Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Toasted of the Town Do's and Don'ts:

A Field Guide from An Angeleno Insider

Below you will find a list of Do's & Don'ts for any LA girl on-the-go to keep it together.  We here at TOTT have learned the hard way how to go about our days here in Hollywood thru trials and tribulations that we would never wish upon any of our readers.  If only someone would have tipped me off to not mix those vodka sodas with those irish carbombs, or taken my phone away from me that fateful night I called my real life Mr. Big 40 times in a row in a blacked out haze while purchasing focaccia bread at Ralph's at 3am.... 

But that is neither here nor there!  
We suggest carefully reading these and abiding by them at all times. 
Oh, and you're welcome.


DO keep a bag of essentials in your car at all times – toothbrush, deodorant, razor, tweezers, basic pair of heels, workout clothes, athletic shoes, sandals –  ALWAYS be prepared!
DO NOT keep your entire closet in your car.  You don’t want people thinking you’re the girl that never makes it home at the end of the night.  ;)

DO wear all black all the time - Always let people assume you are mourning (a breakup, a death, a chipped nail)
DO NOT wear different shades of black all at once (We're trying to look heartless, not colorblind)

DO make sure your nails are always manicured, especially if you wear rings, bracelets, or a watch.
DO NOT forget to moisturize! No one wants to hold an ashy/dry hand, even if the nails are perfectly painted!

DO wear vintage tour t-shirts (‘94 & earlier), but only if they are authentic – fade, fit, and fabric are dead giveaways that you bought it at Urban Outfitters.
DO NOT wear a “vintage” band shirt of a band you are not familiar with.  You never want to be the girl that’s rocking a Pixies tee and doesn’t know who Frank Black is.

When attending a trendy event or party that is guest list only, DO dress down your outfit and pair it with your most expensive accessories.  You can always tell who is who in the shuffling crowd by one's handbag, scarf, or jewelry.   Grungy elegance is an art and truly mastering the Malibu disheveled $3-flannel-and-black-diamond-rings vibe is like making it into the Louvre.
DO NOT wear a skin-tight mini dress to the club unless you are trying to look like a broke ass hoe.  Anyone can afford a $59.99 dress from ANGL, only the elite can afford a $500+ pair of grungy motorcycle boots and a $100 ratty tee.   (There is a time and place for all of our slutty dresses, and we all know that place is Vegas.)


DO splurge on 1 or 2 important fashion pieces that can take you thru the years and can be properly mixed in with your favorite Forever21 pieces. 
DO NOT buy an item covered in logos. It's like shouting into a megaphone LOOK AT MY GUCCI PURSE FROM 3 SEASONS AGO.  Less is always more, so opt for the more modest classic investment instead of a trendy textile. 

DO NOT spend more than 5 minutes looking for a parking meter to save money when you are out.  Any longer than 5 min will be a frustrating waste of gas & time, and let’s not forget TIME IS MONEY!
DO always keep $20 hidden in your glove compartment in case of valet emergencies.

DO offer to pick the tab up for your friends every once in a while.  It’s a nice gesture and karma will come back tenfold when you least expect it (or when you’re waiting for a  paycheck & need it most!)
DO NOT be the one to pick apart a receipt at a restaurant – always offer to split a check evenly when out in large parties.  If you have respectful friends, they’ll cover any drastic differences (like the 4 extra cocktails they ordered). 


DO attend events alone every once in a while.  It’s a great way to force yourself to be social and an even better way of learning to be secure with yourself.
DO NOT bring a gaggle of girls with you everywhere you go.  More than 2 guests is inconvenient and annoying, especially if you were invited to a party or event.

DO go out on week nights.  Weekends are too crowded everywhere and the douche’s come out to play.
DO NOT ever call-in sick to work over a hangover!  Handle your liquor, set your alarm, and make it into work!  (Even if you have to puke in the office bathroom a few times)  Never forget Rule 76: “No excuses, play like a champion!”

DO make sure to wash your hands and remove all of last night's hand stamps before you start your day.  (Nail polish remover works for most stamps!)
DO NOT wear club wristbands long enough to get tanlines (unless you are at Coachella, Lollapalooza, or on Spring Break ’99).  They are not trophies, they are pieces of plastic and cost about 15cents each.

