Tonight's Not Gonna Be a Good Night

Have you ever heard of a culling song? I just finished reading "Lullaby" by Chuck Palahniuk, and for those of you who are unfamiliar with this idea, it's a song or a spoken phrase that kills whoever hears it. Considered some type of curse derived from Santeria and Voodoo cultures in the Caribbean, there is a song recently that has been closest to a culling for me. Despite its upbeat-ness and its insinuation that someone's going to be getting lucky tonight, The Fergalicious Band (known more commonly as the Black Eyed Peas), have a new single that honestly curses my night whenever I hear it played. "I Got a Feeling", for those of you who live in a cave and haven't heard it, has a catchy, feel-good chorus chanting over and over again that "tonight's gonna be a good night", giving off the vibe that you're about to partake in a drunken make out scene in either Laguna Beach or Dawson's Creek. Despite it sounded like the trailer for a coming-of-age series with a good-looking cast, this song has done nothing but bring back luck to all of the times in which I have heard it. I'm writing this entry to warn guys and girls everywhere about its negative power and to also give you some examples of what manifested after hearing the song:

1. On a Match.com date: And I RARELY go on these, might I add, but the first time I heard this song was at the beginning of the night of meeting my Internet lover for the first time. Without giving out too many specifics and revealing his identity, the lyrics gave me a sense of excitement thinking that I had just met my prince charming. Didn't happen. His poor table manners and his putting on a windbreaker when it started to become rainy killed it all.
2. At my ex-boyfriend's sister's wedding: In which he got so drunk that he began hitting on a 45-year-old MILF, in which she responded by telling him she wanted to lick him like a lollipop. After a screaming match next to the buffet line, we've moved on since that shitteous evening.
3. When a homeless man followed me down 14th street: When I was just trying to meet up with my friends at Lima! Resembling the guy who does the "Rack 'Em" skits on YouTube, he followed me from L all the way to K asking me to buy him a dollar menu item, even though I had no cash on me. And then proceeded to yell at me about his brother would do disparaging things (that I can't post on here in detail in case my mom decides to read this) to me if I didn't give him money. Scary.
4. Before being rejected from Currents: I must have looked pretty fugly that night. I go to this club every week almost and they just weren't feeling my presence, even after I walked to the front of the rope and began screaming at a bouncer, was told the club was full. I then was forced to go to a lesser club with one of my girlfriends and be her wing-girl, and with that, spent the night dancing with a rancid guy.
5. When my friend's "boyfriend" showed up at the bar with another girl: And I had to let him know that I had heard so many good things about him...when he was her boyfriend. This comment took him by surprise and I think lead to their breakup later that evening. Yes, I heard this song in the car on the way out that night, too.

With "I Got a Feeling" being one of the Top 5 songs on America's Top 40 (no, I don't listen to that, come on people. I googled it.), I'm sure that this song has many more mishaps in store for me soon. Have any of you had equally mortifying experiences after hearing it? Maybe it's just me, but if not, comment and let me know!

<3,

Angela

FACT: Avinesh Rana Will Win Top Chef

He's not even in the competition. But let me tell you, if Avinesh Rana, more commonly known as "Nash" by those around him (AKA probably only me), works up the guts to contact Bravo and audition for the next season, the prize package will be his hands down. I came to this conclusion about a month ago, when I was down with mono, and watched Top Chef for about four hours for an afternoon. While most of the chefs were impressive, I thought about my friend Nash, who is also the executive chef at the modern Asian hotspot Sei Restaurant and Lounge (444 7th Street NW), and realized that he could have kicked all of these guys asses in the kitchen. With a knack for fusion flavors along with his Nepal-born charm, Nash will surprise your senses with tastes that you never knew existed. 

Born in Nepal and attending culinary school at Johnson & Wales in Providence, Rhode Island, Nash, like myself, has close ties to both Rhode Island and DC. Working at Sky Bar (or Sky Bahhh, as most North Provindencers will pronounce it) on Mineral Spring Ave. followed by The Prov (in which I spent all of my weekends for my entire senior year of high school compliments of Jon Almon Jr.), Rhode Island became a bit too small for Nash as it often does for others, and quickly relocated to DC. After juggling a few other culinary gigs in the Capitol, he soon settled down at Sei, where alongside Chef Nori Yasutake, created some unforgettable recipes that have made my thighs expand three fold and my favorite Seven jeans not fit anymore. 

Favoring Dim Sum as one of his preferred items to cook, Nash is a flavor whiz and even makes things like boring tofu taste insane (Take his Tofu Steak, for example, in which he uses wasabi marscapone and shiitake mushrooms to make it extremely flavorful, and caloric, if I might add, but it's worth it!). His fish dishes are excellent, too, and even roped me into enjoying salmon when in the past I used to throw fits about even having a taste of it. Nash has gotten several write ups throughout the city, and was even featured on Fox 5 news. When he's not cooking, I know for a fact that he thoroughly enjoys beers at Clydes in Chinatown and watching UFC fights.

Want to pretend you're Avinesh Rana for the day? Try this great recipe in the kitchen one night when you're trying to impress your special someone.

