Spending the last day of the year on a Miami beach was a tough feat.
And I didn’t mind gazing at this gorgeous sunset as I sipped on my happy hour cocktails (booze makes primping so much more fun).
Choosing a vodka proved to be as difficult as narrowing down a sparkly ring from Cartier (although I somehow managed).
I had a little help from my favorite Miami Meower, Butterscotch in the attire department.
I settled on black sequined pants (duh), a fuchsia cardigan and leopard heels, (and yes, that’s my heel in my cup which didn’t deter this party goer from drinking – why would I waste?!).
Isn’t everyone chic in Miami (aside from yours truly as I’ve proven)? Here’s a peek at my favorite bartender of the evening, pouring me a much needed glass (or five) of champs.
And while looking at this handsome Florida gent, I wondered what I was missing in Nashville, as the phone buzzed with a picture of my dad and my curiosity quickly waned.
Obviously, you can’t take Nashville out of the girl as I carried my red Solo Cup with me down the elevator.
I realized my true calling during my jaunt to the car…
All of the car modeling made me thirsty and I needed to quickly guzzle a martini when we arrived at the bar.
And after each drink was received, a toast was in order – it was New Year’s Eve after all!
Which of course led to my expertise in photo bombing (a dying art).
And as the clock struck midnight and Ryan Seacrest winked at me, I was pretty sure this is how the evening went…
Drinking 432 martinis will help you acquire double chin while you sleep (not so good for my modeling career), as well as require a sign to arise from deep, dark (passed out) slumber.
A brand new year, same old me.