let me eat cake...

i had a chance to take in a sunday matinee of marie antoinette. i read
the new yorker review prior to attendance, so i knew i was in for.
despite the anthony lane's scathing (and hilarious) review, i still
trumped over to the amc van ness with nicholas for an afternoon treat.

i have to begin by saying that it was very difficult to get into this
film. it had a very slow beginning with a number of scenes that seemed
either too long or not crucial to the story development. don't you
hate that? i do. immediately i start looking at my cell to see what
time it is, thus trying to calculate how long this pitty of a film
will be. this happened when i went to see "the lake house" (yes, i saw
it). so roughly 20 minutes into the film i began to get somewhat
comfortable. i never really got into the dialogue (because there
wasn't much). i didn't enjoy the jason schwartzman as the dauphin--i
didn't believe him and i kept seeing "weird ethan" in his eyes,
kristen dunst reminded me of sour, retarded milk--can milk be
retarded--and all in all the movie missed its mark.

coppala's intent was clear. she was hoping do skillfully intertwine
eighteenth century france with modern day. fair enough, right? but it
was off on so many accounts. the converse, the language, the behavior
of the characters, the music, the overall indulgence somehow didn't
gel in the way one would have expected. somehow there manages to be a
great disconnect in the film. perhaps it isn't cohesive due to her
choice of actors? or maybe she's trying too hard? i can tell she's
trying to tap into some greater meaning. nicholas suggested that
perhaps the 80s tunes (i.e.bow wow wow, siouxsie and the banshees)
where a failed attempt at coppala creating a comparison between
over-the-top way of the 80's to that of revolutionary france.

anthony lane suggests that paris hilton directed the film. i found
this hilarious, but i do feel that the redeeming quality of the flick
was it's decadence. being the sort of gal that i am i can't shy away
from luxurious fabrics, unforgiving colors, ornate design, perfect
curls, cupcakes, candy, pastel poker chips, ribbons, porcelain tea
cups, champers (champagne), luscious bedding, dramatic dress, and a
delicate french backdrop, so for those things alone, i enjoyed the
film. it made me want to lie around and relish in dainty eats all day,
dress wale-bone corsets, pick out shoes, and bitch about who's who's
in the french social scene. oh and make "nice" with sexy soldiers.

i did however walk away with a sparked interest for marie antoinette
and i'm interested in picking up a copy of antonia fraser's book, upon
which this film is based. i guess any girl who supposedly tells a
bunch of starving people to "eat cake," is a no nonsense darling after
my own heart. the movie wasn't great, but i'm glad i saw it. and to be
honest, because it was so pretty, i'd see it again.

word of the day

SLAG

WHY: i like the movement of the jaws when saying it. and it's a hot insult to call someone a slag

MEANING: 1. also called cinder. the more or less completely fused and vitrified matter separated during the reduction of a metal from its ore.

2. to form slag; become a slaglike mass

3. residue

USE IT IN A SENTENCE: gavin is hot and i hope he runs again. i'll gladly be his young girlfriend once he gets rid of that SLAG he's dating now.

can i holla at chu?

ERRRRGGG, very uncool way to begin my tuesday. i was "attacked," but a dreadlocked something as i was making my way to starbucks (would have rather had peets) for my morning coffee. i expressed the fact that i was in a hurry, i don't give out my phone number, and i didn't want to talk. i thought i rid myself of the guy, but lo and behold when i walked out of "bucky's" there he was--clad in a camoflogue hoodie, green hat, and jeans. i was on the phone with my beloved mother and tried to make the call seem more important than it was. he stopped me and asked, "can you talk now." i responded with a quick "no, i'm on an important call and i need to get into work." he left...thank jebus.

the point of this rant, is because i'm tired of being approached by men who are clearly not my style or type. just because i'm black doesn't mean i want to date a guy in a hoodie with rims on his lexus. in fact, i don't care about that. he'd probably just want to sleep with me then loaf off of me...been there, done that and i'm not doing it again. i know it's horrible for me to sterotype a group of guys, but why is every black man that approaches me so FUCKING AGGRESSIVE. i like assertive, not obnoxiously agressive. look, no means no. i'm not interested in you tryin to "holla." BLARG...

