Sunday, February 27, 2005

Start spreadin' the news...I left yesterday...

Vanessa here...

I'm happy to report on this glorious Sunday that I had a date last night! And it didn't suck. It was like something from a television show...no, from a movie...no, from a novel! Well, all three! In fact, it ended with a "why don't you come to this Oscar party with me tomorrow night" line.

Yes. I, Vanessa Virtue, downtrodden, dispirited and disgusted with most guys I meet, went out on a date last night and it was a success!

It was, of course, with Ponytail Cutie...henceforward known as Phillip Coulter or PC for short (Woof!) He ended up calling me Thursday night and asking me out for Saturday. I didn't feel like playing it coy (which my roommate, Mia, told me I should, but then she's got a steady boyfriend that I set her up with) and I graciously accepted the invitation for dinner and drinks. Funny thing is, the dinner and drinks were in Manhattan! No kidding!

PC picked me up at 6:00 p.m. Saturday evening. I was thinking he must not have been sure about the whole asking me out thing and wanted to go out early and get it over with. But, as soon as I opened the door and saw him and his cute little ponytail standing there smiling at me, I didn't care if we only spent fifteen minutes together. We get to his car (a nice, silver Toyota Sequoia SUV) and he opens the door for me (nice...boy's got manners.) He asks me if I'd like to have the best seared tuna I've ever had in my life and I was like "sure!" So, we drive through Cambridge, out to Storrow Drive and next thing I know, he's turning onto the Mass Pike. Okay, fine...thinking we're headed into town, I chill and adjust in the seat. I borrowed one of Mia's Diane Von Furstenberg wrap-around dresses that always look so seductive on her but on me made me look like I was wearing someone else's clothes. Still...I tried to chill and be confident. Afterall, PC did ask me out!

Well, before I know it, we're headed South on I-93 towards Providence when I finally do away with the small talk and ask him flat out, "so where is this seared tuna?" He turns to me with the whitest, brightest of smiles and says, "Les Halles, 15 John Street at Broadway." He's taking me to New York City?! On our first date?!

It was awesome, though. He had a basket of cheese, fruit and wine in the back seat (he only drank one small glass while he drove) and we talked about how he lived in France for six months when he got out of college six years ago. I found out he has a Vizsla Hungarian pointer named Daisy whom he adores more than anything on the planet and he just got a promotion at work. We have sooooooo much in common, it's not even funny. My dad is career Air Force and his is career Navy. PC mainly grew up on the west coast, in San Diego, but says he loves the east coast even though the weather sucks. I mean, if I had gotten a sketch pad and some pencils and drawn out a perfect guy, it wouldn't be much further than PC.

At 10:00 p.m., we parked his car in a deck and walked the remaining couple of blocks to Les Halle. Now, I'm a huge Tony Bourdain fan, so this was near a geek-out moment for me. And no, he wasn't there.... But the place was hopping! Full of people on a Saturday night and pulsating with the excitement of food, wine and excitement. We got seated promptly at 10:30 -- just like our reservation that he'd made -- and immediately ordered a bottle of wine. PC said he'd only have one glass since he had to drive back. He got the seared tuna, as planned, but I had to go for the Mignon de Porc "Maison" (pork tenderloin with yummy mashed potatoes.) I was feeling guilty since it was $18.50, but the guy did drive me here and I wasn't going to get the free-range Amish chicken, thankyouverymuch.

We shared an apple tart for dessert and had a couple of cups of coffee each before he paid the bill and we headed back to his car. He actually reached for my hand (!!!) and he helped me up into the big SUV. By now, it's around 12:30 and I'm not tired at all. Before heading out of town, we drive up the Upper West Side, paralleling Central Park and then cut across and head down the Upper West Side. Then we head back to Boston. We talked the whole way about movies and music and food and it was amazing...like someone had written this out as a screenplay and PC and I were reading the parts.

At 5:25 a.m., he walked me to my door and gave me a very nice, warm, yummy kiss that made my toes curl inside my three pairs of socks and stockings in my knee-high boots. He looked at me all cute and dreamy and said, "I'll pick you up in thirteen hours." (His buddy, Stephen, is having this Oscar Party at 7:00 tonight -- I'm soooooo pulling for Sideways over stupid Million Dollar Blunder...yuck!) So, that's where things stand. I slept most of the day, but I can't wait for tonight. At the rate we're going, the third -- hence, the sex date -- date will be here before you know it. Just had to report in! And I'll be sure to keep you posted!

