Thursday

It wasn’t really shorts weather, but we headed out in them. First stop, Sun Studios. Here, Elvis, B.B. King, Ike Turner, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis and a few other small timers recorded hits. Our guide played us songs, showed us the famed recording room and even let us rock out with an old-school mike. But all that standing around worked up an appetite, so we headed to Gus’s World Famous Hot & Spicy Chicken, which we paired with diet cokes. Moderation.

Then we walked around the corner to the National Civil Rights Museum, built next to the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in 1968. We wandered through a bus that yelled at us to move to the back, watched footage of black kids being harassed at a Woolworth’s counter, looked into Martin Luther King, Jr.’s motel room and saw where he was shot on the balcony. The different media taught us so much, while still being interesting. It was difficult to witness so much racism, and devastating to acknowledge that his death robbed us all of hope.

In need of a little lightness, we mozied down to the river and laid out in the sun. Numerous folks, including two little girls and their mother stopped by to say hi; making this the friendliest place we’d visited. Then I pressured the girls into barbecue, so we hailed a cab and made our way to Central BBQ.

There was quite a line, which was reassuring. We distracted ourselves by chatted up the 5-year old in front of us. At the counter, Kelly went for the pork ribs, Rachel for turkey and I opted for half a chicken with both barbecue beans and green beans. Best barbecue of the trip. Followed by peanut butter pie. Sitting outside at a picnic table in the warmish air, life was good. We were even invited to a college-ish party by a volleyball team at the table next to us. Would we all pile in the back of your truck, I jokingly asked. Yup, said Tanner. Tempting, but we’d have to drink a lot to crash on a college couch, and we had a date with Elvis tomorrow at 10am, so it was back to the Hampton Inn & Suites.

Friday

I’m guessing Priscilla didn’t have much input regarding Graceland’s decor. From the stained glass peacocks, to the carpet on the ceiling, and the pleated fabric covering the walls and everything else in the billiard room it was experimental, hedonistic and how to put this, super gay. But she got horses, a white Mercedes, and planes, so not really a raw deal. The audio tour was a bit confusing, but the house and grounds offered one surprise after another. And seeing the pink Cadillac and walking onto the planes was a kick.

For lunch we grabbed burgers at Huey’s Midtown. Veggie burgers with low fat mayo – just like a salad but better. Then we walked though the Stax Museum of American Soul Music. Like Sun Studios, small nobodys like Otis Reading and Isaac Hayes recorded hits there. From the introductory video (so many famous artists recorded here), to the costumes, and getting to listen to all the hit songs though interactive kiosks, it was education at its most entertaining.

Then we braved the rain, walk/running to McEwen’s on Monroe. After demolishing several small biscuits, Kelly and I opted for the BBQ Duck Confit Enchiladas, and the Warm Hazelnut Crusted Goat Cheese Salad, while Rachel took down the Sweet Potato Crusted Catfish. All good, but a little underwhelming for the price. But the dessert was Heaven. That’s actually what they call it, and it’s not exaggerated – think peanut butter fudge with chocolate ice cream. If I end up on death row this is part of my last meal.

With our bellies full, we scurried over to BB King’s Blues Club. We had to get one night of blues under our belt. The 7-man band was loud and proud with good reason. We chair danced until Lionel Richie’s “Easy (Like Sunday Morning)” and “All Night Long” demanded we rock out on the dance floor. Full of overconfidence we signed up to sing “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel at the next door karaoke bar, but after listening to a few songs we realized people here could sing. While entertaining, we lingered a song too long and were called up. I was in the middle of chatting up someone cute from Arizona, and sadly realized he was about to see me at my worst. Thankfully, thirty seconds in the DJ turned up the instrumental portion and we could barely hear ourselves, but we still walked off the stage and out the door at the end.

Then it was onto Silky O’Sullivan’s, an Irish dueling piano bar. The players were talented, one played the trumpet and piano at the same time, but hesitant to play our requested “Friends in Low Places.” But it was the perfect note to end our Memphis stay on.

Saturday

Off to Nashville! After walking a mile with our luggage to the nearby Hertz, we settled into the 4-hour drive. Much Internet research yielded no great lunch options on the way, so we settled for Panera.

After unpacking at the Vanderbilt Holiday Inn, we changed and headed out to dinner at Caney Fork River Valley Grille (picture below). The name would be better with two less words, but no judgment. Pretty standard fare: barbeque, burgers, fried alligator. I really wanted a taste of the latter, but the girls weren’t intrigued. So barbequed chicken it was. For the 3^rd time. Yes in four days, but it’s vacation. Then onto the Grand Ole Opry!