Pan Fried Tofu with Wasabi Mascarpone and Braised Shitake Mushrooms

By: Chefs Noriaki Yasutake and Avinesh Rana

• Fresh Firm Tofu 1 ea (8 oz square block)
• Corn starch ½ cup
• Grape seed oil 2 tbsp
• Garlic clove 1 ea
• Butter 1 tsp
• Salt to taste

 

1. Turn the oven to 300 degrees.
2. Heat the oil in a non stick pan.
3. Dredge the tofu with the cornstarch.
4. When the oil is hot, carefully place the tofu in the pan.
5. When the tofu gets a nice crust on one side (about a minute and half on med heat) turn it over.
6. Crush the garlic clove and add it to the pan with the butter.
7. Place the pan in the oven.
8. The Tofu steak should be done in about 4 minutes.

If you want an excellent dining experience with a fabulous chef, join Chef Nash at Sei for an unforgettable meal. Just make sure you don't try to calorie count while you're indulging...

xo,

Angela =)

The Real World is Getting Too Real for My Liking

I was always a huge Real World fan. I remember the first season I followed, Real World Hawaii, where Ruthie was the crazy drunk and Colin was hot frat boy and Amaya had perfect boobs that I wish I had while at that time I was stuck halfway through puberty dealing with these two pointy small things on my chest. They lived in a beautiful mansion near the beach with an Infinity Pool and Cribs-worthy interior decorating, while making me laugh and cry (Yes, pretty sad, I have been known to cry while watching reality television. Like when Flav chose Deelishis over New York, I almost needed a Xanax) during their monologues inside of the trendsetting confessionals. They took a gorgeous trip to Fiji, worked an easy job that was so insignificant no one remembers what it was, and drank and smoke every night in the company of other beautiful people. While I was in the sixth grade dealing with acne and petty fights with my girlfriends over who copied whose Polo Sport Bag amongst other things, watching the Real World Hawaii kind of allowed me to live vicariously through the lives of these beautiful people who seemed to have not a care in the world. Best of all, there wasn't all that much that was actually real about it. 

Clearly, my interests have changed since the sixth grade, and haven't really been keeping up with the seasons the past couple years (Like the time I went out with Randy from the San Diego season this summer and didn't even know he was on the show until the end of the night, which I immediately made sure that I made up for the lost time of ball busting that would have happened had I known), but still appreciate it as the original reality show. I even tried out for it at one point, sending a video in and all, only be responded by Bunim & Murray that while they couldn't see me as a candidate for the Real World, had another show in mind that I'd be great for (Bad Girls Club. Needless to say, I did not follow through with the casting and am clueless as to why they saw this as "a better fit"). When I found out last year that the Real World: DC would be starting soon, I was ecstatic. Seven hot, fabulous people would be galavanting DC, hanging out on the roof top at the W hotel and probably having amazing dinners at Komi. When I saw the mansion that was renovated for them off Dupont Circle, I was even more determined that I would befriend someone on this show, seeing as they're usually interesting people with big personalities. 

After going out as usual for the past two months since the show had begun taping and not seeing the cast anywhere, I was determined to see the Real World tonight and become BFFs with someone on it as soon as my friend Christina called me from Fly Lounge to alert me that the cameras were rolling there. Well, let's just say they were not what I expected. 

God forgive me, but I have never seen a season of Real World in which the cast members have looked so "real" before. Which is maybe a good thing, I guess, but this is TV! When I walked into the club, some average looking blonde that the cameras were attacking gave me a dirty look, which I immediately flashed back (and am now hoping that it will make the taping cut and I will get on television, but I doubt it). Later, her and some brunette on the show, who looked like they were sixteen, were fighting at the entrance and holding up the entire line so the camera crew could get a good shot. But my girlfriends and I could pull off a more entertaining fight scene then these girls could, and they were apparently casted to be on television. They were average looking, lacked personality, and one of the boys was wearing a Fedora because from the looks of it, looked like he forgot to shampoo his hair. I hate talking poorly about others and I'm sure the Real Worlders are all lovely people, but I feel like with the DC cast, the fantasy of the Real World has died a little bit. What happened to the Danny and Melissa's, the untouchable, drop-dead gorgeous couples who radiated energy? Instead we have Mr. Frumpy McGee in his Fedora. The Real World needs to STOP getting real and know there place.

......Actually, scratch everything I just wrote. I think I'm just jealous of all of them and wish that I could be on the Real World. ;)

xo

Angela

Car Free DC

I want to preface this post by saying that I've always secretly wanted to learn how to ride a segway (Or, according to the Bill Nye-looking man who tried to sell me one yesterday, a "Segway Personal Transporter). And although you probably don't want to admit it either, I'm sure you've seen the groups of twenty or so middle aged retirees in white helmets zipping around the city in those Capitol segway tours, secretly wishing that you could try riding one of those back to the future-looking things, as well. Two days ago, when I was strolling Chinatown with my ex-boyfriend, Manny (who I am openly still in love with), we ran into the Car Free DC festival on F Street. Sponsored by the Department of Motor Vehicles, Car Free DC was created six years ago as a green initiative to encourage DC residents to do away with their vehicles and take on a more Earth-friendly habit in getting around. 