Double Vee

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

"I'm only here to pick up chicks..."

Vanessa here...

So, my friend Griz and I went to this event last night thrown by this local media group at a cool bar on Washington Street called Felt. It's a pretty spiffy place, I must say. The event was for people in the public relations industry, so since I'm a marketing guru, I went for the free eats and socilization. Griz, who's a web designer, came along for the ride.

We get there at 6:00 p.m., like the invite says, and we're the first people there. No one to welcome us at the door or tell us we're in the right place or anything. So, we go to the bar and get a glass of wine. ($7! Do they think this is Manhattan?) Twenty minutes later, we're still sitting there when I look around the room and realize it's pretty much all women! There are like three guys there and I can sum them up: The Fat One, The Bald One and The Wee One.

At 7:00 p.m. when there's still no finger food out, Griz and I decide to shoot a game of pool (which was a spectacle to behold, considering neither one of us is very good.) I actually won off banking the eight ball off the right side to spin it into the corner left pocket. See, I knew watching those ESPN pool contest specials at two in the morning would pay off one day!

Annnnnnnyway. Around quarter of eight, they start bring out food and the natives rush to the table. I come away with one chicken finger, a mini egg roll and a corner piece of cooked dough that was part of a small pizza. Griz and I are standing there shoveling in the food (because we're stahhhhvin' at this point!) and The Wee One comes up and starts talking to us. You know the drill...name, job title, company. I think it's so pathetic that in this society we're identified by what we do and who we work for. The Wee One writes freelance news articles for magazines we've never heard of, but he seems proud enough, so we go along with it. Then his cell phone rings and he turns his back to answer it. Here's what I hear...

"Hey man...nothing...this PR event...I'm only here to pick up chicks..."

What? Eww...go away!

Chicks? What is this guy? Fifteen years old? It certainly looks it from the acne on his cheeks. Grow up, buddy! So much for this being a professional event.

As someone who helps with events in the office, I'm of course judging how this whole event panned out. If I'd been in charge, someone would have greeted you at the door and the food would have been served at 6:15! Maybe I should freelance my event services in the future? So, I tell Griz I've had enough and I cram the remaining egg roll into my mouth as I head towards the coat rack.

That's when I ran into him.

Ponytail Cutie!!!!!!!!

He was at the event. Well, he was getting his coat to leave because he obviously thought the party was as lame as I did. He smiled when he saw me and asked if I was stalking him. Yeah...right! I laughed nervously and tried to play it cool. You know...hey, it's cool...no big deal. (God, I'm really bad at this.) He was really nice, though. Turns out, his name is Phillip Coulter. Get it...Ponytail Cutie's initials are PC after all. How weird is that? He works as the PR Director for this software company around the corner from my office. I tried to be professional, yet flirty and he ended up asking for my card. Then, get this. When I handed it to him, he said, "does that have your home number on it?" I was like, "No, but I can write it on there." So, I did!

I don't have a date with him officially, but he has my digits and in approximately three days (oooo...just in time for the weekend!), he might call me. In the meantime, I'll just stalk...errr...look for him on the train in the morning.

Vanessa Virtue's cold, dark, snowy February is looking up.

Don't forget Project Runway's two-hour season finale tonight!!!!! If Wendy Pepper wins, there will be hell to pay...

Double Vee

Monday, February 21, 2005

George Birthington's Wash Day

Vanessa here...

Can you believe I have to work today? On a National holiday? Doesn't my employer understand there are very important President's Day sales in progress at malls across America? One day only sales, in fact, that woo shoppers into the crowded malls to spend money they don't have on items they don't need. Although, I admit, I have my eye on some adorable floral print shirts and skirts from Banana Republic's spring line. And there are some shoes at Aldo I want to check out. I'm thinking of abandoning my traditional black this spring for some sunnier, brighter colors like teal, yellow or pink. My toes are suffocating in three pairs of socks and boots...just waiting for the time when I'll wear sandals again.

