No Regrets

I'm starting to tire of the phrase "Everything happens for a reason." I'm totally guilty of over and actually mis-using it in the past. This phrase is simply something to hide behind when you don't like the outcome of decisions already made. When my wedding fell apart I said that everything happened for a reason over and over to make myself feel better and move on. What I was telling myself is that I didn't screw it up, but really got caught in the universe's plan for me.

Bullshit.

I dove into a relationship, ignored all warning signs and kept the dark sides to myself. Yes, the relationship ended the way it did for a reason - I made a series of choices, added to the choices he made as the person he is and thus it blew up one day. It all happened for a reason.

This is all in my head today because Miss America was last night. I love Miss America and it used to be my world. I took two separate breaks from college to devote all my focus preparing for Miss Georgia. As a 29-year old, confident enough as a young woman, focused on certain dreams, comfortable with myself, I know without a doubt I could compete with the women on stage last night and possibly win. I could be Miss America. As a young 20-something I doubted my chances and believed only in the belief others had in me. Because my belief wasn't my own, it became overwhelming quite often and I rebelled. Sometimes that was just by getting wasted and partying for a night, other times I would paint my nails black or wear something slightly gothic for a reaction. As the phrase has commonly become known, I was dark and twisty, but covered in sequins and a crown.

My final year I chose to compete I felt more myself and had a board of directors focused on helping me find my best me onstage and not just what would win Miss America. I became most of who I am today while being Miss Atlanta. However, I chose to let the pressure get to me and bowed out my final year, choosing not to compete, but walking away as 4th-runner up to Miss Georgia 2003. I had one more year of age eligibility, had climbed from Top 15 to Top 5 in three years, held the most coveted local titles in the state, even place in a local Miss Texas coming in 2nd-runner up to the eventual Miss Texas and Top 5 at Miss America, Lisa Dalzell. But I walked away. I'll never know what would have happened for sure that next year, but I am 99.9% certain, as are those that were around me at the time, I would have been Miss Georgia 2004 and competed for Miss America on that televised stage. As a result, a whole list of decisions would have changed, resulting in a completely different outcome than I'm in now - bringing me back to the point I'm at today.

The only reason everything happens for is the one based on the decisions I make for myself and the decisions of those around me that affect me both directly and indirectly. I'll never be Miss America. I'll never know if I would have had the chance to try. I'm jealous of all the girls in my life that did have that chance. I'm jealous of all the girls on the peripherals of my life that are still involved in that world. Yet, and make no mistake, I love my life. It's just a different life than I thought it would be years ago.

Life isn't about hiding behind some phrase to make yourself feel better. We aren't floating around the universe, pawns for whichever way the wind blows; we wake up every day and make choices: some are big, some are small. We decide our futures and we determine our outlooks each and every day. My soapbox rant is half venting and half pep talk to myself. Miss America I will never be, so now it's up to me to decide who I WILL be - today and tomorrow.

My not so rave review

Ladies and gentlemen, be advised. Do not, I repeat, do not take this review lightly if you have a sensitivity to Ed Hardy, Affliction or Juicy Couture. If the bling has been known to give you a headache from the reflection off of all the sunglasses worn indoors or if you've ever been on the wrong side of a fist pump, I firmly advise against visiting The Patio Grill on a weekend.

We went to watch the playoff game and cheer for the boys in blue last weekend and ended up at the shit show that is Sundays at Patio Grill. Here's a recap of what I witnessed:
 - Some fake blonde in a bedazzled Cowboys jersey
 - A quilted leopard print purse and a lip piercing
 - A black glittered cheerleader skirt with NOTHING underneath
 - Rhinestone headbands
 - Neon green, rhinestone studded MEN'S shirt
 - tattooed Audigier, rhinstoned MEN'S shirt
 - basically, guys more blinged out and in tighter tshirts than the girls they were with
 - Pink bedazzled Ed Hardy trucker hat with blonde braids
 - Gold, fur-trimmed Juicy jacket with 1990's bare midriff
 - Pink Romo jersey with a studded clutch
 - A "not so lap dog" being carried, yet also carrying a big purse and dog carrier on her arm with scarf and sunglasses worn indoors
 - A Snuggie
 - Some chick lifting her shirt at the table next to us
 - A guy asking if we're "going to blaze later"

The world could have flooded and we'd stay afloat on all the silicone in that joint. Not to mention my main question - When did the Jersey Shore become aspirational instead of the punchline? I saw actual fist pumping!

