Lady Gah Gah



Don’t call my name, Alejandro, even though I’m wearing dead cow. I’ll be crying later when this little number starts to stink up my limo.


Last weekend at soccer we were sitting at a picnic table with some of Miss C’s teammates, waiting for team photos to be taken. One of the moms had the latest People magazine. Her son, who is 5 or 6ish, sat down beside her and started flipping through the magazine. “You have GOT to see Lady Gaga in her MEAT DRESS!” he said excitedly, planting his index finger squarely on a full color photo of Lady Gaga wearing what looked to be giant slabs of bacon.


Nice.


My girls love Lady Gaga’s music. Miss A has actually choreographed a dance number to Telephone that is pretty darn impressive. They practically climbed over me and over the table to see Lady Gaga wearing her raw meat gown at the recent VMAs. Talk about making a fashion statement.


A couple of days later I was driving us home when we heard a radio commercial for the upcoming Lady Gaga concert in downtown Nashville. (Confession to hubby: Yes we were listening to that top 40 radio station that you hate.)

Miss C chimed in from the back seat, “I am NOT going to see Lady Gaga. I will listen to her music, but I do not want to see her. She is too weird.”

p.s. So I’ll admit I would actually go see Lady Gaga in concert, but only if I won the tickets or, you know, someone gave them to me.

Dust Off The Spanx, Mama’s Goin’ To Beverly Hills

I’m going to Beverly Hills later this month for Variety magazine’s Power of Women luncheon and when reality began to sink in that I am, indeed, going to Beverly Hills later this month, a plight that has daunted women for centuries began haunting the depths of my soul…

WHAT IN GOD’S NAME WILL I WEAR?

I fretted about this because I don’t have a huge shopping budget no stinkin’ money, and then I remembered that I have a brand new dress hanging in my closet from my recent New York trip. Yes, it still had the tags on it. It was fate, also known as I bought the dress on final clearance, forgot about it, and can’t return it.

I know…this post is beginning to sound like I am a big jet setter.

I promise, I am not. I don’t even have a passport.

Any way, the dress code is a cross between business formal and daytime cocktail, you know the usual thing I wear during the day. NOT.

I won’t be on the red carpet (but Jodi Grundig from Mom’s Favorite Stuff and Kari Aceto from A Giveway Addicted Mommy will be…congrats ladies!), but I still want to look my best. You never know when you might run into Don Draper, I mean Jon Hamm.


I think this will be perfect.



So the next question is how to accessorize, which is a word of action and one my 8-year-old and 5-year-old girls apparently became familiar with while in the womb. Seriously, my older daughter has more purses than I do.


Dr. Baby Mama Drama, a local Nashville blogger with great style, heard my plea on Twitter and put together a fabulous PolyVore set to inspire me.


If you’ve never heard of PolyVore, it’s like paper dolls for grown women ya’ll. It’s awesome, especially if you love to window shop online (and can fill up your shopping cart like nobody’s business and then end up not buying anything.) Not that I would ever do that. Cough.




So what do you think? The nail polish color is definitely not me, I am just way too conservative. (She also suggested silver, which I love.) I love the silver cuff bracelet and the black clutch. I’d like to be able to pull off shoes like these but I’m afraid I’d break my leg, or perhaps both legs. Still, I love these. I’d like to find black and teal pumps, and I like her suggestion to find shoes in a matte finish, since the bodice of my dress is all sequiny and bling blinged out. I actually have a pair of dressy matte black heels that I can pack. I hadn’t thought about adding a wide belt, either.


Do you ever go “shopping” in your own closet? What would you wear to a Beverly Hills luncheon?


p.s. I’m definitely excited about possibly seeing Katie Holmes, Natalie Portman, Diane Lane, Amy Adams, and Jennifer Garner later this month! Yeah yeah I live in Nashville, but I don’t mingle with the stars. Ever.

Proof Once Again That The Disney Channel Has Brainwashed My Children

Driving home the other night from dinner Miss C chimed in matter of factly from the back seat: “Mommy, you know Joe is getting married.”

“Joe who?” I asked. I had no idea who she was talking about.

Joe, Joe, Joe? I mulled it over for a few seconds. The only Joe who came to mind was her classmate Joe we’d just seen at dinner and unless arranged marriages for 3rd grade boys are now the norm in the South, I doubted she was talking about that Joe.

“You know…JOE,” she said, incredulously.

“You mean Mr. Joe at the pizza place?” We are good friends with the manager of a neighborhood pizza joint named Joe.

“NO mommy…Joe JONAS.”

At least she’s not on a first name basis with Justin Bieber. That I could NOT HANDLE.

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