But nooooo...I have to be sitting here at work, in a snow storm, no less!

I'm convinced that we won't see the sun here in Boston until well into May. I already have fake 'n bake tanning lined up so I won't look like the pasty white New Englander that I am.

As fate would have it, I saw Ponytail Cutie this morning on the train, so he had to work, too. Aren't we the epitome of a hard working couple? Okay...so we're not a couple, yet...but I vow to meet this guy and wow him with my Virtue charm. Upon the advice of my friend Griz, I actually followed PC this morning down his street and so now I know what building he works in. There's a deli in there, too, so Griz and I are going to tromp over there in the snow (what a pal!) in a little while for lunch to see if we can run into him. I'm trying to think up a clever way of meeting him officially. Griz says I should spill tuna salad on him, but I think that's just rude. Maybe I'll try the old fashioned way like, "Hi, I'm Vanessa...and you are?"

I have these tickets that my roommate, Mia, gave me to this show. It's called The Puppetry of the Penis. She said I should ask someone to go with me on a date. Right! Not exactly the ideal place for a date...I mean, what would the guy think of me going to something like that? I hear the show is hilarious...but not what I had in mind to ask a strange guy out. For PC, I'm thinking something more intimate, like dinner and drinks at Oskars over on South Street or the Wonder Bra (Bar) over in Allston -- although it's usually packed with rats, errr...I mean, students. I have to think this through.

For now, though, I'm distracted by this creepy guy here in the office that keeps insisting on opening the window because he says there are fumes emenating from the office machines. He says the fumes from the Xerox machine are toxic and he has to let fresh air in or else he'll choke. Let's not mention that it's in the 20's outside and in addition to all the fresh air he's letting in, there's also snow pouring in on the vacant cube where the window is. I've closed the window three times already and the jackass keeps opening it. This man is a serious freak. But, he's the best cold-calling salesman we've got...so everyone (except me) forgives him his eccentricities. He's this little troll of a man who wears rainbow suspenders and has Coke-bottle thick glasses, but he's got a great phone voice and schmoozes clients like I've never heard before. He's mental though. I mean, anyone who thinks the copier is out to get them is just weird.

So, I'll sit here until it's time to venture over to the deli to see if I can bump into PC. Wish me luck! The lives of our future children depend on our meeting. :)

Until then...go enjoy those President Day sales and leave something for me to go buy after work!

Double Vee

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Love blossoms on the Red Line?

Vanessa here...

Spring is in the air. Okay, so it's still in the 30's, but a girl can dream. The sky is actually blue and the brown snow-sludge is starting to abate, so I have hope that one day soon the sun will shine down on me and brighten my dreary day.

Fine. I'm being over-dramatic. Have you just met me? But I have to tell you...I'm in love.

Well, not in love, love...but in total lust. Same thing...at least for me at this point in my life.

Don't ask me his name 'cause I don't know it. I only know that works somewhere near me, he carries a Kenneth Cole messenger bag and he's a total hottie.

I saw him on the train last week. Didn't think anything of it. But then, I saw him again. And again. We were on the same car at the same time, getting off at the same station. Mia thinks he's stalking me, but she's just being paranoid. (Men follow her around because she's dropdead gorgeous, but she doesn't get it.) So, I'm getting off the Red Line yesterday morning at Kendall Square to walk over to my office and someone slams into me. It was him! He grabbed onto me and apologized profusely, saying he wasn't paying attention, etc. I, of course, babbled out some incoherent sound like "gurrrrrp..." and smiled. He's just adorable, let me tell you. Black pea coat, red scarf tied European style, chocolate brown eyes and long hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail. In fact, he sort of looked like Robert Plotkin from Project Runway. Maybe he's moved to Boston to be a designer? Nahhh...still...

(And let me just interrupt to say that Evil Wendy Pepper did not get the ass kicking on last night's show like she deserved. She is an evil, evil woman. I bet she drew that mustache on her daughter's picture herself, just to cause a "controversy." She must lose. At all cost. Okay...end of Project Runway rant, although I encourage you to tune in next Wednesday for the season finale!)

Back to Ponytail Cutie...

