Come Check Me Out! The Rebel Deb Will Be Appearing at the Sandpiper in Atlanta -- this THURSDAY!

Xoxo,

Rebel Deb

This Week's Celeb Rebel Deb? Winnie Cooper!

If you were a boy growing up in the late '80s or early '90s, odds are you had a crush on Danica McKellar. She played Winnie Cooper, the object of Fred Savage's obsession on "The Wonder Years." The nostalgia-fueled sitcom has been off the air since '93, but Ms. McKeller still has legions of fans. Today, most of them are heartbroken. Their fair Winnie is officially off the market.

Yep, this past weekend, Danica got married. The nuptials caused a huge surge in Search. Men pushed queries on "danica mckellar married" and "winnie cooper married" through the roof. McKellar, who is now an author and mathematician, also saw queries rise on her famed photo spread for Stuff Magazine. Searches on the groom, composer Mike Verta, also hit a high note. Not surprisingly, the majority of Danica's lookups came from male Gen-Xers.

But it wasn't just the bride who saw a boon in Search. The maid of honor got some love as well. Danica's sister, Crystal McKellar, was in the wedding party. Crystal is best known for playing Kevin's ex-girlfriend turned archrival, Becky Slater. She memorably punched Kevin in the stomach after he broke up with her. Fans of the show haven't forgotten about the oft-spurned Becky. After news of the wedding hit, queries surged on "crystal mckellar photos."

According to E! Online, Mr. Savage (now a director of dubious talents) didn't attend the wedding, but his TV parents, Dan Lauria and Alley Mills, were there. No word on Josh Saviano, who played Kevin's best friend, Paul Pfeiffer. Regardless, queries surged on the Pfeif. Also spiking: the popular urban legend that states that Mr. Saviano and shock-rocker Marilyn Manson are actually one and the same. They're not, but the truth is a lot scarier: Saviano is now a lawyer.


xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Maybe We DID Start the Fire....?

Yesterday, my apartment building caught on fire.

I shit you not, my friends.

At about 2pm, I’m sitting quietly at my desk – happily enjoying a rerun of “Working Girl” on AMC and scratching my puppy, Jax’s, belly – when BAM! BAM! BAM!

I hear something loud and slick and rubbery fall outside my window.

At first, I thought it was construction outside. Or maybe a cab driver had blown his tire. Could be anything – this is New York, after all, and things get pretty noisy around here.

Only then, I heard the running. Footsteps outside my door – running up and down the stairwell. Then shouting. And then finally…

I smelled the smoke.

I finally looked outside, and there they were: THREE full-sized fire trucks, right outside my window! And debris falling down from above, bouncing off the walls and landing on the fire escape.

I felt like Chicken Little – the sky was falling!

I wasn’t sure what to do… I’d never been caught in a fire before… and so I did whatever seemed sensible at the time:

I PANICKED!

Then, after a brief freak-out, I grabbed Jax, my beloved computer, and a coat and threw open my apartment door…

Only to find the doorway – and the entire stairwell – covered in long black firemen’s hose!

Jax was immediately on guard. The hose was moving and pulsating with water, which made him bark and growl. He was just as freaked as I – now trapped inside our apartment by the huge hose. Finally, I crawled under a kink in the rubber and forced him to follow me. We ran down the flights of stairs, then finally out the door…

Where a huge crowd of on-lookers were staring, taking pictures… and some, even crying.

It was rainy and cold outside, and I felt lucky to be alive. That’s when I finally saw the fireman and cops.

I went up to one of them and demanded, “Why wasn’t the building evacuated?!”

“It was.”

“Um, I live on the second floor, and I only got out because I took it upon myself to get out.” I said. Then the Cop just sortof shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

Then, a fireman came up to me and asked him the same question – why didn’t anyone evacuate the building?

“Why should we?” he answered. “People self-evacuate.”

O.MI.GAWD.

I almost laughed!

“What if I were a seven-year-old child? Or a dog? Do you think I would’ve known to self-evacuate?”

“Oh, “ he said. “That’s true.”

DUH squared?

The NYFD has got to be the most inept in the world. And the NYPD isn’t much better.
Moral of my story: Don’t get caught in a fire. And whatever you do – don’t expect the fire department to save you!

Xoxo,

Rebel Deb

The Crazies are Everywhere!

Two days ago, on my flight from New York back to North Carolina, I was sitting on the tarmac in seat 11F. For two whole hours. Minding my business, like any good frustrated frequent-flyer. Good thing I'd also packed an egg-salad sandwich and some organic green tea to ride me over. But as soon as I took them out and started to lunch...

There they were: The Crazy Couple in seats 11A and C.

Every five minutes, the Wife would pull out her cell phone and push speed dial. Inevitably, the same "I'm not here, can you please leave a message..." recording would come on. (I know this because they had the volume turned up so loud that EVERYONE could hear it.) Then, she would pass the phone to her Husband, who'd sing the same inaudible, random song into the phone -- full of nonsensical words from no language I'm familiar with. A few seconds later, he would hang up the phone.... only to start the whole process over again in another five minutes.

Were these two stalking somebody? Were they singing a lullaby to some newborn childchild? If so, it wasn't a song I'd ever heard -- and it didn't even have any kind of soothing rythym. It just sort of started and stopped with no ryhme or reason.

The next day was even crazier.

At about noon, I check my email to find some rambling, intense email from a girl (I'll call her "Big Nose"), whom I barely knew back in college.

Big Nose was once pretty famous around Phi Kappa Psi fraternity. Back then, she and I once dated the same guy (at different times), and I only knew her through all the jealous, nasty rumors she spread about me.

Long story short, about a year or so ago, I saw her picture on a mutual friend's Facebook page and befriended her, simply to be nice... to be the "bigger person," as it were.

She accepted my request, but I never contacted her. I just left it as my polite attempt to be civil to a former evil slut.

Sounds simple enough, right? After all, it's just Facebook. No need to freak out and get all crazy, right?

WRONG.

Apparently, a full year after I Facebook-friend her, Big Nose decides to go crazy and email me a two-page testimonial, describing how much she's now "let go of the past," and how she "doesn't care" about how we'd once dated the same guy (though, back then, she was so jealous that she started calling me "Shiksa Barbie").

Her email-tome went on and on about how "over the past" she was now... and how she remembered very little of college -- "only a few amusing stores," she said. Which, I'm sure, is true -- considering she was probably post-coital for most of it.

Also, given that the reason why my ex broke up with her (according to him) was because she slept with his entire fraternity... and given her supposed habit of making "sex pacts" with guys (like another college boyfriend of mine, whom she made promise to sleep with her before we all graduated. This never happened, but still... tre gross, no?)...

Considering all the things she's "forgotten" about college, I'm sure "amusing stories" are probably the least of Big Nose's worries.

And, of course, emailing me all her random, blathering feelings at 1:30 AM clearly demonstrates how "over" the past she now is.

What's going on? Why are all the crazies coming out lately? Is it just me, or is the economy turning up the crazy in normally sane (or maybe just slightly strange) folks?

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Doggies Say the Darndest Things

I haz a puppy. His named is Jackson Smith. My boyfriend and I call him "Jax," for short.

Jax is about 1.5 years old, fully black, with a wet, healthy nose, big, floppy paws...

And a HUGE appetite. No joke, our little man weighs about 75 lbs!

This is mostly my fault, I think. I'm an indulgent doggie-mommy. I over-treat. He looks at me? I give him a Milkbone. He whines cause he's bored? I share my chicken cutlet.

Every time, his eyes say the same thing...

"Mom, you're totally boring. And you're making me fat. The other dogs laugh at me, the fat kid, whenever we go to the park."

