Am I in an Episode of Jersey Shore? Nope, Just Another Day in Rhode Island...

Well, leopards, I'm back in Old Faithful for the week. Having to deal with a minor outpatient surgery this week, I figured I'd be much more comfortable being pampered and taken care of by my mother when I'm ready to wrip my face off as opposed to recovering alone in my apartment, with the only thing in my cupboards right now being Georgetown cupcakes, which don't really lend themselves to being a healthy snack for a sick person. After going to pre-surgery appointments all day for the past two days and going out every night, it's true that every trip to Rhode Island is always accompanied by some jollies and moments where I always say, "Oh my God, is this really happening?" to my surroundings. And for the record, I'm not making the guido jokes because of the Jersey Shore craze that has spun the country right now. If you recall, this blog started well before Pauly D and the Situation even hit the map, but sometimes when I'm in Rhode Island I do forget for a moment that I'm not actually on the show. Below are a truthful, unexaggerated list of my encounters thus far in my hometown, that definitely serve as a contrast to life in the nation's capital. Because you know you're in Rhode Island when:

• You see a sixty year old man leaving the tanning salon in Ed Hardy gym clothes are so tight on his steroid-y body. And, go figure, he drives a Lincoln.
• You get a reaction as if everyone's just met an alien when you tell them you're Greek and -oh my God, how could she not be?!- Italian.
• You go to a nightclub that's deemed the newest hot spot, only to find that it's decorated with styrofoam colums and modeled after the Colluseum. Problem.
• You get nervous because the anesthesiologist putting you out for surgery has a blow out. And is fifty years old.
• Your best friend's father is sick as a dog but still has the energy somehow to cook a full dinner of zitti, broccoli rabbes, and potatoes.
• You spend after hours at Cappriccio's, AKA your father's dinner hot spot, and drink Moscato until 3 a.m. And, might I add, continue to get mocked in the process for not being Italian.
• You go to a bar in a shopping plaza that serves Chicken Marsala. What are the other facilities in the plaza, you might ask? GTL, baby... Gold's Gym, Spectrum Tanning, and the laundromat. Thank God for Smith Street.

Although I'll be knocked out for the next couple days, I'm sure there will be many more jollies to come upon my next week in the Ocean State. I wonder if I'll run into Pauly D?

Miss DC Makes Environmentalism Sexy

As most of you know, I am what you would call a pageant enthusiast. I coach, compete, and judge, and continue to spend every televised pageant, as scary as this sounds, with my "pageant journal" individually judging every contestant and probably annoying the crap out of everyone who is sitting there watching with me. Which is why I'm especially excited this year for the Miss America pageant, in which the District of Columbia will be represented by classmate, friend, and former fellow Cherry Blossom Princess Jen Corey. On her third attempt at the crown, Jen scored the title and for the past year has been galavanting DC attending some of the most fabulous events as a VIP guest, in a delicious sponsored wardrobe and beauty maintenance given to her during the time of her reign (which, for me, is reason enough to shoot for the title...free hair every month?! Hell yeah!). This Saturday, January 30th,  Jen will take her stab at capturing the Miss America crown on TLC, and with her positive personality, enviously long legs, and opera singing that shatters glass, I'm pretty confident that she's got a fair shot at doing so.
Even more importantly, Jen was required to undertake a platform during her preliminary competition that she would pledge to promote if she was selected as a winner. Her "Let's Talk Trash" (which the name isn't my favorite because there's nothing hot about trash) aims to clean up the city, encourage recycling initiatives, and make people overall more attentive to the environment around them. Designing a logo of a recycling sign with green stilettos in place of arrows, Jen makes the pro-environmentalism initiative attractive to women beyond the tree-hugging, hairy armpit ones. Even more honorably, Jen raised over $10,000 on her own to the Children's Miracle Network, the national charity of the Miss America organization, to help seriously ill children in need everywhere. Her popularity with a purpose is a positive example for all- and, if you see her in a swimsuit, might also set as a positive example for you to get your butt to the gym as soon as possible, too.
Think that the pageant bug has bit and you want to take your own stab at the Miss DC title next year? Don't even think about it without considering the following:

• White Teeth: For all of you against teeth bleaching because it supposedly takes the enamel off of your teeth, leave this white lie behind or find another hobby. Many serious pageant girls even go for veneers, so if you're poor, start brushing with baking soda and find some Crest White Strips pronto.
• An Excellent Coach: I know this all-star coach named Angela who worked with the latest girl to be crowned Miss Black America. She can be found at www.capitalpageantcoaching.com. Honestly, you're stupid to do a pageant without her guidance. 
• Current Events Knowledge: Never picked up a newspaper? Don't know the difference between political parties, but just like parties and that's all? Unless you're old Britney Spears-hot, your looks can only carry you so far.
• A Fierce Wardrobe: Which can cost you upwards of $2,000, I kid you not. There's no such thing as budget shopping when it comes to pageantry. Google Tony Bowls, Sherri Hill, or Jovani to see what I'm talking about.
• No Carbohydrates: Obsessed with pasta and bagels? You're going to have to pretend it's Lent or something, because a food baby isn't going to cut it for the swimsuit competition. 
• The Best Fake Hair: If you live in DC, hit up Georgia Ave and do work. Very few ladies are blessed with that thick, healthy pageant hair needed to compete, and living with a city that has tons of fake hair resources, it's best to take advantage of this for the stage. Please refer to my previous post on hair extensions for more information. And please refrain from wearing Jessica Simpson clipons, they don't look good on anyone.

Think you've got what it takes? Go to www.missdc.org to sign up today. And be sure to support Jen Corey (who is also a Paint the Town Leopard follower, I might add) this Saturday, January 30th, at 8 pm on TLC!

The Reserve: Moe Hamdan's Finest, A+

Don't you hate those nights where your friends drag you out and you're just not in the mood to schmooze with people? I had one of these nights the other night. I had just gotten off work, smelled like a piece of sushi, could barely hold my eyes open, but my dear friend Jules is just so adorable and I couldn't say no to her. Knowing that drinking a Redbull or anything like that would give me a panic attack (those of you who are close to me know of my anxiety to be a very true thing), I sucked it up, blasted 'Bad Romance' in my car, and cruised to N street to meet Jules and some other friends. I was told we would be starting off our night at The Reserve, a relatively new DC hot spot on 14th and L in which I had attended the soft opening of months back. Made up of the majority of The Park's old employees, I already rated this place well in my mind, knowing that I would get to go, dance to some of my favorite crunk tracks and mingle with all of my former colleagues. But two weeks ago, former Park promoter and current Reserve owner Moe Hamdan decided to launch the venue's third floor, which reminded me of Le Pin Up in Paris only with a beautiful crystal chandelier instead of blown glass lights. This trip down memory lane to my paradise abroad in Paris immediately woke me up, and the Weezy blasting from the DJ booth definitely helped, too.
While there's many beautiful venues in DC (okay, many might be a little bit of an exaggeration but whatever), there aren't many that can bring in and maintain a great crowd. Well, Moe Hamdan, congratulations, you're one of the first clubs in years that I've actually seen be able to pull this off. With no riff-raff and everyone dressed to impress, you won't feel like you're wasting the new ensemble you bought at Cusp if you choose to wear it here. Plus, the third floor is very open with cathedral ceilings, so you won't have to take a break between dancing because you're sweating too much and getting flyaways in your hair which I usually am forced to deal with. Single ladies? This honestly has the most attractive crowd of guys I've ever seen under one roof in DC and you won't have to worry about being groped in the process. Wear your Sunday Friday best and you never know who you'll meet.
Like me, who found a cute Korean guy for my friend and ran up to him greeting him with the traditional "Anahasayo". Too bad he ended up being Japanese and I blew my friend's chances.
Needless to say, I highly recommend The Reserve the next time you're looking to club it up with some good friends and good drinks on your next Friday evening out. And if the chandelier gets stolen, it wasn't me.



The Reserve is located at 1426 L Street NW, (202)-628-8900. Dress to impress (which I don't need to say because anyone who reads this blog does anyway).

