SATC

If this sequence of letters triggers some sort of meaning for you, I've officially lost all faith in humanity. One of my fellow bloggers hit the nail on the head:

"Sex and the City: The Movie. It got panned by critics, the girls all look haggard and old, and who has ordered a Cosmo since 1999? The TV show ruined a generation of single American women, and the film is about to ruin another."

I was sitting at lunch with 3 other twenty-something women yesterday and this weekend's long-awaited premier came up in discussion. "I've already bought my tickets for Friday night! I got enough for me and all my friends!" *exasperated look of orgasmic joy* Looking back, I hope my jaw didn't drop to the floor. To me, this translates: "I can't keep a steady boyfriend, but my girls will always be there. And if my girls aren't always there, at least I'll have my SATC DVD set and Carrie's wise words to get me through".

That is harsh. Even for me. But here is the irony of it all. I'm debating whether or not to Fandango my premier tickets tonight or tomorrow morning at work. I can't wait. I know a few people who have already seen screenings or previews or whatever and I'm dying to get a review. I heard it's over 2 hours. 2 hours!!! I saw them filming this shit all over NYC around the time I moved here last year. I mean, maybe I'm in it!

Now I never watched the show when it was popular. No seriously. I'm not sure what I was doing while all my female counterparts were pouring wine and having girl-time, but I surely wasn't participating. Carrie didn't make me want to start writing and the show certainly didn't make me want to move to New York. I've only seen a few episodes here and there, but now I have the urge to go out, purchase the seasons, and have a marathon. I'm totally buying in on the hype. Tomorrow I will buy our tickets online. I would say that I'll try to talk my boyfriend into going with me, but in all actuality, I bet he wants to see it too.

she's so unusual

High up on the list of things that make me happy: my sister Lindsay's uncanny inclination to remind, awaken or inform me of the fabulousness that is anything music-related. TELL ME you rocked out to this album at some point in your life.



when you were mine, i use to let you wear all of my clothes. i love you more than i did when you were mine

M I A

Apparently this past weekend took a lot out of me. I'm back from frolicking in the Hamptons. The bridge of my nose is still lobster-esque and I haven't quite mentally returned to the work week. HOWEVER, I'm trying to put my big-girl panties back on and get productive.

two words: BRODY. JENNER.

my most recent work email:

"Hello lovely ladies,

I would absolutely love if you could join us to celebrate the Women of Fashion, from *******! Samantha Ronson will be the DJ - and we have a pretty impressive celebrity RSVP list including: Brody Jenner. YES, live and in person. Its going to be the most mega-fabulous party of the season, so dress to impress!

So Meagan/Hayley - I know we've never met, but if you are as fabulous as Miss Dia says, we're going to have a blast!

Let me know if y'all can make it!

******"

DO YOU EVEN HAVE TO ASK?!? Need I remind everyone of the last party we (Meagan and myself) attended where our girl Sam Ronson was the DJ? Mid-gyration, vodka-t in hand, we were literally winking and grinning, 3 feet away from her. It was the most hysterical/desperate thing we've ever done.

"When I get a little money, I buy books. And if there is any left over, I buy food."

-- Deciderius Erasmus

more from the mouth of the south

I've recently become an advocate for the anti-smoking cause. (see a few posts below) And there was an excellent article in the Timez this morning, that examined a study on the social aspects of quitting.

"Education also played a role. Those with more education were more highly influenced by their friends, and their friends were more likely to influence them. And some social contacts were more influential than others. A spouse’s quitting was more powerful than a friend’s, and a friend’s quitting was more powerful than a sibling’s. If someone you name as a friend quits, that has more of an effect than if someone who names you as their friend quits. Co-workers had an influence only in small firms where everyone knew one another. The effects were greater among casual smokers than heavy smokers."