He kind of did this winking thing at me as he continued on his way. Since we were going in the same direction for a while, I watched him walk. The man knows how to walk. Not anything overt like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, but nice, nonetheless. It was a but of a little strutty-strutty...not like a swagger, but more like a confident gait. Let's face it, the dude knows he's cute.

Well, this morning, I see him again across the packed train car. For me, the world stood still and everyone disappeared except for me and Ponytail Cutie. He must have felt me staring at him 'cause he looked up from his Metro (that annoying free newspaper they push at you every morning in the T station) and nodded at me. ME! Sure, I'd spent an extra ten minutes getting ready this morning and foofing my hair just so. I'd even put on lipstick and I never wear the stuff, even though I have about 19 free tubes from all my Clinique gifties.

I get off the train and head up the escalator and he's there next to me! Goosebumps all over. (Yeah, yeah...it might have been from the cold, but I think it was from his nice, white smile.) He says to me, "Has anyone mowed you down yet today?" Me, being all flirty -- I hope! -- say back, "No, but it's not 9:00 a.m. yet." (I groan inwardly.) But Ponytail Cutie laughed at me and smiled again.

We walked out of the station together (well, I felt like we were together) and then he said, "Have a great day. See ya!" I waved and couldn't get any words out -- me, Motor Mouth...couldn't speak...Hello!! -- and headed towards the office. I watched him from a far and I saw him turn into the block before my building, so that means he works at one of two companies. I'll have to do some investigating and see if I can get the 411 on him. This'll be fun!

At least the commute's not boring anymore.

I'll keep you posted on my progress. Maybe I'll get my courage up and ask him for coffee or a drink.

Hang loose and keep warm!

Double Vee

Monday, February 14, 2005

Don't give in to the madness!

Vanessa here...

Not too happy today. And I mean, who would be that's single and alone on Valentine's Day? If you don't have flowers or candy on your desk at work, you might as well have a big, neon arrow above your head, flashing and pointing "Lonely Loser." It's not my fault I don't have a boyfriend. Pickin's are slim these days and I won't just go out with anyone so I won't be alone and at home on the nation's Hallmark holiday.

Those bastards, as well as the candy companies and florists, are all in it together to give their bottom line a boost once a year. I mean, it's not undying confession of love to the person you're with to stuff them full of carb-laden, sweet candy that's only make them fatter -- not to mention raise their blood pressure -- all because the TV and advertisements everywhere tell you so.

There was this guy out at the Galleria at lunchtime and he was in complete Lover's Panic. It was obvious he hadn't planned ahead and was rushing around trying to find his wife/girlfriend/sig other something before the end of the day. The guy was actually sweating and his tie was askew as he dug through the heartshaped boxes at CVS. Then, he headed off to the florist at the bottom of the escalator...I just hope they had roses for him, otherwise, I bet he won't get any sex tonight.

I will not fall prey to this manufactured holiday! I won't. Did I wear a red or pink shirt today? Hell no. Vanessa Virtue wears basic black, baby. Did I buy a box of little kid Valentines to give to members of the marketing team? Absolutely not. Do I want to cry every time a bouquet of flowers is delivered throughout the hallways of work and I have to listen to people coo over it? Okay...well, I get a little lump in my throat, but it's only because I haven't found the guy yet. It's not jealousy...it's just...well, I hate feeling left out.

My friend Griz got flowers from her college sweetheart who lives down in DC, but sent her a "thinking about you." Well, it's got her thinking about him now, let me tell you what. And my roommate Mia, got a gigamonic box of candy this morning from Larkin, the guy here at work that I set her up with. Shoot, if I'd known he was so romantic and into making a lady feel special, I would have set myself up with him -- if it weren't for that stupid "no dating" policy we have here at work. (Just kidding...so wouldn't date a dog like Larkin.)

I won't give into the season depression. The cold is bad enough without having TV, news, bus ads and other people waggle their finger in your face over their happiness. Why just limit the show of affection, love and care to this one day? Shouldn't you give your sweetie presents and treats and confessions of feelings throughout the year? Wasn't St. Valentine's Day like a massacre? Like where people died? How gross that we glom onto this as the day as the one to tell someone you love them?

Okay...I'll take off my bitchy pants and put them in the closet for another year. I don't want to sound bitter and hateful. It's not that. It's just that I envy people who have someone they can curl up with on the couch...or go to dinner with...would be nice. And it'll happen for me one day...it has to. Boston's a big city and there's got to be someone out there for me, right?