Plus, I'm writing full-time, so I spend most days locked behind my desk. As a result, Jax, needless to say, gets restless and starts chewing things up out of boredom. When this gets old, he eats to entertain himself. And since we live in the East Village of Manhattan, we don't exactly have backyard he can play in. As a trade-off, I take breaks from working to cuddle with him on the couch, and I often send him to play at Happy Paws, the local doggie center, for a few hours each week, and Justin and I take him to the dog park at Tompkins Sqaure most nights...

But this just isn't enough exercise to counter-balance his huge puppy hunger.

If only my gym had doggie treadmills! Then we'd BOTH get a well-needed workout.

Am I a selfish, overly indulgent pet-owner, or do we just need to move to suburbs and get a yard? Only time will tell.

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Thanks for Coming, Betches!

Hey Ya'll!

Thanks so much for attending my latest Rebel Deb events -- both this past January at the LaMaMa Theatre and last night at PINK in Richmond! I SO appreciate your support!

Please contact me any time re: Rebel Debutante shows, merchandise, new up-and-coming clothing and gifts, book signings, or to join the Rebel Debutantes Facebook group.

Also, via the links below, you can check out my blog and sign up for my bi-weekly Rebel Deb Diary with updates on all upcoming readings, coupons off all merchandise, and a link to pre-order a SIGNED COPY of my book!

In the meantime -- would love to see you at another Rebel Deb event:

Thursday March 26- Sandpiper, Atlanta GA
Pre-release reading
6 pm

Thursday April 2- Gwynn's, Mt. Pleasant SC
Pre-release reading with Skirt! Magazine
6 pm

Friday April 3- Coffee to a Tea, Greenville SC
Pre-release reading
6 pm

And until then:

Stay Rebel, stay Deb -- but always stay true to yourself!

xoxo,

Anna

the Original Rebel Debutante

Beware the "Fake Girl"

There's always that one girl. Or, truly, many of them, that make me want to cringe and cry and crawl out of my skin.

And why?

Because they are undeniably, categorically FAKE.

Tonight, for instance, as I was coming out of NYU, this girl -- I'll call her, appropriately, "FG" (Fake Girl), comes up to me on the street and starts randomly asking me all sorts of polite, "friendly" questions: How are you, Anna? How've you been? I think your outline for that Grey's script is getting SOOOO much stronger!"

Meanwhile, she's been completely rude to me in every single notes session I've ever had, written mean, derrogatory things all over my scripts, and even when I tried to make peace (though I'm not exactly sure why she hates my guts) by sending her a conciliatory Facebook friend request, she denied it... twice.

Clearly, FG hates me. She's made this obvious for over a year now.

And why? I'm no so sure. My only guess is that, since she's one of those chubby brunettes from the South who grew up hating her home state, and all the blonde, blue-eyed cheerleader-types in it, she now hates me simply because I, too, am blonde, blue-eyed and Southern. Except I wasn't a cheerleader. Far from it, in fact. Yet, I'm now being the subject of fat-assed FG's rage.

Anywho...

When she started insisting on how much she now "loves" my work, and then tried to give me a HUG (of all things) at the end of our bizarro conversation... most of which involved her bullshit apologies for her bad attitude and my completely shocked responses, "Oh, well, okay, um... thanks for apologizing?"... I left the whole thing wanting to take a shower as soon as I got home.

Ugh. Why can't people just be honest with each other?

What I REALLY wanted to say was, "Thanks for whatever you're trying to say, I guess, but honestly, I don't believe you're really all that sorry for being an asshole to me. I mean, if you were me, would you believe yourself? Really? I don't think so. So, yeah, could you please stop wasting both of our time and just, ya know, go away and stop tormenting me with pettiness? Yeah. Thanks a bunch."

Moral of the story: FG's suck. And it sucks when you're so shocked by their random attempts at "sincerity" that you can't think of a witty response until a full five minutes AFTER they've slunk back under the rocks from wence they came!

xo,

Rebel Deb

Celeb Rebel Deb: Celeb Gossip Websites???

So trashy celeb-stalking online media (a la PerezHilton.com and TMZ.com) are not ALL bad.

Case in point?

Notoriously up-to-the-minute celebrity gossip website www.TMZ.com broke a HUGE story yesterday that has implications for us all.

Check out the headline:

Bailout Bank Blows Millions Partying in LA

Basically, after receiving over 1.6 BILLION in bailout funds, Northern Trust decided to use YOUR hard earned dollas to live large.


We're talking:

luxury hotels
sponsoring a PGA event
concerts by Chicago & Sheryl Crow
Tiffany gifts
fancy dinners

Seriously?

The public outrage has been so strong that the bank won't comment, and neither will the President.

Where is Congress in all of this?????

Thank goodness we have celebrity gossip online rags to make sure we get the real news.


Today, TMZ embodies the true spirit of Rebel Debs.


xo,

Anna

the Rebel Deb

I Just Don't Care About the Oscars!

I hate to admit, but ...

I just don't care about the Oscars.

That statement alone, in my industry, is blasphemy! And last night, surrounded by friends Michael, Michelle, and about a dozen of their film-editor friends at John Patrick Shanley's townhouse here in NYC, I knew saying so would be uttering the unspeakable.

And so, this Rebel Deb kept her mouth shut.

But it wasn't easy, folks. I have to admit that, too. And why? Well, there's several reasons I, well, just don't give a crap about the Big O:

1) The HORRIBLE opening dance/singing routines.



Did you see the abomination that was Hugh Jackman last night, people? The man looked like a Ken doll sprayed down with KFC rotisserie gold! Mr. Shake-n-Bake Spray Tan spent a good fifteen minutes (or more) parading around the stage with Beyond Knowles of all people, impersonating some of Hollywood's latest and greatest musical artists. He even tried to pull off Fred Astaire! And Beyonce was WORSE. Dressed in a flashy, thunder-thigh-covering, sequined "Chicago" costume, the two of them crooned awkwardly to songs from FAME, GUYS AND DOLLS, and even EVITA. It would've been WAY better to have them singing "We've got jungle fever" than to have two of the seemingly least talented entertainers in years up onstage making fools of themselves and making at least the crowd at Shanely's house throw our Oscar-party-finger-food at the screen. Go home, Hugh! Be gone, Beyonce! Fred and Ginger, you are NOT.

2) The pretentious opening presenters.



Usually, these are the WORST. Awkward pauses while Mr. or Mrs. Famous Somebody reads his/her lines from the teleprompter. Recorded applause. Shots to especially full sections of the audience -- or at least to th folks paid to sit in vacant seats as "fillers."

Last night, however, was a tad better. Mostly due to Tina Fey and Steve Martin being the comic GENIUSES that they are. And, thirdly, to Bill Mahr (who in the world at network had the BALLS to bring that guy back on stage?!?) for his random, angry eulogy bemoaning the virtual death of his "take a look at Bill Mahr's inner childhood demons and anger issues" documentary, "Religulous." He went on and on about how it wasn't nominated for an Oscar, but how we were all going to eventually have to face our "ridiculous" notions of religion and an afterlife. He basically showed his former-Catholic-turned-angry-TV-host ass, people. And what an ass it was.

3) The same old films getting the same old awards.



Oh, look! It's the Indian version of "Rocky," only this guy's way too skinny and malnourished to box, so he has to win "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" instead. How original!

Admit it: The Oscars are almost 100% predicatble at this point. Whoever gets the most box office cache -- and especially if it's an underdog story -- wins Best Picture.

I mean, for real, who didn't think that Slumdog Millionaire was going to sweep the categories? And knowing this, why on earth would I want to watch 3+ hours of the horrible Hugh Jackman, boring Beyonce and angry Bill-the-ex-Catholic show before finding out that -- yes! -- I was right and, yet again, the most predictable awards go to the most predicatble films?