Neon Bras

Trendsetter (and one of my personal idols) Gwen Stefani always does it best, and first. During her reunion tour this summer with No Doubt, Gwen sported a look- in accomaniment with her rock star abs- that had me ready to run out and copy in for the club the next day. Alongside her baggy, military pants (which I would never wear) and mohawk made out of messy buns (which I've already copied, don't judge), Gwen dared to rock a bright neon bra underneath her translucent wife beater and it was FIERCE, as Christian Siriano would say. And what do you know? Six months later, Victoria Secret came out with a line of sexy laced bras and bottoms (the word 'panties' grosses me out, so I refuse) in neon colors ranging from orange, magenta, yellow, and of course, Gwen's neon green.

For forty-five dollars, you too can party like a rockstar and add a little bit of crazy color to your standard tank top and jeans look. And you know what? I highly encourage it, because even if you look pasty and white, neon always makes you look like you just came back from somewhere rich and tropical. Here are a few tips about how to rock your new neon accessory that you WILL go out and buy tomorrow from Vicky's:

• DO make sure you wear it alongside a tank top so that the straps are appropriately exposed and not completely aligned and covered by the shirt.
• DO keep your neon to the bra ONLY. If you try to get all hipster and match your pants to it, your ass and thighs will look enormous and you'll just look too matchy-matchy.
• DO buy the matching bottoms if someone will be seeing you like this ensemble on that special night you want to look hot.
• DON'T make your bra neon, see-through, AND push up. You'll look like you have neon traffic cones under your shirt and that's just ridicoulas.
• DON'T wear something low-cut and have the lace in front creep out. You'll look like you're in a line up at the Moonlight Bunny Ranch. And I don't think anyone should have Airforce Amy as their style icon, sorry.

Keep it hot and try a new look this week; and, you get extra kudos if you have the Gwen Stefani-twelve pack to go along with it.

Heidi Montag=Frankenstein

After receving my weekly dose of People Magazine today, I was greeted by the Hills reality television star (and supposed singer, but I think Kim Zolciak of Real Housewives of Atlanta's got some competition on her if that says anything about her vocal abilities) Heidi Montag, but only recognized her because of her name being printed across the cover. Thinking that I was staring at a photo of either a very botoxed Jenna Jameson or a very airbrushed and lipo-ed Lisa Hogan, I was perplexed and slightly horrified by her latest nips and tucks. Being the very same age as me, Heidi now looks like she should be in a porno labeled "mature", and actually proves me wrong that plastic surgery will always have you looking younger. Upon reading the article, I became even more terrified, learning that she'd undergone a whopping TEN procedures in a twelve hour period being under anesthesia, ranging from a brow lift to a butt augmentation, and even further augmentations of her nose job and breast implants that she had received back in 2008. Claiming that she needed "sex appeal" to be successful in her "industry" (AKA galavanting Kitson boutique with Spencer in front of paparazzi), the only sex appeal she's going to have now is next to a whole bunch of trannies. After the death of actress Brittany Murphy and the recent death of heiress Casey Johnson, two young women who were sadly rapped up in the image and personal appearance reinforced by Hollywood standards, Heidi Montag just further confirms the problem at hand. And horrifies us all by having to show it off on the cover of one of the most popular magazines on newstands.
Now don't get me wrong; there's nothing wrong with a little bit of nip and tuck here and there. I'm a firm believer that cosmetic augmentations are a very personal and thoughtful decision that should be open to any adult. And I'm not one to be a hypocrite here, either, and can say that I do respect Heidi's honestly in not fronting about all of her ordeals; After living for twenty years of my life barely able to fill a training bra, I went under the knife for my twenty first birthday with the blessings from both of my parents and close friends. It's something I've always been comfortable discussing, and always thought that I'd be talked about even more if I decided to act like nothing happened and that I happened to be the one person that Blousant actually worked on. I think push came to shove on a trip to Universal Studios, when my tank top wouldn't stay on properly on the Hulk rollarcoaster and ended up being exposed in my photo from on the ride, not to mention in front of all of the others going to buy souvenir photos, as well. It sounds ridicoulas, and maybe not completely understood by a lot of people, but it was a decision I made as an adult for which I have no regrets. So, below, I address Heidi, hoping that she hears me out and perhaps considers filing a lawsuit against her doctor.

