For the sake of not confusing you with multiple “Chesley” and “Chelsea” references, I’m going to be referring to my friend Chesley as “Barbara Streisand” throughout the duration of this blog entry.  Why Barbara?, you ask.  Why not?

Let me begin.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I’m a huge fan of Chelsea Handler.  I’ve been watching Chelsea Lately on E! since before anyone knew what the hell it was (except Barbara Streisand, of course), I read “My Horizontal Life” way before her books took up the #1, 2, AND 3 spots on the Bestseller List, and I feel as though I (along with Barbara Streisand) brought the whole “What…..a ____” lingo to Atlanta’s Facebook community after the first time Chelsea said “What…a whirlwind” on the show in October 2K8.

Here’s a photo of Chelsea, Barbara and me at the Tiger Woods Birthday Bash in 2K9.  Obviously, we all got lucky that night.

Photo credit:  Pat O’Brien.

So, when Barbara and I found out that Chelsea was coming to Atlanta for her Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang Tour, we immediately got tickets (well, technically I got the tickets through a pre-sale promo with my Citibank card – BOOYA!).  We knew that as hard-core fans, we’d probably be annoyed by the majority of the crowd, but at least we were expecting it.  I like to refer to this as the “Kings of Leon Effect.”  You know, you have your favorite band that you’ve seen play smaller venues, but once they just get SO HUGE and you can only see them in a stadium, you don’t even want to go.  KoL is my favorite band and luckily, I got to see them at the Tabernacle in 2K8 before they started playing arenas in the US.  Because, honestly, I don’t think I could have stomached seeing them at Philips Arena a few months back, surrounded by dudes in Affliction tees and girls in teeny, tiny, tube dresses who had only heard “Use Somebody” on a Top 40 station and just HAD to get tickets.  Oops, there I go digressing again!

Anyway, Barb and I went to the Chelsea show on Sunday at the Fox and enjoyed it.  But, I’ll be honest – maybe it was my raging hangover, but I didn’t “LOL” as much as I thought I would.  Her stand-up was great, but Barb and I both agreed we liked Chelsea better when she’s bantering with her roundtable, doing crazy sketches and pimping our her employees.

And like I said, the reason I’m giving the show an A-  may really have just been the hangover.  Oh, and the fact that numerous idiot audience members felt the need to yell out “I LOVE YOU CHELSEA!!” throughout the show.  Why do people do this?  It’s really so stupid.  Are they drunk?  Are they retarded?  Or, are they just obnoxious?  Or…all of the above?  I just want to know.  As Barbara Streisand so eloquently put it:   “Nothing says “have Security ready” like shouting “CHELSEAAAA!!! I LOVE YOUUUUU!” every two minutes throughout the show. It’s distracting and takes away from the experience. Plus, you sound like an asshole. It was like being at a Justin Beiber concert with 3,000 13-yr olds.  Control yourself.”

Sidenote:  I saw Paris Hilton in an interview once and someone yelled out “I love you, Paris!” and she coyly responded, “I love you, too, baby,” to the idiot audience member.  And, that’s when I puked.  Luckily, Chelsea put her idiot audience members in their place.

I figured people would expect an in-depth blog entry out of me because of my Chelsea obsession, but what am I going to do – rewrite her jokes?  I can barely remember them (again, the hangover).  So, I decided to go to her Facebook fan page, pull some of my favorite comments from “fans” and respond to them, Chelsea-style.  Names have been changed to protect the guilty (although you CAN just go the page and look them up).

EminemsBabyMama:  hey i am a big fan of yours and have been so excited for your upcoming show in detroit! But i was disappointed when you only mentioned that you were coming 2 minnapolis not detroit! Why no love for detroit?

Answer:  Because Detroit blows.  You should want to come to MinnEapolis (notice the spelling) and get out of that hell hole for a night.  See you at the show!

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GrammarChamp:  You and the people that you do the show with are HALORIOS!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE YOUR SHOW!

Answer:  What is that word?