DO always bring a gift for the host!  Whether it’s a bbq, housewarming party, or just dinner at a friend’s house, never come empty-handed!
DO NOT talk about not being able to afford something at a restaurant.  Keep your financials to yourself and order a salad & a water if you need to.  They can’t blame a girl for sticking to her diet!

DO keep close tabs on your Facebook page.  Make sure you are not tagged in un-flattering or incriminating photos – remember, everyone can see these, even future employers!  Also, take a gander at your privacy settings to make sure you are secure, there are too many creeps in this world!
DO NOT spend hours lurking ANYONE on FB, Twitter, or Instagram –  the only place it gets you is hurt and paranoid.  Keep yourself busy enough so that you don’t have time to check social media more than once a day.  *Consider deleting these apps off your phone… it’s a game changer!

DO try to wait as long as possible before responding to a boy's text or email.  If you give it a few hours, it will drive them crazy.  Waiting more than a day is reserved for the big leagues, and should only be used during extreme cases of repent or punishment.
DO NOT believe anything a boy tells you or promises you until you see it with your own eyes.  Boys are fuckin fickle! One day they'll be promising you a trip to London, and the next day they've vanished into thin air forcing you to the nearest happy hour, which all of a sudden doesn't feel so happy anymore.

And finally, DO live everyday by The Toasted of The Town motto "Lock this up" (while motioning circles around your face).  No one likes a Sally Messy Raphael!



Ladies, do not take these Do's & Don'ts lightly!  
Read them, study them, live them...
May the force be with you.
xx
Jackie P.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A Sitcom Named ______

How the WB Brought Down my First Assignment

Before I jump into my first entry, let me give you all some background information on the grave condition I suffer from. My lameofilmocitis has worsened as an occupational hazard of living in LA and having a typically LA job in the film industry. To clarify, I see the unmagical work that goes into creating all the pretty commercials, music videos and movies you see before they are transmitted to your living room.  Because I am familiar with the unfinished product (dailies, cameras, bad attitudes) I have lost the “suspension of disbelief” that allows people like Ashley and Kellie to enjoy Twilight. I, for example, would watch a scene and be imagining the script notes, “We see Bella struggle to articulate, biting her lip with pained hesitation as she runs her hands through her unwashed hair.”
Basically, I am borderline paranoid that life really is The Truman Show. And so I was clearly a perfect candidate for a sitcom focus group.  

On Saturday, a friend of my fiancé invited us to a screening of a sitcom he had worked on developing. We drove to Warner Brothers Studios, which is a sprawling compound of building and sets, star wagons and golf carts.  Somewhere past Conan (swoon) and Ellen, we missed the turn denoted on the highlighted printout map given to us at the security kiosk. We accidentally drove on to find ourselves in an idyllic suburb of stately two-story homes. For a moment, we wondered if we had gone too far and were now in a Burbank neighborhood with a great school district. Then we saw an illuminated EXIT sign through one of the home’s windows followed by the more glaring clue of a “Hart of Dixie” banner above the front door. Truman show, take one.


Upon arrival we were handed clipboards and were told to sign required non-disclosure agreement that forbade us from releasing any information about the show to a third-party. This is where my entry goes from being an “inside scoop” on how a TV shows come to fruition and becomes an entry where I blog about the worst possible conditions for a blogger to blog. 
I signed away my first amendment rights with a sad-looking signature thinking, “I bet this never happens to Diane Sawyer.” We were then herded into a bungalow crammed with rows of chairs. The lights dimmed and the show began. A show of secrets that I will never speak of.

After the half-hour, questionnaire packets were passed around and of course, the phenomenon of my entire academic career transpired: I, out of the twenty people seated, was the one stuck with the stack of extras.
I shielded my clipboard so cheaters wouldn’t know the answers to my favorite scenes nor my age, ethnicity and favorite tv shows.  After gathering the surveys, a producer (a former child actor of a classic American holiday movie) asked us our reaction to the plot and characters.  I figured everyone would be placid and polite and was surprised at how vocal the group was about their likes and dislikes, and the discussions that spawned from there. This segued into a bigger debate about the show’s racial overtones that could be considered an edgy brand of comedy for a network sitcom.  Some in the audience were very blunt about their agreement with the show’s portrayals of stereotypes and were interrupted at the exact moments where their comment teetered on the border of ethnocentrism. 
It was a Larry David moment without the humor and I could not deal with the tension. Instead I became fixated on my suddenly interesting cuticles wondering how long I would last if a hypothetical race riot broke out.

