Girl Next Door Wins Billboard Bride Contest

Over 500 brides-to-be entered the “Billboard Bride” contest at July’s Bridal Extravaganza Show. The winner will grace billboards, posters and other promotional materials for January’s Bridal Extravaganza Show.

Judges spent weeks sifting through applications to select the final contestants. When Hollie Padron’s crossed their desks, it stood out. Funny and sincere, her entry secured her a firm spot as a finalist.

When the time came for her to stand before the judges at Ventura’s Bridal, the choice became clear. Smitten by her charming nature, the panel was equally impressed with Padron’s unabashed response to their question of how she embodies the modern Houston bride. “I’m real!” she exclaimed. After describing herself as hardworking and passionate, Padron boldly stated she is “not a size 2,” a trait she believes many brides can relate to. When she pointed out her future name, Hollie Salas, sounds like “hot sauce,” the incessant laughter from the judges’ table signified the Billboard Bride had been found.

Padron was ecstatic when they called and told her she won. The 22-year-old accounting assistant gave neighbors an earful of shrills, jumping up and down in her apartment. Donning several gowns hand-picked by Ventura’s, Padron was the epitome of a classic, blushing bride throughout the mid-day photo shoot. Traditional studio portraits and modern poses amidst the chic backdrop of Uptown Park allowed her to relish in the joy of her upcoming nuptials. With each flash of the camera, the future Mrs. Stephen Salas thought of her fiancé.

Most people go to Olive Garden for the endless soup and salad, but Padron found endless love. While working there as a waitress, a co-worker caught her eye. “We were friends for a couple of months, then I asked him out on a date,” she recalls of her forward approach. They were soon more than friends and over the next year and a half, Padron realized an ideal future would be one spent with Salas.

While she was sure she found the man she was going to marry, the engagement came as a complete surprise. After celebrating Christmas with their families, Padron and Salas spent the next day at the Museum of Natural Science and later went for an evening stroll in Hermann Park. When they found themselves alone in front of a fountain, Salas dropped to one knee and presented Padron with the ring — a princess-cut solitaire set in white gold. Floored, Padron managed to let out a tearful “I do.”

They’ll make it official March 7 with a black and white wedding at Centurion Palace in League City. She will wear the princess dress of her childhood dreams, complimenting her groom’s traditional black tuxedo. Until then, billboards across town will serve as a reminder of her special day.

Bridal Budget Rescue

7 tips for getting the most bang for your bridal buck

1. Save the (Right) Date By choosing a Friday or Sunday for your wedding, you can cut rental costs on churches and reception venues by as much as 40 percent. Saturday weddings are the most popular, so venues charge premium rates. However, many churches are busy on Sundays, so if you’ve always dreamed of walking down the aisle, Sunday may not be the best day for you.

2. Timing is Everything Choosing a unique time can save you big dollars. Do as the Chinese do: have your wedding in the morning followed by a brunch reception. This saves you a ton on food costs. Same goes for afternoon weddings—have a trendy cocktail reception afterward, or a delicious dessert bar. The less food you have to serve, the less cash you’ll shell out, but make sure you pick a time of day when the food you’re serving is appropriate.

3. Go with the Flow(ers) Check to see which fl owers are in season. You may have dreamed of a bouquet of lilacs in September, but fl orists charge more for out-ofseason fl owers because they’re harder to fi nd and keep fresh. Also, exotic fl owers like blue roses cost more because they have to be specially bred or even painted. If you’re dying for a color that’s expensive, here’s a classy way to spice up your bouquet and save money: use all white fl owers accented with ribbons, crystals, or vintage hatpins in your wedding colors. If you want outof- season fl owers, ask a fl orist if similar fl owers are in-season. Keep in mind bouquets made of a single type of fl ower usually cost a lot less.

4. Get the Package Deal Some reception venues offer packages including fl oral and décor services, catering, music and other reception needs for one price. This can be more cost effi cient than booking all these services à la carte. Be sure to check prices before you commit—some companies may over-charge because you’re locked into using their vendors.

5. Test Drive Most brides hire a limo service, but other options, which might better suit a bride’s style, can cost less. If you don’t have far to go, a romantic horse-and-carriage ride can be relaxing and impress your guests with a fl air for the theatric. If you’re not bringing your entire wedding party with you, you can rent a smaller town car instead of a stretch limo. For large parties, a luxury shuttle bus may be a wise investment as they can accommodate more passengers and generally cost less than renting two limos.