oh no dawling, keep the change

there are so many things i want. i'm sure it's a combination of living in consumer culture and the fact that my mother had no trouble (and still doesn't) with indulging me. on the "to have" list this week:

a) a mani
b) a new pair of red pumps
c) a knit red hat
d) new La Luz candles
e) sushi dinner

i'm sure all of it won't happen (in fact i'm positive it won't), but i like wanting things. however, the reason why it won't all come to pass is because of....yup, money! now why is it that we can't pay people in ice cream. there is plenty of it, it tastes better than pennies or dollar bills, and it leaves one with options. i mentioned to Amanda (jebus, i miss that girl) that when she returns i'm going to take her out for dessert at citizen cake. i'm going to dub that our date spot. i'm taking her there for a number of reasons (she likes it, i like it, it's quaint), but most of all i'm taking her there for payment. i'm repaying her in dessert for being one of my favorite people and i'm sure for some reason i owe her cash (i owe everyone, even the irs). she will be pleased with this form of payment, i'm sure. everyone is happy when you pay people in dessert be it ice cream, cupcakes, cookies, truffles, or rum balls.

*you may think this post is making no sense, but i like it...it's making my cavities hurt

cow branding

i'm not really into cow branding, although if it helps someone pick out a better piece of steak than let's do it. i'm kidding!

i'm the cow, and i need to be branded. i don't know who even reads this blog anymore, but if you know what's been going on with me as of late, you are well aware of some of my outside projects and my hope to become a big name in the mktg./publicity world. so i'm currently doing some freelance work for a style website, and i've also adopted (not black babies) some freelance publicity projects. i'm a girl on the go--attending events, sucking down cocktails, and networking. and regardless of my pathetic checking account, i'm seemingly fabuloous (tooting of the horn...awww beep beep awww toot toot).

any who, i need to be branded. i'm sticking my butt out so stamp a seal on it! i need a website, i need a logo, or a sexy design, a treo, and a new handbag (my bag is so tired). ok, maybe i don't really need the last two that badly, but i need to up my contacts list and get recognized. if i want prime san francisco property, a winter condo in palm springs, and a black AMEX i need to get on this. if you have any ideas for branding, please send them over. this is my new project and i want your help, cuz i luuuuuh you!

word of the birthday

i'm on a roll.

word of the day: STRUMPET

why: because i said so and i really like the way it sounds.

today is laura aka blaurablog's "burfday." she is just getting so much celebratory action these days. i attended her bachlorette on saturday, which is the real reason for my mention of her. it was so fun. she was scantily clad in a tutu, bunny ears, a garter , and a t-shirt with commands such as "give a beer bottle a blow job," "let a random guy do body shots off of you," "give away your garter," "eat a chocolate cock at the bar and ask the guy if he minds," "kiss a bartender," and "show your right nipple," to name a few. laura was a good sport about this. she was by far the best bride yet--i guess she was channeling those sorority days. david really is a lucky guy to have laura ...FOREVER and oscar is a lucky pup to have her too. we stumbled our way through the mission (beauty bar, skylark & double dutch) with penis straws, drunken smiles, and more booze in our belly than we knew what to do with (beside puke). laura's friend brooke and i donned "tramp stamps" indicating our single status. all and all it was good fun, but i don't think laura will be reliving her last time as a STRUMPET (use it in a sentence) on this, her lovely birthday. below are a few photos of the evenings debachery....(p.s. don't show my mom). Do you think we were STRUMPETS?

black babies are the new birkin

If this is true than I can get rich pretty easily. Black babies seem to be a hot comodity in Hollywood. So, if I pop out a few does that mean that I'll reap the monetary benefits of well tanned offspring? Probably not, because at the rate I'm going my children won't be pure breed, since I don't date very many black men. They'll be muts, so I won't get as much money for them...damn.

This brings me to my next topic of discussion. I've been dating more. I've been going out more. Which means, I've been drinking more (my liver runs marathons). But back to the first point. I've been dating more. Now I had a date back in August and the follow (or lack thereof) was wretched. However, I met a gem--Southern Hottie--and we reconnected last weekend. Exquisite, I tell you. I also managed to sneak in a dinner date on a school night with "Apple." Apple is cute and, despite Nicholas's contempt for Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Apple resembles him (J.R.M, not Nicholas). Any who, while I have had no shame in expressing my wish for a boyfriend, I like dating right now, it's fun.

