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A Hot Southern Mess

June 2nd, 2011

“She’d rather wear a pair of cut-off jeans than a fancy evening dress. And with her windows rolled down and her hair blown all around, she’s a hot Southern mess.”
~ Brad Paisley, in his new song “Old Alabama”
Those lyrics pretty much sum me up … so much so that I’m even in the video for “Old Alabama.”
I was actually the production coordinator on the shoot and ended up driving vintage cars from Hendrick Performance alongside Kelley Earnhardt and Erin Crocker Evernham — legit drivers. So, for a little Hollywood secret: They put the 1950 Buick I was driving on a trailer hitch, so I wouldn’t wreck it.

The video premiered before the All Star Race in Charlotte on the world’s largest HD screen at Charlotte Motor Speedway.
Sh!t my dad says, Mr. Cason edition: “I liked the video. Nice cars. But why do you look like you’re just out taking a stroll? Drive that thing! And you’re not worried about being on the largest HD screen? People will be able to see inside your pores!”
You can view the video HERE … as in the highlighted word here for which you can click on to link to Fancy.
All artist royalties from this song will go to tornado relief in Alabama. Brad Paisley rocks … literally with the band Alabama in this video!

Vogue. Vogue. Vogue.

April 27th, 2011

Apparently, I am stylish … at least according to Charlotte Style Magazine who named me “Top 5 Most Stylish” in Charlotte for my philanthropy endeavors and alleged keen fashion sense.

As a result I’ve been asked to reveal what my personal “style secrets” are. Well, there really is no secret. Especially because I’m publishing them here …

1. Make sure you don’t have any visible boogers, shave and moisturize your legs, and brush your teeth. I use cavity protection plus whitening toothpaste to go all out.

2. Shop at Target. They have cute clothes that you can browse through before making it to toiletry aisle for pimple cream.

2. Always wear a smile. It goes with any outfit

3. Flaunt your flaws like they’re accessories. Such as the big brown dot on my arm prominently displayed on the cover photo by Erin Hubbs … my birthmark. As well as the scars on my knees from being clumsy (my grade school nickname was “Splitknee”), and the bags under my eyes that when sleep deprived, can get so big you can put groceries in them.

4. When you have an event you have to go to in which you are being deemed stylish, let someone else dress you and do your hair and make-up. Cason-Point: my “Jackie-Ho” look from the Charlotte Style Fashion Week party.
“Pretty in the Queen City” interview. And I also did the “Roger Rabbit” down the catwalk at Martin Truex Jr. Foundation’s Catwalk for a Cause, right before I almost tripped when the hem on my jeans came undone. Whoopsie.

The 30 year-old Single & Childless Freak!

February 22nd, 2011

“The Dirty Thirty?” … Why’s 30 gotta be dirty? I like to call it the “Flirty Thirty” — perhaps because I just turned 30 and I’m saying that to feel better about myself. And apparently turning 30 is newsworthy as it warranted a headline “Party Girl Turns 30” on the cover of the Charlotte Observer with a feature story in the Carolina Living section … no pressure!

Breaking News: I’m old…er!
The way I see it is that my 20s were just practice, and now I have my 30s to do it right.
I learned a lot in my first 30 years as my life went from “don’t talk to strangers” to “talk to as many strangers as possible” … and I’ve learned a lot in the first thirty days in my 30s as well.

For starters, 30 is not a relationship deadline! What is the rush to the altar at 30? … especially in the south. Our eggs do not expire at 30. They don’t have the shelf-life of dairy. My mom had me when she was 40 — 30 years ago, before fertility was a scientific experiment. I had so many people ask me about being single at 30, I had to write a column about it on my newly launched blog just to get them to shut up: Love, BrittneyThe Flirty Thirty

And when I do eventually get married, I’m not having a big wedding. Lesson learned from my 30th birthday party. I was Birthdayzilla
Cason-Point: A photo gallery from my 30th birthday party … or should I say, photographic evidence? 😉

Oh, and mostly, 30 doesn’t feel any different than 29. Or 21 even.

Bring it, 2011!

December 31st, 2010

Making a New Year’s resolution makes about as much sense as turning a robe backward and calling it a Snuggie. I mean, why pick one day of the year to resolve to be better? Shouldn’t we resolve for self-improvement all 365 days of the year so we don’t have to cram?