Dear Mrs. Montag-Pratt,
Will I be getting ass implants, my ears pulled back, and restilin in my lips now that I've gone under the knife once? No, Heidi Montag, what you're doing is not a personal decision that I should just respect, I'm sorry to say. It's weird, problematic, and you're probably going to end up like Joan Rivers, or even worse, the Cat Lady (Google her- so rancid I'm not even posting her photos here. She has the largest amount of plastic surgery procedures performed on a single woman EVER!). This isn't because I don't like you, but I'd like to think of myself right now as some kind of plastic surgury guru right now, heeding you away from more body trauma. I'm sorry, but what you're doing is just not the same as a fifty-year-old mom getting a little bit of Botox or a Greek/Italian girl getting the hump in her nose shaved down. It's extremist behavior and it's an addiction. Your old nose made you look like a Sophia Loren sex kitten and your old boobs were proportional to your enviously slim frame that I will never have, even if I do see your lunatic doctor. I hope you never sit down too fast and pop your butt implants. I'm so sad for what Hollywood has done to you. Or that damn Spencer is too afraid to come out of the closet so is now forcing his wife to look like a tranny so he feels more comfortable. Just saying.

Love,
Angela =)

Time to MANGIA!!

Because it's DC Restaurant Week! As a gold mine (and recipe for mono) for servers and bartenders throughout the greater Washington, DC area, Restaurant Week offers Washingtonians the opportunity to culture themselves in great food and drink just a little bit more than they would usually be able to, mandating price fixed menus that don't break the bank. This year, from January 11th to the 17th, the Restaurant Association of Metropolitan Washington (whatever the hell that is) is offering lunch for $20.10 and dinner for $34.10, each with three courses and loads of options. For people like myself who enjoy living outside of their personal means, this is a great opportunity to indulge in a new place you've found intriguing in the past but apprehensive to foot the bill. And even though young professional yuppie gatherings like happy hour are practically against my religion (Front Page, anyone?), I'm too much of a foodie to let an opportunity like this be passed out. So while I'm busting my butt and work all week and explaining the difference between nigiri and sahimi a good thirty times an evening, check out one of these DC hot spots for an excellent meal and distinctive crowd. Because in DC, there's a restaurant for everyone; this is the Capital, obvi.

• 701 Restaurant (701 Pennsylvania): Amazing, traditional cuisine, but used to remind me of the type of place I couldn't wear any outfit with cleavage inside because it was all Grandpas there. But with recent renovations and wonderful management who will take care of you, I am a huge advocate of this establishment.
• District Chophouse (509 7th Street): These guys take great care of me here, and I'm sure will do the same for you. Ask for Medi, the manager, and he will see to it that you're treated like royalty (which you are). The salmon is delectable, the bartenders will make sure your drinks will leave you feeling good, and there's even a bunch of pool tables upstairs-what's better than that?!?!
• Georgia Brown's (950 15th Street NW): Just because George W. always got take out from here doesn't mean you should totally write it off. With excellent southern soul food in a fine dining atmosphere, you'll be on the elipitcal for a good forty minutes the next day but it'll be damn worth it. And even better, I met Beyonce last time I dined here, and it was right after the Deja Vu video came out, so I didn't even feel guilty having a third helping of corn bread.
• Kellari Taverna (1700 K Street): I actually haven't been yet, but this is a new fine-dining Greek restaurant that just opened a few months ago. Which is my heritage, so enough said.
• Le Chat Noir (4907 Wisconsin Ave): One of my best friends in college, Lindsay Eisenkraft, had her birthday here, and although it's not so easy on the eyes my the looks of the building, actually has some of the most authentic French food I've had in DC. Just ignore its retardedly boring name (Like, really? The black cat?) and order the goat cheese and arugula salad.
• Mie N Yu (3125 M Street): Probably one of my favorite restaurants in DC even though my dad overindulged with both food and spirits during my last visit here. This restaurant is modeled after the countries of the silk road, with each room representing a different stop on the trade route. Go for the tuna tartar and the AMAZING duck tacos in hoisin sauce. And make sure you tip the belly dancer (or get up and dance with her).
• Napoleon Bistro (1847 Columbia Road NW): Go support my fabulous roommate, Christina, one of Napoleon's featured bartenders who can whip together a mean specialty cocktail. Enjoy amazing crepes and even better desserts, and after a few drinks, head downstairs for some raging to French pop music and house tracks.
• Oya (777 9th Street NW): There's three things you must do at Oya: (1) Try the foie gras grilled cheese, (2) Flirt with Marc Eber, the hottest bartender, (3) Drink Winterwine, the most delicious wine you'll ever have which just happens to be from Rhode Island. Plus, the ambiance is so beautiful you'll leave wanting your entire house remodeled after it.
• Rasika (633 D Street): After going to India for nearly a month, a stupid friend of mine took me out to dinner here the next day. And it's so good, that I actually didn't mind (probably because I had food poisoning for a week straight and was malnourished after drinking unpasturized milk). Make sure you say hi to Carrie, the adorable hostess, and do try the curried sea bass. 
• Sushi Ko (2309 Wisconsin Ave): Not the best sushi in DC, but definitely in a close second (come on, I can't help but be biased). Be adventurous and go for the omakase- the chef selects everything for you for a set price- it's not on the restaurant week menu, but will give you a lot to talk about if you have a socially retarded date take you there.

