POCKET LINT.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF TUESDAY [THE BEST BATHING SUIT]

Okay, I'm truly sorry not to be posting a Bachelorette recap today, but I'm off on a trip - first to San Diego and then to Vancouver and Victoria - and will be watching it late.

I'll report back on all that when I return, BUT, in the meantime, I thought I at least owed you some kind of nugget.  Above, behold the Natalie One-Piece from Anthropologie, which I KID YOU NOT is the best fitting, most flattering bathing suit that I have ever encountered in my entire life.

Seriously.

It comes in multiple colors (I have the polkadots!) and it's all old Hollywood and stuff, but best of all, it seems to be on sale right now.  I feel like I should buy 10 to wear over the next decade.  That's how good this thing looks on.

I'm sure you'll get on swimmingly! (Couldn't resist.)

xo - N.

LA (AND BEYOND): SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION [Biggest Loser/Natural Haircare]

Most of you know me as a die hard Bachelor/Bachelorette fan (starting next week BTW).  What you may not realize is that I'm also obsessed with The Biggest Loser.  Yup.

Well, this week for my SELF blog "Fit Like Us", I test drove special ergonomically designed kettlebells by "BL" trainer Bob Harper.

First of all, I still can't walk and may never master stairs again.  Second of all, don't you just love the above picture, where sweet Bob looks all tough guy?  Third, I now have new found sympathy for the contestants on "The Ranch."

Also, check out this elle.com story about new haircare line Free Your Mane.  It's all natural, but it's actually result-oriented and designed to hydrate.  Magnifique!

Bye, chickadees!

xo - N.

LA (AND BEYOND): SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION [Supermodels/Angels]

Rumor has it that "talking to an angel is like trying to catch a falling star.”  Still, I didn’t find the task quite so challenging at the exclusive Victoria’s Secret “Bombshell Summer” kick-off event on Wednesday afternoon.

Standing next to a supermodel?  Now, that’s daunting.  In fact, a picture exists of Miranda Kerr above and me, but I'm hoping it will never see the light of day (for the love of all things good!).

Anyway, I took the self-esteem lumps for Style.com, chatting up the fresh-faced, Balenciaga-clad VS “Angel” (a.k.a. Mrs. Orlando Bloom) between manicures, hand massages and makeovers at LA’s notorious SkyBar.

Read all about it and Victoria's Secret events - that you can attend - all over the country in the next few weeks!

xo - N.

 

LA (AND BEYOND): SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION [Fitness & More]

Hi Peeples.  So, in case you're interested, I just started writing a new blog called "Fit Like Us" for SELF Magazine, as a "reluctant" exerciser.  (A.k.a. someone move me from this couch cause I ain't moving myself).

I'll be blogging every other weekday, with gung ho fitness expert Bari Lieberman taking the other days.  Get it?  There's CONTRAST.

Do please check it regularly and feel free to comment, retweet and all that jazz!  I promise to be (mostly) honest about my fitness attempts.  I say "mostly" because I don't want to actually scare anyone.

Also, check out my Vital Juice story from last week about this natural solid perfume company, oWp.  Solid perfumes are totally a new trend.  But then so are desserts in jars.  So not everything is worth it's salt.  But this is kinda cute.

xo - N.

SD (AND BEYOND): SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION [BEAUTY, FASHION, FITNESS ETC.]

Just wanted to post links to a few of my latest on-line stories, as they may be of interest (or at least, it may be of interest to me for you all to read, re-tweet, FB etc.).

Yeah.  I said it.

Impressed?  I'm working with my therapist to make my needs known.  And, by therapist, I mean facialist.

So, here goes:

Persephenie (formerly of natural perfume shop Blunda) just launched her inaugural beauty product line and, at the end of May, will launch her first signature fragrances.  Style.com

Chloe Sevigny and Michael C. Hall teamed up with Kiehl's to create special labels for a new white clay masque to raise money for charity!  Style.com

Maya Yogev (creator of Grai) just launched her new bag line, MK Totem.  Daily Candy

I'm clumsy.  Are you?  Read my essay on being athletically-challenged. MyDaily.com [AOL]

Take a hike - through Topanga Canyon!  Vital Juice LA

Get an ice cream manicure at The Painted Nail.  Vital Juice LA

Nursing a bruised ego.  Embarrassing moments from the workout room.  Vital Juice LA

Read away!

xo - N.

LA (THIRD STREET): Roasted Peeps Revealed!

I'll start out by apologizing: The above is obviously not an image of a roasted Peep.

