Lunchtime Plastic

Need clearer skin? No more frown lines? Angelina Jolie-esque lips? Cosmetic surgeons are finally taking it upon themselves to make Washingtonians more attractive, and with that, have developed non-anesthetic, reasonably priced procedures that can be performed all in the span of a lunch hour. I'm not saying that I'm going to get all Heidi Montag on you, but really, three hundred dollars for a new forehead? It's all about priorities, ladies. Below are some of DC's top cosmetic surgery experts, along with their most popular procedures that won't put much of a dent in your wallet:

• Endermologie Treatments by Dr. James French (3299 Woodburn Rd. Annandale, VA): Though I don't really know the specifics, I've seen something on Dr. 90210 where they externally smooth the cellulite out of the upper thighs and legs. I also think they did this to Kim Kardashian's butt on one of their many reality escapades. Have cottage cheese legs? This is so for you, and doesn't run more than $300 a session. 
• Microdermabrasion by Dr. Phillip Schoenfeld (5454 Wisconsin Ave. Suite 1625 Chevy Chase, MD): Located right across from the Saks in downtown Chevy Chase (great for some last minute shopping post-procedure), enjoy the relaxing skin treatment that literally saved me from acne misery. At $150 per session, Dr. Schoenfeld will sandblast your skin and instantly remove acne scars and skin discoloration. 
• "Lunchtime" Lifts by Dr. Joanne Lenert (2150 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC): For all of the older Leopards out there, dive into your very own personal fountain of youth with this sick treatment, lifting neck fat and droopy eyebrows all within the span of an hour with little recovery time. Though I don't understand how this works, Dr. Lenert has become a DC guru with these procedures. 
• Body Sculpting by Dr. Barlow (398B Woofler Ave Fairfax, VA): Enjoy heat therapy in the process of toning nasty areas like love handles and extra thigh fat in the course of a lunch hour. Though it takes a few times for it to work, the results are definitely dramatic. 
• Sclerotherapy by Dr. Tiffani Lucas (5454 Wisconsin Ave. Chevy Chase, MD): This amazing treatment, performed in a spa-like environment, utilizes painless injections to remove varicose veins and spider veins in the thighs. Aside from the office being beautiful and the procedure being incredible, Dr. Lucas is one of the best doctors I have ever seen (NOT for sclerotherapy, however. My legs are spider vein-free).
• Restalyne and Perlane by Dr. Sheilah Lynch (5454 Wisconsin Ave. Chevy Chase, MD): Another favorite doctor of mine, Dr. Lynch not only provides her patients with "designer" breast implants, but also does some of the most natural-looking, painless wrinkle injection treatments in the area. Utilizing an array of methods, she'll get rid of fine lines in such a subtle way that people will think you're going back in time. Or at least just think you look good.

Okay, so to get the record straight, I'm not advocating everyone changing themselves. But these "lunchtime" procedures have become a competitive trend amongst doctors in the DC area, and as more and more become available, and reasonably priced, you begin to wonder; Will DC soon become a Joan Rivers look-alike contest? Probably not, but one can dream. 

Because Even Kim Kardashian Needs Make-Up...

Aside from Halle Berry, very few people look good with a washed face. And while I get depressed sometimes watching Bravo and E! and seeing all of Hollywood's finest free of eyebags and cellulite, I'm reminded that money, actually, does buy good looks. Yes, if I had someone to glue individual eyelash extensions and give me Victoria Secret Angel waves I, too, could have the potential to be the envy of others in the looks department. Because after I watched The Hills finale with my roommate, Christine, and lost every inkling of self-esteem I had, I decided to Google some of my favorite celebrities to further prove to myself that they weren't exactly stuck with the best genes to look as good as they do. As I further examined the area, I learned that Pamela Anderson spends $10,000 an application from a celebrity make-up artist (which she NEEDS), and that the Kardashian sisters have a whole beauty team that travels with them so that they are not taped for any of their reality stints sans-make up. Does it make any of these stars ugly? For the most part, no. But it does make their roles as stars in the eye of the public much more tangiable. Below are some of my favorite celebutantes with nothing more on their face then the skin they were born with:

Though I love her, it's no wonder Perez calls her Beyowolf sometimes. 