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/22/science/22smoke.html?ref=us

PINK

When I was 4 or 5, I lived in Boise, Idaho. I don't remember much about suburbia-land, except for unrealistically green grass, the neighbor boys with the cool names (Parker, Marshal and Barrett), and most of all: JEM - TRULY OUTRAGEOUS! But there was a serious problem. Jem had a Sunday morning time slot. This directly interfered with church. I used to fake stomach aches for viewing priveledges. I think we should have more shows like Jem. She embodied everything eighties. This by far, being my favorite decade. I think I've found this year's halloween costume, people.

scream to me

He hides in his suit like a snake in the grass
his sales pitch fork tongue hissed
now the wolves wear their name tags they are hunting in packs
herding their prey up the aisles and back
they're smiling
their teeth are showing

while the doctors and lawyers like vultures descend
they swoop down to the scene of the car accident
to pick the victims to pieces then
there is the sly fox makes his money
telescamming notch babies
he says the end is near buy my policy
I'll make you young again
I'll make you young again
[wooh!!]

take the cash from my hand
hear the register sing
and the roar of the lion logo on the screen
he's hungry
I should buy some popcorn
so I exit the dark feeling blind in the sun
and the bobcats look tired they ate their fill of asphalt
because we need more parking
with so many rows

up at the pulpit rams and bugs
the news cameras capture guerilla warfare
eagles into buildings crash
landed despair is all that there is now

in a cubical cage that smells like a rat
whose smile gets bigger along with your debt
don't take it personal its just business

*survival of the fittest - desaparecidos

GO LISTEN TO IT!

http://www.myspace.com/desaparecidos

betz

Betsey Johnson's offices are a few floors above ours, in our building here on fashion ave. It's common to see her once a week or so. This morning, she and I were walking towards the revloving door at the same time. However, a glass cleaner was tending to the revolving door. I went to the second. For some reason she just stood there, waiting for him to finish ...

my latest facebook msg

Q. Facebook is to Monday through Thursday what Thursday happy hour is to Friday? (that's a sort of post SAT / in real world question)

a) a complete distraction
b) an escape from reality
c) the single source of my insane lack of productivity
d) all of the above ....

country

I wish I could find a bar like "The Saloon" here tonight. One that serves $2 domestics on Thursday nights (therefore I also wish it was Thursday night) and offers country karaoke all night long, like back in Columbia. Singing Carrie Underwood and chatting with our guy friends who love to buy us shots. And at the end of the night, screaming Martina McBride's "A Broken Wing" at the top of our lungs, and actually thinking it sounds perfect.

I'm the best there is

There was a time in my life when I was a smoker. Yes, I know. How disgusting. I remember who gave me my first cigarette. I won't call out her name, per chance she reads my nonsense from time to time.



We were be-bopping around in her car, on the way to a neighboring town. I can't really remember, but maybe I was 17 or so. I was always older than my friends/grade/parents. They were menthols and I couldn't figure out how to do it. I probably smoked a whole pack without knowing what the hell I was doing. (Gosh this makes me sick. I almost dread having children!)

Fast forward through field parties and frat parties and long drives across the state. I was always cognizant of my surroundings when I smoked. It was never a necessity to smoke when I came home for weekends during college. I didn't want to upset my parents and I didn't really need it bad enough to sneak around in the back, back yard.

I'll get to the point. I quit, cold turkey a few months ago - maybe three. I know this may not seem astounding, but I am immensely proud of myself. It's gotten to the point where I find myself basking in my own self-righteousness.

Can you believe how freaking amazing I am? I mean honestly. I quit because I wanted to. People are actually addicted to these things?! What a load of crap! What a cop out! These people have absolutely no self control. Look at me. The wonderful, self-manipulating, drug-free, anti-substance magician. Poof - I'm done with that part of my life!

When I walk up to my office in the mornings, I see people (who have probably arrived at the office a mere 15 or 20 minutes before me - sad, they just can't wait) standing around outside the revolving doors, nicotine in hand. I can feel it. I can feel the snarl. There is an actual look of utter disgust on my face and I'm looking right at these people. I don't care that they can see me.

When I walk down the sidewalk and I am waiting to cross the street, I might be standing behind or next to a smoker. The ever-consistent wind might blow a plume of smoke through my nostrils.

I am astonished. I cough loudly and I dramatically fan my face. I want to scream "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE"! "YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME WHILE YOU'RE AT IT"! I have never smoked a cigarette a day in my life. I loathe these people for their inability to resist. I am the only person in the world who has defeated nicotine. Damn it feels good.