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MasterHypothesizer: Girl, You are funny as fuck. After reading your 3 books, I don’t believe for one second that it is actually you getting on Facebook.

Answer:  What…a revelation.

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DexterTheTexter: omg chelsea i love u no homo… lol but i love every ting abt u.. i kno if u read this ur gonna say ur sorry 4 me thats y i love u……….

Answer:  This is not Twitter.  You can type more than 140 characters.  Actually, maybe you can’t….

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BabyAsProfilePic:  I love to binge drink belvedere, im a smart ass, im funny, i think i should be on your round table, and your show, one problem i like to perform in my underwear

Answer:  Please send applications to be on the roundtable to:  nevergonnahappen@Enetwork.com.

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RedRover: Hey chels, my name is james and I’m a big fan.. I’m not much of a reader to be honest I haven’t red a book since high school and at that I only red the beginning middle and end and asked my friends key questions that might be on the test.. When I started to watch your show and me and my roommates became obsessed,one of… my rotates got the book.. One night after the bar I picked up your book my horizontal life and could not put it down. I finished it about 6:30 am after a pack of smokes and a bottle of cheap white wine. I’m just starting “chelsea chelsea bang bang” and love you even more now.. Your an inspiration to me and feel like I know you..can’t wait for the day when I meet you, when I’m famous for turning some celebrity gay in a scandal.. Until then be easy girl..

Answer:  You?  Not a reader?  No way…..

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IWon’tRemeberWritingThis: Hi Chelsea I apologize for freaking you out after your 10pm show at DAR. Once I start drinking I tend to wonder around by myself and I just found that couch and decided to take a little nap. You looked pretty surprised to find my passed out behind the table you were about to do your signing at. I just wanted to ask you…, how tall is Demi Moore? PS. You may want to tighten up your security detail. I must have wondered around backstage for 30 mins before I found my way to that sofa.

Answer:  No problem….girl.

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FatalAttraction: Chelsea, I’m sure you (or your assistants) will delete this immediately, but I have to say I WAS your biggest fan. I saw your show in DC tonight and was thoroughly disappointed. 1). I have heard the masturabation story multiple times at this point as has anyone who has read your books or previously seen your shows. … 2). Eventhough I PRE-ORDERED your book online and read it cover to cover the day it came out, was not allowed to get in line for your signature tonight at your show unless I bought the book at your show (probalably b/c you don’t have enough jokes to cover both a boook and a show) 3). are a bitch in real life as well as persona 4). have deleted your show from my dvr and will never watch it again! F* YOU, Chelsea; You just lost a fan!

Answer:  Chuy, you can handle this one.

As if I needed an ego boost, one of my fave blogs, A is for Atlanta, featured me today.

Totally kidding about the ego part.  I’m not really that cocky.  Except about some things, which mostly involve dancing, drinking and beer chugging contests (I won an iPod in a beer chugging contest against 3 men on Cinco de Mayo 2K7, just for the record).

So, anyway, the author of this blog, Jon Effron, asked me to answer his signature “5 Questions” and of course, I happily obliged.  Anything to get my name out there (read: pimp out myself and my blog).

Here’s the intro:

Five Questions With… Ashley Hesseltine

Candace Bushnell’s perspective on New York in the ’90’s was enough to launch a global phenomenon.  Ashley Hesseltine’s take on life in Atlanta is enough to fuel a very funny blog… for now.  Before her semi-eponymous blog blows up- Carrie Bradshaw style- it’s time for Ashley to channel all that is Hesseltime in to five questions…

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Well, thaaaank you, Jon.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.  Oops, that sounded egotistical.  I meant to say:  how nice of you!

Read more to hear my stance on turning Buckhead into a beach, the next season of Jersey Shore and my favorite places around town to binge (in more ways than one).

Cheers!

Yesterday was the ING Georgia Marathon and Half-Marathon. And, I did not run in the race.

