Sparkly Drinks & Cupcakes with Alex McCord of the Real Housewives of NY

I was recently invited to celebrate the grand opening of Second Time Around...Resale Goes Upscale, at their brand new location on the Upper East Side. I had such a blast, and meeting Alex was wonderful! They were filming the new season of the Real Housewives of New York, and everyone had a great time shopping and sipping champagne!

Here are some photos from the event! http://nubuzzphoto.com/events/1000260/photos

The Champagne Diet is Getting Buzzed!

The Champagne Diet is generating a buzz and receiving some rave reviews already. Check out these fabulous quotes about the book!

“The Champagne Diet will resonate with every woman with it’s realistic and simple approach to dieting. Alwill delivers a personal, relatable, and funny guide to shedding pounds without deprivation. “
Kim Barnouin Co-Author, Skinny Bitch

"Can't wait for The Champagne Diet by Cara Alwill to come out. This book is my dream. A diet while drinking champagne? Sign a sister up."
Kim Stolz, America's Next Top Model

Last Night a Little Person Saved My Life With Champagne

Firstly, I'd like to apologize for not posting in so long. I just realized my last entry was September 25th, yikes. Sorry to all 3 of my dedicated readers, I will do better, promise.



Now, let's get down to business. Last night I attended the second week of "Champagne Tuesdays" at Superdive. I'd like to thank my friend, Melissa, for suggesting this treasure chest to me. For those of you who haven't heard of "Champagne Tuesdays", here's a brief description: $20, all you can drink champagne, all night long, served to you by a little person dressed up in a pirate costume. Sounds to good to be true? It probably is, considering I am severely hungover and re-read some of my drunk texts sent to various friends last night, most of which I appear to be typing with a Gaelic accent. Apparently "Wanering abot the east vilage" means "wandering about the east village."

So rewind a few hours back before I had a belly full of bubbly, and let's paint the scene. My friends and I arrive at Superdive at 6 pm sharp, ready for anything. We're immediately greeted by one of the nicest servers I've ever had, and she approaches our table with 3 plastic champagne glasses. She collects our $20, and upon returning from the bar to deposit the cash, she immediately refills our glasses. We had each taken one sip each. And the glass was refilled. Are you kidding me? And this went on ALL NIGHT! I have never had better service, ever, and for 20 bucks? And champagne? I think I've found heaven.

Enter little person. A miniature Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean (complete with eyeliner and all) greeted our table, refilling our glasses, and bringing us an entire BOTTLE of champagne. And it's not what you think. When I first heard about this circus, I imagined the pirate table-side, telling us jokes, dancing around and posing for photos. Instead, Nick, turned out to be one of the most awesome people I've ever met. He was so courteous, down-to-earth, and even took part in some of the festivities by polishing off the last few sips of champagne in many of our empty bottles.

By 7:30 pm, our entire table was wasted. I asked my friend to buy me some neon paraphernalia being sold by a street vendor who wandered into the bar, and he concurred (see photo above). By 8 pm, we were even more drunk, and taking turns wearing light-up neon sunglasses and decorating the empty champagne bottles with heart shaped glow-in-the-dark necklaces. By about 9:30 pm, I realized it was time to cut myself off and make my way to the express bus before I wound up with a hangover more intense than the one I'm suffering from right now.

Until next Tuesday...who's with me?

I'll Take a Triple Grande Soy Extra Hot 2 Inches of Water Foamed But Not Steaming Venti Soy Chai Latte with Peppermint Sprinkles and a Hint of Pumpkin

Is it me, or do you want to sadistically injure certain customers you come across in Starbucks? I honestly don't even know why I return to this establishment, what I like to refer to as the International House of Coffee Domination and Exploitation, but I do it. There's really not a variety of coffee choices where I work. It's either the stale, faux Dunkin Donuts blend that is brewed in the lobby of 1515 Broadway, or the heart-stopping extra bold Etheopian or African or whatever the fuck it is sludge that Starbucks produces in the lobby of the Marriot Marquis hotel, which is just a stone's throw from my office. Could I take a chance one day and explore the area for an old fashioned French cafe that sells equally overpriced fresh-brewed lattes that I'd feel better about consuming? I'm sure I could, but considering I have zero tolerance for the hoards of toothless Nascar fans (translation: tourists) that pound the pavement every day in Times Square, I stay local.

Today I was especially agitated. Don't get me wrong - when I go to Starbucks, I'm looking to get high. I need a fast fix that will motivate me to finish out the day. It's like an addict taking the first crack rock they can get their grimy hands on. I'm not going to enjoy a Strawberries & Creme (please notice the spelling of cream) Frappucino topped with mountains of whipped cream and layered with pink, frothy fluff. The only people who drink those are obese moms and people under the age of 12. My order is no-nonsense. I get a flavored latte of some sort, and I ask for skim milk. Occasionally, depending on the level of my exhaustion, I'll throw in an extra shot of espresso - and even that can be too daunting for the Baristas to handle at times.

But today, I witnessed the unthinkable.