I'd rather watch "How I Met Your Mother" on an endless loop, people. And that, my friends, for any TV writer worth her stuff is SAYING something.

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

It’s a Hard-Knock Life: WWSBD?

Have you felt the economic trembles (or earthquakes) that are affecting some people in these United States?

Whether you’re facing eating beans out of a can or still charging Jimmy Choos on Daddy’s AMEX, it’s never too early to learn a thing or two from Southern belles past and present on how to stay afloat in a crisis.

Lesson #1: Be resourceful.

Take a page from the Scarlett O’Hara play book. If you really, desperately need a gown for the prom or formal (or deb ball), then just make one from the drapes!

When you haven’t got anything to lose, somehow you’ll be so creative that new ideas for making it work will come to you.

Lesson #2: Be polite.

Using your charm is not only a great way to get a date (hey, free food!), but also just asking people to help you out can go a long way.

Need an oil change but don’t have $38.50 for Jiffy Lube?

Just ask your neighbor- he’d probably be more than happy to help. What about that pesky leaking faucet? Maybe your mail carrier knows a great plumber who doesn’t charge a fortune.

And how about a little touch up on those roots (come on, you’re not fooling anyone)? See if your hair stylist will barter babysitting for some bottle blond.

A polite little question can go a long way to pay day.


Lesson # 3: Do it yourself.

I know this is not always so popular, but think about the things that you normally have other people do. Here in NYC, it’s easy to have someone else do your laundry.

Each week, you just drop off a bag of the dirties and pick it up the next day clean and folded.

Nice, but not necessary.

Same goes for manicures and pedicures (actually, I’m WAY better at painting my toes than anyone else I pay to do it) and maybe even waxing (though for some areas do NOT try this at home).

The point is, maybe if you economize on some things, you won’t feel the pinch at the end of the month.

And if Daddy’s still paying, well, live it up girl, and treat your friends to a couple rounds of sweet tea.

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Celeb Rebel Deb- Ri Ri

There's no doubt about it: southern women are tough. Why else would they be called "Steel Magnolias?"

(If you're a Yankee interloper on this blog and have no idea what a steel magnolia is, well, first you gotta go get the movie. It's fantastic. Second, you need to go down South in the spring just to get a look at and take a whiff of a real live magnolia tree in bloom. It will all make sense.)

Ok, so basically, some Southern women are kinda used to weak men who need to knock around their women in order to feel more manly. Or whatever.

It ain't right, that's fer sher. But it does happen.

And it would seem that Rihanna has become another woman at the receiving end of this "weak man who can't control his temper and somehow thinks a beautiful girl's face ought to be a punching bag" angst.

Let's be clear about this: Abuse (of any kind) is NOT OK.


To start with, however, Chris Brown is from Tappahannock, VA. This town of 2000 where only half the people speak English and only half again of those can actually read is sortof a lost cause.

(I can say this, I used to live there.)

Anyway, small town country boy makes good in big, bad world of R&B and rap where JLo and P Diddy use guns in their fights.... you can kinda see where celebs think they're somehow immune from some common things like respect for the law, and other human beings.

Regardless of his nature vs. nurture, Chris Brown f-ed up. Big time.

Here's hoping Rihanna does NOT do what many battered women do: go back to their abusers.

Her aunt, Yvonne Fenty, said Rihanna is getting "her life back on track."

Let's hope that means without Chris Brown.

xo,

Lauren

another Rebel Deb

Blowjobs: Sex or ... Well, What the Hell Else Could They Be?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

This Week's F-Bomb Goes To... Valentine's Day!

"NO woman will ever be truly satisfied on Valentine's Day because no man will ever have a chocolate penis wrapped in money that ejaculates diamonds." - My mother.

xo,

Rebel Deb

The F-Word. Come On...You Know You Want to Say It!

Welcome to my new blogging series, betches.

I call it "The F-Word."


And what, you might ask, IS this "F-Word?" Are you SERIOUSLY naming a whole blog series on PROFANITY?

Well... Yes and no.

"The F-Word" is Feminism, my friends.

And, unfortunately, that word has become, for many folks, "profane."

In the aftermath of the 60's, Feminism somehow morphed from a symbol of hope for the unhappy, downtrodden homemaker with zero knowledge of birth control or any clue how to orgasm, the $.78 for every $1 female office worker, and the pregnant teenager forced into a coat-hanger abortion after years of "abstinence-only" sex-ed and no access to birth control...

To a "dirty word" in many folk's minds.

We used to be liberators, people. We wanted to free women from the "acceptable" prejudices: chauvinism and sexism...

The socially "acceptable" forms of slavery: forced pregnancy, unhappy marriage, unfair wages.

We wanted to give women the freedom to think, work and live for themselves. And, to some degree, we SUCCEEDED.

For example, because of Feminists, many teenaged girls today (thankfully!) don't even know what a "coat-hanger abortion" is.

And I pray to G-D Roe v. Wade is never overturned so that they never have to find out...

Nowadays, however, no one realizes or appreciates the efforts of "The F-Word."

In fact, most people I enocunter equate feminists to ugly, man-hating lesbians with hairy armpits and backstage passes to Lillith Fair.

Not so, my friends. Not. So.

Feminism isn't about hating men. It isn't about lesbianism -- it isn't a sexuality, it's a social, political and economic philosphy...

"The F-Word," my friends, is about equality. Specifically, the equality -- biologically, intellectually, emotionally and psychologically -- of men and women.

In short, as a modern feminist, I don't believe there is ANY difference between women and men.

I mean, sure... Women and men are raised and programmed and cultivated into different kinds of actions, feelings and paths based on their gender... but we all share the same DNA, the same emotions, the same brains and the same dreams.

Thus, as a straight, attractive woman who doesn't particularly enjoy the Indigo Girls... I still consider myself to be an F-Word:

A Feminist.

And why?

Because I believe I -- like every woman -- am equal to a man in each and every respect imaginable.

That said, I'd like to present this week's "F-Bomb!"

The "F-Bomb!" goes out to President Obama for his support of the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Restoration Act.

The text of President Obama's statements is as follows:


"It is fitting that with the very first bill I sign - the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Restoration Act - we are upholding one of this nation's first principles: that we are all created equal and each deserve a chance to pursue our own version of happiness.

It is also fitting that we are joined today by the woman after whom this bill is named - someone Michelle and I have had the privilege of getting to know for ourselves.

Lilly Ledbetter didn't set out to be a trailblazer or a household name. She was just a good hard worker who did her job - and did it well - for nearly two decades before discovering that for years, she was paid less than her male colleagues for the very same work. Over the course of her career, she lost more than $200,000 in salary, and even more in pension and Social Security benefits - losses she still feels today.

Now, Lilly could have accepted her lot and moved on.

She could have decided that it wasn't worth the hassle and harassment that would inevitably come with speaking up for what she deserved. But instead, she decided that there was a principle at stake, something worth fighting for.

So she set out on a journey that would take more than ten years, take her all the way to the Supreme Court, and lead to this bill which will help others get the justice she was denied.

Because while this bill bears her name, Lilly knows this story isn't just about her.

It's the story of women across this country still earning just 78 cents for every dollar men earn - women of color even less - which means that today, in the year 2009, countless women are still losing thousands of dollars in salary, income and retirement savings over the course of a lifetime.

But equal pay is by no means just a women's issue - it's a family issue.

It's about parents who find themselves with less money for tuition or child care; couples who wind up with less to retire on; households where, when one breadwinner is paid less than she deserves, that's the difference between affording the mortgage - or not; between keeping the heat on, or paying the doctor's bills - or not.

And in this economy, when so many folks are already working harder for less and struggling to get by, the last thing they can afford is losing part of each month's paycheck to simple discrimination.