Ooo...just got an invite to a MediaBistro party tonight. Just what I need to take my mind off candy, flowers and love...networking and cocktails. I'll have them make my new cocktail I made up for the holiday...the Anti-VD-tini - Vox raspberry, Cointreau, splash of OJ and a splash of cranberry. Voila!

Vanessa Virtue relationship tip for the day: To all you lovebirds...remember...show the love everyday...not just the day Hallmark tells you.

Until next time...

Double Vee

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Heathcliff, oh, Heathcliff...

Vanessa here...

Coming to you from the moors of Scotland, apparently. I'm looking out the window here at the office (that overlooks downtown Boston and the Charles River) and it's nothing but fog and rain. I feel like the mansion at Wuthering Heights should be in the foreground with Cathy and Heathcliff chasing after each other. Since it's still winter, I actually would prefer the snow to the rain. The streets get wet here and everyone's brains fall out of their heads. Traffic comes to even more of a stand-still and the T is packed with smelly and wet people, tromping over drenched newspapers on the floor. It's enough to make you gag.

And enough to mess up my nice short Italian boots from Aldo. (Got them on sale.) I'm so going to have to polish them the minute I get home to get off the salt and sand residue from walking the city streets. I'm so ready for Spring. Did the groundhog see his shadow or not...or whatever makes winter go away quickly? Is 27 too young to retire to Florida?

Things are quiet here in VanessaLand. Pats fever has subsided and now everyone's gearing up again here at work for the Sox. Not good enough that they won last year...now they have to repeat. Now they have to form a dynasty. Why can't people just be happy in the moment?

I do have to say that this guy back in Research asked me out for drinks. His name is Daniel Waters and he's pretty cute, if I must admit, but see, my company has this "no fraterization" policy, so co-workers aren't really supposed to date. So, to get around this, my buddy Griz (Isabella) and our receptionist, Janine and I are going out to this bar downtown and the guys (Daniel's bringing a couple more from Research and Griz's crush, Rick Churchman, may be there) will meet up with us. There, no stupid HR rules broken.

But honestly, who is the company to tell you who you can and can't date? Doesn't that sound a little too big brothery for you? Sure, if the relationship interferes with your work, that's a problem, but what's a few beers or glasses of wine between co-workers. And so what if you end up macking on each other. How does that hurt the company bottom line? But, I'm a hard working, team player, so I'll play by the rules. Wouldn't mind if that cute Daniel tried to get a good night kiss, though.

My roommate, Mia, is going out with Larkin again...the guy I set her up with from our sales team. Man, they are hot and heavy, let me tell you what. Since we live in this three-family house, the walls ain't too thin, if you catch my drip. Ah well, at least I know I can set people up effectively. I just wish they wouldn't participate in their activities on Wednesday night.

Why? Are you kidding me? Wednesday night is the new black. The new Thursday night. Talk about Must See TV. Project Runway, (their website has been down) followed by Queer Eye for the Straight Girl. Best two hours on television. Last night on Project Runway, I was crushed when they eliminated Austin Scarlett for that skag backstabber, Wendy Pepper. She's just a horrible, horrible person. Plotting and planning and conniving against her fellow designers. And there stands Heidi Klum with this look on her face like she doesn't know what's going on. It's the producers keeping that bi-colored hair menace (Wendy) in the competition. Jay McCarroll and Kara Saun (both immensely talented) are still on -- deservedly so. I'm still mad that they booted off Robert Plotkin. I just loved Robert...and hello...what was with Bravo showing him in the all-together buff?! Whoa! But...next week on Project Runway Wendy will get hers in an old-fashioned verbal gang bang of all the designers she screwed over to get where she is. It's going to be television at it's very best and I can't wait!

How sad that my social life revolves around reality TV? Well...okay, it does! Well, that and Joey, which is tonight. We all need our diversions, though, right? And, as my dear old dad says (he's a major in the Air Force), "whatever keeps you off the streets and out of the pool halls."

Which reminds me...I must check out this new place downtown called Felt. Maybe next weekend between home spa treatment and watchng re-runs.

