Every girl who's ever been drunk before has slurred out the "Cheeseburger Mantra" at one time or another. In my case the mantra usually involves Waffles or Pie.
Yesterday I got home early and turned on Rock of Love Whore Bus (I swear this was just a coincidence and I didn't know that they re-air Sunday Night's episode every Monday at 12 pm on VH1) and caught the last half hour (which is about all I can take - I'm convinced the crabs and genital warts are going to jump through the screen and land on me if I watch too long).
The above scene (where the Ashley , the classy lady in pink, repeats over and over "I wanna cheeseburger") brought me back to a party that Parker and I attended a few years ago. It was an NBC Emmy party spackled with celebrity goodness. After her 3rd Apple Martini, Parker began the Cheeseburger mantra. Angelina Joile and Brad Pitt could have walked in holding hands with Jesus and Satan and Parker would have still been chanting "I wanna cheeseburger". Parker and the above Ashley could be drunk twins (if Parker were a bleach blond with a size 34DDD, wearing a pink tank dress with metal ring exposing the belly button and Lucite heels).
On a side note: a few weeks ago, Parker turned 40 and gave some advice to our readers in their 20's: Moisturize, Moisturize, Moisturize. I'd like to add my own little bit of wisdom: while you are still young, DON'T over pluck your eyebrows. My mom always warned me to tread lightly with the tweezers, but I didn't listen and in my 20's I plucked the living daylight out of my furry caterpillar brows. Today I'm paying the price. Last week I decided I was sick of looking like a Latina Gang member and put the tweezers under lock and key. I'd let my eyebrows grow back (and promised only to pluck if there was a hair growing out of my eyeball) Once they grew back, I'd vowed to have them professionally groomed. Unfortunately, my eyebrows have taken on a life of their own, some hairs are growing back faster than Robin Williams' back hair while others are gone for good. Today I woke up looking like an angry cave woman whose brows were attacked by some sort of pre-historic weed whacker. So listen up ladies. Put. Down. The. Tweezers. You'll thank me in 20 years. (But don't get rid of your tweezers altogether! You'll need them for the whiskers that will begin to pop out of your chin as you approach 40).