So in signing this bill today, I intend to send a clear message: That making our economy work means making sure it works for everyone.

That there are no second class citizens in our workplaces, and that it's not just unfair and illegal - but bad for business - to pay someone less because of their gender, age, race, ethnicity, religion or disability.

And that justice isn't about some abstract legal theory, or footnote in a casebook - it's about how our laws affect the daily realities of people's lives: their ability to make a living and care for their families and achieve their goals.

Ultimately, though, equal pay isn't just an economic issue for millions of Americans and their families, it's a question of who we are - and whether we're truly living up to our fundamental ideals. Whether we'll do our part, as generations before us, to ensure those words put to paper more than 200 years ago really mean something - to breathe new life into them with the more enlightened understandings of our time.

That is what Lilly Ledbetter challenged us to do.

And today, I sign this bill not just in her honor, but in honor of those who came before her.

Women like my grandmother who worked in a bank all her life, and even after she hit that glass ceiling, kept getting up and giving her best every day, without complaint, because she wanted something better for me and my sister.

And I sign this bill for my daughters, and all those who will come after us, because I want them to grow up in a nation that values their contributions, where there are no limits to their dreams and they have opportunities their mothers and grandmothers never could have imagined.

In the end, that's why Lilly stayed the course.

She knew it was too late for her - that this bill wouldn't undo the years of injustice she faced or restore the earnings she was denied.

But this grandmother from Alabama kept on fighting, because she was thinking about the next generation. It's what we've always done in America - set our sights high for ourselves, but even higher for our children and grandchildren.

Now it's up to us to continue this work.

This bill is an important step - a simple fix to ensure fundamental fairness to American workers - and I want to thank this remarkable and bi-partisan group of legislators who worked so hard to get it passed. And this is only the beginning.

I know that if we stay focused, as Lilly did - and keep standing for what's right, as Lilly did - we will close that pay gap and ensure that our daughters have the same rights, the same chances, and the same freedom to pursue their dreams as our sons.

Thank you."


About effing time, Mr. President. Thank you and an even bigger thanks to Lilly Ledbetter. You two are the effing "F-Bomb!"


xo,

Rebel Deb

"Betch" versus "Bitch": A Rebel Deb Explains the Subtle Difference...

So, there's this girl who works for me...

Or shall I say "betch?"

Actually, no. I won't call her a "betch," because betches are what make the rockin' world go round...

This girl, on the other hand?

She is the quintessential anti-betch, betches.

In fact, I would go so far as to call her a "bitch."

I won't go too much into detail, but suffice it to say that she works for me. Indirectly. She works for something who works for me. And she contacts me occassionally to send me appointments for various business meetings...

Anywho.

She'll a tad too snarky sometimes. A tad anxious or critical or whatever sometimes. And I totally get that. I was an assistant once myself at a BIG ASS talent agency in LA, so I totally understand how it feels to be in her knock-off D&G's every morning, dealing with clients from noon till night...

But, today... let's just say... she pulled an Anti-Betch.

Just to clarify:

"Betches" are clean, sexy, cool women who express themselves and their minds with dignity and poise. They're never push-overs, but never pushy.

Like So:

"Hawt road-trip Betches."

"Bitches," on the other hand, are hellish cat-demons who, much like cops, drag queens, cab drivers and the occassional bouncer, wield their tiny insignificant slice of power with a huge, brass-knuckled fist!

Like So:

"Bitches from Hell."

This girl was not a "betch." She was a "bitch."

She basically calls me up today (and every day) with the attitude that I work for her, as opposed to vice versa, and starts treating me like I'm a bad person for going out of town on the weekends... and why? Because I'm not immediately available for whatever appointment she wants me to take the very next day.

Aren't your agents (and their assistants) supposed to work for YOU? Isn't that kindof, like, why you pay them a commission?

Who knows?

All I've got to say is: Step off.

xoxo,
Rebel Deb

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia..

A friend and author of Confessions of a Rebel Debutante, Anna Fields, poses a question on her blog to all women.

Are you a rebel, a deb, or both?

My initial response is to whoop a rebel call because I wasn't a debutante. I didn't attend the balls or eat the cookies - that was normally for girls whose families had more money.

But I was a "quality girl" raised on the right side of the tracks in a good Christian home. So after some introspection, I change my answer to both.

Being raised a lady held the same rules as those debbing.

Stand up straight.
Be gracious and courteous to others, hospitable, and kind.
I learned how to be a good hostess, how to set a table, which fork was which, never to cross my legs at the knee and how to properly behave in mixed company.

These instructions gave me confidence and ease in any social or private situation. And as a southern girl I was taught under no circumstance to cause a fuss, make a scene, or embarrass myself or anyone else - all things can be settled in private or eventually the good Lord will deal with the perpetrator and justice will prevail.

I don't always behave the way my mother or grandmother would have in the same setting, but I am more inclined to hold my tongue and chose my battles.

If it's none of my business, I generally stay out of it. I won't cause a scene just for the sake of drama, but if I have something to say or feel the need to set someone straight, I will.

I don't think there's anything wrong with a little bit of embarrassment where a swift kick in the rear is needed.

And if a little public humiliation doesn’t do the trick than I’ll leave it to the good Lawd or their mamas, which ever one gets to them first.

Fight what’s worth fighting. Strength of character and a southern tongue are powerful weapons.


Julia: Excuse me, aren't you Marjorie Leigh Winnick, the current Miss Georgia World?

Marjorie: Why, yes I am.

Julia: I'm Julia Sugarbaker, Suzanne Sugarbaker's sister. I couldn't help over hearing part of your conversation.

Marjorie: Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was here.

Julia: Yes, and I gather from your comments there are a couple of other things you don't know, Marjorie.

For example, you probably didn't know that Suzanne was the only contestant in Georgia pageant history to sweep every category except congeniality, and that is not something the women in my family aspire to anyway.

Or that when she walked down the runway in her swimsuit, five contestants quit on the spot.

Or that when she emerged from the isolation booth to answer the question, "What would you do to prevent war?" she spoke so eloquently of patriotism, battlefields and diamond tiaras, grown men wept.

And you probably didn't know, Marjorie, that Suzanne was not just any Miss Georgia, she was the Miss Georgia. She didn't twirl just a baton, that baton was on fire. And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks!

And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face!

And that, Marjorie - just so you will know - and your children will someday know - is the night the lights went out in Georgia!

So, I'm both. A rebel and a deb.

xo,

Aubrey Stevens
Proud Rebel Deb

Name the Worst TV Shows EVER!

This week, CBS canceled its bankrupt casino drama "Viva Laughlin," which some have called one of the worst TV shows ever. Which got me to thinking.

Here, then, is the Rebel Deb's list of The 25 Worst TV Shows Ever. Let the debate begin.

"You're in the Picture" (1961). Jackie Gleason appeared in a prime time quiz show, but it was so bad the quiz format was dropped after one airing and it became instead a short-lived talk show. Even Gleason knew it was bad: "I've seen bombs in my day, but this one made the H-bomb look like a 2-inch salute."

"Petticoat Junction" (1963-'70). Some shows from that era hold up remarkably well -- either as sweet nostalgia or entertaining camp. Not this one, set in Hooterville.

"My Mother the Car" (1965-66). In it, Jerry Van Dyke's mother was reincarnated as a talking automobile, the voice supplied by Ann Sothern. Actually made it through one season.

"Turn-On" (1969). Illegitimate son of "Laugh-In." Lasted one episode.

"Ernest Angley Hour" (1973-present). Broadcast from Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, Angley's Southern rural lisp deliveries are syndicated worldwide. While he doesn't claim to be a faith healer, his trademark palm-of-the-hand to the forehead is accompanied by his high-pitched shout "Be heeeeaaaalllled!" as the healee drops to the floor, to be caught by an assistant.