And to top it all off, it took over 2 hours to get food, which is a big health risk for those of you that know me. I left the bar hysterical, crying and headed home across the street. I finally returned with a hat on and spent the rest of the night vowing to share how much I loathe the Patio Grill on McKinney Ave on weekends.

Just to be fair - I've walked by on weeknights and it looks like a chill place to spend a happy hour on a nice day. I'll have to try that next time.

Simply the best

To quote Tina, Diane von Furstenberg is quite simply the best. I love me some DVF. I recently came across the new pre-Fall 2010 show recaps and fell over when I saw DVF. I absolutely love every piece. Ignoring her stint on "The City"(a show that I adore, btw), she is such a well-respected and iconic fashion designer. She exudes confidence and has that certain je ne sais quais so many Europeans possess that eludes me. I just had to share these looks!

As for this collection, I think it has a great feel for style and accessories that not everyone would be comfortable pulling off, giving it that runway pizazz, yet isn't so unattainable that it comes across as costumes. I can genuinely say that I would wear every single piece from this collection and I can't usually say that. I am just bubbling over with adoration and love right now for these looks!!
*(thanks to WWD for the pictures from the DVF pre-Fall 2010 Collection)

Uh-Oh

Each January Boo's friend throw a big bash with giant Jenga, flip cup, beer pong - the works. It's aptly titled January Kegger. It's happened for years now. Last year, my first attempt at January Kegger, I came down with the flu and had 102 fever and sat on the couch in coat, hat, gloves, scarf and more shivering until I gave up and went home to soup, a heater and medicine. I MUST attend this year.

Lo and behold, a conflict. Maybe it isn't a conflict to anyone else, but this is MY tradition. This is something I've done every year for almost a decade now that I hold very near and dear to my heart. Miss America is LIVE on TLC the exact same night and start time as January Kegger.

The only reason this isn't an absolute, total and complete disaster is because of the invention of DVR. But it's just not the same. And I know there is no chance in the universe that I could ever get anyone to understand what a big sacrifice this is for me. And I am not being sarcastic, although I can imagine that most people would think I was joking about the whole pageant thing to begin with. However, I am not. I promise you.

Oh, boo hiss.

Votes please

This is what I want to do to my hair.

Specifically the bangs. Maybe not as dramatically cut back towards the tip of the head, but definitely in length and bluntness. And I don't hate the color, although reds are terrible on me so I'd just stick with a true chocolate brown. The length will come in time. (damn that urge to look like Posh).

Seriously, votes? Please cast your ballot. My appointment with Brian, my fav hairdresser ever is the 1st week of February

Sunny Memories

The weather the last couple days is absolutely fantastic! It's an El Nino year so it was super ridic levels of freezing in December and tepid in January. I know it will probably get a little cold again, which is fine because I have some winter fashion to wear still, particularly my Urban grey military jacket and Kors cape coat. I haven't worn either yet!

But as for now, the sun is shining from a beautiful blue sky with cotton scattered so thin you can barely see it above. It FEELS good. It feels happy! Just looking outside fills my head with memories of Springs past. I can seriously relive college and NYC just from taking the dog out or sitting at my desk with the window open.

Today I'm taken back to college - I remember the fun things Spring brought on a college campus. Walking to class in between people laying out and playing catch in the grass. It was straight out of movie scene of some ivy league, except that it was my corner of the private university in the south. I'd leave my dorm window open and play on AIM listening to Napster, wait for my flip cell phone to ring, drive around with the sunroof open on my Chevy Beretta. I remember road tripping to AR for Sigma Chi formal with the boy I totally had a heart for. Walking to play rehearsals, ICEE trips to 7-11, intramurals, ditching class for margaritas on the OTB patio, afternoons lounging around the KE house with the doors and windows all open, frosh music history class (don't know why, but it's there), the patio at the Deeg.

Then depending on how the breeze hits my memory I miss NYC with all my heart. Happy Hours at Bryant Park, laying out in Central Park, or Saturday afternoon walks, brunch at Essex and shopping around SoHo, Misty at the dog park, stumbling upon street fairs and farmers markets, laying out on the roof and lazy afternoons in Riverside Park lying on a blanket reading books while the boys played frisbee. Yes, it was, yet again, a picturesque time from a scene in a movie. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING beats New York in the Spring.