6. Forget the Favors Sure, little tins of mints with personalized labels saying “Mint to Be” along with your names and date seem cute now, but at $2.50 a pop, the more people that RSVP the more cash you’ll be shelling out. Many weddings end up with baskets of costly favors that guests left at the venue. Any non-edible favor guests take home is probably going to get thrown away or relegated to the junk drawer. Many couples are opting out of this tradition, choosing instead to set each place with a custom cookie which is cheaper than most commercialized wedding favors.

7. Keep It Trim If your guest list gets out of hand, so will your budget. Guest count affects spending tallies in almost every category—invitations, food, venue costs, alcohol, flowers and favors. So when your mother-in-law to be insists on inviting her nextdoor- neighbor’s friend’s son, it’s time to draw the line. Most of your friends and extended family understand venue restrictions and budget concerns. Just be sure to observe proper etiquette in such situations.

Will Someone Please Pass the Chardonnay?

Dear Kind H Texas Readers: I’m a red wine drinker. I tend to stray away from the hard stuff, because I morph into Faye Dunaway in Barfly. P.S. Do you remember the tagline from that phenomenal film?

“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”

Oh, it’s perfection. But I digress. Let’s get back to the red wine. I’ve recently been invited to several Houston parties. And not just your average, run-of-the-mill shindigs. I’m not talking about a barbecue in the backyard, dog jumping in the pool, kids screaming for ice cream type of bash. Nope. These are the real deal. The big enchiladas of parties. The savoir faire’s of fetes.

Imagine valets in red jackets parking your car, a golf cart sweeping you up to your host’s front door, where you are greeted by a waif-like Heidi Klum bearing a tray of champagne flutes. And that’s just the entrance.

Inside, the decorations include the likes of flower bouquets fit for a royal wedding, candles large enough to light Ecuador, and mini-quiches served from domed English platters. The guests are fashionable types. You know these people. Hey, you may even be one of these people. Flitting around in the latest high heel mini-boots. Waving to your gorgeous, mini-booted friends.

Meanwhile, I’ve shown up in a perfectly respectable outfit. And yet, I’ve missed the hot trend. The “this season must-have.” The slouchy mini-boot.

Let’s face it. I may as well be wearing parachute pants and Kaepa’s. Ah, such are the trials and tribulations of the glamorous life. I wind my way toward my only salvation — the bar. And there is the bartender, shaking fun little cocktails for everyone. Topping off champagne flutes. Smiling as if he owns the house — which he absolutely does not, by the way.

“What can I get you?” he asks, because this guy recognizes a fish out of water. It’s as if I’m wearing a nametag that reads: Hi, I’m Jo. And I’m not wearing mini-boots.
“I’m easy,” I say. “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”

The bartender shakes his head, grimly. I can tell he’s about to deliver the bad news, like the Captain of the Titanic.
“The host is only pouring Chardonnay this evening,” he announces.
I stare at him, but he remains poker-faced.
“No red wine?” I ask

He shrugs and looks at me with pitying eyes. I can tell he feels my pain, but he doesn’t dare say a word. This bartender is one smart cookie. He knows where his bread is buttered, if you get my drift.
“How about a Gibson?” he offers. “I make a mean martini.”
“Can’t,” I say.
“How come?”
“I’m like Faye Dunaway.”
He smiles. “Barfly, right?”
I immediately have a fleeting fantasy. The cute bartender and I are on a desert island drinking red wine out of huge goblets. We toast to the sun and the sand and to the fact that we are alone.

And no one is afraid we will stain anything.

2008: The Year of Our….Lordy! (We have nothing to fear but the year itself)

Are we there yet? Have we reached 2009? Maybe we can crawl under the bed until 2008 is over, because we can’t take much more of it. This year we endured a massive hurricane, the implosion of our sports teams and a cascading stock market. Finger’s Furniture became Ashley’s, and the Downtown YMCA built in 1941, became the Downtown YMCA built in 2008. After 70 years of operation, the Avalon Drug Co. was bought out by CVS, and the storm actually hit. So let’s take a look at 2008, where spectacles in the space left us yearning for a new year. We shall start with North Harris County Commissioner Jerry Eversole, who predicted an FBI investigation into corruption allegations would force him from office. It was something about the design of his home, provided at no cost by a prominent retired architect. In addition, his campaign records were in disarray…again. $475,000 in cash suddenly ballooned to $1.8 million, and more than $1 million was quietly stashed in secret CDs. The commissioner wins our “Be It Eversole Humble, There’s No Place Like a Designer Home” Award.

Congressman John Culberson submitted a $500,000 earmark to erect a statue of noted Houstonian John Adams in Washington, D.C. That was but a drop in the pork trough. Altogether, Houston members of Congress tried to get 289 earmarks passed.

