Anissa Rafeh's Blog, page 2

Madness with MadGlam

Pic courtesy of MadGlamSo the great RIC had the pleasure of MadGlam's mighty presence recently. Before she came, I warned her: "Are you sure you want to come to Richmond? I repeat: Richmond." And she fervently expressed her excitement at coming. I may be slightly exaggerating on the excitement part. It is RIC after all.

Anyhoo, I picked her up at the train station and she arrives in typical MadGlam style: wearing leopard print pants and sparkly shoes. But then there is the enigma that is MadGlam, she carries her own luggage and travels by train (first class, but still, by train).

The first thing she says to me is, "Take me to get a po-boy sandwich." And I was like, "What the @#$% is a po-boy sandwich?" I literally had to Google it. MadGlam turned to me, amazed, "You live in the South and don't know what a po-boy is?" Even with the Google image and description in hand I had no clue what she was talking about. MadGlam comes to Richmond and her first request is... a gargantuan sandwich?

Well, her wish was my command. We headed over to Pixie Minxie's, who is much more informed of all things RIC, and asked her about this mysterious po-boy and where I could procure one for my dear leopard-print clad friend. She immediately Yelped it and we found a place that was, of course, a million miles away. I had to use Google maps, because I'm one of those RICers who sticks to my neighborhood. If I have to cross a toll, I avoid the place at all costs. But this was MadGlam, so toll be damned.

After the po-boy, it was time to parrttyyyyy, of course. I had devised a plan beforehand with Pixie Minxie to take MadGlam to a typical, no frills bar. I thought, how hilarious it would be to see her in what my co-worker would describe as a 'Murica setting. She is used to glitz and glam, after all, not beer and buffalo wings. But when we got to the place, it wasn't 'Murica enough for her! My plan backfired.

"Let's go to a redneck bar," she then said. I laughed. As if. Pixie was like, "OK, I know a place." Wait... what? This is a serious plan now? "Uh, no. It's going to be full of truck drivers," I said. But apparently MadGlam really wanted to hangout with truck drivers. She met one on the train who told her he was best friends with drug dealers. She then thought it was a good idea to let him watch her suitcase while she went to the restroom. I told her she was nuts, he could've stuffed something in her suitcase! "No, no. I checked," she said, as if it were totally normal to hangout with truck drivers who are best friends with drug dealers.

So, of course, we ended up at a redneck bar. As soon as we got there, MadGlam went to the restroom and came out, eyes bright with excitement, "I love this place already! These ladies in the toilet - who complimented my pants, by the way - told me that last week, this 'skank' was so drunk, she couldn't wait to get to the stall, so she pulled down her pants and peed all over the bathroom floor." Oh. My. God.

To say I was horrified is an understatement (and since when does MadGlam use the word 'skank'?). But MadGlam simply took the drink I had ordered for her and went to the dance floor, where a live band was playing. Pixie is a laid back gal who is very cool and has fun anywhere. She grooved with MadGlam while I leaned against a pool table and tried not to touch anything for fear of contamination.

The band was actually really good and they played classic rock tunes that I love. I was surprised that MadGlam was so into the music, since she prefers Frenchie pop. She claimed to recognize a few of the songs - actually one song - but I'm pretty sure she still confuses band names with designer handbag labels ("No MadGlam, you're thinking of Balenciaga, this is Bon Jovi.")

She then decided she wanted to meet a cop. Don't ask me why. So she goes to the bartender and says in her French accent, "Hello, excuse me, are there any cops here?" He looked confused, so I explained that she is from out of town and it's on her to-do list. I realize now that that sounded really bad, as he then turned to her and said, "I can be a cop, baby." Oh. My. God. Unfazed, she turned around and went back to the dance floor. I laughed uncomfortably, asked for the tab and tried not to grimace when he said, "Sure, baby." Ew. Really?

When we turned to leave, we spied MadGlam chatting with a guy. "Shoo, was a he a cop?" I asked a bit later. "No, another truck driver, but I don't think this one is friends with drug dealers."