We were thanked and shown out of the bungalow, where I was compensated with a free water bottle (the importance we place on water bottles makes me wonder if outsiders are imagining LA as a desert wasteland without irrigation. Please don’t assume that I spent the rainy weekend making a filtration system out of palm tree leaves.)

Closing Notes: I may now join Reporters Without Borders. Down with censorship!


Your faithful correspondent, 
Marissa

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Price of Beauty

When enough is enough, but still not enough...

Beauty maintenance can be one of the most time consuming and costly upkeeps a big city lady has these days.  From mani's & pedi's, to highlights & blowouts, all the way to waxing here, there & everywhere, and lasering the rest...  where does it end?! Unfortunately in this city, it never ends.  I took the time last night to add up just how much time and money I spend a month in taking care of my appearance and I was shocked.  I spend somewhere around 15hours and $450/month on keeping this whole package (my pointer guns are motioning in circles in front of my bod) presentable... YIKES! While one day I'd love to have my very own Maloof-inspired spa wing in my estate where I can throw pamper parties weekly, let's just call it like it is - I'm a 25yr old grown up kid working in the plummeting music industry who loves dining out, drinking my emotions, and has a fascination with over tipping... there I said it! So this month I was determined to find more cost effective ways to keep up my beauty regimens to even out my champagne shopping habits.  

Recently I’ve learned that skincare is one of the most crucial ways to stay feeling and looking healthy.  This is also one of my biggest downfalls! Growing up I never had acne or zit problems so I never saw the need in properly removing my make-up every night or washing my face before bed. To this day I'll admit after a proper night of debauchery, it takes every bone in my body to pit stop in the bathroom and wash my face before passing out on marshmallow mountain (that's what I call my new very expensive & very fluffy mattress) and sometimes, it just doesn't happen. It is only now in my mid-twenties, that I realize how disgusting an unwashed face can be, not only for my pillowcase, but more importantly for my pores.   I began having my facialist do micro-dermabrasion ($150) as well as cleansing facials monthly, but it just became too expensive!  Per the recommendations of some of my favorite co-workers, I decided to try some at-home facial mask recipes as an alternative and offered to host a girls night for it.  


EXPERIMENT #1 - Homemade Aztec Clay Masks

The menu: Green Tea Aztec Clay Masks, 2 bottles of a highly recommended Rose, 1 bottle of Grey Goose, and a tasteful array of appetizers from the Whole Foods deli.  

The guest list: 4 chipper girls, 1 eager girly boy, 2 of the world's cutest yorkies, & a senior citizen Chihuahua named Charlie.  

We started around 8pm nibbling on appetizers and catching up while we prepped the masks. The first one we tried was a mix of Aztec Secret Indian Healing Clay ($10), Green Tea, Lemon Juice, Rose Water, and a pinch of love!  We took turns applying a thick layer of the green mask on each other from the hairline down to our necks.  Then while waiting for the masks to dry, we broke open the Rose.... this is where the fun began.  





Around the 5 minute mark the masks began to harden and it became progressively harder to talk or make any facial expressions.  By minute 10, the masks were starting to dry and the wet clumps made us all look like the wicked witches of the west.  By the 20minute mark, our masks started pulsating and I laughed so hard at the fact that I couldn't laugh, that I pee'd my pants (man down!)... After a solid 30minutes it was time to remove the mask.  We used an exfoliant cloth ($8) also purchased at Whole Foods and removed the mask with warm water.  It felt like I had just washed my face for the first time - I was glowing!  

We proceeded to polish off the champagne and move onto the B&V portion of the night…


EXPERIMENT #2 –  B&V  “Biore & Vodka”

The menu: 1 Bottle of Absolut Vodka,  1 Box of Biore Face Strips  

The guest list: 4 moderately buzzed girls, 2 snoring yorkies, & a senior citizen Chihuahua, still named Charlie.  

Don’t be fooled by the name of this experiment, we just drank the vodka (with a splash of soda!) and Biore’d our pores away.  The Biore® deep cleansing pore strips ($14) have been around for years and in my opinion have been seriously over looked!  These little guys REALLY do the trick.  Try the combo pack, which comes with 7 nose strips and 7 face strips.  I like to cut the face strips in half and use 1 piece on my forehead and 1 under my mouth.  The best part of these strips is ripping them from your face and actually getting to see everything that was removed.  Gross, but yet oddly satisfying!