Now, I'm going to be honest; Although I love Ralph Nadar and soy products, I love a good steak from Smith & Wollensky and my leather Louis Vuitton Speedy even more. And, it's safe to say that while I secretly pretend it's an Audi sometimes while I'm driving it, I love my Volkswagon Jetta too much to part with it. I wouldn't exactly characterize my lifestyle as one that is "green", or better yet, "organic", but I definitely appreciated what this festival had to offer and what it was trying to achieve. With sponsors like Washington Area Bicyclists Association and Zipcar (which is a sensitive subject in my family, seeing as my many charges using the service lead to the majority of fights between myself and my father during college), the festival convinced me for the hour I spent there to leave my Jetta at home (Of course, after walking around for an hour, my feet got tired and I started complaining about how much I needed to drive home). There were various promotions and giveaways on Zipcar services, bikes, carpool initiatives, and even electronic scooters.

But most importantly, there was a segway demonstration going on that I made Manny try with me immediately. After signing my life away in a waiver and refusing to wear to the ugly helmet, I got on the segway and road along F Street. Oddly enough, the machine detects the nerves in your body in order to designate a direction. For example, if you place even the slightest bit of pressure on your heels, the segway will stop. It was a lot of fun, and I seemed to have a lot more fun than the man who went before me (who was nearly identical to Stanley from the Office, I might add). 

Did this festival convince me to be car free in DC? Absolutely not. But I did find out that segways are only $3600 used...

xo,

Angela

Clip-In Hair: A Must for Every Woman

Even though I no longer live at home, my mother still reprimands me when we're on the phone while I'm getting ready for a big night out. As soon as I put the phone on speaker, implying that my hands are doing serious work (she knows I can do my make-up one handed, driving, etc), all hell breaks loose; Can you take those goddamn things out of your hair? or Jesus Christ, Angela, people are laughing at you, I hope you know! Regardless of her pestering, I will always have those nights when I see one too many photos of Aubrey O'Day and immediately need to change up my shoulder length hair for something much more pageant-ready. So, if you've seen my Facebook and wonder, Wow, the length of her hair just always changes!, yes, I'm coming out. I have been a hair extension addict since the emergence since senior prom when the Paul Mitchell hair school was giving out specials for glue-in synthetic hair (needless to say, it absolutely destroyed my hair and was a bit Lady Godiva-looking as I reflect back on it).

With more time and money, I have graduated onto more quality lines of fake hair and weaves that allow me to play with my look more freely. I wish I could say that this post was out of the requests from others, but really, I just think that every woman out there is curious to flirt with a little bit of false hair and just isn't ballsy enough to ask. After much experimentation and even more mishaps in which I have gone out for the night with my entire track showing (FYI- the piece of fabric that attaches all of the fake here), here is a list I've compiled of some great extension lines, from clip-ins to celebrity quality, that will allow you too to feel like a Real Housewife of Orange County for the night:

• Hair Do: Founded by Kevin Paves and Jessica Simpson (or probably just Kevin Paves), these range from $60 to $500, and are more hair pieces then extensions. They're fun for a night out, but for daily use I feel like I'm putting on a wiglett for the stage. 
• EuroNext: A celebrity on my facebook. My favorite line, which is 100% human hair and clip in extensions that are all priced at $75 a package, which is enough to fit a normal sized head. You can find these at an Ulta or Sally's Beauty Supply, and come in over 25 shades. 
• Great Lengths: A more expensive method, this line has become popular in salons across the country. Ranging at between $800 and $1200 an application, these last for about six months and you won't have to worry about tracks. But be weary; the healthy "protein" bond that attaches the extension to your hair is actually just a bunch of drying chemicals that will make your mane look like Courtney Love's after you take them out.
• Glamour Hair: This is a more ethnic line that caters to thicker, African American hair. It's great for weaves or gluing in tracks. I used Glamour Hair, which is 100% human, when I had a weave put in before a vacation. It looked beautiful but took my hair months to recover from upon removal. Plus, it's priced at about $350 for the hair and application and only lasts for two weeks. 
• The Donosca Method: One of the most luxurious methods brought over from Toni & Guy in Paris, the Donosca method starts at $16o0, uses all human hair from Italy, and uses small tubes to attach the hair to the bonding so that no damage occurs. I don't know much more about this method seeing as it will be at least another ten years in my lifetime before I can even begin to think about affording it. 

A question I get from many hair extension-gentiles: But how can you wear another human's hair? Exercise some intelligent here, people. Obviously Ken paves and Jessica Simpson are not making women in a lab grow their hair 22-inches only to cut it later, nor are any of the other manufacturers. Instead, hair is actually genetically grown in labs, most popularly Iceland and the Balkans (Not a bad fun fact for your next cocktail party, FYI). So, to ease your worries, you're not actually wearing another human's hair.