My mother thinks this is obsurd and I should, "wait on God" and that SF is filled with weirdos. I came back at her by stating that people in Riverhell do the same thing, only they meet at TGI Friday's. To be honest, I don't really care if she thinks dating is crazy. Someday, my date will become my claim to fame. Because he will assist me in producing an impure blood line and we'll get rich off of it. While black babies are the new birkin, half black babies well become the new vintage chanel.

dining in fantasyland

New methods are always welcomed if you ask me and that is why I took Bart to work (that and I can't afford gas). Taking Bart isn't exactly new for me, but it never ceases to refresh. Over the weekend my October issue of Elle arrived so I toted it along today for riding reading material.

After reading this article about "not-so-perfect" wifery, I came across a really cool Q&A with CFDA Womenswear Designer of the year, Costa del Soul. They asked him "Who are your fantasy dinner party guests?" What a great question. I marveled at this. His answer: Picaso, Maplethorpe, Diana Vreeland, Elizabeth Taylor, Harry Potter, Louis Armstrong, and Diana, Princess of Wales.

All day I've been thinking of my fantasy dinner party guests...I think I have an idea of who I would invite.

-Truman Capote (that's a given--damn he was a partygoer & he could hold his liquor)
-Audrey Hepburn
-Mary Shelley
-Billie Holiday (for sassy entertainment)
-Diane von Furstenburg
-Johnny Depp (he's nice to look at)
-Coco Chanel
-Andre Leon Talley
-Humbert Humbert
-Yves Klein (i love blue)
and
-a few of my refined friends (but that's not fantasy)

Before meeting in a grand dining room--the one with 12 ft. ceilings, brocade dining chairs and a table fit for a queen--we'd lounge around the sitting room on decade sitting poufs, drinking Campari, sidecars & manhattans--maybe even Veuve Rose, while enjoying canapes for hors d'overs, and talk about two of my favorite things--literature and fashion! Tres magnific...Can I move to fantasy land?

grey's friday-pt. deux

Happy Friday, Friends!

So I had a fabulous dinner last night with Nicholas. He is totally the BEST DATE EVER. We always have such good conversation and I end dinner feeling accomplished. After dinner, however, I rushed home to catch Grey's. And here's what I have to say about it. I'm beginning with the end, because it was so powerful.

Go Addison!!! I loved her for so many things last night. She's such a great character. When I first began watching Grey's, I hated Addison. I thought she was pathetic and getting in the way of true love, but the truth is that Addison is a hot slut. She called her husband a slut--I love that. And she got herself set up in a swanky hotel with one hot piece of ass. Jebus, did you see him walk out of that steamy shower?!? My God...I'm excited for the unraveling of this story, it's totally bringing sexy back to Seattle. I'm glad she and McDreamy have realized that it's over. She's so much better off without him. He's one of those men who will just take take take. He doesn't give, instead he blames her for everything. Addison, keep effing that hot guy, he's a better lay--I know it!

Second item of business, Burke's "mama." I hate her. Yeah, yeah, so she's a clean cut, wealthy black lady, but she's also a bitch. Ralph says she's like my mom. Whatever. She needs to be nicer to Yang. I'm not into mother's "testing" their son's women. That's tired. About as tired as that black blazer that she wore throughout the episode. Upity black people can be so disenfranchising.

I'm over Izzie and her shit.

I'm over Meredith and her obnoxious monologues. I know that viewers like that, but she has too many wrinkles to be that choosy over who she wants as a man. People like her shouldn't have options. George's girlfriend on the other hand is so perfect. She's my favorite right now. I want him to love her, don't you? I think he does, but he's being a total guy about it.

Finally, let's talk about Alex. He and Addison get the hot slut award. That old lady wasn't hot enough if you ask me, but I still love that was, as Amanda would say, a "Booty Nomad." How great was his last line, "You're right, I shouldn't be getting physical with patients?" He's got a big one--I know it! hahaha

Tune in next week for more of my useless opinions on Grey's. I provided a link in case you want a respectable look at the show.

Click here for Seattle Grace

get on your knees and get to work

I'm thinking about getting a cleaning lady. Ralph told me to "Go find a Mexican," to which I responded with uncontroable laughter. I think having a cleaning lady will make me feel rich and more in control.

If you don't already know it, I have serious control issues. I'm like the Barbie (in black, of course) who comes complete with territorial issues, a voicebox that complains when you pull my string (or just say something I don't like), caffiene dependency, opposable thumbs, and a bag full of accessories.

