Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Love in bloom on the Soylent Green Line...

Vanessa here...

Back from a mortifying experiencing that turned into some good fortune for me.

First of all, let me just say that we here in Boston are the misfortunate souls of having the worst public transportation system on planet earth. And I know! I'm a military brat...I've been everywhere. I've ridden the Tube in London, the Metro in Paris, the subways in Toronto and New York, the L in Chicago and the BART in San Francisco and nothing comes close to the pathetic excuse we have here in Boston known as the MBTA.

So, after work today, I was supposed to meet up with my roommate, Mia, at the Sunset Grille in Allston. It's this great burger joint that claims to have like 600 beers on the menu. Mia's an expert as always ordering the one thing they don't have. Well anyway...I took the Red Line from work and transfered to the "B" Green Line to go out to Packard's Corner on Comm Ave and then walk down to the Sunset Grille.

Well, the B line shouldn't be called the Green Line, it should be called the Soylent Green Line. Remember that Charleton Heston movie...where the planet was overcrowded and people had like one inch of personal space...crammed up against each other. Oh, you know it...it's a classic..."Soylent Green...is...made...from...people!!!" I digress, but I'm trying to paint a picture people! There I am at Park Street, crammed on this train with no where to sit down. Then, at Kenmore, all of the local rats (students) pour onto the train and I'm even more squished. I'm jammed up against like this vent thing, but at least it's blowing warm air. All the jackass college students are talking in sentences that sound like "Me...I, I, me...like...you know...me, me, me...I, you know...like, me." UGH...they're so self-centered. I'm trying to read the book I've tugged out of my backpack, but it's impossible to do that, concentrate and hold on at the same time.

We get to Packard's Corner and I go to get off and can't. My backpack isn't budging. You know those long strappy things that hang off that have the double-sewn bottom? Well, it had fallen into the vent and gotten stuck. And it tweren't moving! What was going on?! People were pushing passed me and I was totally missing my stop. I looked at my watch and realized Mia's shift at Mass General was up a while ago and she was going to be waiting for me...and not be happy at my tardiness.

What could I do, though?! I had no scissors or a knife or anything to cut my backpack free and no one was helping me. I just stood there like a jerk, tugging at my backpack.

People get off the train, leaving me almost with the car to myself. Except this one guy. Wicked cute, too. He had on this really nice suit and red socks. I mean, like they were standing out. He had a suitcase with him, so it looked like he was just off a business trip or something. Dark brown hair...blue eyes. Yum.

Well, right before we get out to the end of the line at Boston College (like soooooo far past where I wanted to get off), he comes over to me and asks if he can help with anything. Durrr...my backpack's stuck, Cute Dude. Okay, so maybe I just thought that. But he offered to help. He dug out his keys and tried hacking at the strap that way, but it wasn't working. I've got to give him props for trying and it gave me a better view of him up close and personal. Ooo...nice five o'clock shadow. I had to put my hand in my pocket for fear I'd reach out and stroke his cheek. Bad Vanessa!!!!

At the end of the line, the train driver came back through, telling us to get off, but of course, I couldn't. Cute Dude explained my predicament and the train driver went to get something to cut my strap. By the time he came back, Ethan Greene (nice New England name, eh) and I had been introduced and were appropriately laughing at my sticky situation. I guess it could have been worse...like that time I got fresh chewing gum on my brand new Diesel jeans on the Red Line. The driver finally cut me free and I could go. Ethan walked me off the train when I realized I had to get back on and go all the way back to Packard's Corner. Seems like Ethan missed his stop, too. He lived waaaaaaaaay back up on Washington Street. Sweet! This guy missed his stop for me?

As the train got near his stop, he asked if I wanted to get off and have dinner with him at Tosca (this great little Spanish tapas place on Comm Ave in Brighton) and I said "sure!" Oh, sure, I knew Mia would be royally pissed at me for blowing her off, but she should appreciate an opportunity like this doesn't arise for Vanessa Virtue every day.

Ethan and I had a great dinner and got to know each other. He works in the financial district and had just gotten back from a trip to Denver. He was really sweet and polite and ooooooh so cute! We're totally going out on Saturday night.

Look at Vanessa scorin' on the Green Line!