Man, I need some good Spring memories here in Dallas before I pack my bags and head back up north!

I am obsessed

I love celebrity fashion. I spend hours a day reading mainstream and non-mainstream fashion blogs. I check out what's moving on e-tail sites from Neiman's to Shopbop. I check for updates on Intuition's celeb pages and I read my daily Perez. I watch Project Runway, What Not to Wear, Platinum Weddings, Say Yes to the Dress (although that's more for my wedding planner life) and I can't wait for the Racheal Zoe Project. My bookshelf is full of Lucky, SATC, Audrey, InStyle, Style A to Zoe. I devour fashion magazines cover to cover and usually find something to tear out in the meantime. I think fashion compliments are second to none. I was recently told "I wish I had the confidence to wear what you wear." Which doesn't mean I have confidence, by any means, but it means I fake it with the best of them. You get the idea.

I consider red carpet season second only to football season. I watch the before, during and after analyzing what's in. There are always trends. As the Golden Globes is the first show of the season, it sets the tone for what's to come. And boy is it glamorous. Diamonds and flash, but not in some Juicy, ghetto-fab way, but more of a Harlow, 40's, Tiffany's sort of way. Makeup wasn't specifically eyes or lips, but accentuating natural beauty. Hair was flowing, even when pulled back, looking shiny and healthy. And the dresses were beyond. White, cream, khaki and all shades in-between. Most everything was long. But again, it was all glamorous. And check it out - khaki is in from tops to nails and long dresses and specifically skirts are huge. Natural is better. Thank you 40's for influencing us once again. Post recession fashion is so fantastic.

I used to do a whole writeup but with running two companies my time is slim. So instead I just have some quick pics of my favs this Golden Globe run. They aren't representative of trends, but more the most standout striking non-trends that I saw. Maybe I would wear these things. Don't ask why. These few just struck me (thanks WWD for the pics):

Previous post from my past life

(2/27/06)

My first trainer was a tall, skinny man single, supposedly straight and in his mid-40’s. I think his name was Michael? His claim as a trainer was the Miss USA system as a whole. Seriously, he had an entire room with no wall space showing through the framed, signed Miss USA contestant head shots – Ali Landry among them. And this was pre-“Doritos chick.” He believed in running. He wanted me to do 1.5 hours of cardio a day and weight training with 3 or 5-lb weights only 2-3 days a week. Apparently, to him skinny was better.

My second trainer was a Mr. Body Builder-type contestant. The bulkiest black dude in Atlanta. Derrick. So nice, though. But damn he was strict. He had me on a chicken-broccoli-rice, 6 times a day diet. Shit you not. It didn’t happen. I almost became an anorexic over it. I literally couldn’t force another bite of dry, unsalted or herbed chicken into my mouth. I threatened to hurl in my parents’ car on our family trip to Denver 2 weeks before the pageant if they force-fed me one more strain of rice.

I guess my parents were as much of a pain as my trainer. But he would push me hard. I bench-pressed with the big boys, then I would throw up a little in a nearby trashcan and he’d have me right back down with the bar above my head. I cried out of sheer exertion pretty much every session, which was only once a week for a couple months, then 3 times a week and the last 2 weeks of training before the pageant EVERY SINGLE DAY. PS – I was jacked, though. Quite hot if I do say so myself, and quite ripped.

But it’s no wonder I’ve stayed away from the gym and trainers for so long.

But signing up for my new gym, I received the obligatory sales pitch of a training session. We give you one free because it’s good for you; meanwhile, the trainer shoves a sales pitch down your throat while you’re too red-faced and out of breathe to argue.

Enter Frankie. My new trainer. Well, for my free session. He starts me out on the treadmill. Keep in mind that I haven’t been in a gym or even run around the block for pretty much a full year or more. He stands, with Starbucks in hand, on the treadmill next to me and occasionally jacks up my speed as he plays the “get to know you” game. Nice enough guy and quite cute, so I’m slightly embarrassed when after 20 minutes I want to puke. (Turns out I was only on for 10 minutes, but man it felt like 20).