Cleaning ladies are good. I think any way. I once had someone say to me that they weren't comfortable with getting a pedi because they felt like it was weird and some superiority issues could come into play That makes me wonder how some people feel about having a cleaning lady. Sure, cleaning is a task you can do yourself, but why not have someone else do it. If she's making money than clearly it isn't that much of a burden. Because we all know there are a lot of ways to make money and cleaning house doesn't have to be one of them. I don't care what anyone else thinks...I want my baseboards cleaned and I don't want to do it. After five days of commuting and working, the last thing I want to do is pull out soap and water to start scrubbing the walls in my dust ridden apartment (we get dust from the street--I live on a busy one). A clean house means I'm in control of something and I love being in control because when I'm not in control of things, I begin behaving strangely. Well more accuratley I get bitchy. And I hate being a bitch.

16 drinks, 2 port-a-potties & 1 naked leatherfest later

It's Monday. I've begun many-an-entry such as that, but mostly out of detest. Today it's out of exhaustion. I filled my weekend with goodies--the kind that come in bottles, glasses, flutes, and cans.

Errrgg I'm really tired today....

So on Friday Ralph came up, which is always fun, but unlike past visits where we spent our days rifling through the racks of H&M, movie going, or skipping through Union Square until we have shopping headaches, we took in the weekend's festivities and drank ourselves silly. Friday was dinner at Medjool with Arty followed by a round of shots and about 5 additional drinks (per person) at Elbo Room. I'm really glad I've stopped drinking fru fru drinks (for the most part anyway), it's so much easier to order Campari--everyone has it and you can't screw it up! We had such fun. I was even asked if I wanted to go motorcycle riding sometime this week. The guy--cute, but he was about 5'2 and that doesn't work with me. Then he confessed to be an "LD" (yeah I didn't know what that meant either). Well it means "learning disabled" and when I offered up my number, I also I had to task of entering my name into his phone. I never have a dull moment at Elbo Room. So for three crazy kids who didn't want the evening to end, last call was more upsetting than usual, so back to Arty's for champs--the result? Vomitfest '06. I'm such a hard parting rock star (hee hee).

Saturday came and after waking up in Arty's flat at 2:00pm we decided to make the day happen , but take it easy. Shopping was the plan. Little did Ralph know, shopping on Saturday in Union Square is severely frustrating. We caught the first bus available and met a "friend" of mine at Civic Center for the Love Parade. It was my first time hanging out with this guy (the friend) and my first Love Parade--what fun it was. After 4 beers, 8 techno beat buses, a hash brownie, and ganja cake I couldn't stop feelin the party. We met up with the the friend (who is now dubbed "Southern Hottie") after dinner (more beer please) and partied until 3am. I managed to make out with Southern Hottie on the corner of Pacific and Van Ness--this one's a keeper...

Sunday was nothing but bare butts at Folsom. I didn't want to go but Ralph made me. Luckily I ran into one of my favorite groups of people--Jenny, Aaron and Tim (i just love them). This made Folsom a lot easier to ingest (in addition to those two really good margaritas). It felt unsanitary and I know someone caught ringworm. I saw enough penis to last me a lifetime (who am I kidding), enough ugly boobs to realize that maybe plastic surgery isn't as bad as I thought, and enough hairy butts, backs and balls to consider stock in Nads home waxing kit.

All in all I had a great weekend. I'm tired now, but I partied, I boozed, I had a few nice meals, I finally met Southern Hottie and made-out with him, and I used two port-a-potties in one weekend. Happy Autumn!!!

anatomy of a loyal viewer

Last night was the season premire of Grey's Anatomy. I was so excited--I still am. I remember ending last season in tears. For months I kept wanting Denny to die, so in the last episode of the season Seattle Grace Hospital fulfilled my wish and killed off Denny. I ended up feeling sad for days and whenever I heard "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol (now one of the most played songs on le pod) thoughts of Denny's failed body came to mind. Ugh and Izzie just crying her heart out in that Jessica McClintock. Jebus!