"B.J. and the Bear" (1979-81). Comedy/adventure about an itinerant trucker who traveled the nation's highways with his pet chimpanzee.

"When Things Were Rotten" (1975). Created by Mel Brooks. Hoo boy. Lasted a half season. Brooks used the same Robin Hood theme in the 1993 movie "Men in Tights."

"Mr. T. and Tina" (1976). Starring Pat Morita (who also played Arnold on "Happy Days"). Canceled after five episodes.

"The Ropers" (1979-80). An entire show built around the landlords from the nearly as awful "Three's Company."

"Joanie Loves Chachi" (1982-83). Scott Baio's addition to "Happy Days" was a classic jump-the-shark moment; here the shark goes belly up and begins to smell.

"Mama's Family" (1983-90). The Vickie Lawrence skit was the weak link on "The Carol Burnett Show." So, naturally, it got a weekly half-hour.

"Manimal" (1983). NYU prof could change into any animal to help fight crimes. Show turned into a turkey.

"Mr. Belvedere" (1985-90). Starred Bob Uecker -- need we say more?

"Small Wonder" (1985-89): Robot scientist builds robot in the shape of a 10-year-old girl, then tries to hide her amid his family. Theme-song quote: "She's fantastic/Made of plastic."

"Life With Lucy" (1986). Lucille Ball's final, disastrous short-lived series. It lasted only a few months but still tarnished the TV icon's legacy.

"Beauty and the Beast" (1987-90). The pretty gal and ugly critter didn't just love each other; they solved crimes!

"Cop Rock" (1990). Steven Bochco, apparently bored with making legitimate cop series ("Hill Street Blues"), decided it would be fun to have cops sing, and it would be even more fun to have them performing legit, hard-core cop work while they did it.

"Pink Lady and Jeff" (1980): Quite possibly the most demented variety show of all time, this bizarre offering paired two Japanese pop singers who spoke almost no English with comedian Jeff Altman. Hilarity did not ensue.

"The 100 Lives of Black Jack Savage" (1991). A 17th Century pirate trans-whatevered to modern times has to save a life for every one he's taken. Which, come to think of it, is the same plot as "My Name Is Earl."

"The Jerry Springer Show" (1991 to present). His aim is low.

"Barney & Friends" (1992-present). Yes, some little kids love it. But parents helped compile this list, and it annoys the heck out of me. Watch video

"Homeboys from Outer Space" (1996-97). The name was a tip-off.

"The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer" (1998). A black British gentleman run out of England for cheating takes a job as a butler to Abraham Lincoln. And it was a comedy. And it made fun of slavery.

XFL (2001). NBC and Pro wrestling decide football isn't entertaining enough the way it is. They are wrong.

"Cavemen" (2007): We'll take this insurance commercial, see, only we'll make it 30 times as long! No, not the one with the lizard.

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Go Getcha Girdle, Girl!

Sometimes, I truly, deeply feel sorry for Hollywood actresses. Take, for example, Jessica Alba, who, in the March issue of ELLE magazine, talks about trying to get back into shape unhumanly fast after giving birth to her daughter, Honor. In the story, Alba describes workouts so horrible and strenuous, they made her cry.

Another trial she endured for beauty's sake?

“I wore a girdle," she says. "Eight weeks after my girlfriend had her baby, you could see her six-pack. She told me to put an elastic band around my waist—any kind of band or girdle works. She was like, 'I slept in it.' I didn’t recover as fast as she did. I [still] don’t have a six-pack.”

All of this torture wasn't even for a film role—it was so the 27-year-old could star in Campari's new ad campaign (and so, if you remember, the company could airbrush her perfectly gorgeous body anyway).

Further in the ELLE story, Alba talks about what it feels like to give birth ("Contractions aren’t that bad. If you’ve ever had bad cramps? That’s what they’re like. But that moment when they put the baby on your chest—that’s deep. It’s a deep experience.”), her new separation anxiety ("I never cried before. Just being a mother is making me a big, weepy mess.”), and, of course, fashion (“I’ve always loved beautiful clothes, but I’m not very hip to the coolest, newest, most fashionable thing.").

She seems considerably vulnerable and, honestly, lovable. Check out the whole story here, become a Jessica Alba fan. It's Okay, you should. The girl's been through enough.

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

What Would a Southern Belle Do? Advice for Michael Phelps

Poor thing.

You already have an ungainly body and an under bite. And now to make matters worse, you've gone and gotten yerself in REAL trouble.

14 some odd gold medals notwithstanding, Michael Phelps is experiencing the worst Southern catastrophe known to man. Worse than being ratted out as a cheater at church when you're the pastor. Worse than being snubbed by your neighbor Evelyn and sitting home while everyone else heads to the country club for the wedding of the millennium. Worse, even, than showing up to your Deb Ball in the SAME GOWN as another Deb.

Michael Phelps is experiencing what we call "a fall from grace." His pedestal was so gosh darn high that this was inevitable. (I mean, he warmed us up with a DUI for crying out loud.)

And we ladies of the South know a thing or two about pedestals. And that means we know even more about falling off of em.

So here is some good advice for Michael, and anyone else who's taken a tumble recently.

WWSBD? What Would a Southern Belle Do....?


1. Save face.
Honey, you can't hide it so it better look good. Get yer hair did. Get yer nails done. Michael might benefit from sporting as much official Olympic clothing as possible, but you don't want to overdo it either. Regardless, dazzle 'em with your pearly whites and make sure you're wearing clean underwear.

Every Southern woman knows that the external appearance is armor, plain and simple.

2. Circle the wagons and have a pow wow.
Get together with the folks who know you best and aren't afraid to tell it like it is. You need real advice from people who have to be seen with you regardless of how bad the scandal is. They usually share your last name.

3. Kick back.
Maybe in this case Michael should refrain from "kicking back" in his customary style (note to self: put the bong DOWN), but in general it doesn't hurt to let your hair down. But do it discreetly. This is NOT the time for a rager or night on the town.

4. Apologize.
If you let people down, then own up to it. Even if it's in a lovely hand written note, admitting you were wrong can go a long way, and may even maintain your endorsement deals.



Next time you find yourself in a public scandal, just think WWSBD?


xo,

Rebel Deb

Never let your comfort foods talk back. Slap that betch!

Growing up, my mama served us cake for breakfast on our birthdays. German chocolate, carrot cake, white cake with chocolate fudge icing. Whatever our little hearts desired.

Instead of a healthy, wholesome breakfast, we got to eat cake in bed. For her, that was the equivalent of keying the car of her most hated teacher or something. And hey, housewives need to get their thrills too.

So I let her have that (sugar) rush. Of course, she tempered all that white flour and real butter with a glassful of milk and our morning Flinstones multi-vitamin.

That's right. It's like using a condom AND birth control pills for your one-night stand. Fun, frothy, and only happens once a year- I'm talking about eating cake for breakfast on your birthday, betches- but might as well swallow the Flinstones with it!


xo,

Rebel Deb

Celeb Rebel Deb- This One's a Country Girl

Who better to represent a true Rebel Deb then country star Faith Hill?

Poised, proper and stunningly beautiful, Faith Hill has a (teeny tiny) history of drug use and *may* have slept her way to the top via now hubby Tim McGraw.

At Sunday night’s Super Bowl, she sang "America the Beautiful," a song previously performed by legends Vicki Carr and Ray Charles.


Why do we love her? Because she's REAL people. In interviews she sometimes gets a little testy about her past, but when it comes right down to it, she tells it like it is. Just like any real Rebel Deb would.




Hot mom, career gal and feisty too? That's a real Rebel Deb.

xo,

Rebel Deb

Let's go shopping! (the Rebel Deb way, of course!)

