i see dead people

As much as I bemoan and bewail the lifestyle adjustment that undoubtedly accompanies med school, I probably will look back one day and count the days in between bouts of energy drinks and late-night study marathons amongst my blessings. Case in point: Where, post-high school, can you relive the experiences of prom and right your previous wrongs? Now before you jump to a conclusion about my promiscuity, let me make a note that I did not get a motel room and procreate on prom night like some high-schoolers may have done. I did, however, don a hideous spandex-jersey number that I bedazzled with rhinestones. Oh, and in undeniable 17 year-old-girl fashion, I topped it off with a tiara and acrylic nails. Oh yes she did.

As much as I try to forget the memory of my previous fashion woes, the proof is in the pictures (some of which I am sure are floating around ready to create undue drama for my unborn 15 year-old daughter who will swear her mother is a disgraceful embarrassment…a picture that will instill much fear and motivation to age gracefully…a picture that I, for reasons that include self dignity, will not reproduce here). So you must know how exciting it is to get a second chance to do it all over again. With 24 years under my belt, I now believe I have accumulated the wisdom and sense, and most importantly, the funds to execute a prom vision that will, hopefully, transcend a lifetime of fashion trends.

Ladies and Gents, I present to you LSU- School of Medicine - Class of 2012’s CADAVER BALL.


Dress by Kay Unger. I knew two things before deciding on this dress. 1.) No shiny quintessential prom dresses. 2.) I want asymmetrical.
My friend Diane noted that the dress is reminiscent of J Lo, back in the pre-Marc Antony days. Regardless of whether or not this is accurate, I do have to insist that my date for the night veered much more on the handsome end of the spectrum than Ms. Lopez’ husband.


Tux by Calvin Klein. Shoes by Vans.

The ball was held in the Grand Ball Room of the Ritz Carlton and we wasted no time getting acquainted with our club-level suite before heading to dinner. Ah, yes…I did say a suite. I am, in fact, an adult now. Getting inebriated at a dance and initiating sleepovers are not above my now promiscuous tendencies. Got to keep it classy though….hence, the Ritz.

The setting of the hotel suite was so conducive to channeling an old Hollywood feel that I did just that. For one night and one night only, I was Grace Kelly and my boyfriend was (whatever your pick) the flavor-of-the-month arm accessory.






View from the backside: it’s understated yet sweet but all the while striking. I felt this burning desire to rudely turn my back to anyone I was engaged in conversation with so they, too, could appreciate this posterior aspect. And I’m sure after a couple glasses of wine I did just that. My apologies.


Vintage shrug - eBay. Clutch - Chanel. Jewelry - borrowed from Mother.
As much as I love that clutch, I do have to admit that there was much hesitation about it originally. You see, I saw it on Paris Hilton years ago and loved it. And although I refused to do anything that could be remotely misconstrued as emulating Ms. Hilton (plus that hefty price tag was no joke), I eventually caved. It’s now a staple in my closet.



Our pre-ball festivities began at dinner - Palace Café of the Brennan family on Canal St. A fun, lively atmosphere that didn’t make us feel awkward in our ball attire. The food, however, was standard.


Andouille crusted fish with an aioli sauce. I found a few scales on mine but it was nothing I was going to fault them with being that I’ve had numerous experiences here that were sans fish scales. Mistakes happen. (I also keep returning in hopes that luck will bring me that lobster w/mac & cheese drizzled with truffle oil that I once had on their seasonal lunch menu.)


Mini muffalettas. Pretty much a New Orleans classic. Get some in your life.

As for the rest of the evening, it was lovely. Great atmosphere, great people. The band was surprisingly upbeat. The drinks…well, what can you possibly find wrong with a premium open bar? Except, of course, the long lines?

Medical school sure does have its perks.

leather and lace

Sometime in between crunch time last month (crunch time: n. an interval, usually 2 weeks, that precedes a test in medical school and is reserved for extreme cramming of information during all hours of the day and night), I gave myself a little break from the books to attend a couple of girlfriends’ birthday dinner. What resulted after dinner was a mini photo session with the boyfriend in the hallway of our condo. He seldom remarks on my outfits, but found this one particularly interesting. And that’s how the documentation began…




probably the best thing about these BEBE thigh-highs are the fact that I'm vertically challenged and they hike all the way up to my crotch, making them way more comfortable than muffin-top cinching stockings.





urban outfitters tee = the best $7 buy this season
versatile and airy

#10 - You used to live in a trailer.

Five Valentine’s Days together and I have to say, he’s still got it. I’m usually not easily surprised or impressed, but I would be doing him a huge disservice by not whole heartedly expressing my gratitude. Homeboy rocked it out this year.



And I can’t imagine allowing anyone else to rock it.





We began with brunch and tea at the gorgeous Windsor Court Hotel in the heart of downtown New Orleans. I am so in love with their courtyard.


And my goodness those finger sandwiches were to die for! If it weren’t for the incredibly sophisticated ambiance that bathed my surroundings and kept my caveman impulses at bay, I don’t believe the word “devour” would have been an act beneath me. Too pretty to eat? My ass!




I prefer my tea with plenty of milk. Perhaps I belong in England. Yeah, right. A country where it perpetually rains and of which consists no reputable food culture whatsoever? No thanks. My Burberry rainboots, cucumber sandwiches, and scones would get real old, real quick.


…


Dinner was at Restaurant August of the critically acclaimed John Besh. Not one of my favorites. I actually don’t know why the bf settled on this restaurant again. Nevertheless, you can’t really go wrong with shaved black truffles and gnocchi now can you?





Nothing else was particularly memorable enough to mention.. Although I really do appreciate trios. If it comes in threes, I’m intrigued. Seriously. This was some oysters done three ways bit. I find oysters dreadful so you’re going to have to do without a critique on this one. Like I said, I’m interested in the idea of trios.




After dinner we headed to the International House Hotel on Camp St. I find this boutique hotel so pleasant. It’s also a nice refresher from the other big, corporate boutique hotel of the name The W, which has, in the past few years, grown so congested on the weekends.


The aesthetics here is right up my alley. They do a great job of mixing an old-school New Orleans feel with fresh, contemporary lines. My future uptown New Orleans mansion on St. Charles will likely model itself after the interior of this joint. That is, once I accumulate some tens of millions of dollars first. I’m working on it, one loan at a time.





Have I ever mentioned how much I adore chandeliers? Because I do…antiques, black crystal chandeliers, art deco pieces…I loveeeeeeee. I don’t, for some reason, care too much for those really big pretentious chandeliers in grandiose establishments. Don’t question me. I don’t know why.




And it must seem as though all we ever do is eat and to that I say, “Why yes you are correct.” We snuck down from the hotel room to have a late dinner at Rambla. I am so impressed with the décor of this little tapas hotspot. They have these snug, high top wooden communal tables in the center of the restaurant that I would kill for in my own dining room. That paella, however, could use some serious seasoning or what we in New Orleans like to call “Tony” as in Tony Chachere’s seasoning. For a dish boasting chorizo sausage and saffron, I found it such a buzz kill. I wish New Orleans would step it up with some more Spanish options.




BBQ shrimp. This New Orleans staple fared much better with my taste buds. Points deducted, however, for inconsistencies on a return trip to the restaurant one week later. It made me look bad in front of my friends after much unfulfilled hype.

Ok enough with the food. The main reason this was a Valentine’s I will remember for the rest of my life? an even trade...





And I do admit to bawling like a baby 100 facts later…