I quit my gym (that will remain nameless) last month.  I couldn’t commit to the classes, was throwing money away every month and moved across town, so I developed my own work-out plan of running, weights and abs (of which many “moves” are inspired by Tracy Anderson).  But, since there’s no one to force me to work-out and I don’t have people in a gym watching me, I haven’t done weights or abs since before Key West.  I know.  So. Pathetic.

So, I jumped at the chance when I got an invite to preview the Core Fusion class held at EXHALE spa in Loew’s Hotel that will begin regularly in September.  The invite said:  for those of you who like yoga and pilates, you will LOVE Core Fusion, so I was prepared for yoga poses, some Pilates mixed in and nothing TOO intense.  I even planned to attend an event afterward without showering (due to time constraints – not lack of hygiene, just for the record).

Well, I was wrong.  It was VERY intense.  Don’t get me wrong – it felt good, if you like the whole muscles burning from head to toe thing.

I had to give Elisabeth Halfpapp, the instructor (and co-founder of Core Fusion), props after the class.  She was doing some crazy poses throughout the class, some of which made me actually laugh out loud because they looked so impossible, and she did the whole class with a smile.  Bitch.

We took a photo in front of my body double.

Ok, so that’s not my body double.  But, I think after taking this class regularly, it could be.  My ass and legs even hurt when I was WALKING OUT OF THE CLASS.  Already?!  Really?!  I couldn’t even think about the pain I would be in the following day.

Turns out, I felt sore the next day, but in a good way.  I was hooked. I’m tempted to buy the DVDs but I definitely prefer being in a class atmosphere…..

Because it’s harder to slack off when people are watching.

I have a new obsession.  And it’s alcohol-related.  And Mexican-related.  Shocker.

2 weeks ago, I was told about Sinless Margarita by my friend Molly, who does their PR.  Apparently, it was a marg mix (sans tequila) that had only 5 calories per serving.

I was sold.

I absolutely love margaritas but I am aware how many calories they have, and in order to keep up my Marissa Miller-like physique, I often have to resort to straight tequila with a splash of water and limes in place of a traditional sugary marg.  And that little concoction….has gotten me in trouble.

I was co-hosting Andrea’s bridal shower on that upcoming Sunday and was in charge of the alcohol, so I thought the Sinless Margs would be PERFECT for the Sunday afternoon occasion.  Keep in mind, I hadn’t tried them yet, but if they tasted anything close to a real margarita and had less calories than a basket of chips, I was on board.  I picked up the mix, a handle of tequila and brought it to the shower.  I also had a case of wine and champagne in tow which I displayed on the bar next to the jug of Sinless margs (and a sign that said “Sinless Margaritas, low-cal”).  Aaaaand, barely anyone touched the wine or champagne.  It was Sunday afternoon, there were parents and adults in attendance, and the girls were sucking down the margaritas like it was Cinco de Mayo.  I was proud, to say the least.  I also felt the need to drink as much wine and champagne as possible because I couldn’t bear the sight of it just sitting there untouched.

Here’s the bride-to-be with her special glass of low-cal deliciousness:

It wasn’t my finest moment when they ran out halfway through the shower and I kept trying to peddle  my wine and champagne on everyone, but they weren’t interested.

Needless to say – they were a hit.  So, I went for round 2 and brought them to Charlotte for my friend Cat’s wedding this past weekend.  I walked into my hotel room, announced what I brought, got to sip on one small marg before heading to the rehearsal dinner, and that was all she wrote.  The rest of the night is a little (read: very) fuzzy, but all I know is that the next morning, my full bottles of Sinless Margarita and tequila were G.O.N.E.  And we had gone to an open-bar rehearsal dinner and bar-hopping afterwards.  When…did it get consumed?  We’ll never know.  The champagne I brought had been popped open at some point, too, but it was almost full (read: wasted) the next morning.  Which means “someone” popped it just to hear the sound and then went straight to the margs.  That “someone” may or may not have been me.

I just want to make it clear that I’m not giving up wine or champagne or any other alcohol product for these margaritas, but they ARE going to be stocked in my fridge all summer.

In other words:  the margs may be sinless, but I don’t think this summer is going to be.

Well, here it is.  The official announcement about my recent career change!!!

Just kidding – I already sent out a mass email today and notified others even before that.  But, it ain’t official until it’s on the blog, right?  Right.

Some of you may think that I am just a hot mess in life and wonder how I even make it through each day without getting arrested, evicted or passing out in a bush (ok, that was only once and it was in 2004).  Some of you may think that I have always been a publicist and writing this blog is just a random hobby.  Well…only 33% of you are right.  Do the math, because I can’t.