Washington magazine made its annual survey of 1,700 Capitol Hill staffers and honored Houston’s own Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee as “Meanest Representative,” “Biggest Drone,” “Show Horse” and second place as “Fashion Victim.” She won more awards than any member of the House.

Weather or Not (The Sky Is Appalling): As usual, our TV weather wizards went ballistic over any approaching cloud west of Africa. Dolly came and went, then Edouard and Gustav missed us. Darn! Finally, there really was something to rant about: “Ratings!”

Ike caused $8.5 billion in damage to houses, apartments and mobile homes. The disastrous storm brought us misery, days of no power and weeks of dead limbs piled on our front lawns.

Quote of the Year (Ike’s Scream Division): “You need to be getting these (expletive) trucks out of here!” — Mayor Bill White upon finding trucks loaded with ice, food and bottled water at the Reliant Center while, two hours after opening, nine of 11 PODs had no food or water and only five had ice.

Unfortunately, we had to deal with FEMA again. Among its many foul-ups this time, of 6,600 families displaced by Ike and eligible for long-term rental housing, more than a month later only 500 had been sent to proper housing authorities.

Another reason to worry about the weather: According to a new analysis, more tornadoes strike Texas than any other state. Out of the 254 Texas counties, guess which one hosts the most? Harris, with 211 since 1950.

Can we ever forget 2008 was an election year? Our coveted Klock Stopper Quote: “What we wanted to do was project mayhem.” — GOP Congressional primary candidate Brian Klock, who used a billboard showing the Houston skyline in flames to push his plan for avoiding another 9/11. Klock lost.

Hold Your Nose and Vote For Vo: Texas State Rep. Hurbert Vo, a millionaire, turned out to be a slum lord, owning four local apartment complexes with exposed electrical wires, rotting wood, mold, and overflowing dumpsters. Upon being outed, he wrote to the HPD protesting the inspections, using his official State of Texas I Am on the Law Enforcement Committee and Don’t Forget It stationery. Vo won his bid for re-election.

Losers: Shelley Sekula “Trust Me, I’m a Doctor” Gibbs and Kelly “She Stabbed Him 193 Times!” Siegler. Sheriff Tommy Thomas was tossed from office and former HPD Chief C.O. Bradford didn’t get to be DA Bradford. On the legal front, prospective juror Cornelia Mayo wins our Out of Pot Luck Plaque. She was arrested for smoking a joint outside the Harris County Courthouse during a break. Mayo was one of 20 people in a jury pool to try — guess what? — a woman accused of possessing marijuana.

Fridge Is a Cold Case: 28-year-old Kathryn “Kristi” Fridge was arrested and handcuffed by a fire captain after he heard her use the f-word at a Wal-Mart store in La Marque. Fridge didn’t help her case when, according to the official report, she told bystanders, “Can you believe this? He’s —-ing arresting me for saying —-.”

This year’s Leave Well Enough Alone Award: Clara Harris, the Friendswood dentist who ran over her cheating husband enough times to kill him and sued her defense attorney, George Parnham, claiming he overcharged her. The jurors found the lawyer not guilty, ruled Harris still owed him $70,250, and ordered her to pay Parnham $389,443 for his legal bills in her civil suit.

A Hole in Juan: Lawrence Shipley III, scion to the Shipley Do-Nut empire, received six months probation and a $6,000 fine after pleading guilty to hiring illegal immigrants. The company admitted to doing this for years and used nine residences to house the illegal workers. It was fined, too. They Could Have Been Running Backwards: Joe Horn was no-billed after fatally shooting two fleeing burglars in the back.

Coffee, Tea or a Knuckle Sandwich? Flight attendant Sharon Brown sued Victoria Osteen, wife of mega-pastor Joel Osteen, over an alleged altercation aboard a Continental flight. Brown claimed Victoria damaged her religious faith and caused a hemorrhoidal flare-up. The jury decided on the side of Osteen, who gave us The Quote of Last Retort: “Thank you, Jesus.” She did not say “…people who go to Lakewood (Church) are screwballs and nuts.” That came from prosecutor and DA candidate Kelly Siegler during jury selection.

And now for the sports segment. When former Texan fullback Jameel Cook was pulled over in August, Houston Police found Cook had:

no front license plate,
no registration sticker,
no valid driver’s license,
and no proof of liability insurance.
His Florida driver’s license had been suspended in May.