Don't get indigestion or too drunk that you can't have fun, but have a good time. Enjoy DC's best dining establishments for less- don't let this week pass you by! As I tell myself probably every single night when I order something at work that's fried, sauteed or an all around heart attack waiting to happen, there's always such thing as starting the diet next week. 

Intermix Doesn't Like Poor People

I never wanted this to be a rant blog. From the day I started writing Paint the Town Leopard, I wanted it to be a funny little site my girlfriends could visit when they were procrastinating from law school homework, at the office needing to zone out from all of their socially awkward colleagues, or getting anxiety waiting for that guy to call them and needing a little kick in the ass back to reality. There's four things in my life that I could never live without; water, sushi, my Judith Ripka ring, and my writing. And because of that, I would never want to utilize something that I see as being so important for anything but entertaining and making other people feel happy.

HOWEVER.

Enough is enough and they deserve to be outted for the way they make me feel every single time I walk into their poorly decorated, monochromatic boutique with the ugliest purple curtains that are supposed to function as dressing rooms and don't even close correctly! It's been a long time since I've been able to shop on the budget of a girl who had an "emergency-only" credit card in high school and college, but being DC Restaurant Week right now, I decided today that I had a little bit of extra money in my pocket and wanted to splurge on this gorgeous Elizabeth & James dress that I've always walked by on my way to the gym. While I do pride myself on having treated myself to nice purses and sunglasses, being on the way to the gym, decided it would be a safer choice to sweat all over my bootleg Raybans, instead. And maybe my fake designer sunglasses made the sales girl nauceous or else I would have been treated differently. Upon walking into Intermix, which is located directly across the street from me on M street, I walked in like the biggest frump on Earth in my gym attire (which probably didn't help), only to immediately see a sales person helping a MILF-y mom try on something that was supposed to look fashion forward but was actually hideous and probably $700. As I look through the racks and come to the realization that the Elizabeth & James dress is not even in my size, I continue perusing (there was a HUGE 40% off sale, so it was actually relatively affordable), still not greeted by the sales girl, who looks like she needs to eat a cheeseburger pronto, I might add. After eavesdropping on the conversation between the milf and the sales girl, which dealt with dog grooming or something else rancid and completely irrelevant to clothes or anything having to do with Intermix, she eventually made her way over to me as I was flipping through clothes and instead of saying hello, looked down at my bag and blatantly scoffed at it. STRIKE ONE. Because I have nothing to prove to anyone, I would like to add that there is no reason that the bag I was carrying this afternoon should have been scoffed at, because it was a recent Christmas and not cheap. But by Intermix standards, I guess that means it's poor. About five minutes later, the same girl was standing directly in front of me as I was looking through different boots, so I decided to execute some level of social etiquette, and said hello (EVEN THOUGH I SHOULD HAVE BEEN GREETED!!). She responded saying something I couldn't really make out, that sounded like a "Hehhhhh", and probably couldn't speak properly because the Nicole Richie head band she was wearing was cutting off all of the circulation in her James van der Beek-esque forehead. Homegirl didn't even ask me if she could help me with anything, and at this point, probably should have just left, but realized that I could get a gorgeous pair of Giuseppe Zanotti boots that were on sale for a hundred bucks (!!!). Being forced to deal with this disaster of a human being again, I promptly asked her for my size (which will not be stated). But after ten minutes, I still did not have a pair of shoes to try on, and when I did find the sales woman again, was out of the stocking room, clearly having "forgotten" to get my boots for me. Needless to say, I left Intermix, and will not be returning.
I know what many of you will be saying; don't let one bad apple spoil the barrel, but this isn't the first time this has happened at multiple Intermix locations. Apparently I don't give off a "richesse" attitude that looks like it will produce a huge sales check, despite the fact that I've gone in with credit cards on multiple occasions ready to shop. I've shopped at other luxury boutiques and department stores from Cusp to Saks to Wink regularly, and even if I've gone in looking like Rosanne Barr or didn't buy anything, was still greeted with the proper salesmanship that every customer deserves. A manager of mine once told me that he likes to exude "professionalism without pretension" when each of his guests arrive at his fine-dining restaurant. Though expensive and not for the average wallet, he always encourages each of his employees to treat every guest equally. Well, congratulations, Intermix; you did a great job in achieving the opposite. I want to be fabulous and love dressing great and encourage my loved ones to do the same, but there are plenty of other great establishments I'd rather give my money to that don't make me feel like a plebe from the moment I walk through the door. In 2005, Kanye West said that George Bush doesn't like Black people. Well, it's 2010; and, stated by Angela Milas, Intermix doesn't like poor people.