I feel like my old friends are back. It was so great to see everyone--McDreamy, George, Miranda, the Chief, Addison, Christina, Alex--everyone. I think we are in for an exciting season! After last night I called Ralph to ask him, how long until next Thursday. I will admit I was a bit frustrated with Izzie. I know Denny is dead, but she really showed her us "crazy" last season and it's going to be hard for her to win my trust back (hahaha). Of course Meredith and McDreamy are up to their old tricks. It's not a fresh idea, but it keeps me going back for more. And I'm crossing my fingers that Addison finally lets McDreamy have it. She's too good for him. Yeah so she had the affair first, but she's trying to make it work. The only thing he's trying to do is get and keep Meredith naked. I wonder how they're going to react to Meredith's black panties tacked to the "Lost and Found" board. Ok, I'll stop now. But I'm thinking this may be a regular thing--I'll dub it Anatomy Friday. Loves it!

a little discouragement goes a long way

The first year was hard. Actually those first few months of single life were daunting. The only thing enjoyable was getting down to a zero---ahh "breakuprexia!" After a few months of it (about six to be exact), I settled in nicely and began appreciating the new me.

The second year of single girlhood was wild, adventurous, sexy, even envious. I had my pick of guys. I exuded with confidence, while maintaining that girlish charm that males love so much. With no real commitments I relished in this devious behavior. It was refreshing and down right liberating after spending my days and nights with soy ice cream, my vegan buddy, and reruns of Everybody Love Raymond.

I've just passed the three year mark of single life. I know the exact date, but I'd feel foolish revealing it...eventhough I just told you that I know it. So now, at the ripe and ready age of 23, I'm ready to delve into the world of exclusivity. But sadly dating now seems to be much more difficult than it was 4 years ago. I have standards now and won't settle for any piece of shit off the street. I'm not into chubby guys (sick), guys who love Vegas (I'd rather go home and kill myself), mama's boys (not my style), anyone over 32(done that), vegetarians (not into relationships sans Ruth's Chris), divorcees (fug baggage), guys who just want to hook-up or play date (so over it), people from high school (losers), people from college (educated losers), guys with kids and/or wives (ugh done that one too) anyone who thinks not wearing sneakers is dressing up (lame and immature), someone who considers $35 too much money for a meal (cheap ass), men who hate gays (if you don't love my "gays" then you can't love me) and the list goes on. I don't think that's picky. I just know what I want and I'm vocal about it.

I'm discouraged this week. Let's cross our fingers that something good happens. Because I'm starting to believe that my ex did voo doo on me and didn't tell me. As usual, I'm starting to discredit my own abilities in selecting men...Do you think it's me or them?

"over" is the new black

Thanks to last night Marc Jacobs Spring 07 preview, we can assume "over" as the new black (this is not fact, but silliness). I'm hearing a lot of tales of things being over. Relationships, in particular.

I feel like I cut off my left arm today and this time I'm not getting it back. I am emotionally exhausted by fleeting arguements and inconsistency. Who knows that the future holds, that's for MJ to decide. But as of now I'm going to cling to "over" and love it with every grain of salt sprinkled on my wounds. I'm wearing "over" and loving it. Yay for trends!!!

world peace: one fucking email at a time

Forwarded emails generally make their way to my "trash" without even a glimpse. You'll never catch me responding to a chain letter and you can pretty much forget about me adding my name to a "Save the (fill in the blank)" campaign.

Since last Saturday I have discovered a few of those listless emails in my gmail box. UGH. A friend has sent emails on the following:

-clubbing of baby seals
-stopping AIDS via email
-subscribing to a poverty site

Obviously, the sender isn't practicing cognizant behavior because most individuals with a computer or access to email have seen such web material and realize that it is pointless. These things crowd one's inbox, annoy, and result in nothing but cyber space clutter. I really don't think AIDS will be eradicated through msn, Myspace isn't going to be the sole savior of brutalized baby seals, and a blogspot will have no effect on the homeless. Most of us (or at least I hope) realize that the only way to begin to create change is by implementing programs and being active participant's--not enjoying palatial lifestyles with infused vodka cocktails hitting a send button from our laptops.

The web is a passive tool. It allows us to feel in touch with reality, but we aren't. The Internet distorts truths, it is indirect, and allows us say what we want without having to deal with real repercussions in real time. I think it's a great tool for research, artwork, shopping, expression, etc., but it's also harmful. We get further and further away from true life when closer to the web.

I can guarantee that we're not bring out world peace one email at a time. Instead we're pissing more people off, which seems to me, counterproductive. Active behavior resonates much more than passiveness--ya'll.

but i didn't hear the bell ring

I've never been a fan of the fall, but with all the great things in tow, such as leggings, tunics, ankle boots, red nail polish, and the return of Grey's Anatomy, I can't help but love fall '06! Oddly, enough I've been waking up these past few mornings and getting myself back to (what now seems) a simpler time.