I will continue to love- no, be OBSESSED with- hair extensions, but more importantly, will continue to love anything that will dramatically change my look, but just for the night, so that the next morning I can wake up and say what a great dream I had the night before when I was a member of Danity Kane...

xx-

Angela

Indebleu got a Makeover: Stir Lounge

I am extremely critical when it comes to DC nightlife. After working as a hostess, guestlist girl, and bottle girl throughout my college years, I have developed a snobbery towards every club I enter in DC and beyond (and for those of you who need a short-term, part time job and AREN'T socially awkward, I highly recommend the nightclub industry; just don't blow every paycheck on a new Gucci bag or trendy L.A.M.B. stuff that you end up consigning like I did). That's why, whenever a new club opens in the area, I'm very apprehensive. I remember when Muse in Chinatown opened up last January, and was told that it was going to be "a New-York style guest list policy with bottle service minimums starting at $800". Apparently, I must have had a different concept of what this was after seeing the crowd inside while dancing underneath a light presentation that looked like something I bought from Spencer's Gifts in middle school (Not that I'm the greatest class act or anything; I did just take out the weave in my hair that I had been sporting all weekend). The fact of the matter is, I have continued to stick to my oldies but goodies, seeing as it has been a long time since I've been actually impressed with anything new in DC night entertainment.

The first time that I went to Stir a week after its grand opening, I was irritated. I hated all of the messy stamps they made me and my girlfriends wear in order to get in, and ordered a $14 drink at the bar that I mistook for a $3 bottle of OceanSpray Cranberry Juice seeing as I couldn't have tasted a hint of vodka in it. After managing to be groped and catcalled even though I had came from work and looked far from my best, I asked myself, Where did my beloved Indebleu go?

Well, after bad talking Stir for the past six months, I decided to go back last night when some friends of mine decided to get bottle service there. And, yes, I do feel guilty now. The chic white-on-white layout had me thinking I was in Miami for a hot sec (not quite, but it does look great), and the small size caters to an intimate, Euro feel that gives off the charm of any boutique club on the Champs D'Elysees. The bottle girl was friendly and helpful, the DJ played the perfect balance of house, old skool hip-hop, and top 40 tracks, but most importantly, the crowd was one of the best I've seen at any DC club in a while. Not to be superficial (but it's a nightclub, come on people! If you don't want superficial, go hang out in a Dunkin' Donuts), but the classy, good-looking, and diverse group of individuals would make any mannered individual comfortable despite their ethnicity. What I liked most about Stir is that it was not a Persian or Black or White party, but was the perfect integration of classy, hot people ready for some partying. 

My only complaint? The chubby man standing on the banquet spraying smoke at the crowd like it was a fire extinguisher (If we were in Rhode Island, it probably would have been a fire extinguisher). I have seen smoke machines going off during the climax of house tracks before, but really?! You need someone to actually spray it? I don't know... But that's minute in compared to the great time I had. 

(And, because I'm post-mono, didn't even drink and STILL had this great time there!)

XO-

Angela

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What's French and Gay and Skinny all over?

First, it was Gwen Stefani. Then, it was Lady Gaga. Now, my musical obsession of the moment has shifted gears to the French singing sensation constantly doted on by Perez Hilton. Known as Sliimy by the world of entertainment, Yanis Sahraoui started recording music in high school with there not being all that much to do in his Saint-Etienne suburb of Lyons. Always having a knack for vocal ability and self-expression but also being shy and introverted at the same time, Sliimy (pronounced "slim-y", not slimy) found music to be the ultimate means of emotional release. Despite being French, he prides himself on his interest in Anglo culture and only sings in English for that very reason (or, let's be honest, for the fact that he'll probably sell a lot more records. Who is he kidding?), donning himself on stage in plaids, bow ties, golfer shoes, and other London-esque accessories. Skinny, unassuming, and speaking in interviews with an adorable French accent, Sliimy reminds me of someone I would love to have as a best friend. Plus, he's inspired me to open up my French workbooks again after not being able to understand anything in his interviews despite my years and years of studying his native tongue. 

His debut album, "Paint Your Face", which was released this week resembles something that they would play inside an Urban Outfitters, which would normally irritate me, but after listening to the CD one time through makes me want to shed my lip liner and Ed Hardy and embrace the hipster look. His pop-funk sound is original, relaxing, and as the title suggests, colorful. Most importantly, though, it's not overly deep and all-around happy. I definitely respect poets and musicians, but sometimes don't really want to think when I listen to music and Sliimy entertains me without having to use too many brain cells. Plus, his music videos are adorable and remind me of something out of Reading Rainbow or Mr. Roger's Neighborhood (Check YouTube for "Wake Up", a clay-mation inspired piece that you can't help but smiling when watching). 

Despite being a voice minor in college myself, Sliimy's music proves the fact that you don't need voice lessons to be a talented singer. His asexual tonal quality reminds me of the likes of Prince during the "Purple Rain" era. "My God" conjures sultry Amy Winehouse-esque guitar rifts, while "Trust Me" actually makes emo music seem the slightest bit acceptable. Even hotter, Sliimy performs an impressive cover of Britney's "Womanizer" that will be sure not to disappoint.  