Truth is, my first real gig in Atlanta was as Society and Nightlife Reporter for Jezebel Magazine.  Which means I partied and wrote about it.  What…a job for a 22-year-old.  Ok, so I actually did some cool, in-depth features and it wasn’t ALL partying.  But, then again, my largest piece was on The Rock Boat, soooo…..

After that, I continued to freelance for publications/websites  like GO Magazine (AirTran’s inflight publication), Metromix.com, DailyCandy.com and most recently, Competitor Magazine (What?  I swear I’m athletic!).  With the assignment of the story on the Lost Coast of California for GO, it really hit me how much I wanted writing to be my career.  I have had an amazing experience working in PR and worked for an incredible company, 360 Media, for about 2.5 years, but I knew it was time to move on and pursue my passion.

My last day at 360 Media will be this Friday and that night will be the March of Dimes Dining Out.  It will be the perfect send-off because A) I have worked on the event for the past 3 years and it’s one of my favorite events in the city, and B) It’s a 3-course meal with wine pairings followed by an open bar after-party.

I’ve got some good things in the works, but will be pursuing all kinds of opportunities.  I’ve written about nightlife, travel, music, adventures (ie. zip lining), people, etc., and am always looking to broaden my scope.  Except for politics.  I probably won’t go there.  Do I want to be the next Carrie Bradshaw?  Of course.  Who doesn’t?  Get paid to write about sex and my girlfriends – yes,  please. But, I know these things take time, so I probably won’t reach that status until, like, a few weeks from now, right?

Are you sensing an undertone of a shameless plug here?  Because you should.

On a serious note, thanks to everyone that has supported me, which means YOU, faithful (or first time) blog reader.  Let’s pretend we  have a tequila shot in one hand and a lime in the other….and….1,2,3 GO!

Cheers and wish me luck!

You know you’ve heard people people say “We don’t need Valentine’s Day to show how much we love each other.   Every day is Valentine’s Day for us.”

OR

“Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are BS – shouldn’t you show appreciation to your parents EVERY day?”

Well, that’s how I feel about Cinco de Mayo.  Every day should be Cinco de Mayo.  Every day should be filled with Mexican food, margaritas and tequila shots.  At least that’s how I live my life.  I love all things Mexican – the food, the beverages, and most of all, the little nuggets:

What…a fiesta.

I celebrate my birthday each year with a Mexican celebration at Nuevo Laredo where I usually bring a pinata and conduct impromptu hula hoop contests with innocent bystanders.

Here was one of my finest years:

If that doesn’t show my love for all things Mexican, then I don’t know what will.

I like to make sure that all of my girlfriends are on board with my obsession, so I usually force them to take photos showing their appreciation for the Mexican culture.

I like to keep a sombrero and pinata on hand at all times because you really never know when they’re going to come in handy.

Even though I celebrate Cinco de Mayo all year ’round, I do like to take it up a notch on the actual holiday.  After all, it is the holiday that commemorates the Mexican army’s unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín.

Thank you, Wikipedia.

One of my best Cinco celebrations was 2K7 when I took the day off work, headed to Rio Grande before anyone else even arrived, and won a beer chugging contest put on my 99x.

Well, hello, camel toe.

Oh, and I won an iPod.

But, I DID lose my Dolce sunglasses that night.  A small price to pay for a 14-hour Mexican celebration.

Oh, and yes that IS a flip phone.

In conclusion, I just want to say that I hope everyone has a great celebration today.  I cannot yet reveal where I’ll be celebrating because A) I’m not 100% sure, and B) I don’t want to be mobbed by fans asking me to sign sombreros and take tequila shots with them.

Well, that would only happen in my dreams.

Cheers! OLE!

I can’t believe I haven’t updated this blog since April 19th.  And, it’s May 2.  I feel like a total failure.  Well, at least in the blog department.  Everything else in life, I feel pretty good about.  The truth is, A LOT has been going on with me.  I moved from Brookhaven to Inman Park, so that has been consuming my life since I got back from the Cali wilderness because I literally had a week and a half to find a place.  Luckily, the apartment gods were smiling on me and I found a badass place right on North Highland and  right down the street from Kate Thacker.  I know what you’re thinking:  “Well, there goes the neighborhood.”  And, you’re right.

In addition, some things have changed professionally that have made things a little crazy in my life, but I’ll announce that this week in a separate blog post.  If you’re wondering if I’m changing career paths to become an exotic dancer…..you  might be on to something.

And, lastly, I was in Key West this past week for my cousin Scott’s wedding.  My family and I went down on Tuesday afternoon and stayed until Sunday, so it was a full week of complete debauchery.  I am actually in the Ft. Lauderdale airport right now, writing this to try to distract myself from the serious post-vacation depression and anxiety setting in.  It was the best week EVER.  All the family and friends from both sides were effing awesome and I feel like I have 10 new BFFs.  The close family and friends all stayed at the same hotel – we had it reserved from Thursday – Sunday, so that was a party at all times.  My favorite part was that the door to my room opened right out into the pool area, where everyone would eat breakfast.  So, that means I would stumble out hungover each morning to get water and some sort of carb and everyone would get the pleasure of seeing me at my best.