THE AFTERMATH

The guest list:  4 drunk girls Googling pizza places that deliver after 1am

The casualties
2 Bottles of  Taittinger Rose Champagne                          $49.99 x 2
1 Bottle of Vodka                                                            $19.99
14 BioreFace Strips                                                         $14.00
1 pair of soiled VS undies                                                 $12.50
3 Drunk Text Messages to a boy who did not respond     PRICELESS

The next morning I woke up feeling like a new woman, but wondered if it was all worth it.  I ended up spending just about the same amount of money and way more time as I would have on 1 facial at the spa, but was able to share this wacky experience with good friends, good booze, and regretful text messages that made me laugh, smile, and cry the next morning….
I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Until next time my blackhead free followers...
xoxo
Peach

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Breaking Midnight, Breaking Dawn

An ArcLight Recap

Hello from Ashley and Kellie!

So many pressing issues in the world today: Occupy Wall Street, legalizing gay marriage, Presidential candidates, Team Edward vs. Team Jacob. What?  Yeah, I said it: Team Edward versus Team Jacob.  In an ongoing battle between vampire and werewolf…whose team are you on?


Personally we choose Edward Cullen. I mean, who doesn’t want to spend eternity with that pasty babe?  I’m sure some of our readers have been on pins and needles just like us to watch the onscreen romance/battle they call Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1.  In true Twi-hard fashion, we purchased tickets about a month in advance to guarantee seats at one of the midnight premiere showings in Los Angeles on November 18th.  It is also worth mentioning that if there are two gorgeous twenty-somethings who appreciate an early bedtime, it is Kellie and I. We are the only two out of the five ladies here at Toasted that actually know what the sunrise looks like. No exaggeration: at a bar last Saturday, Kellie curled up in a club chair in the corner (clutching the letter L volume from the bar’s Encyclopedia Britannica bookshelf backdrop) and slept her way thru a surprise DJ set by Robyn… all BEFORE MIDNIGHT. So while Jackie P and Festa have dubbed us “amateurs of the night” because of our need for a solid 8 hours, we will be having the last laugh in 10 years when our well-rested porcelain skin is still wrinkle-free! 

Now before we delve into the nitty gritty vampire business, let’s talk about the perks of LA movie theatres in preparing for all the things that can really make or break a movie-going experience. Our personal favorite theatre is the ArcLight Cinemas in Hollywood because they have mastered the perfect balance of convenience and necessities!  Location is crucial and the ArcLight is located right in the heart of heart of Hollywood on Sunset & Vine.  You have some of my favorite local eateries just around the corner (Tender Greens and Delancey) and for my fellow music lovers (or at least us law-abiding ones that still pay for music) you have the Mecca of all record stores, Amoeba, just next door!  Now for the necessities, the ArcLight has a fully stocked in-house bar so that before you get settled into your movie you can enjoy a cocktail or three (or four.)  Still, most important and now a non-negotiable, is being able to choose your seats in advance! No more asking if that seat is taken or worrying that you are going to be stuck in the front row getting a kink in your neck. You can quickly buy a ticket online knowing full well what kind of accommodations you are getting yourself into. We ladies know what we like and very rarely settle for less!

So, the scene at a Twilight premiere midnight showing was as exciting as you could imagine.  Kellie and I arrived about 10 minutes before the seating started which normally would be appropriate timing, but at this event an extra 10-15 minutes would have been appropriate to fit in the people-watching that needed to be done.

In the brief few minutes, we saw:

-       Edward Cullen lookalikes.... Everywhere!
-       Tons of Twilight shirts, Team Edward/Team Jacob shirts and the most noticeable, a woman wearing a bridal veil with a “Mrs. Cullen” tank top. I was offended…on several levels (I mean, spaghetti straps? Really?)
-       0 straight men (highly unfavorable for us SWF’s, but a goldmine for all those in attendance from Twilight Fan Club’s West Hollywood chapter.)
Finally in our $16 seats, with our $9 pint of caramel corn, we carefully poured our flask of Bailey’s into our $8 lattes and sat eagerly awaiting the cinematic journey to begin. Aside from the annoying folk we judgingly diagnosed as “Attention Deprived From Childhood” who shouted unsolicited opinions at the screen throughout the film, ‘Breaking Dawn’ was a thrilling masterpiece topped with just the right amount of cheese!   We were left wanting 3 things at the end:

1. An Edward Cullen of our own... or just a handsome, luminescent man to feel that way about us.
2. A copy of the movie on Blu-Ray ASAP!
3. The Urk-Pad.  Stephan Urkel’s (that is Stephen Urquelle for your French readers) teleportation device from Season 8 of Family Matters that could transport us straight to bed…it was WAY past our bedtime!