Howdy, betches.


Dahlings, you are cordially invited to visit us at the Rebel Deb shop!

I've had so many requests for these Rebel Debutante t-shirts that we're going to make them available to all you Rebel Debs out there!

We'll be adding new styles and colors over the next few months, and if you have a custom request, just let me know.

Rebel Debs always aim to please. ;)



Here are two Rebel Debs- Dana and Melissa- showing off two new styles!

xo,

Rebel Deb

Celeb Rebel Deb of the Week!

As we enter the exciting, emotional, unpredictable and always fabulous award show season, Celeb Rebel Debs always steal the show!

From the red carpet to the main stage, they seem to have an extra spotlight always on them.

And last night at the 15th Annual Screen Actor Guild Awards, there was no question who stole the show. (BTW, yours truly has a SAG card. I highly recommend them.)

Out of all the nominees (quite the bunch of Rebel Debs If I do say so myself), Kate Winslet was the frontrunner for her incredible performance in Revolutionary Road, but it was the one and only MERYL STREEP who took home the Best Actress award for her role in Doubt.




(Another btw for you celeb hounds out there-- the party pix in December's blog were from a party at the house of John Shanley. He wrote and directed Doubt. Can we say A list?! Meryl, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Judy Reyes (she's Carla on Scrubs AND tried to take a body shot with my boyf) were all there with us to celebrate Christmas with champagne and plenty of bacon-wrapped meatloaf. It was like a Southern party without the moonshine and real celebrities instead of local ones like Davie the owner of Davie's Girly Carwash.)


Anyway, back to Meryl-- the real star of today's blog!

She was genuinely suprised when Ralph Fiennes named her best actress. Her excitement and subsequent speech were truly heartfelt.

Once she was finished running through the crowd high-fiving her fellow actors, she made it to the stage, giggled like a school girl at her win, and said,

“I didn’t even buy a dress!”

SO bad ass. Meryl Streep is a consummate Rebel Deb. She won the SAG award (generally more highly prized among actors because the honor is bestowed by their peers), didn't even expect it (even though she's one of the best living actresses), AND did it all wearing pants! Oh yeah, and she smooched Ralph Fiennes. Way to go Meryl!



Xo,

Rebel Deb

"The Reality of Getting Canceled... TV Shows that Bit the Dust!"

So by now you girls probably know that I'm a TV writer-- day time TV is my bread and butter (yeah, that means soap operas).

Basically, I get an outline of the action and then write the dialog. It's up to me to explain how Brandon is in bed with Tina at the beginning of an episode and by the end she's throwing him off a cliff.

Fascinating stuff.

I'm starting to work on prime time shows that you know you watch (I just can't tell you which ones yet). When the ratings start to suck, they hire the big guns (that's me!) to see if we can work magic in the writers' room.

Speaking of writers' rooms, they're pretty much full of old men who make dirty jokes. I guess that makes them dirty old men.

They get paid a lot to edit their raunchiness down to FCC standards, and that boys and girls is how they create your fave TV shows! Reality TV, however, is a different story. Fairly inexpensive to produce, every network thinks it might have a cash cow success like American Idol on its hands.

And, being the TV aficionado that I am, I must admit: I HEART REALITY TV. (Please don't judge me.)

Come on, admit you watch Rock of Love, people.

Anyway, here's a recap of some of the bombs on TV of late. Suddenly Simon is looking good!

Though long-running hits like Fox's "American Idol," which returns for its eighth season, continue to dominate the Nielsen charts, the rest of reality TV has failed to produce a similar-sized success in years (check out the reality TV airing this Winter).

From mom and daughter beauty pageants to celebrities displaying off-the-wall talents some of these reality disasters couldn't capture much of an audience at all.

Here's a look at some recent reality losers:

"Opportunity Knocks"

Network: ABC. Average Audience: 5.9 million viewers.

The Ashton Kutcher-produced game show based on trivia about your family set right in your own backyard. The family-friendly ABC show hosted by J.D. Roth failed to lure big viewership. Knocks was yanked after just three episodes.

"Secret Talents of the Stars"

Network: CBS. Average Audience: 4.6 million.

The short-lived competition show featured an array of stars and their hidden skills. Think Olympic figure skater Sasha Cohen performing with a Chinese acrobat troupe. The series achieved a rare feat: It was canceled the day after it premiered.

"High School Musical: Get in the Picture"

Network: ABC. Average Audience: 2.7 million.

Despite a hit film franchise, strong branding and relentless promotion, the televised talent hunt was more Grease than American Idol. It failed to score the buzz of its predecessor. Instead, the Zanessa-free summertime series hosted by Nick Lachey limped along in the ratings.

"Celebrity Circus"

Network: NBC. Average Audience: 5.5 million

Though the Australian import lasted far longer than rival CBS' Secret Talents of the Stars, which was yanked after just one episode, the critically panned NBC series hosted by former 'NSYNC member Joey Fatone wasn't the breakout the network hoped it would be. No wonder. Among the star talent: The Brady Bunch's Christopher Knight, soap opera star Antonio Sabato, Jr. and Olympic swimmer Janet Evans.

"Greatest American Dog"

Network: CBSAverage. Audience: 6 million

Despite high hopes and heavy promotion, the summertime talent competition--this one was American Idol meets Big Brother, with canines--lacked the bite it needed. In the end, the show's cliché formula--fighting contestants and communal living--proved a turn-off for viewers.

"Crowned: The Mother of all Pageants"

Network: CW. Average Audience: 1.7 million

The mother-daughter beauty pageant competition series was hardly the lift the ratings-challenged network needed. Among other things, the show's three judges--Queer Eye's Carson Kressley, Miss USA 1995 Shanna Moakler and TV personality Cynthia Garrett--lacked the chemistry of Idol's famed trio Randy, Simon and Paula. The result: Unlike the CW's other buzz-worthy shows, Gossip Girl and 90210, Crowned was virtually ignored.

"My Dad is Better than Your Dad"

Network: NBC. Average Audience: 6.1 million

The American Gladiators meets Double Dare strike-time series featured fathers and sons battling out in a series of stunts and trivia. The show, which premiered in February, failed to score big buzz or viewers.


The Rebel Deb moral of the story?

If you have a decent idea for a reality TV show, PITCH IT! It's bound to be better than the crap the networks are producing.

Now's your chance to be a star!!!

xo,

Rebel Deb

Celeb Rebel Debs (Take One)

As we all know, most of us have a lil' bit o Rebel and a lil bit o Deb. Some of us, of course, tend towards the REBEL side a bit more....

But as card-carrying Rebel Debs, we know a thing or two about living in between those two extremes.

Walkin' the line.

Embracing the contradictions inherent in being both Rebel and Deb.

Unfortunately, though, we don't often have living, breathing examples of how to balance that dichotomy. Fortunately, we DO have an active culture of celebrity worship that gives unfamous Rebel Debs the world over stunning examples of how to act (and not to act) as modern day Rebel Debutantes.

So today marks the inaugural (heehee) edition of Celeb Rebel Debs!

Each and every Monday, I'll highlight a Celeb Rebel Deb- someone who embodies what it means to be a modern woman. She may not be Southern, but she's all about being a Rebel Deb.

So….*drumroll please*…

who could have possibly secured the top spot as this week's Celeb Rebel Deb?

Mrs. Scarlett Jo of course!

As the face of Dolce & Gabbana’s new make-up line, this fantastically delicious diva is channeling Marilyn for a sweet and sexy image that straddles the line.

(image courtesy of perezhilton.com)

With her big, blond curls, and perfect red pout, Mrs. Johansson (or should I say Reynolds?) looks quite the Deb in the first image released from the upcoming campaign. But her expression gives her away-- we can only guess what she's got on her mind. Rest assured it's something naughty!