It didn’t seem like you could get a bad seat at the GOP, but ours were really great. Four or five rows back from the balcony I felt like I was making eye contact with Trace Adkins and Keith Urban. I’m sure they felt it too. Not being the biggest country fan, I spaced out a little unless the performers were really cute (Josh Turner, Keith Urban and the boys from Love and Theft), or super manly (Trace Adkins), but I was mesmerized by the sequins. And 92-year-old Little Jimmy Dickens was hilarious. “My wife said she wanted me to bring her somewhere she hasn’t been in a while, so I showed her the kitchen.” Great stuff. After thinking we’d seen the shadowy figure of Nicole Kidman standing in the back, watching Keith’s performance, we left fulfilled.

Sunday

After a brief stroll around Centennial Park (where we figured out what our group’s first hit would be), we drove down Broadway to see the honky tonks. After, we returned the car and Kelly’s friend Lee brought us to Pancake Pantry, where I considered ordering the best thing but asked for the worst. To make matters worse and better, Kelly got the Sweet Potato Pancakes while I tried to swallow my Tennessee Country Ham, which was salt in ham form. Then it was onto the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, where I watched every video Taylor Swift ever posted and was assaulted by sequins. My ADD couldn’t take any more stimuli, so we decided on froyo at Sweet Cece’s (delicious!) and a movie. Stimulus sitting down is totally different.

After waiting a bit at Merchants we filled up on shrimp cocktail and a barbecue chicken sandwich for me, a veggie burger for Kelly and fish tacos for Rachel. Sadly they were out of peach cobbler. Then we headed to Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge for some honky tonk action. With bands and bars upstairs and down, we could embarrass ourselves and move on. Since we found a table downstairs we ended up staying, and the singers were legit. You would either be a god as a struggling artist here, or hate yourself and your competition, but either way, we enjoyed it.

Monday

Today, Trace Atkins would leave his wife for me. Since we’d noticed each other at the concert, he’d be able to sense when I was near. Like in a van slowly driving by his house.

Our Gray Line tour guide picked us up around 9:30am, and for the next two and a half hours we cruised through Nashville. We swung by Taylor Swift, Kid Rock, Hillary Scott, Dolly Parton, and countless other country stars’ mini and mega mansions. And we looked into the community were Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman live! Lounging in the wide seats with the sun on us, touring so many elitist but beautiful neighborhoods, it made me rethink the burbs.

Being the great sport he was, our guide dropped us off for our last lunch at Big River Grille & Brewing Works for a classic cob salad, a barbecue pork sandwich and a burger. Not crowded, great service and standard pub fare made for the perfect lunch, and way to say goodbye. The south is definitely a soulful, friendly place with actual gentlemen, great music, delicious barbecue, and accents you want to imitate. I miss it.

FRIDAY

Someone was screaming my name. Had I been recognized from my blog? Had someone actually read it? No (sigh). But my friends Kathy and Amanda had either arrived early or flashed something to get to the front of the line crowding John’s Pizzeria. Walking in, I noticed the writing wasn’t only on the walls. Previously, it must have been a large solitary confinement cell where people carved ramblings onto every inch of table, wall and bench. But it’s more quirky than psycho, and the pizza looked worth a run-in with a few crazies. After passing on the salad with a laugh, we choose ground sausage, mushroom and peppers on one medium, and pepperoni on the other. Hello heaven. I was mentally resistant about the potential dryness of the ground sausage, but being a yes woman I went along with Kathy’s recommendation, and it was perfect. Classic New York thin crust, but chewy enough to satisfy a carb craving.

Then we moszied to PopBar, after stopping at Bleeker Street Records to see Scuzzball, the fattest cat alive. They could close the store and sell tickets to see this cat. It might be a good idea regardless considering the trajectory of the music business.

But back to Popbar. Over three words: hot chocolate on a stick. Real gelato, and they’ll dip it in chocolate or coat it in nuts. Also, not even that fattening. They range from 70-200 calories. There is a god and she loves us. I was actually going to pass and gorge myself on froyo, but one taste of Kathy’s espresso dipped in chocolate sent me pushing my way through some hesitant kids, pointing at the chocolate. Kids shouldn’t be eating sugar this late anyway.

After walking into a store specializing in fantasy parties, we were told we couldn’t eat our dessert in there unless we  wanted to clean dildos. Deciding we didn’t, but that this was clearly the high point of the night, we said our goodbyes.