So screw a New Year’s resolution, make year-round resolutions. Such as…

• Resolve to talk to strangers more, even though your mom told you not to when you were a kid.
• Resolve to live like you’re on stage — life isn’t a dress rehearsal. And the show must always go on!
• Resolve to treat others the way you want to be treated, and be sure to treat yourself that way, too.
• Resolve to take risks. Playing it safe should be kept to a game of slow pitch softball.
• Resolve to be the kind of woman you’d want your daughter to be, or the kind of man you’d want your son to be.
•Resolve to listen more to your intuition. Your head is too critical and over rationalizes, and your heart can be naive – your gut is never wrong. Especially when it tells you you’re hungry.
• Don’t be afraid to fall. It’s better to have a broken heart that can heal than a closed heart that can never feel.
• Resolve to distinguish between your friends and frenemies, and to love your haters.
• Resolve to throw out the to-dos and to-don’t lists and just do more of what you want to do vs. what you need to do. Don’t be miserable a second of 2011. (Six month doctor check-ups and jury duty excluded. Those are necessary)
• Resolve to tell the inner critic in your head to shut the front door, and silence all negative and worrisome thoughts.
• Resolve to say yes anytime someone asks you to dance — even if they aren’t cute and you have no rhythm. It beats sitting out in the corner.
• Resolve to go to the gym — but not just because you want to lose weight but because exercise releases endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Resolve to be happy!

And why all this pressure to kiss someone when the clock strikes midnight? We’re not on a deadline like Cinderella. Why not wait for a prince in 2011 rather than just kissing a frog, and getting warts! Life isn’t a fairytale. But that doesn’t mean we can’t all live like it’s one.
So the best resolution we can make is to live happily ever after.

Oh, and you should also resolve to read more of the Bang Town blog, my new home at Creative Loafing until Love, Brittney launches 😉

I’m retiring …

December 19th, 2010

When I was in elementary school I declared in my “what I want to be when I grow up” speech that no matter what I did, I was going to be retired by 30. Well, I turn 30 January 24. Granted, that was before I had any concept of bills and a bad economy, and that I was going to opt to be a writer as my profession. Now I know why the teacher laughed at me. But even though I have my dream job, I’m staying true to the promise I made with myself in my youth, and am retiring at 30 … from nightlife that is.

I have retired as a nightlife columnist for Creative Loafing, my column will no longer run in print every week … sniff, sniff 🙁 But I’m not going away for good (you can’t get rid of me, kinda like herpes but not quite as bad) Creative Loafing is giving me my own blog where I can write about what I am most passionate about … love – and lust. I’m even getting my own advice column titled, “The Blind Leading the Blind.” Besides, my ass is getting too old to be going out every night of the week. As fascinating as it is to watch wrinkles grow on your face, I need to slow down and actually grow up. Not to mention I have a Masters degree and am paid to party for a living. Besides, I pretty much clocked out when I went on the book tour. I am saying retiring because it sounds old, and well, turning 30 feels old to be the token party girl.

That … and I have to finish my book, and need to focus all my creative energy on it. I need to hurry up and get it done so it can be out in time for next football season. Or when the lock-out starts, whichever comes first. And so I can join Tucker Max on his 3rd book tour, but as an author rather than tour manager.

The new blog: Love, Brittney will launch soon.
In the meantime you can read me on Creative Loafing’s Bang Town blog, or on the Charlotte Bobcats blog, or, or AOL … or right here.

I just want to thank every promoter I’ve worked with for inviting me to their parties … and the bouncers for never kicking me out of them. I have been writing my nightlife column for 5 years (to the date with my first column running on my 25th birthday) – and I was never at a loss of new material, because Charlotte’s nightlife is so lively. But don’t get me wrong, I still intend to explore this nightlife mecca for which we live … just not as much. So I’ll still see you out, but this time when I do I won’t be carrying around pen and paper. I’ll actually likely be with a camera crew as I’m hosting a new show about nightlife, Nightlife TV for which my columns will come to life. Kinda like having your book made into a movie, but on a newspaper and local TV level.
So thank you Charlotte nightlife, for being such an important part of my life. And thanks to my readers for joining me out on the town – and for reading me and actually liking it! Hope you continue with me as I start this next chapter. Cheers!

Mother Tucker, Max

October 6th, 2010

What do you call a bar with 5 deaf girls, a drunk midget, and a 6’2 giantess?
… a typical night out with Tucker Max.

That is not a joke.
That is real life … my life. I am the tour manager for Tucker Max’s book tour for his second book Assholes Finish First. And that pretty much sums up our night out in DC following his signing.

Before I even met Tucker, when he announced that his second book was coming out on Sept. 28 I sent a tweet to my Charlotte following announcing that Christmas had been moved, to Sept. 28. And not only did I get what I wanted for Christmas, which was to meet my favorite writer and garner his feedback on my writings, I got hired to assist him on his book tour. I must have been a good girl last year – or really bad depending on how you look at it. But if Sept. 28 was Christmas, then Tucker is Santa, and I am his elf … fit to scale.

And before you put the ASS in assume, I’ll go ahead and clarify that Tucker and I are NOT banging. The closest we’ve come to banging of any sort is when I give him bad directions while driving and I’m pretty sure he wants to bang my head against the car window. I am an aspiring author, not a plot line. Our relationship is strictly professional … well, minus going out and getting drunk with a midget, giantess, and deaf girls. Speaking of which, back to the story that sounds more like a joke. And just to preface, anyone who may think Tucker’s stories are bullshit, clearly has never hung out with him.

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