That's all from me for now...keep it happ'nin!

Double Vee

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

New office policy: Drop the Gloves!

Vanessa here...

Try getting around anywhere in the greater Boston area this morning and forget it. The World Champions (Patriots, in case you're wondering...not to be confused with the Red Sox...and how is it "world" champion when they don't play anyone from another country? Just wondering...) are in town for a victory parade. Good for them...they had a good season and deserve to celebrate. Any team that shut up the NFL Peyton Manning marketing machine is okay in my books. I mean, what's with the NFL being sooooo in love with him? He's not cute, he's losing his hair and he's a mouth breather. Sincerely...has he ever won a playoff game? I don't think so. But, I digress...the parade...the traffic...you cannot get anywhere. Hordes of people, cars everywhere, packed trains. And the cops are stopping traffic out on the interstate to let the team buses pass through. For heaven's sake, there wasn't this much police presence on 9/11 and last summer's DNC.

Cool thing at work, though is that they let us "dress down" today in celebration of the victory. A couple of smart asses wore their Philadelphia Eagles jerseys in protest, but mostly it's a sea of red, blue and silver. Me, I'm wearing a Boston Bruins jersey. (I don't own any Patriots attire, so I went with the sport I watch.) Okay...now I know the NHL is, like, on strike and the league may never exist again as we know it, but what can I say, I liked hockey. And some of those scruffy players clean up real nice. It's a great game with the fast-paced action, the sound of the ice, and sure...the pounding into the boards and the beatings people take.

Now, I'm not a violent person, but wouldn't it be cool if you could settle things that way at your office? I mean, someone pisses you off, disses your work ethic or accusses you of some sort of stupidity like stealing coffee or something from the kitchen. Well, you just put on pads, suit up and go at it. Drop the gloves, baby! Think of how much less tension there would be in the work place. And, of course, your team mates (my marketing buddies, for example) would take up for you and keep the other people away as you fought for your honor. I know I'd love to take a shot at a couple of our sales guys who are always complaining about the way we do things in marketing. Or that stodgie old guy in Human Resources who's always scowling at us for laughing at work and trying to have fun. I'd be great...I could drop the gloves, lower my shoulder and slam him into the boards (a cube), taking swings at him. Then, I'd pull his suit jacket over his head and smack him in the head until the office referee showed up to call the fight. Afterwards, we'd go into a "think about it box" for five minutes to cool off and then we'd go back to work.

I think I'm on to something. Office Hockey. I'd work! People would be nicer, more understanding and better team players. I think I'll pitch this idea to my boss, she's always saying to me, "Vanessa, I hired you to be creative, so bring any ideas to me."

Maybe not. Then you'd have to hire an office doctor to tend to everyone's wounds and give us stitches so we can go back to work. It's hard enough for Vanessa Virtue to find a date with a decent boy as it is without a gash over my left eye.

Ah well...there's a direct e-mail marketing campaign sitting here for me to do. Best get to that. I'm no slacker.

Until next time...

Double Vee

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Netflix and Cavitt and Avon...oh, my!

Vanessa here...

Saturday night in February. Snow is melting. Chinese delivery. Sitting at home on the couch with a warm HP laptop and a cold glass of Pinot Grigio. (I switched from my regular Bella Sera to Cavitt 'cause it was on sale.)

Date night for everyone else. Deep conditioning and Avon clay mask night for me. My skin needs the nutrition. I think it's important to pamper yourself the best you can, whenever you can, even if you can't afford to hit a Newbury Street spa for a seaweed treatment or hot rock massage. (Although I hear those things are wicked amazing...)

My roomie, Mia, is out on a date with a guy from my work. I set it up. My payback to her for the date-from-hell with Mr. Harvard Flipflops. This guy I set her up with is Mr. Sales Guy Extraordinaire. I mean, if they get past dinner, I'll be surprised. That'll teach her for setting me up with dorks like Roland WexelBRAT.