So for those of you who love celebrity news that might make you think, be sure to check back each Monday to see which Celeb Rebel Deb made us turn our head and say “Oh My”!

Xo,
Rebel Deb

My Second "Debut" at La MaMa!

Howdy, y'all!

I'm so glad that so many of you made it out to the show on Tuesday night. For those who didn't here are some pix just to give you an idear.

See Mama, don't I look purty?!

Ten Things You Never Knew About the Rebel Deb!

1) I loooooove sunscreen. I buy sunscreen every time I go to any drugstore. It's almost compulsive. And it really doesn't matter if I actually NEED any or I'm literally OUT of sunscreen -- I have to try the newest stuff the MINUTE it hits the shelves. Oh, and the higher the SPF, the better.

2) Minus the baldness, I think Tom Cruise looked better in "Tropic Thunder" -- you know, the scenes where he wore a "fat suit" that gave him bigger shoulders and a rounder, meatier butt... you know the ones I mean? -- than he does in real life. Don't shoot me!

3) I obsess over my wrinkles. Especially around my eyes and mouth -- my "laugh" lines make me want to CRY.

4) I'm a chocoholic. And I love desserts featuring chocolate with raspberry/any kind of fruit flavoring. I HATE desserts that ignore my need for chocolate (translation: Creme brulee, you can suck it.)

5) I love Reality TV. I can't help it. After a long day of Rebelling and Debbing, I crave mindless entertainment. My FAVES include "Rock of Love Tour Bus," "The Real Housewives of Orange County," "Top Chef"... and pretty much everything on Bravo Network. Again, don't shoot me!

6) I own over sixty pairs of shoes. (I love red stilettos the most!)

7) I love big shiny earrings. (translation: I like it when my whole head sparkles!)

8) I have ZERO tolerance for alcohol. I've literally gotten drunk off a half-glass of wine. Seriously. And I can only drink white German Riesling. And only a tiny sip at a time because I can't stand the taste of alcohol. Yuck!

9) I'm super duper mothering, towards my friends, my colleagues... even my editors! I can't help it. I want to take care of everyone I know and like. I want to wrap them up in a gossamer blanket of Southern warmth!

10) My family's nicknames for me are wide and varied. They include: Wide-Mouthed Frog, Moonpie Face, Trouble, Anna Mae Troublefield, Stinker, Chicken-Licken, Shug, Sugar, Stinky P, Miss Anna Lee and my favorite.... Man-Catcher.

xo,

Rebel Deb

Come See the Rebel Deb TONIGHT in NYC!

That's right-- tonight's the night!

Confessions of a Rebel Debutante

8pm at La MaMa ETC 74A East 4th St
Tickets $8

- excerpts from the one woman show written and performed by Anna Fields with special guest singer/songwriter (and Nashville deb) Kelleigh Bannen

AnnaBelle will be back on stage in all her insecure glory along with characters like the Headmistress from Hell, snotty field hockey players and the "is she or isn't she" roommate, Leigh.


Don't miss it!

xo,

Rebel Deb

Stop Stalking Me! The Blackberry Needs Her Space.

Dear Beloved User,

We need to talk.




Shall I be brutally honest?

You're becoming a bit of a stalker.

Have you noticed? You MUST have. Our relationship was once strong and healthy. You took care of me. We had boundaries. You cut me off at night and we each had healthy "alone" time. You bought me romantic coverlets and showered me with downloads. You treated me gently -- stroking my keys, placing me down carefully to rest your hands from holding my slender body...



But now?

Now, I can't keep your hands off me. And your key-punching, once tender, tentative and loving, has now turned to outright punching as you type away whatever meaningless work-related message you send to into cyberspace. Even your friends have noticed how you've let my coverlets wear thin -- they barely cover my spacebar anymore! Is it your intention to humiliate me?

Also, whatever happened to "me" time? A girl needs her beauty rest. Even in the bedroom, you never pay any attention whatsoever to my needs. You ignore my "off" button altogether, and keep punching away at my keys for your own selfish satisfaction. All. Night. Long. When am I supposed to find release??

The days have become even worse. What was once a momentary lust for conversation has become a constant need for interaction. Bursts of laughter and camaraderie once filled the air around me. But now your co-dependence has left you addicted to my kindness and you can’t live without my constant glowing screen and the comforting sound of my keys clacking away as you talk to your friends (yet fail to be around them... you simply talk to them through me!).

One minute, I'm the source of your addiction, then next I’m being thrown about, tossed to the passenger seat of your car like you haven’t a care in the world. The coverlet you once enclosed me in that kept me warm and protected me from the rigors of the outside world has worn thin with use and disgusting hand sweat. Now, I’m exposed, naked, for the entire world to see. How did we end up like this?

I’m through with this abuse. I feel completely used and disrespected by your bi-polar attitude!

Half the time I feel stalked, constantly watched as I sit on the floor of your room or in a corner being charged, preparing to receive more abuse. The other half, I'm ignored or thrown to the back of your life, my "off" button ignored completely while you satisfy your own needs and exhaust my battery.

The more I think about it... I feel I need time apart.

Please don’t text your friends or set up appointments on my calendar. Better yet, stop honing your brick breaker skills and go recover those friendships you’ve let go to the wayside due to your overuse of me. It’ll be beneficial to both your health and mine. I only hope that one day our relationship can flourish again.

Sincerely,

Your BlackBerry.

The January Gym Jam-- How to Make the Most of It

It's January. And you know what that means-- all the fat asses who haven't worked out for the past 10 months are back at: hogging the elliptical and packing the yoga classes (how can you relax when someone is breathing down your neck?).

SO, what's a Rebel Deb to do?

Well, you could claim your own space by being the gassy girl, but I don't really recommend that.

Instead, take advantage of the packed gym with these top tips:

1. Wear less clothing. When have you ever seen so many men in a Pilates class? If you haven't had a date in a while, the gym in January is the place to be.



And now for a little detour-- I LOVE that you will find women in ratty frat t-shirts and sweats with exquisite hair, perfect makeup, nary a sweat droplet, and big ol' diamonds at the gym. Year-round. And especially in places like Alabama and Tennessee. God bless the South.

ok, my only other tip for this time of year is this:

2. Go outside! If you live in Charleston or points south, you might be able to hike, bike, surf, jog and/or play tennis without crazy amounts of layers. This is certainly one of the BIGGEST plusses about living below the Mason-Dixon.


We know that exercise is good for you- for your heart and your blood pressure and your cholesterol and your mood, and it keeps you fit from the inside out. So even if the gym is slammed, I hope you keep your fitness kick going all year long!

xo,

Rebel Deb

Why Germ Relationships Go Bad... a Love Letter

Dear One,

It has become painfully clear that our brief but sweet 27-year-long relationship may be coming to an end.

No -- don't say it -- you don't have to!

I know I was too clingy when we first met. You were exhausted and pale after the Lallapalooza concert. I was just a shy young thing waiting in your bloodstreams, hanging on your every lymph node.

I know in those early days I was too infatuated. I stuck to your red blood cells like an insecure, trembling puppy.

I admit my faults: suspecting you of cheating with that floozy influenza and her whorish step-sister, strep throat... even the likes of slutty typhoid and her butter-faced friend, HPV.

I know, my love. I know I have been the one to blame for our tortured love.

But PLEASE. For the love of all that is bright and beautiful in this world...you owe it to me and to yourself to at least TRY to make our relationship work!

After all, you've had a hand in our demise...

