A Letter

29 Feb

Dear Angelina Jolie,
I’m going to shoot straight with you.  Most women don’t like you.  It’s partly because of that whole “stealing Brad Pitt from girl-next-door Jennifer Aniston thing” but mostly because you’re a ridiculously beautiful and mysterious creature.  Women prefer to be the only beautiful and mysterious creature they know.

Remember when you inappropriately (is it ever appropriate?) kissed your brother on the red carpet back in the 90’s?  Remember that time you wore Billy Bob Thornton’s blood around your neck and made out with him in public every 5 seconds?  Remember when you became Goodwill Ambassador to Cuba (or wherever, geography isn’t really my thing) and wore that same blue-grey shirt and green cargo pants for like, 3 years?  Remember when you won an Oscar for “Girl Interrupted” but then starting acting in crappy action movies?  I found all of these things odd, but I was willing to let them slide.

Then, you did that strange pose at the Oscars and got the whole country talking about it.  (Matt Lauer mentioned it on the Today show and I was horrified.  Why are serious journalists speaking about your scrawny leg?)  Why aren’t they focusing on how anorexic you look?  Your stupid high-split-up-the-side dress hypnotized our country and has everyone talking about your pose and not about your weight.

Since no one else has addressed it, I will:  You’re looking a bit frail these days, Ange.  I know you chase after those 36 children and fly back and forth to your villa in France a lot, but kindly take the time to eat a meal every now and again.  And none of that organic, raw food diet crap.  I’m talking meat, cheese, bread, french fries and a milkshake, mmmmk?

The next time I see that leg, I hope it’s a little meatier.
Love,
M

p.s.  Poor Jennifer Aniston can’t escape you.  Just when she thought you were fading out of the spotlight, BAM.  Every time she turns on her television she has to hear about your right leg’s Twitter account.  Can’t the girl get some peace?

Oscar Fashion – My Top 5

27 Feb

This weekend, I had the distinct pleasure of being a judge.  A pageant judge.  (You, with the face – hush.  This is Georgia.  We love hot rollers, sequins and pageants.)  It wasn’t one of those scary Toddlers & Tiaras kind of pageants, although I have judged those and I must say – that show does the experience justice.  The mamas are crazy.  And, the kids don’t know any better because their mamas are crazy.

Anyhow, after my judging stint this weekend, I was keyed up and ready for the red carpet walks during the Academy Awards.  Here are my Top 5 (and remember that I’m an expert judge here) favorite Oscar gowns/looks:

#5. Octavia Spencer
 #4. Michelle Williams
#3.  Gwyneth Paltrow
 #2. Cameron Diaz
 #1. (also known as the one I’d give the tiara to) Emma Stone

Apparently I’m having both a red and neutral “moment” (as celeb stylist Rachel Zoe would say) because these ladies were in a league of their own as far as I’m concerned.  If I had a fancy gala to attend soon, I would sell my house for Emma Stone’s Giambattista Valli gown.  (Ok, I wouldn’t, but I would search all over the internet for a copy cat version.)  I would probably also ask her to be my date, as she is my newest celebrity girl crush (replaced Anne Hathaway who replaced Reese Witherspoon), but I digress.

My Day vs. His Day

25 Feb

Today I went to work, spoke with some clients, made a few jokes, emailed more clients, checked some things off my to-do list, had lunch with friends, made some more jokes, did some more work and went home.

What did my husband do?

Well, you know – the usual.  On his way to speak to CEOs about the responsibility of leaders in a community, he chased three fleeing bank robbers and caught them.  In a suit and tie.

I know I’m his wife, and am therefore biased, but come on…that’s all kinds of bad ass.

Today’s Southern Belle

24 Feb

There’s a common misconception about women from the south that has always irritated the heck outta me.  Generally speaking, most people who aren’t from around here think that southern women are meek and mild.  We’re the types who people think will look the other way when our husband cheats on us, wouldn’t dare speak their mind about politics or religion, and certainly wouldn’t disagree with a man about anything.

This couldn’t be further from the truth.  The “southern belles” of today are quite different than those depicted in old movies.  We’re still charming, we still make a casserole out of everything (even pineapples), we still believe in thank you cards, going to church and minding your manners.  We’re still the best hostesses on earth, and we still can’t stand for anyone to “make a scene” in public (that’s tacky).  We can still hate your guts while smiling so sweetly at you that you’ll never know it.  We love a big wedding and getting our nails done.  We don’t think ladies should drink beer out of a bottle (or can), after all, that’s what cups are for.

But, we do think women should hold political offices.  We love history, but we’re not stuck in the past.  We speak our minds – in public and behind closed doors.  We’re educated (we might talk slow, but we ain’t slow).  We raise families, run businesses and volunteer (did I mention we throw one hell of a party?).

As country singer Miranda Lambert would say, “We’re just like you.  Only prettier.”

Good Luck With That

22 Feb

A friend of mine is giving up – wait for it………….. negativity for Lent.  This includes, but is not limited to, bad mouthing things and people.

This might make me a bad person, but I’d rather give up shoes.  Yep, I’d rather walk around barefoot for the next month or so (how the heck long is Lent, again?) than to give up my snide comments and remarks.

What?  God forgives, people.

Calling All "Inspiration Board" Addicts

22 Feb

Some trends I jump on with the quickness of a cheetah.  Others, not so much.  Twitter, for example, isn’t something that I’ve gotten into.  I’m not sure why, except that I don’t think I’m clever enough to keep my followers interested.  That, and I hate saying “tweeted.”  It’s just weird.