Strangest Sports Story: “But this is akin to saying that Houston’s cow-skin work in tops of innings on Crawford St. and bottoms of road innings is outstanding?…But MMP of 2008 is MMP of 2007, and so far, our stats say that in ordinary and OOZ plays, Houston of 2008 is outdoing Houston of 2007.” — Zachary Levine in the Houston Chronicle.

The Astros again played the role of spoiler — spoiling their fan’s season. The Boys of Slumber finished out of the money, out of the playoffs and 11 games out of first place in their division. Houston fans, finally showing taste, dropped attendance a whopping 240,968 from the previous season. Designated Hitter: Shawn Chacon. Designated Drunk: Brandon Backe. But there is hope for the future: the Astros’ four top minor league farm teams — Round Rock, Corpus Christi, Lexington, Ky. and Salem, Va. — all finished with the worst records in their respective leagues — bottom, the basement, last place.

Catch a Falling Star: Local heroes Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte got sideways with Congress, and their fans, over drug use. Clemens is suing his former trainer and current accuser, Brian McNamee, for saying tacky things about the Rocket. In addition, country singer Mindy McCready supposedly had a lengthy affair with Clemens. For whatever reason, his Memorial Mall restaurant is on hold.

And now our Rush Limbaugh Medicine Cabinet Trophy: The day after the Astros signed shortstop Miguel Tejada for $13 million, he was listed in the Mitchell Report for using steroids or other performance-enhancing drugs.

In football, overwhelmed with fan appreciation, the Houston Texans finally reached mediocrity with an 8-8 record, causing the owner to jack up ticket prices.

Rice fired head basketball coach Willis Wilson after the Owls lost the last 20 games, finishing the season 3-27. His replacement? Ben Braun who was fired two weeks earlier by Cal-Berkley after three losing seasons and repeatedly finishing eighth or ninth in the Pac 10.

After coming back to within two games of first place in their division, the Rockets lost Yao Ming for the rest of the season and stunk up the joint. This is a recording.

Two-time champs Houston Dynamo didn’t repeat, but nobody knows. Perhaps if the team had not cratered to pressure and kept its original name, Houston 1836, it would have a greater following.

Enough of sports, here’s a true winner in The Final End to Camelot Category: Houston businessman Jack Worthington, now living in Canada, claims to be President John F. Kennedy’s illegitimate son. He must like hanging around First Families. Worthington dated Sharon Bush, President 41’s ex-daughter-in-law.

Gag Oder: Anheuser-Busch announced plans to pipe methane gas from a local landfill to help power its Houston plant.

A Rising Yacht Raises All Prices: James Mulva, CEO of Houston-based ConocoPhillips, received a compensation package of $50,549,026 last year. The top 100 earners in Houston, almost all oil and gas executives, received an average of $8,141,785 last year, up 31.1 percent from the year before. How’d you do?

Ah, but there’s good news. In the Somebody Up There Likes Us Department: On June 21, 2008, Slate and Newsweek ran: “To find a hot spot where soaring oil and commodity prices and the booming economies of the developing world are keeping cash registers ringing and construction crews fully employed, you don’t have to trek to Dubai or Moscow. You need travel only as far as Houston.”

BusinessWeek ranked 25 metro areas for the best combination of good pay, available jobs and an affordable standard of living. We’re Number One! The magazine described our sleepy fishing village on the bayou as “riding high these days, thanks to record profits in the oil and gas business.”

Kiplinger’s Personal Finance magazine in July called Houston the “Comeback Kid,” and also rated our town Number One: “It’s the city of big plans and no rules, beat-the-heat tunnels and loop-the-loop highways, world-class museums and wiry cowboys, humidity that demands an ice-cold martini and the biggest damn liquor store on the planet. How could you not love Houston?”

Poles Apart: “Houston is known the world over. The technology is much higher, and the experience is greater.” — Lech Walesa, explaining why he came to Houston’s Methodist Hospital for heart treatment, thus chapping off doctors back in Warsaw.

In the Department of Equal Times, The New York Times gave us this year’s Crystal Bawl Award: “Houston in summer can be a miserable place. ‘It’s 100 degrees and 100 percent humidity — in the shade,’ said Crystal Hadnott, a career counselor for a scholarship fund.” Actually, Crystal, it rarely gets to 100 degrees or 100 percent humidity in Houston. It just feels that way.

Greatly Missed: Louie Welch, Ron Stone, Ray Miller, Orange Show honcho Tom Jones, Clyde Wilson and Dr. Ralph Feigin, Physician-in-Chief at Texas Children’s Hospital and Chairman of Pediatrics at Baylor College of Medicine. We also bid farewell to Dr. Michael E. DeBakey, who, before his death, was honored with Congress’ highest civilian award, the Congressional Gold Medal, by President George Bush.