With flu season and the September slump getting to the best of everyone lately, I promise Sliimy will leave you smiling, or at least with some good make out music the next time you have that special someone over.

Love,

Angela

Eat Your Way Through DC: The Arts on Foot Festival

What many of my close friends may or may not know about me is that I love eating. Starbucks soy vanilla chais, popcorn with hotsauce, cookie dough ice cream, Hooters wings- BRING IT! Clearly, this is not the best of habits, seeing as I'm 5'3 and don't remember the last time I saw the hundred-twenty pound weight mark on my scale. Regardless, I love my habit of indulgence and will sacrifice being able to wear white denim for Macadamia nuts any day of the week (As my mother told me tonight after watching the VMAs, "Look, Ang! Beyonce's a little bottom heavy and she's still happy and looks great!"). This weekend in DC didn't exactly help my constant hunger. Sponsored by the Washington Examiner, the Arts on Foot festival took place in Northwest's Penn Quarter, featuring over twenty booths filled with special samplings created by all of DC's finest restaurants. Between $2-$5 per item, restaurants like Zengo, Oya, and Zaytinya showcased samplers of their finest creations, catering the day towards foodies everywhere who don't exactly have the bank account to back up their hobby (AKA me). 

Despite the overcast weather and the not-so-friendly healthcare policy protesters (who had NO clue what they were talking about with the majority of them being dressed like Dog the Bounty Hunter), the festival was entertained with live music on two different stages and a wine tasting tent featuring seminars by local sommeliers in the area (with ANDREW STOVER! my fav!) for a mere $10. Sponsored by Wines of Argentina, my restaurant was lucky enough to be invited to participate, so I not only got to participate (which was ehhh, let's be honest) but was able to get my fair share of freebies, as well. 

After almost getting a panic attack trying to get through the massive crowds blocking off Seventh Street, I was able to try delicious samplings from Cafe Atlantico, Coco Sala, Rosa Mexicana, 701, Perry's, and many other great eateries. But as we all know with restaurants, especially when they're trying to execute things on a budget, some of these *samplers* got a bit sloppy. 

The good? Excellent tuna ceviche burritos from Cafe Atlantico with coconut cream which are served during their Sunday Dim Sum brunch (which I unfortunately experienced the morning after my 21st birthday. Hangovers and citrus-infused Wagyu breakfast sausages do not mix, FYI), tantalizing tomato and mozzarella mezze from Zaytina, and the best chocolate creme from Coco Sala that I could feel going right to my thighs. 

The bad? Gazpacho from Poste that was topped off with dijon sorbet (whoever thought it was a good idea to make mustard-flavored ice cream should be stabbed in the eye) and lobster from Clyde's that tasted canned. 

The ugly? Me having to go back to work for the night after trying Rasika's chicken tika masala, which was good never the less. I just feel bad for everyone who had to use to employee bathroom after me. 

All in all, Arts on Foot was a well-executed event and something that I would now recommend to any Washingtonienne. Just spare other people from the guaranteed food baby that you'll get and keep the belly shirts at home, ladies.

xo,

Angela =)

Hoop Earrings Aren't Just for J.Lo

It all began this evening at work; the only white employee, disappointing patrons when they are surprised realize that they would actually employ a white girl to work at a sushi restaurant and that, despite their expectations, it wouldn't be a geisha taking care of them for the evening. In the midst of me trying to convince professionals to buy excellent (but still expensive) cocktails and getting soy sauce spilled all over my H&M-I mean Diane von Fuerstenberg- little black dress, the owner of the restaurant approached me to let me in on a little jolly. Apparently, all of his friends had stopped by the restaurant at one point or another, and just my luck, were lucky enough to have me as a server. Each of them, on separate occasions, also referred to me as "J.Lo."

I immediately apologized to the boss, letting him know that between mononucleosis and working two jobs, working out hadn't exactly been my top priority as of lately. I also told him that I ordered a new Bender Ball and that if he gave me three weeks (according to Leslee Bender's promise in her infomercial on Lifetime), I'd be back to better in no time. Ignoring the latter comment, he looked at me in his heavy accent, laughed, and said, I think it's your choice in jewelry.

It was at that moment this evening that I realized that hoop earrings weren't just my staple (Since the fifth grade, I think I've developed this complex that hoop earrings are my trademark). Despite it being a mainstream accessory in Providence, Rhode Island, I realized how unique I was for wearing hoops on a daily basis (For me, no outfit is complete without a pair).

But hoop earrings have defined careers beyond myself and Jennifer Lopez, and have inspired the likes of many brilliant women that continue to influence women today:

Donatella Versace

Marisa Tomei in "My Cousin Vinny"

Nene Leekes from "The Real Housewives of Atlanta"

Anna Nicole Smith

Maria Corrente of Salon d'Talia in North Providence, RI and also my stylist!

Daisy de la Hoya from "Daisy of Love"

Selena

Olivia Newton John (when Sandi becomes a Greaser at the end of the movie)

Bottom line is, there's no better way to make any simple outfit just a bit more daring. And it's also not a bad thing to be compared to J.Lo after all.

xo,

Angela

P.S. If anyone wants to buy me those hoops that have your name going through them...