But you know what? I don't care that I feel this way. I'm glad of it. Because if this is the mentality that a person must assume in order to detach themselves from this drug, then so be it. I am indefinitely excused for being a hypocritical bitch. And so are you.

that looks fun

why am I such a sucker for Vineyard Vines?? these people look like they're crazy..

crazy fun, that is...

How's your memorial weekend looking? Our offices are giving us a half-day on Friday - so that's pretty sweet. Z and I went ahead and reserved a zipcar for Saturday-Monday. It looks like we're heading to the Hamptons. This will be a first for me. One of my best's said she was burned brown this past weekend in Folly beach. I just want to be tan again!

So Boho...

I love this! I never thought I'd say that I want a vest.

U-S-C Goooooo Cocks!

Every year, USC sends a small group of advertising students (during their Maymester class) to NYC to visit/tour various ad agencies. I came with this very group two years ago. *See the aviator-donning blonde below*



Well, my old professor brought a group of students up this year (surprisingly larger group, at that) to visit little ol me. (and the agency of course) It was interesting being on the other side. I remember being that eager, job-hungry student. I asked tons of questions, smiled big, and collected business cards.

As I sat there, telling them about my job and answering questions about how to get to NYC, I began to remember how fun it all was. Gosh, I truly hope that every single one of them makes it here.

my sunday afternoon

hello sweet summer

And I saw two NYU students - graduates maybe - from outside my cab window. They were holding a small TV. The one boy, with his filthy, once-white undershirt, uncomfortably toting the awkward television. The other boy, sucking on a Marlboro Light or maybe a Newport, to ease last night's binge. He solomnley held the TV's matching remote. This one shouted a verbal version of a Craigslist advertisement: "Twenty dollars! This TV is perfect for dorm rooms! Kitchens! Bedrooms!"

I imagined they had just finished their semester. They had shared memories with this TV. They were roommates. They were going back to Cali or Colorado for their summers. They were making more memories by selling this TV on a lazy New York City Sunday - this very moment. One day they would tell their kids about "the time after sophomore year" when they sold their TV for $20. They would leave out the part about needing the twenty bucks for a bag of weed from Washington Square Park. They would tell their friends at the bar tonight about how "crazy" they both were, and laugh out loud while downing Guiness and flashing fake IDs. They would tell their bar friends about how they spent their TV money on a bag of weed from WSP. And how it was totally worth it.

part of your balanced breakfast

I think it's only fair to let everyone know that I have succumbed to the pressure of alcohol. I made it a full 11 days. But after countless refusals at dinner "Just water, please", and tests from my boyfriend "Mmm, this is good. Want a sip?", I finally realized that maybe the principle wasn't a good enough reason to say bye-bye to Lindeman's Framboise altogether. The real principle is, it isn't healthy to have a glass of wine with every meal, or slosh it out every weekend with vodka T's. I think I get my point.

So last night we had dinner at The Park. Complete with steamed artichoke/with lemon beurru blanc, bufala mozzarella/tomato/basil, and a prosciutto/arugula salad pizza. And as two ladies across the room from us poured out their meaty, purple Sangria, I thought...how wonderful a glass of such sweet nectar would taste in addition to the food we had just ordered.

So we did. We ordered a pitcher and I had two, brimming glasses. It was the best Sangria I've had in NY thus far. Sure I felt a little guilty. A lot guilty. I was really proud of myself. This morning, I have developed a mild aching in the upper region above my neck. But I still feel OK with this. Besides, Mem Wknd was sure to be a **** show, if I had really waited until such date to resume alcoholic intake.

doing my part

I never thought I'd be saying this. But THANK YOU, G. DUBYAH! (True story: I used to have a "W - Still the President" sticker on my QX4, sophomore year of college. BAH! I also had Half Moon Outfitters rack pads on my roof. You know, just incase I ever needed to haul a surfboard or something.)

I love waking up and finding an extra $600 in my dwindeling account. Now I will proceed to single-handedly stimulate the economy. We have a wedding to attend in Mass, the first weekend in June. I think I'll start with an Anthro dress.