What can I say? There is always madness when MadGlam is around!

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Unleashing My Party Gene with J2 Vodka - Woot, Woot!!

Adam Aboulhosn makes J2 happen!So, I know you're all wondering, where oh where can Anissa be? Still mourning the loss of her once-future-husband, George questionable-taste-in-fiancees Clooney? Sulking away at Tarjeh spending way too much money on lip gloss she will never use? Drowning her sorrows in caramel macchiatos from the only-fools-pay-$5-for-coffee Starbucks? Stealing Starbursts from unsuspecting 11-year-olds? I'm glad to tell you 'NO' to all of the above (except the Tarjeh thing - damn that place! Okay, and Starbucks - damn that drive-thru!). So what have I been up to? I'm happy to say that this week, I got to unleash my party gene - yes, even here in the mighty RIC! Yesterday, J2, Lebanon's first premium vodka celebrated its pre-launch in Beirut, and although I could not be there physically, I was definitely there in spirit.

The story of J2 is actually four years in the making. It started as a dream on a balcony in the mountains of Lebanon when two exceptionally forward thinking men decided that Lebanon needed its own vodka. Adam Aboulhosn and Paul Koder, his brother-in-law, were sitting together when Paul said, "Adam, let's make a Lebanese vodka." Adam, the founder of J2 said yes, and the rest, as they say is history.

There were many hurdles along way, but with a lot of hard work and a dedicated heart, J2 Vodka - which gets its name from the genetic marker of the ancient Phoenicians - finally made its entrance in grand style on the rooftop of the Lancaster Plaza Hotel. And what an entrance it was, amid the lovely backdrop of Beirut's shore! I couldn't be there, of course, but I saw a lot of familiar faces in attendance from the photographs splashed all over Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, like comedian Nemr Abou Nassar, DJ MadJam, band members from the Wanton Bishops, and Radio One personality Gavin Ford.

Although I was in front of my computer screen and constantly checking updates on my phone, I felt like I was there, clinking glasses of signature J2 caviar shots with other party goers and letting my party gene loose. Mr. B got to go and he gave me some firsthand accounts throughout the evening. This is a big deal considering that the World Cup is going on. But since England lost to Italy (sorry, mate) I guess he figured there was no better way to lift his spirits than with some good ol' J2!

MadGlam is probably reading this and going, 'Anissa, you have a party gene?' She has her doubts because when she came to visit last week, she dragged me to a redneck bar along with Pixie Minxie to hang out with truck drivers. I am not kidding. This was what she wanted to do. She had a great time, but I was miserable, trying to stand as still as possible so I wouldn't touch anything (but more on that later). And to make matters worse, there was no J2 there to make the night more enjoyable!

You might be wondering why I'm so excited about J2 Vodka. Well, as I said when I moved in November, I left behind my heart and it will be there, always. But at least now, I can pick up a bottle of J2 and have a little taste of my beautiful Lebanon any time I want.

So, yeah, even I have the party gene! Doesn't every Lebanese?

Follow me on Twitter @anissarafeh 

Like J2 on Facebook, follow them on Twitter @J2Vodka

Oh George, it could've been me!

Did I say 'could've'? I meant 'should've', it should've been me! I mean seriously, George, if you were going to end up with a Lebanese chick, why not me? Like your present fiancee, I too hail from the glorious mountains of Lebanon - albeit, the other side of the mountain, but many would argue that it is, in fact, the prettier side. I also speak Arabic (kind of, sort of) and French (bonjour!), and although I've never tried a case, I do object to a lot of things (there are how many calories in this caramel macchiato? I object!).

Admittedly, the similarities stop there: I wasn't born in Lebanon like Amal, no, I was actually born in Kentucky, like you. Ha! See how much we have in common? Also, I'm not a fancy lawyer, but I do own fancy handbags. And I'm not British, but hello, I have about three or four Burberry bags, and that's close enough. Oh, and I went to a British school for seven years and can do a killer accent. Just ask Mr. B, who as a native can vouch for my totally authentic Englishness.

