him having crabs. If you have time. definitly check it out.

and just when i think i've seen everything...

I read there is a two-headed turtle displayed in suburban Philadelphia pet store. My head is filled with all sorts of unanswerable questions; how will this creature possible go anywhere? How does he (they?) relieve himself? Do both heads work or is one merely just for show? More importantly, how much does this turtle cost? I can just imagine the endless amount of pleasure I would have displaying this thing to everyone! I would carry him around, much like a girl carries around her dog, only my animal would certainly get far more attention. I am sure everyone would stop and stare, all the while pondering what type of mad scientist could create such a thing. The article pertaining to the picture leaves far too much to the imagination. Even if I wanted to see the turtle in person, the article lacks to explain the exact location of the pet store. Scandalous.

Such a good commercial

It's the little things in life that make me happy

80's flash back...

December 2004. I had just started dating someone, My Mr. Big, and he had asked me to attend a dinner party held at this very extravagant country club. We arrived at the function and since I was nervous, began to drink heavily, a habit I was quite fond of during that time in my life. We all had assigned seats for dinner. MMB and I were sitting at different ends of the table, not by choice. Surpisingly, I was able to carry on clever and charming conversation all the while disguising as a lovely, sober woman. Knowing how I was back then, I am sure I was well on my way to drunkville.

Desert was accompanied by a horrific announcement- everyone was required to share a personal story, more specifically, a personal sports story (the company is made up of mostly men, so go fig). Instantly I began to freak out and fought back hot tears that desperately wanted to roll down my face. I have a fear of failure and sounding stupid to begin with. The fact I was so not that sober and sitting at a table filled with genius millionaires almost made me want to vomit. I had no real stories about sports because the only game I truly have ever played/ mastered is the dating game- or so I thought.

My head started screaming inside of my brain, yelling over numerous, sweet stories that included everything from coaching children’s baseball leagues to completing multiple triathlons. Suddenly, it was my turn. I opened up my mouth to talk and this very unsure, mousy voice takes over.
Out of nowhere, I began telling my story. Mind you, it’s all very true.

“Every July, as you all are well aware, the Peachtree Road race occurs. One summer in the early 80's, a photographer by the name of Chuck Rogers was given a Nike assignment. He decided to take a picture of random runners who had just finished the race. Mr. Rogers did not assign any models nor did he know anything about the runners before he shot the scene. The picture was as random but as perfect as any photographer can hope for. Before the ad could successfully be published, Mr. Rogers researched the stories behind the men in the pictures. What he found out was astonishing. The man who is on the ground and wearing a bright yellow shirt, collapsed immediately after the race, dying from heat stroke just minutes after the picture was taken. Runners passed by and thought this man was merely resting. The man, who stands in front of the picture bare chest, looking up to the sky, is mentally handicapped. This race marked his first successful accomplishment. He did not know the man on the ground. And the man who is in the not so distant background, wearing black shorts, a white polo shirt tucked in, Nikes (without socks) and holding a steaming hot cup of coffee, is my father. The actual ad has a clearer vision of my father. The ad was so successful; it won many awards and went international. I remember seeing it one year while I was still living in Paris. A large copy can also be seen in the movie, St Elmo's Fire (or so I’ve heard- never seen the movie. Heard it wasn’t very good). Nike contacted my father with the story and a check, however my humble father declined any financial handouts. Therefore, in lieu of money, Nike sent my father a framed poster, which in turn hung proudly in my father's IBM office until the day he retired. It now hangs in my brother's.”

I had only heard that story once before. The day it was told to me I was quite certain I was in another world and could not have even remembered my best friend's name if you had asked me. I'm surprised I was able to remember any of details at the Christmas party. Needless to say, my story was by far the best in the room.

Moral of the story? There are no such things as coincidences.

Loves,
mer

What do I win for playing?

Since Tracie tagged me, here is me attempting to play the game. Last week, my friend Courtney sent out an email asking me to answer similar questions. I took some of Coutney's questions and added them to Tracie's. Here is me killing 2 birds with one stone.

The rules are self-explanatory. Elaborate on the word(s) in bold lettering below. (BTW- both Chrissy and Jamie are now tagged. Go speed racer, Go!)

Accent – Only when I'm drinking- then I sound real southern

WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My grandmother (Mary) and my Aunt (Edith)
put it together

LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Crying is for pusses. I dont cry

DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING ?
Sometimes. I really like my circles above my i's

I Don't Drink - yes i do and after next week, heavily

DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
I wear stilettos


Red or pink
Black

Pets – I have a 15-year-old puppy.

DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
Define a lot

Gold or silver – really depends on the outfit.


Insomnia – It's 4am right now. What do you think?

Job Title – Retired Party Girl

WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
If someone pushed me out of the plane, yes.


Kids – only pugs

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Any one with a free toy inside

Religion – catholic


Time I wake up -Well considering I don’t sleep...

Unusual talent/skill – I can talk my way out of anything, including DUIs, speeding tickets, sleeping with a boy

Vegetable I refuse to eat – onions.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Eyes and hair color

Worst habit – Only dating bad boys and bartenders.

WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF?
Getting too emotional/ sensitive sometimes

WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
My Sex and the City girls
(and my father)

WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
Burger King chicken nuggets that were shaped into Budweiser Crown replicas. Someone at Buger King fucked up with that.

WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Me typing away. Oh, and my head screaming with things I have to produce in 2 weeks.

IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE
I wouldnt be a crayon. I'd be a gold sharpie. or maybe one of those gel, sparklee pens.