The problem is that Peeps are cute and, once I started roasting one, it seemed a little twisted like I was melting a little smiling bird.  So, I decided to spare you all that and just describe the experience.

In a word: Awesome.  It turns out that roasted Peeps are just like elevated regular marshmallows.  The inside is all good and mushy like normal, but the sugary outside turns into this crispy shell a bit like the  top of creme brulee.

SIGN. ME. UP.

I totally recommend.  Jesus Christ, that's good.  (Get it?  Cause it's Easter.  Is that wrong?)

xo - N.

LA (THIRD STREET): EASTER CANDY INNOVATION [What happens when you roast a Peep?]

Okay, so here I was seconds from telling you all about my most amazing find: Chocolate-covered Peeps at Joan's on Third.  I was going to talk about being a Cadbury Cream Egg devotee with an occasional penchant for Peeps (only when stale).

But, then, I went in search of an image for this post because, per usual, I ate the entire delicious package before I remembered to take a picture and I discovered that Peeps themselves have had the same brilliant thought as my local gourmet market (though surely in a less upscale incarnation).

The whole investigation provoked some serious contemplation: If Peeps could be successfully dipped in chocolate than how else could we innovate them?  Their website posits recipes for Peeps macaroons (for the Jews!) and rice crispy treats, but those seem just to entail tacking the yellow and pink marshmallows on at the end.

Let's get serious and ask the hard questions: What in fact happens if you roast a Peep?

The bad news is that I have no idea.  The good news is that I plan to find out tomorrow and then tell you all about it.  Because that's the spirit of Easter, you know?  It's all about sharing!  (Or, not really, but that's a good message too, right?)

xo - N.

THE LINT COLLECTOR'S TRASHY TUESDAYS: WACKY & WOMACKY

This is Brad's mugshot for driving with a fake license.  Actually, at the time of his arrest, his name was Stephen Bradley Pickelsimer.  Yup.  That's his mother's last name.  He changed his last name to his mother's because of his daddy issues, apparently, but then he changed it back because, well, probably because it was "Pickelsimer."

This has nothing to do with this episode, but I am reserving the right to refer to him as "Pickel" for the rest of today.  It just gives me joy.

So, at the very beginning, Michelle almost sounds normal, talking about how all she can do is be herself.  Then she adds, "Or pray that Chantal O. gets attacked by monkeys."  Ah, Michelle.  You never fail us.

Pickel goes on a rainy zip-lining date with Chantal O. - upping the chances of the monkey attack - and I'm starting to doubt whether he will ever reject a girl on a one-on-one.

The producers apparently couldn't bribe someone into controlling the weather, so Brad & Chantal go to his hotel suite.  Maybe the producers actually DID effectively pay off the rain gods after all.  As Pickel said, "We didn't get rained out.  We got rained IN."  Can you hear the porn music?

Chantal O. is a little Deanna to me.  Am I alone in that?

Anyway, Pickel tells Chantal that, "This could happen every night."  Totally.  That's a REAL relationship.  Like every night The Drewser and I go zip-lining, then we come in from the rain and I put on his over-sized white button down and then we make out, while a camera crew films.  Then we fight about who will do the dishes and/or scoop the cat boxes and then we go to bed and play tug of war with the comforter.  It's amaaaaaaazing.

Apropos of nothing, Britt makes me boooooored.  On the group date, they are repelling down a waterfall.  They're also repelling me.  Michelle is mad cause Pickel is breaking their promise to each other, never to repel with anyone else.  Now, that was a serious vow.  Maybe now she will cast a spell on him.  Or release her monkeys.

Jackie is afraid of heights.

Wait.  Who the hell is Jackie?  Apparently, she's a NYC artist.  Um.  Really Jackie?  I would like to see that art.

Pickel is so dumb.  He still doesn't know that Michelle is insane?  Eh.  Maybe he's just waiting to sleep with her at least once.

Emily sabotages relationships, which makes Pickel worried, even though he should realize that she's A) being honest and B) using it as a ploy to get some alone time.  But he's a dumby.

On the upside, he does seem a bit irritated with Michelle.  He actually rolled his eyes.  He is OVER these girls bitching.  Yeah, beaatches!  No rose for ANY of your asses!!!  Boooyah!  This is the Pickel I can get behind.

Michelle says that if he doesn't make a decision, she'll be forced to take matters into her own hands.  What does that even mean?  She is scary pants.  I'd sleep with the lights on in that house.

They keep saying that Costa Rica "could be an amazing place to fall in love."  What does that mean???  Like how many hypotheticals and qualifiers can you pack into a single sentence?