In fact, I slept until noon, which is probably way past when the dead-last Marathoner crossed the finish line.  But, this day got me reflecting on LAST year, when I DID run the half.  No, seriously.  Contrary to popular belief, I do engage in activities other than drinking, emailing with my girlfriends, and updating my Facebook status. Here’s proof:

That’s my BFF, Cory, who flew down from Delaware to run in the race with me.  You can read more about her running/drinking/wedgie style HERE.

If you really don’t believe I ran in the race (and thus, am technically considered an “athlete”), you can type in my name HERE.

See.  I did run in the race, and finished with a pretty decent time (2:06:25), especially for my first race. Ever.

Coming off the high of that accomplishment, I vowed to myself that I would do AT LEAST one half-marathon a year, if not two.

Well, that was a bust.  Turns out, I’m a one-race wonder.  After the race last year, I hung up my sneaks for a good week because I was just a teensy bit (read: A LOT) tired of pounding the pavement.  I got back into it eventually, but discovered that I was much more suited to 3-4 mile runs a few times a week coupled with other activities such as yoga, kickboxing and mixed martial arts.

(Ok, so I’m kidding about the MMA).

Also, if you know anything about distance training, you know that you tend to do the long runs on weekends, and with spring and summer coming up, I just didn’t want to sacrifice my social life in that way.  And, then, after summer was over, it was football/Halloween  season, and then after that, it was holiday season, and after that, it was too cold and so on.  Oh, and my running partner got knocked up, so that also put a damper on things.  You get the idea.

For the record, I DID run 4 miles yesterday.  And I may or may not have worn my ING shirt from last year.  Apparently, I’m the overweight middle-aged man that still tries to squeeze into his high school football jersey to relive the “glory days.”  Well…sorta.

I do have to say that one thing that’s changed drastically from last year’s running situation is the music.  When I trained with my running partner last year, we didn’t do the iPod thing, which worked really well for us.  We could encourage each other, as well as let each other know that “I would rather kill myself than run up this hill right now.”

But, since we don’t run together much anymore, my iPod is crucial, as is the playlist.  So, I compiled some of my favorite running songs and categorized them as well.  Hopefully, you can find a new download or two to get you through your next run.

The “I’m a Badass” songs:  these are the ones I put on when I really need that extra little bit of badaassness (not to be confused with Diddy’s coined phrase: “bitchassness,” from Making the Band Season 28), or am just feeling gangsta:

1.  Swagga Like Us by Jay Z, T.I, Kanye and Lil Wayne

2.  Amazing by Kanye West feat. Young Jeezy

3.  Hard by Rihanna feat. Jeezy

4.  Run this Town by Jay Z and Rihanna

5. Dirt Off Your Shoulder by Jay Z

Hmmm, I see a trend here…

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The “I’m going to walk into the bar and look so hot and my ex is going to be there with his friends and they’re all going to say, “man, you really screwed that up” songs.   Admit it – you’ve thought about this to get you motivated to run that extra mile at least ONCE in your life.  Or is it just me?

1.  Tik Tok by Ke$ha (Don’t even knock it.  If you’re going to walk into a bar looking hot because you’ve been running your ass off lately, don’t you want to hear “and the party don’t start ’til I walk in” when you make your entrance?)

2.  Dangerous by Kardinal Offishall

3.  Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon (if you don’t think KoL is a good band to run to, just try it.  Trust me.)

4.  Maneater by Nelly Furtado (Ok, so all of a sudden, this is turning into a playlist for the girls. Fellas, you may skip ahead to the next category.  And thank you for reading.)

5.  I Know You Want Me by Pitbull.  (I mean, the title says it all.)

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The “I just need a really strong pick-me-up for this last half mile” songs. Fast, great beat, something about them that can keep me going when I’m about to convince myself my knee hurts and call it quits:

1.  Supermassive Black Hole by Muse (Twilight fans, you may recognize this from the baseball scene.  Twi-haters, skip ahead.)

2.  Just Dance by Lady Gaga – RedOne remix (Gotta be the remix!  The regular version is a great running song, too, but this remix has that little bit of extra swagger.  If that word even makes sense there.)