I'd also like to point out that I have been a loyal fan since you played Falconer on the TV show Sisters, and remained loyal while you played Dr. Ross on ER and saw all your films. Ok, you got me. I missed The American. And the March of Dimes. And The Monuments Men. And Ocean's 512. But I really liked Syriana. And that movie where you played the lawyer that fixed things for bigwig clients, kind of like the male Olivia Pope, but without the affair with the president and designer shoes.

So what if over the years my dedication waned ever so slightly. Yes, I had a brief thing with Michael Fassbender. But in my defense, did you see the Jane Eyre remake? I mean, who wouldn't, right? And then there is the whole Benedict Cumberbatch thing. I'm going to plead the fifth on that one on the grounds that I may incriminate myself (psst, hey Ben, ignore this, I still adore you!). Despite these, um, transgressions, when I wrote my book and my publishers posted my biography on their site, I gave a shout out to you (as my future husband) and only you. But were you even remotely appreciative? No! So ungrateful, George, really.

Yes, so I should be the one wearing that ring and going to parties with Cindy Crawford and her husband. On second thought, Cindy still looks amazing and if I wanted to feel bad about myself, I could just sit in front of the TV and watch Victoria's Secret commercials all day. (OT but don't you just hate it when you're watching The Mindy Project and you think to yourself, hmm, I could eat a lovely bowl of ice cream right about now, and then that commercial comes on and you're just like crap, no more ice cream for me?)

Ok, I digress. You still with me, George? No? Well, you should be! (Psst Ben, call me!)


Follow me on Twitter @anissarafeh 

Let's Get the Party Started!

Things just keep getting more and more exciting here in the RIC. I'm going to use RIC from now on, because I think it makes us Richmonders all the more cooler that we have our own INTERNATIONAL airport, and by international, I mean that you can fly to Hawaii or somewhere in Canada. But still, at least we have an airport.

No, seriously, Richmond is great. Very cosmopolitan. Just the other day, I attended my very first live minor league baseball game to cheer on our very own Richmond Squirrels. So what if I left right after the national anthem. So what if I only went because my niece was singing the national anthem. The point is, I went to the baseball game, stood in line to get in holding a ticket and everything and sat in the bleachers. Yes, bleachers.

As I looked around the stadium, watching people in baseball caps chug beers from plastic cups, I thought to myself, Wow, I've come a long way since sitting at a frou-frou beach club in Beirut while some ditz was taking selfies of herself at the pool bar carrying a Chanel bag. People were actually interested in the game, not looking around to see who got the latest plastic surgery procedure and/or $10,000 handbag. Different worlds indeed.

In addition to baseball, other fascinating things I've been up to is figuring out the black money hole that is Target - oh excuse me, Tarjeh. If someone can please explain how it is possible to go in for a stick of deodorant and end up paying $300, please let me know. I am convinced someone from Hogwarts has cast a mysterious 'spend all your money here' spell on the place, so that you end up with 10 different colors of nail polish that you will never wear and hair products that will sit under your sink collecting dust for the next 20 years.

I think it's really scary how much I love Tarjeh. Whenever MadGlam calls and asks what I've been up to, I really want to lie and say that I've been hanging out at all these amazing clubs and restaurants, but it's weird how  99% of the time when she rings I'm actually at Tarjeh. When she asks where I am, I give the vague 'running errands' answer, because I think the mystery will make me sound more interesting. One time I was on the phone with Miss HotStuff and going through the Starbucks drive-thru, and she was like, 'Starbucks has a drive-thru over there? That is so neat!' She lives in London and was totally impressed so I felt cool for three seconds.

So come on over to the RIC - it has everything: live sports, international airports, drive-thru Starbucks and a magical Tarjeh on every corner! Did someone say partayyy?