The mornings are reminding me of those first few weeks of my sophomore and junior years of high school. My uniforms were clean, my shoes were new, my backpack was light, and I was content with having thirty-dollars to my name. But what I remember most vividly was the weather. The mornings were always glorious, with the perfect amount of moisture settled on the windshield of my mother's mini van and a slight morning haze, but not enough to break the visibility of the sun's rays. It was never so cold that one needed a jacket or a sweater. I would simply roll the sleeves of my white polo, with the green emblem on the left breast and make my way out the door. Everything was really fresh and new in a time generally associated with death. Of course at the ripe (stupid) age of 16 I wasn't concerned with death, intrinsic meanings, or any other sophisticated idea. Usually those mornings gave way to unbearable afternoon heat, but it didn't matter. Each morning was a fresh beginning at impressing new teachers and rekindling fondness among the old and thinking about what I would rather be doing than conjugating Spanish verbs--yo, tu, nosotros and then some.

Now, I'm six or seven years removed from that experience, but I've managed to get back to those mornings in some sense. I can't blame tardiness on the bell failing to ring, being held late by the previous class--now I blame traffic. It is not acceptable to have only $30--I have bills now. I think I'm glad it's no longer summer and that's making me nostalgic. Whatever the case, it's nice and I hope the feeling lasts for awhile.

in search of

I took at trip to the SF MoMa yesterday evening. Not long after moving to San Francisco, I realized it was one of my favorite things to do. While I am an artist by no means, the MoMA is still a very inspirational place for me. It's personal, calming, and everything I need to feel grounded again.

I was accompanied by Nicholas. I usually don't like going to museums with people, because it can spoil the sacredness of the experience, but this was quite different. Nicholas really knows his stuff. And I found it freshened the visit having someone actually explain the purpose or school thought behind some of those more abstract pieces. Nicholas also introduced me to Joseph Cornell---who is my new favorite. I'm thoroughly intrigued by his boxes. "Pink Castle," captivated. I also managed to rekindle my fondness for Yves Klein. I love "International Klein Blue."

I'm thinking about spending more time learning about modern art. I initially didn't have much of a liking for it. I thought it too abstract and lacking artisticness, because oftentimes modern art is subtle or seems simplisctic (like I could do that at home, simplistic), but when one understands the madness behind it, it really adds a layer to it's intricateness. I want to go back to the MoMA soon. Jill has suggested that if I like art I ought to go to NY--I agree. She's suggessted that I go to New York and devote the weekend to "museum hoping." It sounds splendid!

feelings, nothing more than...

I feel like pudding.

No, I do not wish to eat pudding, but rather I am likening my being to that of pudding.

Today, I'm suffering from a mild case of insanity.

i want to be more famous than the internet--jessica simpson

Not sure if you had a chance to check out Jessica Simpson's new (very lame) video for her new (very lame) song, Public Affair. Ok I'm kind of into the song, but not the video *click here to view*.
The only thing wise in the video was Jessica flashing Eva Longoria a toothy grin, pushing out her pouty red lips and saying, "I want to be more famous than the internet."

I've decided that I can not only agree that that is a fine desire, but an attainable one as well. I'm sure it is much easier for J. Simp. to become more famous than the net, but I'm still going to give it a try. Many people say that fame doesn't bring happiness, and I'm sure they're accurate in saying so, but it sure does have it's advantages. One day you're an average person driving to work, the next day you're not so average and you're not driving to work, but being driven to Chateau Marmont for your Vanity Fair interview (which will take place in the garden as you swig Riesling). I still haven't figured out how I'm going to get famous. But I will make it happen somehow. I don't need to match up to J. Simp, Hohan, Shitney (in her heyday), or J.Lo's celebrity, I just need a slight dose of fame where only those in the know will know me. I'm certainly not interested in being photographed and finding that photo on Perezhilton or even worse defamed on Dlisted, but I'm interested in having a name people remember and contributing to a cause that people remember. I'm interested in goodie bags from big events, I'm interested in afternoon lunches followed by pool lounging, I'm interested in a mail box overflowing with invites, weekend trips to resorts, and I'm interested in all of the freebees.

I'm sure fame must be exhausting and frustrating at times. But like anything it comes with a pricetag. Do think they (fame makers) take Mastercard?