3.  Bring ‘em Out by T.I. (Makes me think of a sports team running out of the court/field all fired up.  Reminds me of my basketball days.  Although running out on the court for warm-ups was about all the action I got.)

4.  Single Ladies by Beyonce.  (Duh.)

5.  Mo Money Mo Problems by Notorious B.I.G. feat. Mase and Puff Daddy (or, rather, Diddy…3 name changes ago.)

6.  American Girl by Tom Petty (Favorite. Song. Of. All. Time.)

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Songs I can’t think of a category for at the moment.  And don’t feel like it:

1.  All Girl Talk songs are so amazing for running.  If you don’t know Girl Talk, then get to know him.  NOW.

2.  Hot Mess by Cobra Starship.  (Obvi.)

3.  Lions by The Features (I like to call this the alternative, male version of the Single Ladies chorus.  Just take a listen and you’ll hear why.)

4.  The Queen and I by Gym Class Heroes (Sadly, I like to think of this as an anthem of sorts.)

5.  Brick by Boring Brick by Paramore (One of my new faves and for the record, most of Paramore’s stuff is great for running.)

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Well, now that I’ve posted this, I almost regret it.  I have 500+ great songs for running in my iTunes and I only listed 21.  I want to list them all.  I  mean, I didn’t even venture into Pussycat Dolls or Journey territory!  Oh well, eff it.  I’m posting it anyway.  Maybe I’ll do another installment someday (that is, if anyone even reads this one).

In conclusion, I’d like to say congrats to those that ran the ING yesterday.  And, maybe I’ll see you on the course next year.

But, probably not.

Ugh, it’s been a week since my last blog post.   The last time I went that long without posting, it was because I was too busy eating tots.  This time, I don’t have such a legitimate excuse.  But, in my defense, I’ve been slammed the past week (and not in a sexytime kinda way).  For one, I have a full-time job.  And, that full-time job is NOT this blog.  I know – it’s hard to believe this exhilarating content doesn’t bring in the big bucks, huh?

In addition, Gossip Girl came back last week with a new episode.  So, analyzing why A) Serena would want to take it slow with Nate when she’d already slept with him, and B) why the rich kids in that show have FLIP PHONES (seriously, WTF?), obviously took up my entire Monday night.

On Wednesday evening, I saw Spring Awakening at the Fox.  And, holeeey moley.  What…a show.  A rock and roll musical about sex?  Yes, please.  I even blushed and had to turn my head when the main characters mimicked the acts of masturbation and sex!  Oh, you were thinking about bringing your 7-year-old?  Yeah, think again.

Thursday, I went straight to Ormsby’s after work where I stayed for most of the night, then came home and passed out because I’d been up since 6 a.m. for a Good Day Atlanta segment. However, one exciting highlight from the night was that I played shuffleboard.  This was a milestone for me because I tend to have game anxiety in bars.  I can’t play pool, I almost stab someone every time I play darts, and I think bocce ball is a snoozefest.  Unless it’s beer pong or flip cup, I just don’t want to get up from my bar stool and play games.  But, somehow, I got on the shuffleboard court (table, field, whatever you call it) and had a blast.  Maybe too much of a blast.  I jumped up and yelled loudly a few times and I remember a few “YEAH, IN YOUR FACE!”s to my shy 21-year-old GA Tech opponent.  See – more reasons I shouldn’t participate in those type of activities.

And, then it was the weekend.  If you know my track record, you know I don’t blog on the weekends;  that’s when I am busy “creating” my content.  Friday night was a crazy one at Star Bar for J. Roddy Walston and the Business and The Judies: two badass bands that I had never seen before.   I had my vodka goggles on and talked to a fella for most of the evening, thinking he looked like Rob Pattinson.  I was informed on Saturday that he actually did NOT look like Rob Pattinson….at all.  He wasn’t quite a Sweaty, but he was no looker, according to my girlfriends.  And yes, this IS a trend with me.  You see, my eyes are pretty bad and I would rather eat dirt than wear my glasses out to a bar, so when I start drinking, the bad eyesight combined with the vodka goggle factor makes me think I’m talking to Brad Pitt, when in fact,  it’s really Brad Wollack.