We move onto some free weights, machines, lunges etc. At one point all the blood rushed to my face and I had to sit – too dizzy. As I was doing leg lifts, my pants slid from my ankles down to my knees and revealed the legs that hadn’t been shaved in 5 days. And as we finish, I stop talking and hold my breathe for a moment making sure I don’t lose my granola bar of a breakfast in the middle of the floor.

Turns out he’s a nice guy. Didn’t push me too hard, except for the muscle relaxers required to finish out my day today. But maybe I could do every other week for an apparent $100 a session. Damn the sales pitch. And I didn’t even realize I was getting one.

Previous post from my past life

The popular kids at the gym: (2/27/06)

“I need a tan. I have reached my limit of pastiness,” Mara* said, half to her reflection in the mirror and half to her friends bustling around her. She applied her layers of makeup and picked at her curls, still wet from her shower, barely listening to Sarah

“And then I told her that she couldn’t do that anymore and then she slammed the door in my face. So I opened it and told her she had to deal with it and this is just the way it is.”

A voice piped in from inside a locker, “Kids.” It was Shelby, reappearing with her heels in hand. “They just don’t understand that they can’t get along without us.”

They continued on, about seven of them, sharing stories and talking about people in their respective offices. Who’s selling what, moving in from Jersey, the PTA meeting, midtown versus upper east.

Everyone else was quietly changing or showering, going about their business in the locker room at the gym, but these women were the social butterflies. This was it. I had found it – the popular clique. Although no one was younger than 30, they all had families and jobs, but this was a full-blown clique that came complete with glares to the nearby outsiders (me) that tried to get ready around them.

Two choices – get ready near them again and hope that maybe they’ll talk to me this time and I can be a part of the popular morning crowd in the locker room. (Maybe they’d even ask me to ride a bike near them in spin class) Or select a different mirror, where everyone is quietly minding their own business, careful to avoid looking at anyone, as they get ready.

Personally, I’m done with people that feel the need to be popular. I didn’t like them in middle school, high school or college and still had run-ins with them at the office. I think I’ll choose another mirror.

*Names changed, well, basically because I was eavesdropping and don’t know them.

My head hurts

I've had these odd cysts on my head for close to a decade now. First there were two, then a third and in the last couple years two more. Five cysts. They bug me. I play with them. I worry about them. They're growing. So I finally found a cosmetic dermatologist that offered to remove them for $250. Considering insurance won't cover them, that's a bargain.

Three days ago I had all five cysts removed. Holy painful batman. They didn't quite get the numbing thing down for the first two. It was also a little odd to watch the reflection of what was going on in a picture frame across from my chair. But it's done. Stitches in five places. Medication and difficulty showering or sleeping. But done. They're shipping them off to a lab to make certain they're benign, but there's only a 10% chance they aren't. Since I was already diagnosed with a chronic illness in the last 6 months, I think I'm spared. I haven't done enough for Karma to kick me that hard.

Most Awkward First Date

But it wasn't a first date. In fact, since I have a boyfriend and this was another female, it technically wasn't a date at all. However, if it had been a first date, it would have been the most awkward ever.

My hot girlfriend (she's a girl and a friend) and I went on a girl date this week. I had two screening passes to a new chick flick and then we'd continue our tradition of sushi dinner. Walking to the theater we're informed that the screening is already full. Overbooked. OK, scratch that, let's just do dinner.

We were in a burbish neighborhood so we were trying somewhere new. I typed the addy into my new IPhone and off we went - for about 5 miles into the suburbs. No restaurants around. This cannot be right. So I ignore the directions and decide to check the address. Which took us all the way back to where we started - at a location we had both already been to. However that restaurant had closed and this was some 2-month old sushi spot in its place.

30 minutes into our failed attempt at a date we get a table. I'm newly diabetic and hadn't tried sushi yet with the insulin, so it was a total shit show trying to order from our waitress that spoke little to broken English and just smiled and nodded. Eventually the bartender took our order and filled us in on cucumber-wrapped sushi, no rice. Rock on! I can still eat my fav food!

