Donald Trump has always oddly fascinated me. The big-time swagger, the gilded living quarters, the hair. So when my friend invited me to the launch party for Trump vodka, I said sure. Wait - did I say Trump vodka? Please, forgive me. It’s actually called Trump Super Premium Vodka. In fact, Trump himself was quoted last year as saying, “[This summer,] I fully expect the most called-for cocktail in America to be the ‘T&T,’ or the Trump and tonic.” Well, not sure if that happened - and, ironically, the Donald doesn’t even drink - but cheers to thinking big.

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Looking for a foolproof evening of intimacy with your new beau? May I suggest handcuffs and wine? This was the very theme of a party I attended on Saturday. The object of the night is to partner up with a fellow wino and finishing a bottle of your favorite varietal. The cuffs don’t come off until you’ve sipped the last drop. Kind of like Prison Break meets Blind Date.

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Alaska was the site of my summer vacation this year—a week with two friends and thirteen other travelers on a fully-supported group trip, organized by Backroads, consisting of hiking, biking, rafting, kayaking, and camping. Yup, camping. Granted it was at very nice campgrounds in very nice tents that we didn’t even need to set up ourselves, but camping nonetheless. I’m not a camper—I spent nights at Girl Scout camp huddled under my sleeping bag with a flashlight and the latest issue of Vogue. But on our first night in Alaska, when one of our guides passed up a tent in favor of sleeping on the ground under a tree, I knew it was time to buck up. Roughing-it (well, pseudo-roughing it) in the 50th state would be fun.

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Sunday nights are not for Grey’s Anatomy and pizza delivery in New York City. They are a hidden gem for great performances and weekend wrap-up cocktails without hordes of people literally stepping on your toes. In accordance, I found myself with my Glamourite girls, Tracee and Elle, sipping on a gin and tonic, con splash-of-grapefruit, on a school night in West Chelsea. Thankfully the venue, ‘Bright Bar,’ had a hip crowd with eyecandy for days. Of course, that’s the tease about going to an event with a gay audience. Beautiful men are expected, but here we also discovered the gorgeous Ms. Candis Cayne.

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Tuesday night I went out to meet up with some friends at a low key bar in Union Square called Galaxy. When I got there it was the usual mischievous loud and annoying shenanigans that seem to surround me where ever I go (poor me) and considering there was only one other group of people at the bar, I didn’t feel too bad for being my usual loud and obnoxious self. After a holla at my friends, they laughingly informed me that they just met Usher - pointing towards the other group of people who were big black men in suits. Assuming my friends were kidding, I laughed out loud and yelled “UUSSHHUUURRR!!” and did a dance which could only be described as my best impression of Usher.

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This weekend I grabbed my Powerbook, some shorts and flip flops and my non-spf tanning lotion (sorry, Lauren) and headed to Tampa, Florida for some overdue R&R. Luckily, exactly one day after the British-American bomb scare, so I regretfully remove any anti-bacterial gel, lipstick, or H2O from my purse so the TSA posse doesn’t give me a vapor test, liquid pat down, or whatever else they do take preventative measures to keep us safe each day.

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