Oh, P.S. I bobbed.

what about

I have a haircut tonight. I'm seriously struggling. Bob? Not to Bob? Why is life so hard!

i can't breathe with all this steam

I had a $150 facial downtown last night, yet I still owe my roommate money for toilet paper. Where is the rational in my life? My job certainly has its perks. But I'm living like a rich-poor person.

She must have extracted a hundred nothings on my face that I was oblivious to having. I thought I had fairly clear skin. Even so far as to be quite proud of brushing on a bronzer and carrying on with my day. But as I lay there, I kept wondering what the hell she was doing.

Ouch. Owwwwwwwwch. Fists unknowingly clenching. What is she using? Some medical tool? Her finger nails? Oh God. What IF she IS using her fingernails? Are her fingernails clean? What if she's making my skin worse? There's NOTHING there! She's clearly gone mad and feels the need to fake clogged pores. Who does this woman think she is?

When it finally ended, she informed me that living in the city makes your pores even worse. Thanks for that. As I was walking to work this morning, my mind wandered, as it usually does, and I began to feel a mild neurosis coming on. My face is freshly cleansed, but it's happening all over again! All this dirt and smog and the smell of Burger King in the morning and people's bad breath. It's all seeping into my pores and there's nothing I can do about it!

Except to get more facials.

i'm taking crazy pills

Turbulent morning thus far. It's May and I'm wearing a turtle neck. Why is it sunny with 35MPH winds? I started my period so I'm DYING. And already this morning I've broken down crying and busted out laughing on the subway to strangers. The huge white envelope that contains my voters registration came back to me in the mail. It says something along the lines of "179 postage needed". What the feck does that mean? I weighed it at the post office on 38th. It said ONE stamp. ONE! That wasn't enough to haul it downtown? Instead, they had to carry it over or under the east river to LIC and give it back to me saying they NEED MORE MONEY?! That makes sense.

So then I started thinking, as I walked to work, enormous white envelope tucked under my arm. If stamps are 41 cents a piece, how many more do I need? It said I need $1.79. $1.79 more than the one stamp already stamped? Or a total of $1.79? I'm trying to do the math in my head while Dave Matthews is howling that "life is short". I suck at math. I am trying to divide and multiply and not get hit by a car. I'm just a block or two from the post office and I'm visualizing a quick little visit.

It involves me, busting open the door and causing a scene. The million and one people (who inevitably will be standing in line as if they have nothing better to do) will turn and look at me. They will wonder if I'm crazy, or if I'm a threat, or if they're getting to witness someone "going postal". Then I would slip a pair of reflective aviators from my enormous leather satchel and subsequently put them on my head. OHP, you thought it was going to be a weapon? REALLY? They all breathe a heaved sigh of relief. BUT THEN, with the corner of my mouth rising, revealing a singular dimple, I begin to reach BACK into my enormous leather satchel. A woman gasps and a small child begins to wail. I pull out of my purse, a bazooka. I get a crazy look in my eye (but they can't see it because of the aviators) and I look up at the ceiling and I begin to shoot holes. Huge, pot-hole sized, hole-puncher style gaps in the ceiling. I'm proving a point, and dammit, they'll listen. Sheet rock falls dramatically, spraying into my hair and billowing smoke and entering my mouth.

And then. Ever so slowly, someone, anyone who is a government employee, comes forward and relieves me of the enormous white envelope. And I say "thank you". Walk out of the door, back onto 7th avenue, and continue my walk to work.

crystal ballz

Sorry, I just like saying "balls". Enter: my meager attempt to predict the future while analyzing media and the way we consume it. Blast, that sounds boring. I promise it isn't!

The facts: I work in advertising. This week is the upfront for television advertising. Essentially, the networks introduce their schedules to advertisers so that we (the advertisers) can become sublimely aware of their initiatives, and thus make informed purchasing decisions. Blah. Regarding all forms of advertising (online, print, out-of-home, etc), TV is by far the reigning champion of overall spend. They get all the money - leaving teensy budgets for the small potatoes, like...say, online. (hey! that's what I buy!)