FAVORITE SMELLS?
boys

Last person you talked to on the phone
My Mr Big

FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH?
Men attempting to pick up a girl in a bar

LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Rush Hour 3- hated it!

SUMMER OR WINTER?
Spring

HUGS OR KISSES?
Kisses all day long and well into the night. i HATE hugs

WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Kite Runner

FAVORITE SOUND
the ocean, or rain

DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
is being able to play the game extremely well considered a talent?

Hotlanta and her Sloppy Seconds

After weeks of my friends bragging about a new intimate French style lounge called Royal, I decided to check it out. Hidden in between the streets of Castleberry Hill, this intimate hotspot is seriously stirring up a cult sensation. With it’s modish and stylish Sloppy Seconds every second Saturday, my best friend and I, dressed as if we just stepped out from the pages of Vogue, walked into a very packed, very sexy dance room. We strutted up to the bar, ordered 2 martinis, and watched as fashionable socialites, ghetto superstars, and urban, grunge trendsetters all mingled with one another. It's the first time I think I have ever seen High fashion collide with street wear under one electro-house/ crunk rap party.


In a city supposedly known for diversity, it is disturbingly rare to see different cultures and colors partying together. Morgan and I watched 2 Abercrombie men look-alikes mingle with men pimping in head to toe bling (with matching grill). I witnessed a very girly girl wearing an extremely small outfit hit on an André Benjamin wannabe. And my best friend befriended an indi chick whose whole body resembled a canvas covered with tattoos and piercings. Overall the evening was super fun. Royal has stolen the crown for the hottest night club…for the current minute anyway. It’s about time Atlanta stepped up to the plate. Now, can she keep hitting home runs? I suppose after a couple more weekend reviews, I'll have my answer.

Definitly check Royal out.

Next week's Hotlanta adventure-

M Lounge.

LOVES!

mer

I would make such a fun rich person

Because I am so broke these days, I like to pass the time by imagining what I would do if I won the lottery. This past weekend, a man living in South Bend, IN won $350 million playing the Powerball. If I had won, this is how I would have spent my winnings.

Mindless of taxes, I would split the money in half and give it to charity. I know so many people don’t believe me (Chrissy!) but I really would. Having all that money and not using any of it for a better cause would be extremely wrong. I’d probably give $50 million to a children with cancer foundation, $25 million to a breast cancer foundation, and $25m to an AIDS foundation. Then I would take the rest of the 75m and give it both to Angelina Joli’s foundation (WHO, an organization to treat children in Ethiopia who have been orphaned by AIDS and are HIV positive), and to an Oprah charity. Yes, the last 2 is secretly a ploy to meet both of them, but since I’m giving to a greater cause, it’s ok.


I love, love love Angelina! Say what you will about her but the truth of the matter is she does A LOT of good work in this world. She tries to make the world a better place and anyone who does that is amazing in my book. I also would hold off in giving Oprah the money until Christmas. Giving her 37.5 million would definitely ensure a ticket to her show which means I would score free audience gifts. Chrissy pointed out that if I was rich I could just buy all the items Oprah brags about, but who wants to buy the items when you get them for free?

Next, I would take the rest of the $150 m and split it 4 ways. I’d give $37.5m to my mother, my brother, and my sister.

I would take $4m and buy a NYC brownstone overlooking Central Park,















a $2-4 million Italian/Spanish style looking home in Atlanta and LA






a $4 million Paris apartment, and a $4 million Rome apartment.





I would buy myself 3 cars
An Audi r8




This beamer













And this maserati







I would buy a pug,














or two














I would go on a $1 million Neiman Marcus shopping spree and buy all things Chanel





I would give NYU $2 million and ensure a place in their graduate program. I would love to achieve a NYU masters in marketing/advertising.







I would show love to my 3 girls, Chrissy, Morgan, and Kim. I would give them each $1 million, but under the table so they didn’t have to pay for taxes. I see how hard each one of them works and they all have been extremely good to me. What’s the point in having money if you can’t share it with the ones you love?

I would also give $1 million to my Mr. Big. He’s already a millionaire but he also has been so good to me so it would be the right thing to do.

Lastly, me and my girls would travel to Bali,







Fiji,




Europe, and Vegas.











I would put the rest into a Fidelity money market and enjoy the next 2 years living in NYC as a student, NOT WORKING.

If only dreams could come true.
Back to my coporate America job...


Loves!
mer

Did someone say lovely?

With studio week fast approaching, I can pretty much say goodbye to sleep for the next 2 weeks. Last night I stayed up until 4am and then took a 2 hour nap. Needless to say this morning was so rough not even Starbucks could help. As I was driving into work with half-opened eyes, Tempted by the Fruit came on the radio. Instantly, flashes of a very old Gap commercial swam through my head. As soon as I got to my desk, I went straight to YouTube. Funny how one very good looking Italian man can wake me right up. Now why cant there be more men that look like him? I think I am in love.

A little side note: why dont more actresses date models like Raoul? Actresses have a catalogue of men to choose from and yet a majority seem to complain they cant find anyone to date. Jennifer Anniston is on the cover of US claiming she is all alone and lonely. Hello! Roul is single! She needs to tell her agent to hook it up. Dear God, I should really start doing PR of some sort.

apples & wine

One of my girlfriends sent my this as a joke. Enjoy


Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top.
Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of
falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the
ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something
is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait
for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all
the way to the top of the tree.

Now Men.... Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to
women to stomp the $hit out of them until they turn into something
acceptable to have dinner with.