SATURDAY

It was a nerve racking, sweat-inducing choice but I decided on Prune for brunch. Cute seating, looked great, super long wait. My stomach wasn’t down for that, so I walked to the west village. Seconds before I was about to eat at a burger chain with a stupid name about napkins I found A.O.C. A little piece of Paris on Bleeker. Naturally I paired my lovely salad of smoked and poached salmon, with a Diet Coke – very An American in Paris. It tasted light and hearty at the same time. The bread was nothing special, but my waitress was. She was attentive, sweet and brought me soda after soda sans judgment.

After my 2.6-mile walk I needed a neck and foot massage stat. So I strolled almost no miles to QQ Nails and Spa. As a walk-in, I waited 15 or 20 minutes but the massage was serious business. I like to be forcibly relaxed in a feel good way, and that happened. For $40 I received a 15 neck and a 15 minute foot massage, but more importantly left ready to shop.

I backtracked to Phileo Yogurt for a cup/giant bowl filled with NY cheesecake, cookies and cream, cake batter and vanilla and chocolate. Operating the slot-like dispenser, great, not being able to look shocked at the amount, unfortunate. But dairy will save my brittle 33-year old bones from osteoporosis.

Meandering through the west village I found a brunch spot I’d been to before and dramatically thought I’d never find again, called Extra Virgin. After congratulating myself for performing the impossible, I vowed to return. Ditto for the Smorgas Chef with its Swedish meatball and goat cheese salad.

At Darling I tried on 15 dresses and left with a sweater. At Shoegasm I found a great pair of caramel oxfords by Chelsea Crew.

Now it was time to responsibly line up outside the Upright Citizens Brigade for the 7:30pm show. Being irresponsible, I called my brother and got a soda. Upon arrival I was informed that I couldn’t take my place in the never-ending line, as I had to buy tickets first. $30 lighter but 3 tickets richer, they’ve let everyone in and I grab a great seat.

The first show (THE BACHELOR! Romance, Roses and Romance) was sketch, which was great, but I like to see humor borne from fear and stress. The following improv shows (The Stepfathers and The Law Firm: Law and Disorder) were funnier, didn’t resort to cannibalism, and reaffirmed I could never do this professionally. But I had more pressing concerns, like dinner. After 4 hours of Improv I wanted to grab something and head back to the hotel. Like an over-stuffed deli sandwich. The kind I’d feel badly about. Yelp guided me to Am and Al Deli where I grabbed the Honeymoon – hot roasted turkey, with honey mustard and melty cheddar on a sub roll. I ate it all in bed while watching Desperate Housewives. My future honeymoon has a lot to live up to.

SUNDAY

I’d told everyone I was going, so I had to but time was running out. Mission: Katz Deli. On a Sunday. It being the day of rest I took a cab, and (gasp) walked in. Inside it wasn’t mad chaos, but close. Since ordering anything but pastrami seemed wrong, I did. On rye, with mustard. And it came with 2 kinds of pickles. I was ready to act out the When Harry Met Sally orgasm scene. Putting away half the sandwich and most of the pickles I feel like a champ, but wished I could siphon a spoonful of someone’s matzo ball soup.

Seeing Anything Goes, winner of the Tony Award® for Best Musical Revival, at the Stephen Sondheim theater was magical. Every singer was a star and watching the tap numbers gave me a few minutes of child-like exuberance. On our theater high, my Dad and I, who’d flown in that afternoon, floated over to Orso for pink champagne, roasted quail and duck. Walking back to the hotel at 1am the city was still going. Or the garbage trucks were. And the construction crew outside our hotel. But two chapters of the Hunger Games later, I was sleeping soundly in the city that never does.

Rest assured, your local deli isn’t adding peyote to their everything bagel, it’s just a cat food commercial.

Between the dancing turkeys and the magic-mirror-technicolor-portal, it’s a bumpy ride with your logic hat on, but toss that off, kill the lights and you’ll be jamin’ in a salmon boat too.

Cannes may not come calling, but it’s the cheapest, faster, perhaps most fun high you’ll enjoy at work.

Thanks Friskies.

Turns out, it was uplifting. Plus some good advice. “It’s better to be doing something interesting than looking for a job.” Umm yeah. Only MTV Teen Cribs is more depressing than having all the places you wanna work not want you. So new plan: I’ll find my own clients. When wallets are tight companies need to attract consumers in easy, cheap ways – skills I’m familiar with. I never thought they’d help professionally, but it’s a whole new world. A wondrous place, for you and me.