But if my calculations are correct, that is all about to change. *beep boo beep boop beep* (Time Machine SFX)

Ratings are down. Initiated by the writer's strike, viewership of television programming has shifted from TV, to online. If you can't watch your favorite shows because they AREN'T THERE, you might as well watch reruns whenever you feel like it online (at work when you're bored, at home when you should be cleaning, etc). HA! Thank you writers! Thank you for stepping up the pace for this media transition. Eventually, gone will be the Church & State days of the internet and TV.

If you DVR/TiVo (however you swing) your favorite shows, then you're 1 of 4 in the country. This means you skip commercials, and are contributing to the meshing of time slots. Goodbye "prime time" (and outrageous prime time ad slot prices). It comes as no surprise that (like most aspects of people's lives) you, me, the consumer, wants what they want, when they want it. And they will demand it, until they receive it.

And so, this presents a problem for advertisers. Their only real hope, is a metamorphosis of TV and internet. Envision television becoming more like the Hulu's and VeOh's of the world. More product placement and integration. Floating advertisements across the screen and video overlays.

This is good news for anyone in the digital realm of the advertising world. (i.e. me) The best advice I have? Go buy the nearest Video Ad Network or community and BALL OUT OF CONTROL.

I said ball.

hilarity ensues

vices

I made it through my first weekend without alcohol. It would be a bold-faced lie to say it was easy. I don't think there's been purely alcohol-free weekend in my life since before my Gamecock daze. HOW PATHETIC!



What exactly legitimizes an "alcoholic"? How do you measure this? In dirty martinis and buckets of sangria? Shots around the world and tour de franzia races? My God, it was actually suggested to me on Friday night (whilst at a benefit, in a BAR) that I was in fact, being anti-social. Anti-social!? I gripped my uncomfortable rectangular Fuji bottle and promptly defended myself. Are you telling me that my choice to become "anti-alcohol" had effectively deemed me "anti-social"? Do you have to get liquored up to have a good time?

Then I began to question whether or not I really could be social without alcohol. As the bar began to bulge, I became soberly aware of my surroundings. What was this stomach-churning bourbon smell, infiltrating my nostrils? Why was every single Bobby and Betty feeling the need to rub against me and elbow my rib cage? Why did this (clearly drunk) person feel the need to tell me that he was a "loser" in high school, but now hangs out with Gisele Bundchen?

AHHHHHHHHHHHKKKK!!!!!

It was all I could do not to perform a running, double front handspring up and over the crowd and behind the bar. At which point I would hopefully bang my head into a bottle of Patron and knock myself out.

Still.going.strong.

craving

I have a fairly consistant desire for cupcakes. And I'd take this over a bouquet, any day!

smile

Juno MacGuff: I think I'm in love with you.
Paulie Bleeker: You mean as friends?
Juno MacGuff: No... I mean for real. 'Cause you're, like, the coolest person I've ever met, and you don't even have to try, you know...
Paulie Bleeker: I try really hard, actually.

not so much

I'm emotionally trying to prepare myself to take the boyfriend down South. Booking two tickets from LGA to CAE has been reminiscent of a Double Dare Physical Challenge. With the potential crossing of the Mason-Dixon at hand, I've been tormented with sleepless nights and hypothetical situations. You must gain understanding into my fearful thought process.

Smalltown, South Carolina cannot compare with being raised on the Upper West Side. My two younger sisters and I grew up, known throughout the town, as the three "Collins Girls". Stepping stones with big smiles, energy to boot, and the most polite manners you had ever seen. We were homeschooled. We were smart. We were sitting in the front pews of church every Sunday, singing solos during "special music", and starring in Vacation Bible School plays. We took art lessons and competed in piano recitals. Dozens upon dozens of Christmas Cards adorned our living room every year.

What dorks. This may sound stereotypical of a Southern rearing. (I just said rearing) But the truth of the matter is, there were virtually no others like us. This is my mental reiteration and consolation that we were not meant to have been raised here. But alas, we were.

So we played little league and rode four-wheelers down winding, dirt roads. We played in cotton and thinned corn. We were admitted to "real" (and I say this quite loosely) school by 8th grade. We played our dealt cards and demanded evacuation from the womb.

Please understand that I am neither ashamed nor ungrateful for my South Carolina upbringing. It is my reason for being and circumstance. I would not have it any other way.