Apparently, they don't sell make-up in certain parts of Louisiana. 

Though she's my all-time favorite, this look totally contradicts her song; she's NOT really lovely, underneath it all. 

Not for anything, but is that even the same person?

Reinforces my point that false eyelashes ARE the Rosetta Stone of beauty.

She forgot her umbrella and all of her makeup washed away. At least she's still wearing the hoops.

A lot of people don't know that I think Marilyn Manson is super talented. But I actually think he's scarier WITHOUT makeup. 

Hopefully, this boosted your self esteem just a little bit, and taught you that with money, a quick nip and a tuck, and rib removal (if you're Marilyn Manson), than you too can have infinite beauty. Just keep a mental note of Kim Kardashian sans make-up next time you open Us Weekly and want to kill yourself.

Eat the Forbidden Fruit in Eden

Looking for a fun Wednesday night party but SO over Lima? Try Eden; a small, outdoor lounge quaintly placed on the rooftop of Eye Bar next to Cafe Asia. Each Wednesday night, they throw a party filled with attractive people (by DC standards, however, just trying to keep it real for you all), great appetizers, and even a Bongo player alongside DJ Vicious (who always plays my favorite Greek house music songs, including Peggy Zina) and Saam. While you won't catch me here on the reg due to my early in time for work on Thursday mornings, I hope to live vicariously through DC night owls, as I have never been to a better party on a Wednesday evening in the city. Though a little bit warm, the club has rectified the problem, placing fans over looking the lounge that will keep you from sweating and making your hair frizz all over the place. And better still, the out door arena makes you feel like you're in a Barcelona beach lounge instead of really just an establishment next to Cafe Asia on Eye Street.
Don't be nervous about cold months; Eden is currently in the process of transforming Eye Bar into a creationism masterpiece, complete with green, Earthy decor and fauna embellishments throughout the club's interior. Even hotter, they've created an extremely VIP room known as the ''Forbidden Room'', in which high rollers can rent if they're looking for privacy (you know what that means...tehehe).
Still not sold? The bottle service is reasonable, the bartenders super hook up everyone, and the bouncer at the front door does his best to keep the so-called "riff raff" out (Note to self: they always try and do this at all DC clubs, but outdoubtedly fail after about six months of it being open). Plus, the head promoter, Nick Sanchez, isn't one of those douchey club promoter guys with too much cheap cologne sprayed on him; genuinely looking to throw a good party, make friends with this guy, and you're guaranteed a great time (and he might even teach you a new phrase in Farsi, which I beg him to do every time I see him). With a happy hour on the way and a Piazza-like outdoor space, be sure to check out Eden every Wednesday night, at the former location of Eye Bar.


Need more info? Check out www.edendc.com for a schedule of guest DJs and reservation information, or visit them in person at 1716 Eye Street NW. Washington, DC. Let them know Paint the Town Leopard sent you and get a discount on bottle service!

Buddha Bar DC: Not So Zen

Buddha Bar maybe needs to take a tip from its namesake, and be ‘’one with their cuisine’’. Yes, after DC opened Buddha Bar a few months back, I was definitely apprehensive for them to continue the London/Paris/NY/Dubai chain in a much lesser city. But being me, I immediately attended the opening, and after being graced with the presence of muscle man/bartender Marc Eber, fell in love with the cocktails, and most importantly, the sexy ambiance that took me away from DC’s often “ugly people for Hollywood” reputation and threw me into a very Vegas-esque habitat. With an enticing cocktail menu (try the pineapple martini!) and adorable hostesses at the door, you’d think that the food would be over the top excellent.