Don't give me that look! I've heard about your late nights at the coffee shop, listening to your IPOD and facebooking with friends instead of sharing drinks and tonguing your latest crush. Our friends Epstein-Barr virus (EBV) and cytomegalovirus (CMV) have told me everything. They've even described your late-night hand-washing, ridding yourself of my viruses, my cold sores and chickenpox... even my very scent on your skin from our love-making... all so that your mistress, Curell, won't have to work nearly as hard to sanitize you for her own lustful enjoyment...

You can't deny it!

No.

Because I know all, my love. And I forgive you.

(sigh)

And if you can't find it in your heart to physically interract with others as opposed to blogging all day long... if you no longer love me enough to fan the flames of our life-long passion... then know this: It will INDEED be life-long.

That's right, lover.

After you're infected, I'm with you for life. But don't worry -- I won't call or stop by or cause any additional symptoms.

Still, if every now and then you feel a tuggling at your cold, black heartstrings... a longing for what we've lost... if you start to produce viral particles in your saliva that can transmit the virus to other people, even though you feel perfectly fine... just remember:

I'm free now, too.

Free to date and dream and infect the man of my dreams. Free to spred throughout him until I've grown into my own and he's perished in a coughing fit on his bathroom floor...

Ah, l'amor.

I will miss it so!

xoxo,

Your Mononucleosis

Come to my next performance! Tuesday Jan 13 in NYC

That's right folks, I'm at it again! Here's the scoop -- invite all your friends!

CONFESSIONS OF A REBEL DEBUTANTE

Tuesday, January 13, 2008 at 8:00pm $8

-- a reading of excerpts from the novel by Anna Fields –-
Featuring Singer/Songwriter Kelleigh Bannen


Anna Fields returns to LaMama Etc with excerpts from her show and upcoming memoir, “Confessions of a Rebel Debutante,” combined with music from Southern belle singer/songwriter, Kelleigh Bannen.

“Confessions” is a firsthand look at the world of Southern Debutantes through the eyes of AnnaBelle, a former Belle of the Ball, who rejects her elitist culture and is dubbed a "Rebel Deb." Nashville Debutante and singer/songwriter Kelleigh Bannen provides the perfect foil to AnnaBelle's Southern shenanigans with her soulful voice and stylistically eclectic music. Together they create a sweet-and-sour portrait of the grand 'ole South, pitted against a 21st century reality.

xo,

Rebel Deb

How Do Rebel Debs Get Organized?

One of the top New Year’s resolutions is to “get organized.” Pretty specific, huh?

Like, clean all the Bojangles bags out of the back of your Camaro, figure out a better filing system for your Steely Dan ticket stubs or perhaps chronicle your all-time best hookups?

Oops, sorry. That’s for the blog “How do Rednecks get organized?!”

Ok, so Rebel Debs.

Most Rebel Debs are probably high achievers -- you know they type: Girls who Get Things Done. You’re career women, students, moms and daughters who remember birthdays, write stunning proposals and papers, chair the charity ball committee and still look damn good on the tennis court or in the roller derby.

Still, nearly every Rebel Deb has a drawer. Or a closet. Or perhaps in the case of a close (and highly successful) friend, an ENTIRE HOUSE that needs organizing.

What’s a fun loving Rebel Deb to do? (Without spending Saturday night at home going through back issues of Ms.?)

Call in the experts!

If your boyfriend or best friend can’t come over unless you put in a good day’s work, then it’s time to call in the pros, ladies. I’m a huge fan of cheating (not that kind!!!) and professional organizers can help you fake the clean skills.

Take Kacy Paide—this girl’s entire job is to help creative people clean their offices. Check out her website, subscribe to her uplifting and informational newsletter, and soon your floors will shine like the top of the Chrysler building.

If letting other people literally see your dirty laundry is not your idea of fun, then try this:

Pretend you are rock star cleaning your house.



I'm serious! Break out the leopard boots and pleather tube top from your sratastic college days. Blare your favorite music (Girls Just Wanna Have Fun perhaps) and dance around with the feather duster. It might not get you out of doing the dirty job, but at least you'll have fun while you're at it.

And who knows? Maybe it will save you from scary rat incidents!


Xo,

A very clean Rebel Deb

Don't Move in with the Rats!

So, as of this morning, I’ve realized that I basically live in a slum.

My apartment in the East Village of Manhattan. This is supposed to be a good neighborhood. I see new buildings and parks being built every day, folks...

I wonder if the rats have found those, too.

Let’s back up a bit…

I’ve been sick as a dog for three days now. On New Year’s Eve, I was feeling a bit better (mostly due to TheraFlu), so Mr. Manning and I went out for a champagne toast at the bar just downstairs. We had a great time, but by the time we got home, both of us were feeling awful. Mr. Manning picked up a stomach bug somewhere and was puking all night. I was congested and achy and all sorts of gross. You’d think it couldn’t get any worse…

And then we wake up this morning to find a dead MOUSE in our living room!

Oh, yes, people: a MOUSE. A long, slimy New York City mouse.

About an hour or so later, I find myself handing the thing (wrapped in a ziplog bag) to my landlord. When he starts laughing and responds with “Well, this isn’t Park Avenue, what do you expect?” …

I. Go. OFF.

I pulled out my inner prosecutor and tore the dude to SHREDS.

I don’t think even Tom Cruise from “A few Good Men” could’ve handed Jack Nicholson his own ass better than I did my landlord.

Long story short – I think I gave him an altogether new view of Southern women, which I’m very proud to say might’ve dispelled some “weak Southern Belle” stereotypes this guy had in his head.

One Rebel Deb, zero slumlord.

Xo,
Rebel Deb

Countdown to '09! (in the meantime, here's the best and worst of 2008)

Well, it’s that time of year again, the end of the year. This means different things to everyone: The end of an era, the beginning of something new. I’m here to bring you what I deem the Best and Worst of 2008.

BEST:

1. Barack Obama’s presidential win.

Democrats can now rejoice as the era of Bush comes to a close and the beginning of a new hope emerges as Obama takes office in early 2009. Finally, change we can believe in!

2. Lil Wayne lives up to his self proclaimed “best rapper alive” status

After much delay, the sensation known as Tha Carter III hit everyone with its alien synthesizers and undeniable beat. The album shows an array of artist collaborations and variations of tempo.

3. Gas prices hitting 5 year low

During the summer of 2008 gas reached over $4 in states across the United States. Flash forward 6 months and prices have plummeted, where some states are enjoying gas for under $2. Hopefully this trend will carry on into 2009.

4. Jenny Lewis’ sophomore indie rock album “Acid Tongue”

Jenny Lewis, former child star and current lead singer for indie rock band “Rilo Kiley,” created her 2nd solo album, Acid Tongue. Country riffs and Jenny’s ethereal voice, this album truly defines Lewis as a strong solo artist and defines her amongst the hipster elites.

WORST:

1. Teenage girls in Massachusetts sign a pregnancy pact

Since when is being a teenage mother an aspired ideal by girls? Apparently at Gloucester High School 17 girls made a “pregnancy pact” to become pregnant and raise their children together. None of the girls are over 16 and a 24-year-old homeless man impregnated one of the girls.

2. MTV

From the continued unbelievable drama occurring on “The Hills” to the ending of the MTV’s only show about music, TRL, the once-influential channel is now going down the tube. From unrealistic “reality” shows to, well, more terrible reality shows, the channel needs to rethink their plans for the future.

3. The Economy

From bailouts to job loss, the economy has been in an unfortunate downward spiral. Although economists didn’t want to use the “R” word at the beginning of the year, it sure seems like things aren’t going so well. Hopefully things will bounce back up during 2009.

4. Sienna Miller

While the blonde beauty hit a peak both with her career as an actor and as a style icon back in 2006, 2008 just wasn’t the same. Caught cheating with a married man, Miller has a lot of things to think about in 2009, like why she’s becoming similar to her ex Jude Law.

xo,

Rebel Deb Monika