I'll report back in after the big date to let you know how it goes.

Double Vee

Monday, March 28, 2005

Jesus died...so we can eat spiral ham?

Vanessa here...

Okay, someone please explain this societal need we have to eat ham on Easter Sunday? I don't get it. It's like American holidays are built around the consumption of mass quantities of a particular food now...and not the holiday itself. Easter...EAT HAM! Fourth of July...EAT BARBEQUE...Thanksgiving...EAT TURKEY OR DIEEEEEEEEEE!!! Not to mention all of the Hallmark holidays that force you off your diets to eat Cadbury eggs, Hershey kisses, candy corn and Peeps for all seasons.

So what is it with the ham? The eggs, bunny rabbits and chocolates, I got...it's for the pagan ritual of fertility, but ham and the crucifixion? Doesn't add up to me. I don't get it. And it's not just that...it's this insatiable urge people have to get mean and nasty at the grocery store when diving for those gold-foiled packets of pig butt. Ham. What's the attraction? Did Mary and Joseph sit down to a Virginia honey baked ham after their son died? No...I don't think so! So, why do we? Why is every ad on the radio "ham on sale" and "get your ham!" Why are all the circulars in the mailboxes for Easter hams on sale? Do people not eat ham the rest of the year? Why the run on honey bakes on one of the holiest days of the year for the Christian religion?

And speaking of that...where does the Christian love go when you're at the super market with your basket filled for your Easter dinner? Out the door...let me tell you what! Stupid me, I decided I wanted some salmon this weekend, so I went to Stoop 'n Shite (better known in New England as Stop 'n Shop.) But little did I know I'd walked into a battle ground almost unseen since the last bit of fighting in Iraq. Mothers with congregations of children flocking them with packages of Peeps and other treats stood around with their carts buttressing each other in front of...the ham counter. Man, I literally saw two women wrestling over the last ham in the case before the butcher rolled out another six foot tray filled with the packages of pork. How is this praising God? Especially when they're jerking it from each other and cursing in strings like sailors on leave.

All because of a 12 pound ham?!?!?! Give me a break!

Ham is salty...so full of sodium, it's not even funny. According to online ham nutritional information, a serving of ham contains over HALF the daily recommendation for sodium intake. Why do this to yourself? Ham is also very fatty. Okay, sure, you can buy less fat hams, but it's still got a high fat content. At least 8 grams per serving. It doesn't go well with other dishes, so you're forced to serve other high fat laden items like potato salad and coleslaw. And then what do you do when Easter passes and you're left with 10 pounds of ham? Ham sandwiches for the next three week? Ham hash? Ham...burgers? Bleck!

The good people at Hormel (one of the pushers of ham) will tell you that ham contains a high level of some of the essential B vitamins, such as B1, B12, and niacin. It is also has phosphorous, zinc, potassium, iron and magnesium, which are important to our daily diet. Oh yeah??? Well...so does a One-a-Day vitamin.

I'm sorry...but I just don't get it. I don't get the furor over purchasing ham and serving it to your loved ones in celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Why not instead...give that ham money to a charity...be nice to people...let them have the ham at the counter instead of cursing at them. Isn't that the lesson of Easter season?

Ahhh well, I'll eat my Cadbury egg and be quiet...until the next Day of Gluttony...when is that...Memorial Day? Eat, eat, eat...

Double Vee

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Happy Endings!

Vanessa here...

Programming note: apparently there's this woman who wrote a manuscript based on me and my life. Wow...imagine that...me as a literary figure! LOL! Well, this lady entered the manuscript in a contest and it WON!

A LAPSE OF VIRTUE won First Place in the Chick Lit category of the Happy Endings Contest run by the CoLoNY Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. Never imagined my life as anything interesting enough to read about...but cool beans!

Now, if some lovely editor will fall in love with the story and buy it, then the world will know all about Vanessa Virtue. Come on...you're out there. You know you want to read more. Gack...that's kind of intimidating, eh? Ah well...fingers crossed!

You can check out more at http://www.vanessavirtue.com

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Monday, March 21, 2005

Battlestations! It's a clothing sale!

Vanessa here...