Marc Barnes: The King of DC

On New Year's Eve, my girlfriends and I ended up buying a table at Lotus Lounge on the corner of 14th and K. Developed by nightclub afficionado Michael Romeo, owner of Fur and Midtown as well, I partied the night away and instead of kissing any studs at midnight, embraced all of my girlfriends, which is so much more important, in my opinion. But after being there for two hours, my barely-there biceps got tired from fist-pumping, aside from the fact that I was three seconds away from hitting the girl next to me who couldn't hold herself up straight, and even worse, forget to wear her HankyPanky's. With an 'ehhh' crowd and house music playing on repeat that I obviously couldn't even sing along with, we all made the unanimous decision that we would go around the corner and spend the rest of the night rocking out at the hip-hop mecca (and my former place of employment), The Park at Fourteenth.
And were we glad we did.
With some of the District's hottest DJs always spinning, a gorgeous dark wood decor, and fabulous Chihuly blown glass chandeliers, I've had many great memories at The Park; I witnessed the election of the first Black president, worked with some of the most professional (and good-looking) employees in the hospitality industry, celebrated my college graduation with family and friends, and met every celebrity under the son from Chris Rock to LaBron James to my personal idol, Common. And as we all danced to "Dirt of Your Shoulders", by an artist I don't even need to name who has also been a guest of The Park, it was safe to say that The Park turned my New Year's Eve from an A- to an A+. But who is behind this nightlife masterpiece?
Say what you want about him, but DC-native Marc Barnes knows how to throw a party. He's a perfectionist, tough to work for, and will let you know if your new haircut came out bad or if your dress isn't so becoming (he's let me know). But he also establishes venues that will make you both proud to work for and socialize in with a level of professionalism and precision that no other developer in DC comes close to.
Usually seen in khakis, a Polo, and immaculately clean Nike kicks, Marc developed his career alongside fellow promoter and club owner Taz Wube, creating Republic Gardens, a DC club that was bumping in the nineties, and although no longer owned by Marc, still continues to host parties today. Upon completing Republic Gardens, Marc's resume kicked off; he began hosting NBA All-Star Weekend in Las Vegas every year, developed relationships with everyone from Russell Simmons to Diddy himself, and soon opened the go-to hip-hop venue in DC, Love Nightclub (This four story club holds close to four thousand people, and even offers lodging accommodations within the venue for out of town celebrity guests). Years later, he opened The Park at 14th, a restaurant and nightclub geared towards a more business professional crowd, with Southern-style soul food competitive to Georgia Brown's.
And now? With his own reality show Party Boyz on TV One and several other party deals on the way, possibilities for Marc Barnes are endless in DC and beyond. But I can let you know one thing; despite his roaring voice and sometimes intimidating exterior, Marc Barnes has forever changed and since defined nightlife in DC and beyond.