Until next time… XOXO

Your pretty little twi-hards,
Ashley & Kellie

Monday, November 21, 2011

Getting "Vanderpumped," CULO Release Party, and The Four Seasons Spa

My Welcome Back to the Homeland

So, it is official, after several months in my adopted hometown of Chicago, I am back in the homeland, and it feels fabulous!  If I never hear three women clamoring to extol the virtues of "this season's Northface", it will be too soon- later Chicago.  Upon arrival back to LA, I found Jackie P and I had been "Vanderpumped".  Now for those of you not in the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills-know, being Vanderpumped is when all of your friends have been invited to an event and you weren't, but you only find out once someone accidentally drops the deets on the event, not knowing you had not been invited.  So the Jackies were Vanderpumped!  Sit at home with a pint of Haagen Dazs?  Drown my sorrows in a bag of PopChips?  Wrong!  We decided we would rise above and grace Hollywood with our presence at some AMA parties as well as the CULO release party at the Sunset Marquis.  CULO is the new photography book by Raphael Mazzuco that focuses on the best part of any woman... her derriere.  The new coffee table book from Diddy and Interscope Records' Jimmy Iovine shows nothing but butts- artsy butts, celebrity butts, model butts.   Overall, the event was great, the rain managed to hold off so the outdoor setting at the Sunset Marquis was perfect and they had all of the original photos on display (made me thankful I had chosen against that pint of Haagen Dazs).  Most importantly my own derriere was being showcased as I shook it on the dance floor with Jackie P and Kellie for all of the Drake's, Diddy's, and Busta Rhymes of the world to see!  


It was great to be invited back to LA with a fun release party, however as her bio suggests, you don't hang out with Jackie without some type of craziness and I woke up Sunday face down on her couch with an untouched Lean Cuisine pizza staring at me from the coffee table to my left and sore muscles from head to toe.  Lesson learned from the night before, once you hit 25, you better get your stretch on before you shake your groove thing on the dance floor.  Enter, the oasis known as the spa at The Four Seasons.  I jumped at the opportunity for a deep tissue and escorted my tense tush to paradise.  The spa itself is beautiful, a chic Japanese vibe make the interior feel tranquil and truly spa-like.  My massage was... interesting.  Something to know about me, I'm an active girl.  I love to run several times a week and I do some light weightlifting to maintain some tone.  I have a naturally muscular physique, but don't get me wrong, I'm no linebacker.  Somehow, when I get massaged, masseuses find that it is their personal mission to break my body into submission, and this delicate flower wants none of that.  I knew it was downhill when I got the telling question, "wow, do you play sports?".  From there Olga the Enforcer half massaged, half rolfed me into a borderline coma.  I literally have bruises today.  Don't get me wrong, I needed a deep massage to get me back to fighting shape, but I'm pretty sure she shaved a few years off of my life.  At the resolution of the massage she commented on my "high tolerance for pain, I kept wondering when you would say it was too much".  Who knew a massage was a test of wills and all I had to do was say uncle?  Lesson learned.  


All in all, I would still highly recommend the spa, it was beautiful and relaxing, and I do feel like I worked some Culo kinks out. 

Until next time...
Woz

Friday, November 18, 2011

Assignment: CARDIO BARRE

Not to be confused with “Cardio-Bar” (Drinking heavily while booty dropping)

So I’d been hearing endlessly about these fabulous new ballet workouts and was intrigued to try something new while sweating off some extra LB’s (Side Note – if I haven’t been my goal weight in  5 years, is it still appropriate to call the pounds extra?  Hmmmm).  Anywho, it wasn’t until I received a glorious Groupon offer for 10 Cardio Barre Beverly Hills classes for $40 (Single classes are regularly $16 each), that I knew I had to try this  -  I LOVE A GOOD DEAL!  Luckily, my dear friend & coworker Annie bought the Groupon as well.  I’ve learned that moral support is KEY in all dietary and physical commitments!    We decided we would try it out the next day after work. 