The room in that awesome locale wasn’t our original room, but my cousin Lindsay and I switched rooms with  my parents.  And, we made a video about it that I’ll upload this week.

We went to Irish Kevin’s 3 out of the 5 nights we were there and I was 110% OK with that.  Highlights from the first night included the drunk groom giving wedgies to his bride-to-be and me giving the bartender my phone number on my receipt at the end of the night.  He didn’t call, so I’m going to chalk that up to my handwriting not being legible.  Which, I think we all know is possible.

The rehearsal dinner on Thursday night was at Kelly’s and it was a blast and, of course, open bar.  My family got to give a speech, which meant I got to get a hold of the mic, so that night was a definite success.  We went to Irish Kevin’s AGAIN, and highlights from that night included my brother Matt chugging a Guinness as fast as anyone that worked at the bar had ever seen.  He basically got a standing ovation and I felt like a proud mother, er, sister.  My mom has the picture of this on her camera, which means, if we ever do get to see it, it will probably be 6 months from now.   Also, that night, I was walking home from the bar and realized I didn’t have my purse, so I dragged the person I was walking with back to the bars with me, only to finally find it sitting on a ledge on the street.  I had just set it down.  In plain view for anyone to take.  Don’t even ask.

Friday was a pig roast at the hotel pool, where the bartender was making the strongest drinks I had ever had.  I tasted Matt’s vodka and cranberry first and thought maybe she was just pouring liquor based on size of the person, but nope.  My vodka soda was just as strong.  All I can say is:  you go….girl.  All of the family and friends were in town at this point, so it was the most fun night of the trip for me.  Matt squeezed into an apron and even did the carving.

The actual pig is covered up at this point as I don’t want to offend any serious pig lovers (if those even exist).  You’re welcome, PETA.

We headed to Irish Kevin’s for the third time, where I was greeted by the bartender with an “Ashley!  Do you remember me from last night?”

“Of course!” I lied.  Then, I got nervous that I did or said something crazy to him.  “Actually, wait, what happened?”

“Well,” he said.  “You were really sweet at the beginning of the night, then you got really mean.”

“Well, that sounds about right.  I’ll have a double vodka and soda, please.”

This night was another shitshow because EVERYONE had gotten in town, which includes Scott’s friends, many of which can only be described as “wild animals.”  Of course, I had to chug a car bomb with them just to show that I could hang, and I didn’t even spill that much on myself.  Someone did tell me I had a car bomb mustache afterward, though.  I obviously didn’t wipe it off right away because that’s just plain sexy.  And, I think we all know that, as a single girl with lots of hot single guys around, I was on the prowl.  See excerpt from Thanksgiving entry, highlight #1 HERE.

Did I indeed find a victim?  Yeah, I guess you could say so.  But, I’d rather not get into that right now.

The wedding was the best wedding I’ve ever been to.  The ceremony and the reception were both at the Hemingway House, that the bride’s mother manages.  The ceremony (performed by a friend that got ordained), was short and sweet, the food was amazing, the bar was open and the music was fab.  Scott and Ashli are the perfect couple, are so in love, and we couldn’t be happier for them.  It WAS effing hot, but at least I got to wear a dress (unlike the groomsmen that were sweating their balls off), so I won’t complain.

Here’s the wedding party on the balcony of the Hemingway House right after the ceremony.  My mom has better pics on her camera, so you know what that means.

If you know anything about the Hemingway House, you may know about the six-toed cats that roam the place.  I love it.  It looks like this guy is wearing a mitten.

This blog post sure makes it seem like we just drank and partied the whole week.  I mean, we did, but we did other things, too.  We went out on my uncle’s boat, The Fever, and when I asked the boat captain, Buddy (who later would become my BFF), if I could get a Fever tee shirt, he informed me that they “only had smalls left, no larges or extra-larges).  W….TF.  I later learned that he was just messing with me…at least, I think so.

He’s not in this picture.  He was probably hiding from me after the tee shirt comment.

I’ll leave you with a photo I took of the sun setting at Mallory Square one night.  Apparently, my BlackBerry has a “pink” setting I didn’t know about.

So, basically, in conclusion, Key West is the best place on earth and it’s even better when you can spend the time with crazy friends and family.  Has my depression/anxiety subsided a little after writing this?  A little.  But, it just shot back up when I got this BBM from Lindsay who’s on another flight:  “Holy shit, there must be a sports team on our plane!  Tons of hot young meat in suits!  What…a sausage fest.”

I just can’t win.