Spicier than hell edamame that left seasoning in your teeth and a hole in your stomach, a questionable "sampler" that was in a beautiful martini glass, 2 rolls, a mixup between sushi and sashimi and a bottle of wine later we had made our way through dinner mainly unscathed. Now the check. After 30 minutes of empty wine glasses, empty plates and no contact with our waitress I waved her over. She smiled and walked away. After 30 more minutes we finally got her over. I needed change. At one point my friend noticed our waitress peering through the circle glass in the kitchen watching us to see when we leave. (insert dumbfounded look here). I still need change and only have $2.25 towards her tip - not enough by half. So I get my change from the bartender. When I get up, the waitress runs over and swipes the half tip off the table. I put the rest of the tip on the now empty table, shook my head and we left. I hope the waitress went back to get the rest of her tip.

If we didn't know each other so well that would have been a super awkward hour. How many times can you make the joke "gee, I wonder where our waitress is?" Why is dating, even if it isn't really dating, always so ridiculous?

Freezing Bathroom Break

It is frigid, no, downright arctic outside right now. 17-degrees, and then a windchill. I expected it and felt it even a rite of passage of sorts to navigate my way in the frozen tundra of NYC. Yes, dear friends left back in the boring warmth of the south, I made it to the subway this morning. I wear sunglasses and my IPOD indoors and out. I layer hats, gloves, scarves, legwarmers and boots just to hike 2 miles to work when the MTA goes on strike. I am a warrior of the cold. I am a NYer. But this is Dallas. Dear Lord, it's cold. I had to put on snuggly socks, winter boots (my lovely $30 faux Uggs), my big girl puffer coat that covers below my knees, gloves and a scarf wrapped around my FACE! All this to take the dog out this morning.

I waited for her Princess butt to freeze, to run back towards the building, anxious to get her cold paws back on warm ground. But no. She stood and looked around, letting the biting below-freezing wind nip her face. She wagged her tail at cars that drove by with their heaters and seat warmers toasting passengers. She eventually got dragged by the leash back to the building. It's great that her body is made of fur, but mine is not and this thinned Southern blood needed coffee and a hot shower.

Curious

I'm not a fan of random friend requests on facebook. In fact, I usually ignore them. A while back I got a request from the ex-fiance's little sister. I stared at it for a couple days before eventually denying it. It hadn't been that long and I didn't want to deal with the potential connection or subsequent communication as a result. About six months later she asked again. This time I accepted.

Things are different. I am now living with my boyfriend of over a year. I have zero connection to or communication with the ex and have no residual feelings of angst or sadness over how everything played out. I do find myself apologizing too much or being paranoid about what my Boo thinks, but he is always there to calmly remind me that he loves me for me. Stop trying to please him or worry about his emotions. He isn't going to freak out or rage like the last guy.

All that being said, I accepted her request. And of course, there were pictures of the ex with his new girl in the mix. Eh, maybe they're happy together. Maybe he won't cheat on her, or yell at her or control her life...maybe. I was glad to find I really couldn't care. However, as I am a Googler (I randomly Google people. It's what I do.) I googled the ex. I used his email knowing that's his online persona. Lo and behold, he IS cheating on her too. The first thing that came up was an online dating site. Are you KIDDING me? You're that blatant about it now? Good Lord I dodged a big freaking bullet. I told Boo and he just chuckled. People never change. And I absolutely love my view from where I am right now.

I haven't actually communicated with his sister yet, just accepted the friend request. And yes, I will just sit on my new information. Not mine to share. After all, the current girl knowingly cheated with him behind my back. Sounds like karma to me.

party hardy

As an event planner, I've done multiple weddings of size and scale, learning something new with each one. This last NYE was, however, my first public party. And it was amazing. I had people trying to get in, trying to buy tickets last minute. I made close to $1400 after all said and done, which is barely more than what I should have charged the throw the party. And over half of the guests and staff said it was the best NYE ever. That is an accomplishment. Now I need to hurry up with the site and cards to continue getting my name out there.

I think what made it such a great night were the details. I chose a themed evening, offering the option to dress up. I floated 200 silver and black balloons over the dance floor with curling ribbon hanging down. I played old movies matching the theme on the big screen in the background. The DJ stuck to the theme (however he probably needed to modern it up a bit. The guests wanted to party, which means generic beats and loud bass). I hand selected party gear that was classier, yet bright and fun. There was even a backdrop to get your picture taken. Even the menu and drinks were themed. And true to theme party, there was a best dressed award. I'm incredibly proud of the night.

So now I have to figure out which party to throw next!