Pictures these, but covered in mold.

We all eat on the run, especially in the morning. Even more, we often grab something and have no idea what we’re eating because of time crunches. I once had Pringles for breakfast because I thought I was grabbing cereal in a can. I have to say, a salty treat with coffee was a different combination, but not bad, sort-of like Cheetos with Peanut-butter/Jelly. I know it sounds nasty, but my pregnant friend told me about it and I’m tellin’ ya, Brad Pitt in a sandwich. Don’t knock it till you try it.

On Friday, I had a client tell me about her eat-on-the-run experience. She grabbed the Hostess 100 Calorie Pack Muffins that morning which she eats daily on the way to work. Being a good driver, she kept her eyes on the road while she unwrapped the muffins. She spelled something weird, “It must be hair product,” she thought, then popped a muffin. She said it tasted like there was hair product all over the mini-muffin so she spit it out, looked down to find mold all over the half-chewed muffin!!!! THEN she looked down at the two remaining muffins to find MOLD ALL OVER THEM! HAHA! I’ve never confused mold with the smell/taste of hair product, but perhaps I should take it to the Oxford University Labs. Those people survey/test anything.

My favorite part of her story is that the mold did not spoil her appetite. She immediately called her mom, who’s office was close by hers, and asked to meet her in the parking lot and bring her a granola bar and yogurt. Girl, you’re not alone if breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Everyone who has gone to Las Vegas has a story. It’s the nature of the beast, any place that’s nicknamed Sin City is going to be an adventure for anyone who goes, even my 57 year old mother who went for a nursing convention (even though her “wild” time was having one fruity cocktail in a casino – still, HER adventure.) From the horse’s mouth to third-party, I’ve heard some doozies, but I got a little uncomfortable at my girlfriend’s story. She was so dumbfounded by her encounter that she was still in disbelief two weeks later.

She was on a little trip to Vegas with a few girlfriends and they started talking to these men at a swanky bar. The man she was talking to was very handsome, a lawyer, checked-out well and was super nice. They met up the next night and after a session of cocktail throw-backs they reverted to making-out in public. She was in Vegas, right? Why not let your hair down? Seriously, she’s a conservative person… live a little! They then moved from the bar to the hotel lobby to the elevator to her room. The FREAKY part:

Here’s this hot guy in her hotel room – they’ve been making out in public for hours. As soon as they get to her room… he won’t kiss her, but he licks her ankles, feet and toes. Oh god… I’m going to puke. I’m just not a foot person. GAG!!! GAG!!! AHHHH! Then he turns her over, pulls up her skirt and licks her butt cheeks! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU FREAK???? So she’s in complete shock – freaking out – so embarrassed and doesn’t know how to take it so she turned around – think Sex in the City moment. Not taking the hint… he trys to prompt her to beat or whip him with something then starts talking like a straight-up masochist – she finally asks him to leave – appalled and shocked, he storms out. Slap me with a flapjack, but DUDE, you just met a complete stranger and licked her in places she’ll only touch with a washcloth and your reaction is shocked? I don’t know if she’ll ever go to Vegas again, but if she does, I know she’ll wear full-on Spanx (for rear protection, not belly control) and forgo sandals.

I have so many questions, but I’m too disturbed to ask them. Listen, I know this guy was in Vegas and I’m guessing his vacation goal was to live out some whacked-out fantasy inspired by Cinemax After Dark, but I know this girl, and she’s not the type to prompt that. You should see me right now… I’m red typing this.

I started Googling about sexual freakiness in Vegas… here’s a good article:

http://www.4hoteliers.com/4hots_fshw.php?mwi=3001

I leave you with this; Girl, I wish you were alone in this situation… but, I’m 100% sure, you’re not!

Hello Lovely Ladies! Heather here. For those of you living in Chicago, I hope you are staying warm and dry, who knew it was monsoon season in the City? This week’s topic is Exposed!

To shake things up a bit, our lead story comes from a lovely and talented friend of ours, Charla. But don’t fret, Lauren and I will keep you entertained throughout the week with more of our tales and yours. Enjoy!

Over-exposed at Cartier:

So I’m invited to the oh-so exclusive Palm Beach Cartier Christmas party and decide to fully glam it up festive style and wear my “red threat dress”. You know the one that makes you a threat to all the attached ladies in the room to hold onto their man cause you’re such a hottie one?

Yeah, well, it was body skimming, short (I had the legs for it at the time) and loooow backed with a drape front, only supported by two teeny tiny spaghetti straps at the shoulder (I had the back and arms for it at the time too.)

Ok, so what do you do at such a Christmas party but grab some mighty tasty and expensive (free) champagne, try on jewelry you DO NOT have the bank account to purchase, but hope that your date does then go and ask Santa (hired entertainment) to bring you the said wish list for Christmas, right?

Well, that WAAAAAS the plan until, while carrying champagne and handbag in one hand, pashmina over the shoulder on the other side, I strut my way up to Santa and low and behold the pashmina on my left shoulder starts to slide. In order to stop it, I’d have to spill or drop the champagne glass (lead crystal, of course) so I figured if I just try to stand a little taller it’ll stop the fateful slide. WRONG! It proceeded to fall of my shoulder and take my dress strap with it! Even worse, my dress dropped below my waist on the left side so that my boob, sans bra, was staring at Santa, his elves and the rest of the Christmas party.

Needless to say, I didn’t return the following year. Can you say “fashion victim?”

Charla, Chicago, IL