I’ve been twice, and there’s been definite improvement. But after paying $50 plus tip for a drink and two appetizers (one of which was a miso soup), you would expect nothing less than superb dining.
On the two occasions, my steak appetizer arrived cold, and on the first occasion, the server asked me if I’d like to return it (NO!! I want to eat cold steak?!?!?!). The tuna tartar with avocado was bland and nothing more than something you’d find on a sushi conveyer belt. However, the creative presentation of the spicy tuna roll was fun, and the nigiri obviously came from a seafood distributer comparable to Penn Quarter’s high end SEI. But overall, the food is nothing to write home about (It’s no Tao in the Venetian), and coming from a former waitress perspective, the service upon my first time dining there was an atrocity (although I will cut Buddha Bar some slack, however, being a new restaurant and still dealing with the weeding out of poor employees).
Would I go back to Buddha Bar? Yes, I’m sure. But I wouldn’t wait in that ridiculous line on Friday and Saturday nights to get in. The drinks are delicious, the bartenders are hot, and the facility is super sexy. Just don’t expect the food to be anything that would make Giada di Laurentis proud.

If Britney Spears Overdosed on Chicken Souvlaki...

Imagine if Britney Spears was skinny and in good shape again, dated a hot guy, and didn’t have any kids. Now picture Britney free of her hair-shaving, Oxy Cotone-popping past and imagine her origins from somewhere Eastern European as opposed to boring Kentwood Louisiana. Now, picture her with Lady Gaga circa 2008 blunt bangs, a skinny frame, and absolutely no ability to speak English. Sound scary? Peggy Zina, the sexy songstress of Greece, has had platinum records sell across Europe, and hasn’t even married a degenerate or had a mental breakdown. I’ll be the first to admit I was never one for the Greek jams that my Yiayia used to play in her station wagon growing up. But after moving to DC and spending way to much time at Lima and Spank (when it was Spank, that is), I began to develop an affiliation with my culture (partly because every single one of the foreign Greek girls had Christian Louboutain boots and I lived vicariously through them), realizing that it was edgy, sexy, and totally explanatory of why they were the ones to start civilization. And then, on a trip to Greece with girlfriends in December of 2008, a homeless bum in Pireas tried to sell me boot leg CDs. Because I was three glasses of wine deep and felt bad for him, I bought the CD with the prettiest person on the cover, and totally shocked myself. Peggy Zina’s “Trekse” (or “Run”, in English), had the glamour of a popstar but the girl power, guttural soul singing of an Alanis Morisette or Melissa Ethridge. Each one of her tracks told a story, and although I don’t speak Greek fluently, was able to depict through the sultriness of her voice. Even better, she incorporated traditional kalamatiano’s and zembekikos (traditional Greek dances) into pop tracks that resonate regardless of one’s culture. Still not sold? While Greek may not be the most useful language to learn, you’ll learn great phrases in each of her songs that will totally get you through your next Greek island vacation; from “φαντασία μου μεγάλη” (my biggest fantasy) to “Πώς πετάς έτσι απλά ένα;” (how can you just say good-bye to me?), you’ll learn useful phrases in the process.
Since 1995, Peggy Zina, originally known as Kalliope Zina, graduated from the Jeanne d’Arc Academie Francaise in Athens and started off as a professional pianist. Since being discovered, she has taken Eastern Europe by storm since. Future cross-over stardom success? Let’s not go that far. But she definitely puts me in a discoteka in Athens for a short moment.

Fourth of July: Rhode Island Style

Happy Fawth!!!


Nothing beats the Fourth of July in Rhode Island. In fact, very little locations beat out Rhode Island for holidays in general. But, being the quirky Ocean State of hair gel and Del’s Lemonade that is, my Fourth (or Fawth, for the accurate regional dialect) was filled with jollies that have continued making me laugh days later. From the Ed Hardy bikinis to more belly button rings than I could count, you KNOW you’re in RI for the Fawth when:

• You see a multitude of red, white, and blue diamond-embellished belly shirts. Operative word here being “belly”. Not the best look.
• The Block Island ferry is sold out three weeks in advance, and when you call to make a reservation, the woman belittling you on the other end for not planning ahead cannot even speak in full sentences.
• Providence is a ghost town. Everyone jets to the beach (or drives, rather. This is Rhode Island) with their Nana, Papa, Auntie, and whoever else, sits underneath D-I-Y tents and eats until their midriffs are exposed.
• You don’t stop hearing “HAPPY FAWTHHHH” until probably the 7th.
• People won’t even drive near East Bay for the fear of hitting the Bristol Parade traffic, even though I drove there while the parade was going on and got there in good time (“ohmigawd I’m not goin nea thea today!!”).
• Beach food consists of calzones, pizza, and canioles (I’m not joking, there’s a sign that has these three items labeled under “beach food” on Ocean Road).
• You go to Scarbarough Beach, if you dare, but still will NOT even be seen walking in Chair 3 territory if you’re not from Johnston (aka, the Johnston Chair).
• Scarbarough Beach smells like CVS-brand cologne.
• Everyone who IS in northern Rhode Island hits up Knotty Pahkkk (I love you, North Providence), with a meal at Michael’s Papardelle afterward in the Smith Street plaza (they actually have a great chicken marsala).
• Narragansett Beach is literally a cesspool, and the parking lots become full by 9:30 a.m. (including the one in the woods across the street that makes me feel like I’m Jesus of Nazareth walking through the desert when I have to park there and walk). But that doesn’t stop Rhode Islanders, who practically park in Bonnet just so they can be seen at Town Beach.
• People camp out at 1 a.m. just to get a good spot for the Bristol Parade the next day (even if they’re in eighty; I’m serious, there was one of the news).
Although my Fawth was relaxing and spent with friends at Bonnet Shores, I’m sure Block Island was a rager. Plus, I went to the Monet Lounge Fourth of July bash on Thursday night, and really, what’s more Rhode Island?

Why Did I Give Intermix a Second Chance?

I thought I would give them one more chance. Everyone knows about their 40 Off sale every year; Fendi, Elizabeth & James, Giuseppe Zanotti, and so many other goodies for prices that resemble those of second hand stores. And while I ranted about Intermix months back, I had a few extra dollars to burn in my checking account, and decided that I would go back in (Plus, they had Pleasure Doing Business skirts for $50!). Yes, Intermix, I was going to go against everything that ever came out of my mouth about you and actually stimulate the economy of your poor salesmanship business. But, with most mistakes I make, I should have trusted my instincts all along.

INTERMIX, BURN IN HELL. Okay, not exactly. But still. Thank you to a not-so-trendy, and even less friendly sales girl in the Georgetown location, I left yesterday feeling poor (typical), fat (it’s called voluptuous), and like a total hypocrite who vowed to never set foot in their again. Though I was coming from Zumba and still in my gym clothes, Homegirl refused to greet me, instead looking at me up and down and probably calculating my net work based on my poor gym ensemble (I was wearing a black shirt that read “Hollywood” in diamonds, so I half don’t blame her). But as I’ve learned as a former waitress in fine dining, it’s impossible to judge a book by its cover; the man in the sweatpants is usually the one buying the $400 bottle of rare sake.

As I sifted through the racks, she had a bodyguard up my butt the entire time, and kept requesting that she hold items at the counter for me, even though I was unsure of whether or not I even wanted them. Her forcefulness and aggressiveness made the shopping trip anything but relaxing, and while I feel like I’m writing a bad Yelp.com review, feel that this store deserves to be outted.

After latching onto the super sale Pleasure Doing Business number, the sales girl asked me if I wanted to try it on. Not wanting to soil my new skirt post-workout, I told her no, and let her know that I knew my size, having owned several of the skirts myself (Lies. I tried on my girlfriend Lal’s once. I just wanted to sound rich). She stuck her nose in the air, and brazenly responded, “YOU KNOW THAT’S A PETITE YOU’RE HOLDING”.

My entire workout was totally dismissed by that one bitchy comment. Frankly, I should have tried it on, and left my sweaty sports bra or something else in the dressing room in revenge. Instead, in my attempt to keep it classy, hung the skirt back up, and without a comment, slammed the door on my way out. I saw her scowling at me with the security guard as I left.

I am still appalled, annoyed, and totally irritated with the type of employees that Georgetown Intermix seems to hire. Back in my days of making the big bucks as a waitress, I’d shop at Cusp and Wink with the sweet, accommodating sales girls who never tried to give me an inferiority complex. Homegirl, just because you work at a place where rich, snobby people sometimes shop does NOT give you the right to be like them.

Ugh, so oves.