This Reebok bit’s a great reminder that although most ads and teams disappoint, others freak us out – permanently tagging our “wicked rad” cortex. Or until we swap our brains for processors 2 years down the road.

Back to the point (thanks ADD meds!), there’s a richness to Amy Tan’s stories that lead one, and apparently, TED to ask… how the hell do you do it? As with all rambling writers she tries to answer this impossible question in the last 5 minutes of her speech. The gist of which is that she puts herself in the story to encourage an authenticity of character and intention. As the story richens, a distinction between author and story allows the two to separate. Is she an egomaniac? Maybe. But her explanation makes more sense. She has to become the story to understand how things happen. And only by understanding how things happen, can she make things happen. It sounds so easy. I think I’ll put this theory to test in my next radio spot for cat litter.

Since video games exist mostly in cave-like environments it’s tough to enjoy them in the light of day. Which offers no help to gamers looking score some street cred. In Grand Theft Auto (AKA, GTA), it’s you versus the Russian mob. (A daunting task even for those with unlimited Red Bull.) Surely, players deserve better rewards than never needing to buy sun screen and taking feisty 8-year olds down a peg.

Enter Enders. The glossy graphics on these powerful kicks portray the beat on the video street. And since gamers like to work for their perks, these shoes are only available to power players. Meaning your boss in GTA has to give them to you. Then, via a microsite and a code the first 200 gifted gamers can end up in Enders.

Secret, exclusive, targeted… yes. Guaranteed to induce chatter and intrigue about the brand… indeed. In these fast, distracting times a great way for brands to be more creative is to create.

After determining that people eat it, and even like it, we cautiously proceeded to try it on toast and immediately regretted it. However, after interviewing several foodie friends we found that those who use their kitchens appreciate horseradish. So we took aim at this ramen-averse crew. After a particularly long staring contest between my team and some wooden beams, a fresh idea came. Since Long’s is bottled and on the shelf in hours, it seemed brand-appropriate for it to provide intel about what’s fresh and seasonal in grocery stores. Interesting, said our teacher, but being the idea killer that he was, he suggested we make it easy and useful.

Enter the Shotcode.

Hold for the Wikipedia explanation: it’s a free mobile application. So for Long’s, we’d stick mini banners in shopping carts and baskets, prompting people to find out what foods are freshy fresh, based on season. How to accomplish this? Shoppers take a picture of the shotcode on the mini banner, which routes them to the Long’s website. There they find the best seasonal grub and a recipe to put that grub to use. (Surprise, all these recipes include Long’s horseradish.) For convenience, the recipe chosen is sent via e-mail, along with a link to buy Long’s online. Cause peeps be wanting it bad after bookmarking “Steak sandwiches with caramelized onions and horseradish.” Inspired by this insider info, people can gather the appropriate accoutrement for a truly fresh feast. Kinda cool right, but don’t take my word for it, check out the video link below for the full effect. Oh, and we got Finalist status for the Website category, in case you were wondering.

Click here to view the embedded video.

It was like getting a huge crush on your date. Intimidating at first, but tuning into the good vibes drags you in. Suddenly life is so fulfilling, you’re distracted from your ADD. That night as TV played, love, like a few other substances, was in the air. You just had to believe it to see it.

Typical advertising tells a story, but digital can offer a better way to eat, run, dress and drive. It doesn’t ask us to pay attention, it adapts to us. But their friendship/utility doesn’t come for free. The cool factor from the clients-side regarding digital is the direct sell part. “The key to these platforms is that they sell products directly, rather than tell stories about them. In the case of Nike+, the proof is in the numbers. The company’s global running-shoe sales are up from $8 billion for the fiscal year ending May 2006, a 21 percent increase.” (ibid). The old if you build it quote seems relevant here.

Ideally digital doesn’t just want to showcase products and services, it wants to inspire users, as it works in the selling part both more directly and seamlessly. Advertising this way has the potential to benefit consumers, brands and agencies, but with the dawn of addressable advertising (targeting commercials to various sects of society) we’ll see how intrusive all this becomes.

As long as digital remains innovative, making holes instead of selling bits (heck we’ll customize shoes at a bus shelter) we’ll get along. But there’s a fine line between anticipating what people want and crossing privacy boundaries. But if Nike+, NikeiD and Nokia viNe are examples of digital advertising as utility, ads might just come in handy.