The following morning  I packed my workout bag (That's fancy talk for "I emptied a gift bag from some event & threw my leggings in there"), snagged a few water bottles from work on my way out at 6pm, and was prepared to dominate the 6:30pm beginners class.   What a joke! Trekking from our office in Santa Monica to Bev Hills at 6:30pm in the allotted 30 minutes I gave myself was beyond wishful thinking.  Needless to say, we missed that class by a landslide.  Apparently CB frowns upon tardiness and does NOT care where I work or who I know.   So we parked our derriere’s at a Starbucks up the street and waited for the 8pm class, wait, let me clarify - the 8PM ADVANCED class.  We were optimistic to say the least.  Around 7:45pm, they herded us all into the room and it was a mad dash to mark your territory for the class.  Annie and I picked a cozy little corner next to a window & the mirror and plopped ourselves on the floor pretending to stretch to kill time.  We saw everyone arrived for class in sandals and derived that the class is done barefoot.  So we took our sneakers off and curled our un-pedicured toes in shame.  Then when we least expected it, the clock struck 8 and all hell broke loose!  

The instructor came plowing thru the room like a wild banshee with a headset microphone on, while music that I can only imagine was from the “NOW That’s What I call Meth" album started blaring thru the surround sound speakers.  Annie & I shot up from the ground like frail kids on a trampoline that just got pounced by the chubby kid.  Everyone grabbed the ballet barre and started pulsating in unison.   Who would've thought that even the stretches were rehearsed!  There is no learning curve in the advanced class. By 8:05  I was full on sweating and I knew this would only get worse.  Our instructor was barking off orders like we were in some weird Spice Girl bootcamp:  SQUAT!  1st POSITION! KICK!  TIGHTEN THE GLUTES! SHOULDERS DOWN!  And not to mention the satanic “DOUBLE TIME!” This high impact activity lasted 45minutes and was NONSTOP.  Of course they "allow" you to grab water as you please throughout the workout, but we knew it would be all judging eyes on us if we even motioned towards the bottle on the ground.  Judgement for fatigue, thirst, and most shamefully for it not being Fiji or Smart Water.  Annie & I were panting, my face was red, there was sweat in her eyes and both of our bums were burning.  It was time to bring it to the floor.  Now normally, we’d be the first to drop it down low, but  this was the point of the night that we realized everyone brought towels to class and well, we didn’t get the memo.  So there we were… with our pretty little sweaty faces pressed against the carpet that thousands of barefoot girls have worked out on, doing the Irish Setter to a chipmunk’s version of The Black Eyed Peas “Boom Boom Pow”.  Yes, it was just as glamorous as it sounds.  We laughed, we cried, vodka scented sweat was dripping from our every crease… then she flipped us over on our backs and had us pelvic thrust until the cows came home.  It was everything I imagined my first time would be!

All in all, we thrusted the shit out of that advanced class (or at least the last 5 minutes of it) and would definitely do it again! This time with a towel, a pedicure, and most likely in the beginners class!  ;)


Final Assessment:

Paying the normal $16/class can get pricey and the routine can feel monotonous once mastered.  We give the workout 2 thumbs up, but we raise our cocktails to the Groupon offer for it!  Cuz like everything in LA, after 10 times, we’d be over it anyway...

xoxo,
Peach

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Meet Your Correspondents!


JACKIE aka Peach TREEEE
People do not call Jackie to go to the movies. They call Jackie for a guaranteed hangover, the origin of which may very well take place on a yacht that she chartered. 

KELLIE aka THE ORTHODONTIST IN TRAINING
Often mistaken for being shy, Kellie is a model-esque goofball that still wears her retainer every night.

MARISSA aka Hooks For Hands
Marissa is known for her regard for etiquette, Pinot Noir and a dance that can only be described as “loose ankles.” 


ASHLEY aka Still iLL Ash
She loves her pitbull (no, not that Pitbull), Bloody Mary’s and zinging her friends with a successful “made you look!” 


"WOZ"

Recently relocated to Chicago, the former Calabasas debutante and future Doctor will be acting as Toasted’s Midwest correspondent.