Ali FREAKS the fuck out because of bats.  I'd be more scared of having to picnic in a dank wet cave, supposedly the reward.  They're all at Tabacon hot springs, where I've been, but I think I would need to have it all cleaned and Purelled before going back.  Meanwhile, this date is AWK.  Okay--fast forward, please.  I don't need to watch this.

No rose for Jennifer Garner.  I mean, Ali.  They have the same man jaw.  Sorry.

Then, Michelle just shows up at Brad's door.  Pickel, haven't you ever watched the show?  It's ALWAYS the crazy people who do that!  Pickel REALLY wants space.  Until she starts hooking up with him.  The Black Widow strikes again.  But she's dumb too.  She keeps telling him what to do and it's so clear that he doesn't like it.  Man up, Pickel.  GET. A. GRIP.  Tell her to hit the road.  She's TELLING you what to do on national TV.  He thinks she's bossy, but I don't think he knows she's crazy.  I know that seems nearly impossible, but I really think it's true.

Do we think Pickel really likes Emily or just wants to?  I think she's the bestest, but that's just moi.

Anyway, despite a leopard print dress and up-do that should have sent Chantal O. home automatically despite her rose, as it aged her about 25 years, Jackie goes home.  Maybe to paint a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge or something.

Then, they're off to Anguilla, where it looks like Michelle and Pickel get down and dirty in the sand for yet another photo shoot, probably for UNICEF or something.  They're just so damn giving.

xo - N.

THE LINT COLLECTOR'S TRASHY TUESDAYS: WOMACK ATTACK!

[Supposedly, this is NOT a statue from Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, but I think anyone with eyes would say different.  Blink, wax Brad!  Blink!  I dare you!]

Oh, jeez.  Where to begin?  I guess at the beginning: The season premiere of The Bachelor is always momentous and this year is particularly significant as this is the first season where an old failed bachelor returns to try to fall in love ... again.

And, doing us proud as always, the show manages - within the first three minutes - to set at least the psychiatric world back a good millenium or so.  Apparently patient/doctor confidentiality must be waved if you want to find love ... again.  Seriously, how did they find a therapist with so little integrity?

Just kidding.  I'm sure that therapist is totally there "for the right reasons."

But before that, Chris Harrison opens up with, "This is already one of the most shocking seasons ever!"  Already?

Flash back to three years ago, when Brad first rejected DeAnna.  Some people were mad at Brad about that, but I sort of enjoyed that moment.  Not because I'm evil (mostly), but because I loved his panic attack.  It was so REAL!  He fully flipped out on national TV.  But why do I think I am going to see this flashback about 450 more times over the next three months until I am able to reenact it with my cats?

I started watching The Bachelor religiously during Brad's first season though, so I am partial to him, I have to admit.

Anyway, it turns out that Brad blames himself for his indecision on his last Bachelor season.  And his dad.  Who wasn't around.  Poor Brad!  (Kudos, producers.  I already feel bad for the guy!)

Then Brad's therapist advises us that he's open to finding love.  Presumably, this "doctor" thinks that going on a reality show is a FABULOUS solution for someone who is afraid of commitment, has panic attacks and already humiliated himself once.

Brad agrees.  At least, he seems to agree, if that's what shirtless push-ups mean.

Then we meet the women.  Apparently, the producers have decided to torture Brad with some sadistic chicks from funeral directors to dentists to men's waxers and vampires.  Has nobody seen Little Shop of Horrors?  This could end badly.

The other women are all mourning someone and, christ, now I'm crying too cause blonde Emily's race car driver husband died and then she found out she was pregnant.  These sad stories should keep the ladies on for at least a few episodes.  (Plus, they happen to be among the prettier ladies).  Please tell me that - no matter what - I will never see Emily on Bachelor Pad, sleeping in a bunk bed above Wes.  I need to believe she's not gross.

Meanwhile, why do the girls in the limo keep stressing that the bachelor's identity is "a mystery."  Isn't he always?  It's making me think they actually do know in advance.  I have a theory that the women vote on thier top three picks maybe.

And, wait, wait, here's DeAnna and Jenny (Jinny?), who want apologies after seven hundred years because Brad rejected them.  But wasn't it normal for him to reject Jinny because he chose DeAnna (even though he ultimately bailed)?  And isn't DeAnna engaged to a twin of some ex-contestant?