However... I'm not so sure I'll be able to handle showing off the local Piggly Wiggly. Gulp.

my latest flirtation with a false reality

I've decided to quit drinking alcohol until Memorial Weekend. (starting yesterday...since I didn't happen to drink then, and it makes my stats look better) I just want to *gasp* see what happens. Here's to Prohibition 2008!



P.S. That's my proud/shocked mother on the left!

i luuuuurve

Carrie Underwood. I mean we have so much in common. Both blondes. Both grew up singing in church. Both from the South. OK, well she's from Oklahoma. Close enough. She's like the new Reese without the adorable mini-me's. And she looked really great in the May '08 InStyle. Ahhh, keep carving your name in those leather seats, girl.

Dear Diane,

Thank you for making this dress for me. You really are thoughtful. I promise to wear it at every wedding I attend this summer. In addition, I will stand on the bow of every available yacht (Kate Winslet style) in the Hamptons, drinking Mint Juleps. Because I understand what this dress is made for.

All the best,

H

celebrate we will

It's a perfect, sunny and 70 degrees in New York City today. One of my favorite coworkers just found out she got into Graduate school in Sweden (I need to up my standards). There's a party at Tenjune tonight. And this is the view from my patch of grass where I finished my latest book on Sunday. Life is good.

oh LiLo

I love her, I really do. But why can't she just be a raging actress who doesn't fall OFF the party wagon??

I laughed out loud when I saw this. Now THAT looks like a rough night.

check yes or no

Why do people want to know "how you met" your significant other? "This is my boy/girlfriend, _______". The opposite party is delighted and almost immediately inquires "how did you two meet"?

By now, I've nearly perfected the story. But it's just so strange to me. Why does it really matter how we met? Maybe people are looking for suggestions. Maybe they're being nosy. Maybe you two just look that interesting. Maybe the inquirer is just that boring.

pass the salt

IT'S CINCO DE MAYO!!! If you're any friend of mine, you know that I seriously missed my life calling of being born a Mexican. I could (and somewhat do) eat Mexican food every day of my life. Needless to say, I'M PSYCHED that tonight is the celebration of two things that make me crazy(er): taco salads and tequila.



"ARE YOU A MEXICAN OR A MEXICAN'T???!"

here's to the weekend

i'm outta here, bitches

love notes

...for some reason, my wonderful friends (and occasional readers) don't post comments on my blog so much as they verbally inform/facebook msg me their thoughts and opinions. That's cool, but some of these sweet words are just too kind to not share... :)

"Hayley - Have to tell you that your most recent blog is a classic and a true work of art. Kudos!!! I couldn't stop laughing, and have to agree with you that "he should have his balls cut off". Too funny."

***

"You always put up your blog in your status, I finally checked it out, and I absolutely LOVED it. You are such a talented writer! Anyways I just felt that you should be made aware of how fabulous you are! I hope you are doing wonderful, you sound like it from your writing.."

***

"thanks for providing me a new standard in comparing douchebaggery."

***

"ps.. i read your blog religiously..."

***

"Hayley - just read your post from yesterday. You are going to hell, but you just made my week. That is awesome."

***

"This is a TERRIFIC blog by a girl not unlike myself.
Southern transplant to the Upper East Side (although I’m still technically en route).Snarky, snappy writer. That’s so CaryRandolph! The girl loves her booze, shoes, and dudes. Enter my new virtual best friend!"

***

"so....i have plenty of time at work and I check the face....i see your status and it prompts me to read the Blog....pretty good stuff...keep it going....I feel like sara jessica parker"

***

"I just randomly decided to check your space to see how you are doing these days, and was so amused to check out your blog!!! I'm so impressed, girl!! Way to go!! Your blogs are so entertaining,"

...I'm really doing this in hopes to get picked up by Daily Candy.

cuteness

my parents have a Tibetan Terrier (from the rare Lamleh line) who just had a small litter of puppies. (named Rhett, Scarlett, Mellie and Ashley - aww)

honestly - how can you not smile when looking at these pictures?





if you know anyone who wants a sweet little TT puppy - go see more on my mom's puppy blog:

http://kajilamleh.wordpress.com/