Well,  I made it back alive.  My trip to the Lost Coast of California was one of the best weeks I’ve ever had.  No, seriously.  And my cell phone sat on my bed in Atlanta the whooooole time.  I swear, I’m serious.

I have so many photos and videos and I’m only going to be able to post a little bit until the story runs in July.  Hoping to get to that this week, but just wanted to provide a quick update to those of you that thought I may have gotten eaten by a bear or spontaneously combusted due to lack of BlackBerry access.

A few “highlights”:

• I was the most sober person in business class on the way to San Fran.  First time for everything, I guess.
• I DID camp.  Outside.  In a tent.
• I walked a llama named Lucky.  And I renamed him Llucky.
• I think my “neighbor” at the Inn of the Lost Coast saw me naked (by accident – not Erin Andrews style).
• I lost a hubcap on my rental car somewhere along the way, but still ended up getting money BACK from the car rental agency.

More to come….

Tomorrow, I am leaving to go on a trip to a completely remote area of California where I will be camping (never done it before), hanging out with llamas (how llovely) and driving some of the twistiest, most intense roads in the country (in a Ford Focus).  Oh, and I won’t have a cell phone.  Or computer.

This is not a joke.

Let me begin.

A few weeks ago, I was reached out to by the editor at GO Magazine (AirTran’s inflight) to do a story on the Lost Coast of California. This is straight from the editor’s mouth:  Our idea is to send someone who is super “plugged-in” without a cell phone, computer, etc. and have them write about the experience.

What…an idea.

The thought made me nauseous, but I knew I had to do it.  I convinced the editor that I WAS their girl and not only have I never been without a cell phone for more than a few hours at a time for the last 10 years, but I have never even been to California, my idea of “outdoorsy” is laying on the beach, and I rarely engage in activities that don’t involve drinking, being around people and constant stimulation (no, not THAT kind, sicko).  So, they gave it to me.  I think they knew they didn’t have a choice.

The past few weeks has involved a lot of research on my part and feelings of excitement mixed with total fear.  First of all, I have never gone on a trip by myself.  Why not?, you ask.  Because I have never wanted to.  I am the ultimate people person and when I don’t talk to anyone for a few hours, I start to feel anxious.  I got a cell phone when I was 16 and have been attached to my mobile device ever since.  One time, my phone died on a rafting trip (read: drowned) and I activated an old phone just to get me through the night until I could make it to Verizon the next day.  I’m seriously THAT bad.  Although, in my defense, I think I was waiting for a text from a crush that night.

The last time I “camped” (read: slept outside) was in 2K2 when I passed out on my aunt and uncle’s chaise lounge on their screened-in porch because I couldn’t find my way to my bedroom.  The last time I went “kayaking” was on Spring Break 2K3 in the Bahamas when Alex and I paddled out in the water a few hundred feet just so we could feel like we were taking advantage of our resort’s “free water activities.”

Oh, wait, here I am being outdoorsy! (in the pink)

So what if that was just in Andrea’s parents’ backyard for 4th of July?  They live in Alpharetta, which essentially is the wilderness, and we WERE making food over a fire.

In addition to camping and kayaking, I’ll be hiking black sand beaches, touring organic gardens, staying at a totally remote B&B RIGHT on a cliff, and yes, going on a llama trek.  At one point, I thought I was actually going to get to RIDE a llama, but unfortunately, that is not the  case. Womp womp.

If my llama isn’t wearing tassels, I want my money back.

I also get to take a tour of the Lost Coast Brewery.  Funny, that was the first thing I booked when planning.

I honestly don’t know how it’s going to feel to be across the country from my cell phone.  I will fly to San Fran, pick up a rental car, drive 5 hours up to Eureka, CA to start my trip, then continue down the coast….all sans mobile device and internet.  It’s going to be QUITE an experience.

What if I meet a guy?  Is he going to have to leave a message for me at the front desk of my hotel…or my campsite?  How does that work?

I’m sure I’ll have a friend get engaged while I’m gone, and she won’t be able to reach me.  What will she do?!

What am I going to do when I look that llama right in the face and can’t take a mobile upload of him for Facebook?

What am I going to do when I’m dining alone and can’t pick up my phone and text (or pretend to)?  Twiddle my thumbs?  I’m worried I might just keep drinking to keep my hands busy!  Just kidding – this isn’t that kind of trip.  Or is it?

Am I going to come back a changed woman, throw out my Blackberry and stop showering?

I guess only time will tell.  Make your predictions now.

Oh, and Dewey will be living it up at Greendog if you need to reach him – the ONLY place I would trust with my monster for a whole week without being able to check in constantly.  Go over and play with him if you want, but no treats.  He needs to lose a few L B’s.

You’ll hear from me next week….that is, if I make it out alive.

Cheers!