The Capitol's Own Criss Angel: Josh Norris

With all of this Twilight and True Blood vampire and mysticism hoopla on the rise, it's no surprise that Americans everywhere have developed a strong fixation for magic and the supernatural. Maybe it's utilized as some sort of escape with the recession hitting everyone and all (a la my mother, Joan Milas, who likes to use for an excuse for absolutely everything) or maybe it's a subconscious model of power thirsted for by our generation, craving the idea of being able to cast a spell and manifesting one's greatest desires. Frankly, I think it's a complete BS rationalization and don't even know why I wrote that in the first place, but think that the whole *vampire schtick* right now is nothing more than a fad. This time last year, girls were throwing themselves at Daniel Radcliffe during a time dubbed as "Potter-mania", hoping that they could take a personal ride on his Quiditch broom. Now, girls are drooling over the albino vampire in one of these two shows, and frankly, I don't know what's worse; to want to have sex with a man who needs shampoo and Mystic tan and will suck your blood in between, or a pre-pubescent wizard with an unfortunate looking scar on his head.

Whatever the flavor of the week is in mysticism, there's one flavor that will always have a sense of permanence; Magic tricks. From Harry Houdini to David Copperfield to Criss Angel, magic has played a critical role in pop culture, entertaining fans on a grandoise international level. With nationally touring magic shows, hundreds of blogs dedicated to strengthening the craft, and many television shows focussed around the most impressive of their kind, magic continues to arouse the curiosity in people everywhere. 

Lucky enough for Washingtonians, we have a magician to represent the nation's capitol who has the bullet of the Angels and Blanes but for a fraction of the cost (and with the stud-factor of Criss Angel, I may add also); Interactive Magic's Josh Norris.

Growing up outside of Annapolis in farm country, Josh Norris proved from the very beginning that an interest in magicianship was not only for the Dungeons & Dragons-playing guys his age. After discovering a small magic kit, he began to develop an interest in the art when he wasn't busy playing sports or helping his parents on his beautiful stretch of farm country. Throughout high school and college, he began to take on private parties as clients, offering the most superior tricks that his abilities could offer, but soon decided it was time to specialize in a particular genre; card tricks. Known around DC for his absolutely enigmatic tricks, Norris will be able to make your card appear from close to anywhere (mind out of the gutter, please).  Considering his trade "interactive magic", he describes it as "highly visual, audience involving magic". 

Norris continues to serve as DC's prominent magic man. Voted by Washington Life Magazine as "Best Live Display of Performing Arts", Norris prides himself in working over 100 events each year. His charismatic, enthusiastic nature (and incredible looks, ladies) make him an asset to any corporate function or trade show. Catch him "disappearing" weekly every Sunday at Kemble Park Tavern (5125 Macarthur Blvd NW) at 6 pm. You'll score a good meal, some crazy tricks, and who knows, you may even end up dating a magician if you play your "cards" right. 

Abracadabra,

Angela xo

Josh Norris can be contacted at 443.992.3108 or via email at magic@joshnorris.com. Please visit him online at www.joshnorris.com to book him for your next corporate event, trade show, or bachelorette party. 

DC versus RI: A Cross-Cultural Analysis

So I promise that this whole blog will not be an obsession with discussing every Rhode Island quirk but being in Rhode Island for this long has cast some kind of spell over me. Not just because I'm sure of the fact that Georgetown's famous M Street was named to commemorate Mineral Spring Avenue or that Nick's Riverside Grill totally copied Harborside (or Hahbahside, if you're true to your roots) in East Greenwich, but probably because this state will always carry a sense of nostalgia for me in one way or another and a classiness that you'll never be able to find anywhere else.
Take, for example, this morning when I was getting my roots done at Salon D'Talia (notice the incorrect use of the apostrophe in the title). As I was trying to figure out how the stylists were able to do my hair in stilettos for three hours straight on faux-hard wood, a thirty-something woman walked in and was warmly greeted. She was friendly, well dressed, and surprisingly didn't have the distinctively guido accent that characterized most of the other clients that morning. Everyone began to tell her how great she looked and how much they had missed her. It kind of reminded me of how I felt when I returned home from studying abroad in Paris. Like this young beaut, I had lost roughly fifteen pounds, had a new sense of style and gave off an aura of newly-gained experiences. When I could fit a word in edge-wise, I asked the woman where she had returned from.
Jail, she responded ambiguously. And I thought that she had just come off from Sabbatical in Saint-Tropez.
DC and Rhode Island definitely carry their respective differences, but are quite similar, too. As I learned in one of my many SIS courses at American University, a cross-cultural analysis is instrumental in determining the main differences between two distinct groups of people. Here is my take on the important elements that differenciate the two:

Size of Captiol Cities ---> DC: 591, 833 RI: 232, 453

Distance to Shoreline ---> DC: 208 miles RI: 28 miles

Ethnic Majority ---> DC: 68.6% African American RI: 55.4% Portugeuse American

Famous Citizens ---> DC: Barack Obama, Marvin Gaye RI: Debra Messing, Audi from Megan Wants a Millionaire