Don't cry for Argentina, though...I'm perfectly happy to be sitting here at home with the place to myself. The rangoons are creamy and crispy, the orange chicken sticks to my insides and I have two spring rolls for chasers. I have a couple of Netflix movies to choose from but I watched GARDEN STATE. Just finished it. Man, oh man, oh man...what a great movie. Full of story and depth and character and wow...what a fantastic movie. I really recommend it. Zach Braff wasn't that cute at the beginning of the movie, but by the time it was over, he was totally cute and I just loved him. Totally believe he and Natalie Portman would live happily ever after. It was because his character really grew over the course of the movie. Oh, don't listen to me...just go rent the damn thing.

As a capper of the evening, I decided to do a deep condition on my hair. This olive oil Avon hair mask that I got. I know...I know...Avon...but it was all a Christmas gift from my cousin Claudia who sells it on the side for extra money and the stuff is really great. Thing is...I'm sitting here with hair goo and the clay mask on my face and Mia and Larkin (the guy from my company she's out with) come in and I'm sitting here like a total freakazoid. Larkin busts out laughing and takes these pictures of me with his picture phone....OH...MY...GOD!!! If he shows people at work I'm so going to kill him. But he has other more important duties at Casa Virtue...it appears he's staying the night with Mia. Ewww... So much for my pay back. Course, Mia is a goddess...dark....gorgeous and rich. Men melt at her feet and apparently Larkin's in a puddle.

So, I pour myself glass number five of the Cavitt and pop in BEFORE SUNSET and try not to imagine what's going on in the other room. I'll pretend that Ethan Hawke is after me instead of Julie Delpy. If only...

Hang loose...

Double Vee

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Jambalaya Baby!

Vanessa here...

Let me tell you what...it may be cold as a witch's tit in a brass bra here, but all Bostonians care about is the Super Bowl, baby! They've ditched their freshly-purchased Red Sox championship attire to bundle up in their Pats parkas, scarves and hats. The train's full of them...people ready for Sunday's "big game" ('cause you're not allowed to say Super Bowl in any kind of format that isn't directly related to the marketing of the game because NFL owns the phrase...yeah well...Super Bowl, Super Bowl, Super Bowl) and literally jumping on the bandwagon that's already full enough.

Don't get me wrong...I think it's great that the local team is up for the championship...I do. I went to two Red Sox games this past season. I just don't like people who've ignored the sport all season and then all of a sudden, when it's between two teams and the locals are one of them, all of a sudden, they're the biggest fan there ever was. Like this one guy at work...

Rick Churchman. He's a nice guy. Quiet. Shy. Works in customer service. (My buddy Isabella - a.k.a. Griz -- 'cause she loves Grizabella the Glamour Cat from "Cats" -- I digress -- has a crush on him, I think.) Annnnnnnyway. So, Rick's all like "the Pats suck" and "they'll never make the Super Bowl again" all season. Mr. Negative. Pouted like a five year old the week the Dolphins beat hell and four dollars out of them. Now, all of a sudden, Rick's got his Pats gear on full blast and keeps wearing this stupid hat that has "Jambalaya Baby!" written on it. See, when the Pats went to the Super Bowl a couple of years ago in New Orleans, everyone around New England was saying "Jambalaya Baby!" to each other as like this "theme" for the game. It was on bumper stickers and t-shirts...everywhere. I mean, did these people even know what this meant?

"Whooooohoooo...rice dish with meat and seafood, baby!"

Nah...that just doesn't work.

Sorry, I know people are excited, but every time I see it, it makes me shake my head...or crave some good Cajun food.

So, Rick's all jazzed 'cause he won tickets to "the big game." But that was it. The radio station didn't get him a hotel or accommodations, just game tix. Basically, he and his friend started driving to Florida on Monday so they could be there for all of the pre-game activities. Griz gets an e-mail from him a little while ago that there are no hotel rooms to be found in downtown J'ville (duh) and the closest they could get was some town called Lakeland. So, they're either going to sleep in their car or try to hook up with some frat brothers they know from college that rented a house and have some floor space. Man, the things boys will do just to watch a football game. Didn't they know they could watch from the comfort of their home? And if Janet Jackson or anyone else decides to flash a ta-ta again this year, they'll miss.

The kicker is, Rick packed all shorts and t-shirts and stuff, thinking he was escaping the New England weather, but he said it's in the 40's and raining down there. Poor Rick.

Oops...time for a marketing team meeting...must bolt...but Go Pats! (See, still room on the bandwagon for little old me.)

Double Vee

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