As I'm standing in line, staring at my blackberry, waiting for it to vibrate, while an Erasure song runs through my head on repeat, I see this creature saunter through the door. He is decked out in a GIANT pair of Dior sunglasses, his perfectly highlighted bob is grazing his shoulders, with shorter angles feathered in the front to frame his face. He is wearing skin tight, circulation-cutting denim with electric neon paint splatters on them, white stilettos, and he is donning enormous gold hoops in both ears. He looks like what Boy George would want to look like, if he weren't fat and colorblind.

As this creature begins to speak his order to the unsuspecting Barista, I am floored at what comes out of mouth. In his most metrosexual accent, he proudly declares "I'll have a quad soy no foam french vanilla americano with 2 inches of water from the top in a venti cup. EXTRA hot." I didn't know if I should punch him in the face, or thank him for giving me something to write about.

The Barista jotted down some nonsense on the cup, from what I could tell it was a few letters and possibly a number or two. If it were me, I would have written "Dick" as clear as day, but he was nicer than I am. The drink order was whipped up almost instantaneously, and the creature sashayed out of Starbucks just as fast as he made his way in the door.

Calling All Foodies! Enter Your Favorite Recipe and WIN a Prize!

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I posted. I've been super busy lately, but I wanted to come back with something fun for everyone. I have decided to run a FAN RECIPE contest. I always love reading the fan recipe submissions on Facebook and think it would be fun to set up some friendly competition this week and have a vote on Friday as to who has the most healthy, creative and delicious recipe!

The prize will be modest (I haven't sold my book YET), so don't get too excited, but expect something creative, fun and BUBBLY (hint hint).

Rules: I'm looking for a healthy, creative Champagne Diet-friendly recipe. (Please, no big sloppy burger & fry recipes, think healthy, but yummy!) Please send your submission to TheChampagneDiet@gmail.com no later than Thursday, 9/24. I will post all the recipes to the Facebook fan page on Friday, 9/25 and ask that everyone vote for their favorite by emailing me once all recipes are live. The winner will be notified by Monday 9/28 and I will send them their prize! Once the winner is determined, I will feature the winning recipe on this blog and on Facebook. Good luck!

Let's Get Physical

I have a love/hate relationship with boredom. Sometimes, it is a welcomed change which can result in some really proactive behavior like working on my book or cleaning my apartment from top to bottom. Other times, like today, it can result in pure comedy.

After spending the day at my friend's bridal shower, and coming home to an empty apartment, I was restless. Two glasses of champagne inspired a 30 minute date with the treadmill. (This book could have just has easily been called The Shitshow Diet.) I put on my Saturday best and made my way to the gym, motivated and excited. I've been slacking on my runs, so I decided that a 2 mile sprint would do me good.

I didn't realize that the buzz from my bridal shower bubbly would make me laugh the entire way through it. Giggling away, my feet hit the belt of the treadmill to the beat of Debbie Gibson and Sade. Who the fuck runs to Sade? Apparently I do. I made fun of everyone in the gym silently, or not so silently as I'm sure the ear-to-ear grin on my face depicted my amusement quite accurately. As "Smooth Operator" pulsated through my headphones, I started scanning the shimmering guidos who lined the walls of the sausage factory I call my gym. Each one tanner than the next.

Next up were legs. I cued up a little George Michael and worked out my abductors to "I Want Your Sex", again, laughing away at the ridiculous motion of the machines. I wonder what Suzanne Somers thought when she invented the thigh master? Sexual deviant perhaps? Was it all a ploy? I'm convinced I am a 17 year old boy trapped in a 29 year old female's body.

Though the work out did fly by, and I was fairly amused throughout the bulk of it, I can assure you I will not be filling up my Poland Spring bottle with Moet anytime soon. I am grateful, however, that I got myself back in the game. No matter the measures it took to get there!

Different Strokes for Different Freaks

I don't really consider myself to be your stereotypical girl. Yes, I love babies and pearls, but when it comes down to it, I have the mouth of a sailor and I can probably relate more to Beavis & Butthead than to unicorns or princesses.

Here is an actual conversation my best friend Sabrina and I just had:

sabrina: this girl i went to high school with just posted this as her facebook status::::With the exception of missing church, had a wonderful day making strawberry muffins with Katie, playing outside, blowing bubbles, painting, and even watched a movie with Pete. The weather is beautiful, what more could I ask for?

cara: a bullet to the brain, if i were her

In what world do any of those things mentioned above lend for a "wonderful day?" I think I'd rather clean up horse shit with my teeth than blow bubbles and paint outdoors. Either this girl has eaten a lot of mushrooms from the magical Garden of Eden that she's frolicking around on, or it's just not hard to entertain her. Hell, if I got my thrills out of making strawberry muffins I'd probably get into a lot less trouble.

I guess it's good that the world is full of different people, but I can't help but stay cynical. I would much rather cuddle up to a bottle of Robert Mondavi and watch a bunch of animalistic housewives try to rip the weaves off each other's heads than pick daises. Just call me Satan.