State Mottos---> DC: "Justice for All" RI: "Hope"

Beloved Restaurant ---> DC: CityZen RI: Sienna Restorante & Trattoria (I don't personally agree with this at all, just quoting from Rhode Island Monthly)

Hottest Nightclub ---> DC: The Park at Fourteenth RI: Monet Lounge

Club Give-a-ways ---> DC: First class plane ticket anywhere in the world (FLY)
RI: Breast Implants (Monet Lounge)

Movies Filmed in State Location ---> DC: The Exorcist RI: Me, Myself & Irene

State Staples ---> DC: Ben's Chilli Bowl RI: Del's Lemonade

Local & Thriving Business ---> DC: Latham Law & Associates RI: Anthony's Jewelers

She-she Private School ---> DC: Georgetown Prep RI: St. Mary Academy Bay View!!!

Hipster Scene ---> DC: U Street RI: Thayer Street

Movie Theater Snack ---> DC: Glazed Chicken Wings RI: Fresh doughboys (No joke)

Young Local Socialite ---> DC: Katherine Kennedy RI: Vinnie Denofria

Okay, so this was probably just for my own enjoyment, but you get the picture. And can you believe Monet Lounge is giving away breast implants for their Labor Day Hot Body Contest prize?! Gotta love it here, I guess.

<3,
Angela

If Cupcakes were Paintings: Quest Skinner Paints DC

I found one thing more beautiful than leopard print; the art of Quest Skinner.

Not to sound like a complete doofus, but I've never really been one for art before. Of course, I took the mandatory art credits needed in high school to graduate (I'll never forget the beautiful sculpture I made of Spiderwoman for the Bay View Academy Art Fair in 8th grade and everyone, including my mother, thought it looked like a purple and red hotdog...just a side note) and can tell the difference between a Monet and a Manet. But, sorry, I would much rather splurge on a Balenciaga bag than a painting that I don't even understand its premise. It's like looking at a Rorscach ink blot; most people see a butterfly and I see Michael Jackson's face (scary). Just an example to show you what I have the tendency to get out of things.

It wasn't until one Sunday afternoon that I was strolling through South East's lovely Eastern Market with my good friend Christina that I saw something absolutely orgasmic for my eyes. Unlike all of the other painters I saw throughout the market that day, this one tent was filled with glossy, colorful, and glittery glass canvases filled with fantasy subjects that resembled Barbie dolls on acid (Michael Kors uses this reference too in an episode of Project Runway, FYI). These paintings were girly, elaborate, screamed emotion, and were entirely embelished and bezalled with either glitter, golden flakes, or other unique additives. They looked like all little pieces of candy and I wanted to eat all of them (typical). After approaching the tent and getting a warm hello and hug upon meeting Her Highness, it was at that moment that I wished I was independently wealthy and could buy everything Quest Skinner had designed (Actually, let's be honest, not the first time I've had that wish). After making Christina want to kill me after being indecisive about my purchase, I went with a gorgeous glittery purple print of a curvy lady with blue skin and a haircut that resembled mine at the time. And, as a first time buyer, I got the decently sized masterpiece for a mere $120 (Half price and a deal that Quest gives to all first time buyers FYI)! Now, my house is bezzaled with five of her beautiful pieces, despite the feelings of my male roommates and the explanations they have to give when they bring females home.

Seeing my first Quest Skinner was like trying my first Georgetown cupcake. It aroused my senses and played with my inner child. The same way I don't care about calorie count when I bite into a Georgetown cupcake is the same way I feel when I buy a Quest Skinner no matter how outrageous or impractical my purchase may have been. And, if there was a painting I would ever want to have for dessert, it would be a Quest Skinner, obvi.

Born in Pittsburgh, PA but considering herself a true Washingtonienne, Quest Skinner has painted various murals around DC and is a featured artist in the DC Commission of the Arts & Humanities. You can find her on Saturdays and Sundays at Eastern Market (7th St & North Carolina Ave SE) and is also featured at various Artomatic showings (55 M Street SE, Booth 509). Quest is truly an artist who can rope people into falling in love with art who don't even like art to begin with. Check her out online at www.myspace.com/questskinner.

See you at Eastern Market this Sunday,

Angela =)

Sparkles and cleavage and neon, OH MY!

It is very rare that I have such strong convictions for a designer. The same thing happens to all of us; Without naming any names, we throw all of our trust onto the one *it* designer that seems to be all the rage until we finally make it to Bloomingdales to try on pieces for ourselves and realize that they were probably only made for the Kate Mosses, Chloe Sevignys, and Mischa Bartons (or Mushy Fartone, a la fellow blogger Perez Hilton) of the world. The cuts are in all of the wrong and most unflattering places, my love handles look like two doughboys dangling from either sides of my hips, and my breasts are pushed apart from each other in such an offensive way that it looks like I'm milking. These "designers" who supposedly sculpt the fashion ideals for each season don't cease to amaze me in how they manage to make my body look anything but fashionable when I wear their clothes.