Moonlighting Becomes You: 30 HPD officers were suspended without pay, or were or given written reprimands, for working private security jobs while still on city time.

Take a Truncheon to Luncheon: The City of Houston settled lawsuits against it for the 2002 botched police raid and mass arrests in a Kmart parking lot for $840,117 plus another $60,000 for outside lawyers.

The Casons Go Rolling Along: In the past 12 months, the Houston Chronicle mentioned Becca Cason Thrash 32 times, down from 37 the previous year, but this year she garnered two lengthy stories.

Out to Launch: NASA employees used government-issued credit cards (i.e. taxpayers money) to purchase iPods, video games, clothes from NASA’s own gift shop and a Christmas tree.

Winners: Discovery Park and an end to construction on the Katy Freeway. Catholics got a new church, the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, and Daniel DiNardo was made a cardinal. Angry that the Houston Livestock Show &Rodeo didn’t have enough Tejano musical stars or officials, some Hispanic activists urged a boycott of Go Tejano Day. That day set an attendance record.

Made in the Slade: Former TSU President Priscilla Slade, accused of spending $500,000 of the school’s money on personal luxuries including golf lessons and bar bills, plea bargained her way from spending a single day in jail. Instead, she was fined $127,672.18, put on probation, and ordered to perform 400 hours of community service.

Mission Implausible: Was Roland Carnaby a CIA spook or just a fraud? Carnaby was fatally shot by Houston police after a high-speed car chase, as he reached into his car for a “shiny” metal object, which turned out to be a cell phone. The CIA denied Carnaby ever worked for the agency, which, of course, meant he did. Or didn’t.

Worthy contenders all, but they can’t hold a candle to the Worst Little Courthouse in Texas. So, while the competition is usually tough this year, our late DA wins the A Rosenthal By Any Other Shame Award. Congratulations.

Will Someone Please Pass the Chardonnay

Will Someone Please Pass the Chardonnay?

Dear Kind H Texas Readers: I’m a red wine drinker. I tend to stray away from the hard stuff, because I morph into Faye Dunaway in Barfly. P.S. Do you remember the tagline from that phenomenal film?

“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”

Oh, it’s perfection. But I digress. Let’s get back to the red wine. I’ve recently been invited to several Houston parties. And not just your average, run-of-the-mill shindigs. I’m not talking about a barbecue in the backyard, dog jumping in the pool, kids screaming for ice cream type of bash. Nope. These are the real deal. The big enchiladas of parties. The savoir faire’s of fetes.

Imagine valets in red jackets parking your car, a golf cart sweeping you up to your host’s front door, where you are greeted by a waif-like Heidi Klum bearing a tray of champagne flutes. And that’s just the entrance.

Inside, the decorations include the likes of flower bouquets fit for a royal wedding, candles large enough to light Ecuador, and mini-quiches served from domed English platters. The guests are fashionable types. You know these people. Hey, you may even be one of these people. Flitting around in the latest high heel mini-boots. Waving to your gorgeous, mini-booted friends.

Meanwhile, I’ve shown up in a perfectly respectable outfit. And yet, I’ve missed the hot trend. The “this season must-have.” The slouchy mini-boot.

Let’s face it. I may as well be wearing parachute pants and Kaepa’s. Ah, such are the trials and tribulations of the glamorous life. I wind my way toward my only salvation — the bar. And there is the bartender, shaking fun little cocktails for everyone. Topping off champagne flutes. Smiling as if he owns the house — which he absolutely does not, by the way.

“What can I get you?” he asks, because this guy recognizes a fish out of water. It’s as if I’m wearing a nametag that reads: Hi, I’m Jo. And I’m not wearing mini-boots.

“I’m easy,” I say. “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”

The bartender shakes his head, grimly. I can tell he’s about to deliver the bad news, like the Captain of the Titanic.

“The host is only pouring Chardonnay this evening,” he announces.
I stare at him, but he remains poker-faced.
“No red wine?” I ask

He shrugs and looks at me with pitying eyes. I can tell he feels my pain, but he doesn’t dare say a word. This bartender is one smart cookie. He knows where his bread is buttered, if you get my drift.

“How about a Gibson?” he offers. “I make a mean martini.”
“Can’t,” I say.
“How come?”
“I’m like Faye Dunaway.”
He smiles. “Barfly, right?”

I immediately have a fleeting fantasy. The cute bartender and I are on a desert island drinking red wine out of huge goblets. We toast to the sun and the sand and to the fact that we are alone.

And no one is afraid we will stain anything.