Anyway, Pinterest was something my friends started talking about a year or so ago.  They began sending me “invites” left and right.  I didn’t get it.  An online pinboard?  Like the bulletin board I had in high school…but online?  What the heck would I need one of those for?  I wasn’t sure why, so I politely ignored invitation after invitation to join the “inspirational board” site.  The more my friends talked about it, though, the more I wondered if I should give in and see what the fuss was about.  Finally, after hearing about the 900th recipe someone tried after seeing it on Pinterest and then seeing a friend’s adorable nursery that was mirrored from a photo she saw on Pinterest…I decided I needed to give it a whirl.

Skeptical but intrigued, I created an account and started a few “pinboards” – one for food/recipes, one for fashion and one for home stuff.  Before I knew it (literally like an hour in), I was a total addict, pinning everything in sight.  A new recipe?  Why not!  A holiday cocktail to make?  Sure!  Bedroom furniture for my hypothetical children?  Yes, please.  Tory Burch boots that I can’t afford?  Absolutely!  Pinny, pin, pin, all night long.

I went to work the next day and struck up a convo about my new favorite thing.  Surprisingly enough, one of my male co-workers also used Pinterest.  (To be honest, though, I wasn’t that shocked, as he’s an artsy kind of guy who’s also hip and cool enough to pull off having a Pinterest account.)  I turned to the other male in the room, who is also artsy/cool and asked if he was a “pinner.”  His response?  “No.  When my wife mentions something she’s seen on there I tell her that I’m not pinterested.”

Hilarious.

Even more hilarious?  On Monday (two months after our initial discussion) said “not pinterested” male confessed that he just accepted a Pinterest invite.  Well, well, well.  Welcome to the dark side.

A Salute To Those Who Keep Me In Check

20 Feb

Being a grown up – it’s not so easy, is it?  There are times when I would like to throw an all out hissy fit, complete with dropping to the ground and kicking and screaming.  There are times when someone treats me or someone I love unfairly, and I want to retaliate.  I don’t do it, though, partly because I know better (my mama and daddy raised me better than to act a fool) and partly because if I did – there’d be someone there to tell me to “get over myself” and get on with it.

I thank God for those people in my life.  The people who will stand up for me no matter what, but will also quickly tell me to get my butt off my shoulders if need be.

If you don’t have people like that in your life, my suggestion is for you to find some.  Because you are making the rest of us want to punch you in the face. 

Today’s Yays

20 Feb

yay for:
breakfast in bed compliments of (who else?) the hubs
purple blouses and skinny jeans
quality family time
50% off at ann taylor
sleeping in
a fresh manicure & pedicure
my mom learning to skype
sugar free dark chocolate and peanut butter
seeing “the goonies” on tv and watching 15 (ok, 30) minutes of it
a rainy, lazy sunday

I Hate What You’re Wearing

17 Feb



The offender: Fergie (The Pea, not the Duchess)
The item(s) in question: Dress, worn at the Grammy Awards


My thoughts: Oh the things people do to try and get attention with that Lady Gaga hanging around.  (Look, recording artists, Lady G is like Cher – there’s only room for see-through-queen at a time on the red carpet.)  I’m not sure if Fergie got confused about where she was going that day, but someone should have told her that it wasn’t to the beach (Is it a fancy cover-up?  Maybe.) or to the bedroom (When your hubby is Josh Duhamel, you probably need to keep it interesting up in there).  Because this does not a Grammy Awards dress make, Ferg.  (Furthermore, those earrings are a little large for even my gypsy taste.)


The solution: Try a dress with, I don’t know…a liner.  And, cut those gosh awful nails down some.  They look like weapons of mass destruction.

Damn You Bobby Brown

16 Feb

As a child I would, at any given time, bust out in a Whitney Houston song or twenty.  I went through a “The Greatest Love of All” phase that probably drove my mother to drink bourbon at noon.  I thought my talents should be shared with the world.  It wasn’t until much later in life (I was 18 or so) when my cousin Allie let me listen to a tape she had found whilst in her childhood bedroom, that I realized my talents did not include singing.  On said tape, I demo’ed some of my musical talents by singing…you guessed it, “The Greatest Love of All.”  Worst thing I’ve ever heard.  Horrifying.  My poor family must have felt like the American Idol judges did when this guy showed up.

I tell that little story so you would know that there was a time when I did love me some Whitney Houston.  I rarely knew what she was singing about (I was young, ok?) and I rarely got the words right (“I’m asking you what you know about bee stings” may or may not have been what yours truly thought the lyrics to “How Will I Know” were.) but I loved her music growing up. 
I loved the pre-Bobby Whitney.  “Saving All My Love For You” and “Didn’t We Almost Have It All?” were amongst my favorite tunes in the ’80s.  I watched The Bodyguard with my friends and immediately purchased the soundtrack (“I Will Always Love You” was played on repeat for at least a month circa 1992).

The post-Bobby Whitney…not so much.  Total crack head, y’all.   She still had her moments (Waiting to Exhale – you know you saw it.) but for the most part, she was less singer/actress and more…addict.

It’s terrible that she died, it’s horrible that she battled addiction, but was her death really surprising?   Surprising enough to be a topic on all major news stations since Sunday?  Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a nice break to not see Newt Gingrich or Mitt Romney on the news every 3 seconds, but I think I speak for America when I say to the media that it’s time to move on.
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