For the record, I did not leave the bar with “Rob.”  I stopped  making those mistakes back in 2006.

Ok, maybe 2009.

Saturday was supposed to be a more “low-key” night and a bunch of us were going to the Plain Jane Automobile show at Smith’s (note: Kelley’s boyfriend, Deke, was playing the drums for PJA and he’s one badass muthafucka).  However, when I realized Smith’s had the elusive Ruby Red Absolut vodka, I got tunnel vision.  I ordered my favorite drink:  Ruby Red Absolut with soda and splash of grapefruit juice, and kept them coming all night long.  Oh, and did I mention, they were all doubles?  Yikes.  Needless to say, Sunday morning was not my finest moment. The time change didn’t help.

I DID pull it together enough to have a great lunch with my amazing jewelry designer friend, Lisa Jill, and check out some of her latest antique finds that she’ll be incorporating into her collection.  As I “oohed and ahhed” over everything, I somehow started to forget about the hangover -  maybe another reason you should check out her stuff?  And, for the record, I did keep my lunch down.

So, there you have it.  Last week was crazy and my blog wasn’t the only thing that suffered.  Check out my laundry pile that’s still sitting here as I type:

Yup, that’s my stuffed tiger under there.  I haven’t even had time to stick the poor little guy in a pillowcase and into the washing machine on gentle cycle.

Aaaand here’s my running journal:

Completely. Blank.

Aaaand, my Tracy Anderson DVD and 3-pound weights that are still UNOPENED:

Sigh.  Tracy, I hope to work out with you soon.

I also haven’t had time to do my toenails, but I won’t gross you out with a picture of that.  I thought about it, though.

AND, I have 3 bags of dry cleaning AND a comforter that I need to take in and 4 bags of clothes that need to go to Goodwill. I am just hoping to get all that taken care of by the end of May…and that will be impressive for me.

So, with all that being said, I am looking for an assistant.  And by “assistant,” I mean unpaid intern.  I would offer money, but I don’t have any to spare.  I would offer college credit, but I don’t think it would be legit.  I would offer alcohol, but I’d like to keep that for myself.

Qualified candidates, please apply.

This past Friday was a night like any other.

Sike.

For one, I ate at Rathbun’s (for you non-Atlantans, it’s one of the best restaurants in the city), which isn’t exactly a day-to-day dining establishment for me (although I wish it was).  While it’s not as pricey, as say, Bone’s, I like to go balls to the wall at nice places to really get the full experience so it’s always a first course (in this case, goat cheese salad), an entree (the duck) and numerous glasses of nice red wine.  Oh, and bring on that glass of champagne during dessert – why not?  If my friend Angi (of Lovely Catering) hadn’t made an amazing cake for the occasion  (Allison’s birthday), I probably would have ordered a dessert (or two) for myself as well.  Hence, why I limit my visitations to certain places.  I have Alcohol-Induced Tourettes Syndrome When Ordering Food.

Also, it was quite a change from my regular group of hot mess single girlfriends.  Of the 8 girls at the table, I was one of two that wasn’t pregnant and/or had a child already (FYI: they’re all married – this isn’t an MTV reality show).  The only other non-mother was my roommate and she’s in a serious relationship.  So, there I was again: the token single.  And proud of it.  I have to say that I WAS surprised when one of the mothers, Brynee, who was sitting next to me, caught wind of my Beyonce moves and challenged me to a dance-off, Single Ladies-style!  What?!  Not to say that mothers can’t dance (you should see MY mom on the dance floor after a couple cocktails), but I just didn’t think they had the time to learn the whole Single Ladies dance.  I mean, it took me almost a full afternoon to learn that dance!  Who can dedicate that kind of time and concentration with a needy child around?  Maybe she got a sitter that day.