Check out The Park at 14th at 920 14th Street Wednesdays-Sunday for excellent food and even better partying.

Peace Easy, 00's

Despite one of my previous posts that referred to our entrance into 2010 as our entering of the new "century" (typo that made me look really stupid-oops!), we made it through the double-o's with the survival of the Y2K bug, a reckless economic depression thanks to Texas' finest, hipster-chic style a la Kanye West and Gagaloo, and a bald Britney Spears who looked like my old American Girl doll that I pulled all of the hair out of (But unlike Samantha, Britney Spears couldn't be put away in a little carrying case, poisoning us with a scary performance of "Give Me More" in 2007 when she was hopped up on God-knows-what, and, even worse, procreating). Seeming like the ten years ago at this time, in which I really thought that a compuer glitch was going to cause an Apoclypse, was just yesterday, the new millenium crept up on us and left us with an array of new questions, genres, reality television, and even a hot black president to represent us to the rest of the world. While it looked really cute on paper (come on, didn't any other girls out there think that it looked adorable to write '05 or '02 for the year?), the first decade of the second millenium was definitely filled with its up, downs, and bloopers in between (the kilt on men will never be flattering, sorry Marc Jacobs). Below are some of the biggest hits and misses of the past ten years:

• The Supreme Court ruling of Gore vs. Bush: Made me totally unproud to be an American, with all of the shady happenings that went down during the 2002 election. Like, did those chads really matter?
• Eminem and Elton John Perform "Stan" at the Grammy's: Despite all of the gay protestors, Em & Elt's duo was boundary breaking, and showed, in the grand scheme of things, music is really just music. Even if that little hug at the end was planned.
• 9/11: One of the single most tragic days in American history that sprung a great deal of patriotism upon its aftermath...where did all of those flags go?
• Janet Jackson's nip slip: That I will forever hold a grudge against her for, because now instead of listening to good music during the Super Bowl Halftime Show, will now be forever forced to listen to rancid acts like Tom Petty...and this is the only part of the game I ever care about.
• The Emergence of Facebook: Because what was life ever like before relationship statuses, inside jokes on wall posts, and advisors warning you that you'll never be employed because of all of the drunken pictures your friends decided to tag? We salute you, Marc Zuckerberg.
• RIP, MJ: No matter what you think of him (from pedofile to prophet from God), it's undeniable that he was an insane music talent that impacted the music world and set a standard for all performers to follow. The crotch grabbing forever lives on.
• Hurricane Katrina: In 2005, Louisiana and Mississippi were hit with one of the biggest natural disasters that the country has ever seen. Still trying to rebuild all of the affected areas five years later, many have reached forward to help, while idiots like Barbara Bush have given their two cents on the situation, as well ("What I'm hearing which is sort of scary is that they all want to stay in Texas. Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway so this (chuckle) – this is working very well for them").
• The Emergence of the Heiress: Before, you could only get famous by talent. But in the 00's, girls like Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, and Nicole Richie wowed America showing us that if we had enough money, we too could buy our fame without BS-ing our way through voice lessons (bonus points if you decide to lauch a fragrence line for CVS).
• iPods: Buh-bye, Strawberries and all of the other music stores. With the iPod obsession, you now even have WiFi access on most models. And, if you break it three times in one year like I did, there's usually a cute boy at the Apple Store Genius Bar that will give you a new one for free.
• Leggings: Some thought this trend would come and go. But for the past five years, leggings in all different textures and colors continue to inspire fashion by all different lines. But-please-make sue your butt is covered when you decide to rock this look.
• The Discovery of Cupcakes: Not actually much of a discovery at all. But someone decided to make them fabulous at some point during the decade, and now, eating cupcakes is a sexy and rich thing to do. Georgetown Cupcake, anyone? (actually, I'm much more a Baked and Wired fan myself...)
• Paint the Town Leopard: At the end of the decade, this blog revitalized the way blogs were executed-JK-but, I heard it gives some of you at least a little bit of a jolly while your procrastinating from your law school homework.

With the good and the bad, kiss goodbye the past and get ready for ten more years of the unexpected. Happy New Year to all of the sexiest leopards in DC and beyond! =)