OMG!  They're grilling him (cause after 3 years of no contact, they totally know all about him and his life).  Brad is fucking with his tie again.  I think he's going to have another panic attack.  Is he sweating?  Visions of the finale of his last season!  He says that he is shaking!  Someone get this poor sap a Clonopin!  Give him a hug or something!!!  He looks like he's freaking out.  What kind of hack therapist let this guy go on this show????  I think he's going to need to be institutionalized after this.  I am so stressed out.

Anyway, now Brad meets the girls and all I can think is, "Which of these girls is going to get wasted and humiliate herself?"  But sadly none.  Fang girl comes closest.  Why are all the women dressed for the prom?

Okay, now I am feeling protective of this guy.  Even The Drewser says he feels bad for Brad (there's a man's perspective for you).  They're all smakcing him and bitching at him!  Finally, one woman won't hate on him, she says.  She is like Tenley's doppleganger.  Ugh and the next girls' red shoes make me want to cry.  My eyes!  My eyes!  What are they doing to this dude?

Then a caption says that the vampire girl is a "model"?  For what?  Strait jackets?

There's also a Rockette on speed named Keltie.  Keltie?  Her parents couldn't choose between Kelly and Katie?  So many of these women look like men in drag.

Hey, something just occurred to me.  Do you think Brad literally couldn't get a date anymore after the show's debacle and he HAD to go back on TV, just to get laid?  Maybe his bar is in trouble and he needs publicity?

ANYWAY, as Chris Harrison says, "Brad, you got some splainin' to do!"  Well, maybe Chris didn't say exactly that.  But off to the cocktail party and rose ceremony.

I'm wondering at first if Brad is going to become that guy who leads off every conversation with "Well, my therapist says ..."

But, then, the women keep bringing his past up. Is it me?  Or is it a little presumptuous to have this whole conversation about commitment when like 10 women are getting sent home in a couple hours?  Like, why would any guy want to keep all these pains in the ass around?  Send them all home, Brad!

FINALLY, some girl with a damn brain - Ashley S. - decides to let him off the hook.  Guess who is NOT going home tonight?  DUH.

Oh no.  Singing.  ACK.  Jackie, STOP!!!  I don't know you, but stop.  Save yourself now!  My ears! My ears!  Save me!

And, then, my favorite quote of the night comes from a sad girl in a blue dress, who keeps getting her time usurped: "I have a great sense of humor.  As you can see, I'm not wearing shoes."

Then, it's the rose ceremony.  One girl cries that she gave 110 percent.  To what, no one knows.  The last three hours?  Curling her hair?  Ten teary girls go home, as Brad stuck with the relative hotties per usual, and we're off to another season of The Bachelor.

Now, if only "Keltie" would change her name.  Maybe I could stop gagging.

xo - N.

LA (AND BEYOND): RINGING IN THE NEW (WHILE SPORTING THE OLD)

HAPPY NEW YEARS, LINTERS!!!

Do you think EVERY January 1rst, we say something like, "Wow, this past year was particularly crazy"?

I'm really not sure.  Perhaps.  I know I am prone to the dramatic.  But, still, it needs to be said: 2010 was a year full of intense ups and downs too.

There were short posts and long posts and then (gasp!) no posts at all.  First class photos, grainy camera phone pictures and sometimes just stolen images from who knows where?  Some days we had clear skin.  Some days we broke out.  We ate fried pickles, sure.  But were they all good?  I can't say that they were.  And the haircuts?  They varied from great to not so good too.  Yes, it was a tumultuous year.

But that's on a more macro level, you know, with major global impact.  Some big up and downs happened in my own life too.  But I'm not superficial enough to get into those.  Let's stick to the important stuff.

ANYWAY, am I foolish in believing that many people had exceptionally good New Years parties this year?  It seems that way.  Normally, I'm just trying to sort of get through New Years without any extended moments stuck outside in freezing cold weather, at a boring ass party or at some new club, where I can't find a seat.  Boo.  Hiss.

This year, The Dreswer and I sang our brains out (thanks to a rented karaoke machine), drank Proseco and ate more meatballs than bear mentioning from Bay Cities - with some old friends, but also some very new ones.  I wore the above Rebecca Minkoff dress, which I can't say is fresh from the shop, but it's still new enough in a comfy kind of way (although it's looking kind of bunched and weird at the waist here).

Well, maybe that's a lesson for the New Year: Make new friends, but keep the old.  One is silver and the other is Rebecca Minkoff.

Either way, I wish you all a Happy Happy Healthy New Year!  May your skin be clear and your fried pickles be crisp.

And may you clean up my cat Mina's puke, as she's sort of bulemic and she just threw up across the room from me yet again all over my nice plastic bins.  Sigh.

xo - N.