Anyway, we showed off some moves in the parking lot while waiting for the valet, but no dance-off ensued.  I need to brush up as I haven’t completed the full dance since Andrea’s birthday in November.

After I parted ways with the MILF crew, I scooped up Kate and we headed to Star Bar to see her man friend’s band play – Mike LaSage and the Stumbling Troubadors. From Rathbun’s to Star Bar:  what…a change in scenery.  We started boozing it up at Star Bar and I ran into a guy I knew (read: met once at Yacht Rock) named Appleton and Kate thought I said Apple Bottom when I introduced her, so we got a good laugh at that.  We gave the bartender a hard time for running out of Whynatte, and ended up taking a shot of vanilla vodka and coke.  Kate almost puked. I thought it wasn’t too bad.   We ran into the wife of the bass player for the band and forced her to tell us the story of how they met.  It was really cute, and on top of that, she was really cool, so we decided she was our new friend.  The night was going well.

And, then…we saw them.  A couple sucking face right in the middle of the bar with no regard for their surroundings.  And, they weren’t stopping.  I’d say, we first noticed them around 11 p.m. and they definitely didn’t un-embrace until past 1 a.m.  I’m. Not. Kidding.  It was a trainwreck…and the best kind of trainwreck.  You feel a little sketch at first for watching so intently, but you soon realize that the option of turning away just isn’t there.

When we realized that they truly were not stopping, I decided it was time to whip out my FLIP video camera.  Was I worried they’d stop making out before I got some good footage?  Nope.  Not at all.  I pressed “play” and went in.  For the record, it’s very easy to videotape people when A) there’s a band behind them that you could totally be taping, and B) they’re not paying attention at all.  I got a little ballsy at one point  and got right up in their face (2nd half of video 1), but of course, they didn’t notice.  Like I said: no regard.  Mike LaSage and the Troubadors put on a great show…and little did they know that they were the soundtrack for this amazing face smashing session. Listen closely for my insightful commentary.

And, that’s a wrap!

Ha, yeah right.

You know how when most bands end a song, you usually take a break from what you’re doing and at least act like you’re clapping, even if it’s not feasible with a drink in hand?  Not this couple.  They kept sucking face right on through all of the songs. My question:  did they come together or meet there?  We’ll never know.

I’m going to go on record and say that I’ve never made out with anyone this long in my life.  Not even with my first high school boyfriend when making out (and the occasional grope) was all we did….at first.  Oops, sorry Dad.

The group of people intrigued by this couple grew larger throughout the night, and apparently, somewhere along the line, a bet was struck:  $100 for the first person that approached them and asked them to cut in.  I had totally forgotten about this bet until I watched the videos, so I doubt anyone else remembers either.  Needless to say, no one got $100.  But, someone DID approach them.  And, of course, it was me.

They weren’t having it.  In fact, they seemed SO surprised I approached them that you would have  thought I just busted in on them in a hotel room with a deadbolted door.  I asked them to cut in and they immediately broke up their embrace and proceeded to move as far away from me as possible.  What…an intimidator.  Maybe I should get hired for Cheaters.

Sadly, after I snapped the couple out of their makeout daze and the band finished playing, we were out of entertainment, so we headed back to Mike’s for a post-party.  And, somehow I didn’t get to bed until 7 a.m.  Let me just clarify that I never do that.  I always make sure I’m in bed by 5 a.m., because the sun coming up before I’ve gone to sleep is not cool in my book; it’s just depressing and makes me dread the following day of exhaustion as much as jury duty.  The last time I stayed awake until the sun officially came up may have been the summer after high school with my then-boyfriend and it included a sunrise walk on the beach, so it was totally legit.  For the record:  Atlanta = no beach, no boyfriend.

Would I replay this night again?  Of course.  I would just make sure I had practiced my Single Ladies moves, manned up enough to grab the ass of at least one of the maker-outers, and of course, been in bed before my weekday alarm went off.