Don't get me wrong; I definitely love and appreicate good style, read my InStyle magazine and sift through the Saks 5th Avenue sale racks in Chevy Chase at the end of each season with the endurance of an athlete. But do you know how happy it makes me when I FINALLY find a designer who actually enhances my body?

For the past two years, I've had an obsession with Sky, a moderately priced Los Angeles-based clothing line of tops and dresses that completely enhance the person lucky enough to be adorned in their regalness. Utilizing all bright and dramatic colors, Sky showcases everything from clubby halter tops to ornate maxi-dresses holding consistency in their image with the sparkly (and often heavy-but worth it) and sometimes gaudy pendents always situated beneath the bust line.

These clothes work miracles, let me tell you. With the majority of their tops having breast cups, Sky can turn Rosie O'Donnell's breasts into two perfect little LaLohan lumps. Plus, they're great for clubbing, but more importantly, great for nights of heavy eating when you still want to look sexy. Being tight in chest area but always loose from that point downward, they are a Wonderbra for the body that may leave the man for a surprise when he chooses to disrobe his prize at the end of the night. Regardless, DC girls really need to get on the band wagon with this one.

If you're looking for a deal on these sometimes expensive but necessary pieces in every woman's wardrobe, a good friend of mine from Rhode Island, Kelly Salvati, launched a very successful website that sometimes carries pieces for as much as half off! Check out http://www.shopritzyrags.com/ for some sweet deals on Sky, and along with that, a barely there midsection with Jessica Simpson boobs. Because what's better than diamond embelishments and great cleavage?

Think about it.

xo,

Angela

P.S. Become a follower by clicking the link to your right please!!

So sue me...

As the emo idiots of the world would say, I'm a *poser*. Yes, a poser. I saw Julie/Julia earlier this afternoon and was inspired to document my thoughts electronically. I mean, let's be honest; if a dorky and socially fawkward (translation= effing awkward) government employee can get people listen to her on a blog because she needs to cook fattening recipes to define purpose in her life and revitalize marriage than I think I sure as hell can do the same. Only if it were me in her shoes, I'd probably get so bulbous (translation=super chubby and unattractive) that my husband wouldn't like me anymore and my friends wouldn't want to be seen with my frumpiness.

But with that being said, WELCOME! Haha, all jokes aside, this is not going to become some sort of fluke because of a movie I've seen. I've wanted to do this for a long time and the film gave me that extra nudge. I've been quite active in DC the last five years, not only as a college student, but as an employee in hospitality and event planning, and an attendee of many hospitable venues and events, as well. And because I can never turn down an invitation to anything whether it be a gala (not that those happen super frequently, in my dreams) or a night at Fly with all of my Turks (a regular occurance), I wound up with mono which gave me the opportunity to start this up because of all of the downtime. So now, in my zebra print hoodie and hardtail sweatpants, I start the continuing story of how I continue to paint the town (DC, in this case) leopard.

Why leopard, you ask? I come from Providence, Rhode Island where leopard is not a print, but a color and moms resemble the likes of the Real Housewives of New Jersey. I grew up going to Italian/Portuguese feasts every summer and thinking that it was normal for men to wear more jewelry then I did. As little girls our parents plopped big bows in our hair and as soon as we could talk we'd ask to get our ears pierced, if we hadn't had them already three weeks after birth (I was four years old). Going to a salon my entire life that spelled charisma 'Karizzma' (but did a great job, nevertheless) and being driven around in carpools with parents blasting Dean Martin or Andrea Bocelli, I thought my environment thrived in normalcy until I arrived in DC in August of 2005.

After settling in and looking around, I realized something was missing. It was very much like home, but there was something missing; where were the tough guys with blow outs? Why weren't any girls wearing acrylics (Don't know what I'm referring to? Exactly...) But most importantly, where did my beloved leopard print go?

I became a Delta Gamma and was surronded by girls who were by majority not North Easterners and had a slight identity crisis. It probably started when the pledge moms bought us all matching anchor belts from Vineyard Vines... EW!?! Or maybe it was when we had the croquet themed mixer. Or when all of the girls were comparing what they had most recently ordered from the Tibi spring collection...VOM!! These were great girls, but I just felt out of place in DC. I was covering up my accent, wearing more muted colors, and straightening my hair that was a wild lion's mane at the time.

And then, I don't know what hit me. The guido- which, let me add, was a term that many DC residents teased me with, and must have never been north of the Mason/Dixon line before if they thought I fell into this category- was a term that I began to embrace. I put my hoop earings and fake eyelashes back on and gallavanted on K street with my girlfriends one Friday night and showed DC what I was truly made of.

Now, back to why I started this blog... I'm not an egotistical person, and frankly, I doubt too many people other then my good friends will go on this. But even more frankly, I think I have insightful opinions and I think I can be entertaining!!! In the city of staunch lobbysts, fashion being Ann Taylor sample sales, and all of my neighbors in Georgetown who think that I'm too loud, I have decided to paint the town leopard, giving DC a taste of my spunk (that sounds really bad, looking back hahaha!) and recording my experiences in doing so.

Much love to everyone and enjoy reading <3,
Angela =)