Well, I have to tell you...I survived the weekend and my shopping excursion to the Talbots end-of-season clear out charity sale in Medfield, Massachusetts. See...all the clothes from the previous season that don't sell, go to this Legion Hall in Medfield (small town outside the Route 128 corridor.) The tags are ripped out (hence, the sizes are too) because all of the money goes to charity...or something like that. Not quite sure why the tags had to be ripped out, but they are nonetheless...it makes for very interesting shopping in a free-for-all environment.

So, Griz and Mia and I get there on Friday morning (we all played hookey from work) at 8:00 a.m. The parking lot was FULL to the gills. Women everywhere...some even coming out already with their purhases. The sign on the door was refreshing: "No babies or strollers inside!" Loves it. We go in, are handed laundry baskets (in which to shop in) and set off into the land of shirts, pants, skirts and suits. I found the most darling leather skirt and put it in my basket, but when I laid my basket down later to look at a shirt on another rack, I found that someone had snatched the skirt from my basket. Thief!!!!

Let me tell you, God help the man -- or woman -- who stands between middle aged women and $5 - $10 clothing items! I've never seen anything like this. A feeding frenzy of fiesty women of all shapes, sizes and ages. They didn't seem to care what size the clothes were or if there was a possibility of it fitting them. They piled item upon item upon item into the clothing basket like someone was going to take them away from them. They wrestled over Wranglers. They fought over fabrics. They positioned around the pajamas. They made camp around the cords. And they protected their finds like mother bears watching over their new cubs. I saw two women about to fist-fight over a pair of JLo Glo jeans.

The dressing room...well, that was a whole other adventure. So, once I'd picked through items and found things that remotely looked like they were my size (What? Like I'm going to tell you my measurements? Not!), I stood in line with all the other basket-filled women to get into the communal dressing rooms. Yep...communal. One big room where everyone gladly dropped their drawers and paraded around in their undies, bras and support hose. Fortunately, I was relegated to the back corner where I had a modicum of privacy as I tried on the shirts, skirts and pants I'd foraged for. There were women commenting on $5 shirts and desperately trying to force their massive bodies into the small fabrics. Must. Fit. 'Cause. It's. Cheap!

Let's not even get into the fact that there are over a hundred women crammed into this one space and in a dressing room packed full of bodies and discount clothes, it's no place for anyone to rip one. But they did...a doozey or two. Talk about stank! I mean, my eyes started watering. It reminded me of Election Day when we were standing in line to drop our ballots and someone lit one...my friend turned to me and said, "I know this election stinks, but this is ridiculous." So ladies...if you find yourelf in a similar shopping situation, drop a Phazyme or two ahead of time before diffusing the whole building.

All in all, I got out of there with several outfits and only spent $75. Mia found tons to wear (she's so thin and tall) and Griz loaded up on sweaters (Southern by birth and can't stand these New England winters.)

I never saw my leather skirt again. I hope the bitch that swiped it is allergic to cow hide. Serves her right.

Hang loose!

Double Vee

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Judging books by their covers...

Vanessa here...

So, my friend, Griz, and I went to this networking thing last night at Legal Seafood over around the Park Plaza after we got off work. We get there a little late, but the place is packed. Beautiful, thin women and suited, pre-maturely balding men gawking at them. Total meat market under the guise of a meet market. Now, Griz and I aren't ugly, nor are we traffic stopping gorgeous. We're just average chicks, you know? But this is what happens to us...

We walk in and there's this guy in a really hideous floral design shirt (yes, I'm judging him) holding a stack of nametags printed out. We stand in front of him (as he's mercilessly hitting on this Brick House stacked chick standing there) and wait patiently for him to acknowlege our existence. When he doesn't, the guy standing next to him nudges him and says, "I think they're looking for their nametags or something." He turns, looks us up one side and down the other and then says, "Here, they're out of alphabetically order, why don't you look for yourself." And he goes back to talking to the Brick House chick! Hello! You rude thing...you're supposed to be handing these out, yet I'm suppose to forage on my own 'cause you're too busy socializing?

Lame! Lame! Lame!

And it made me feel about this ---> <--- big.

Griz and I mill around a bit and watch the people around us in this circus of life. No one's really "networking" like the event was promoted. Instead, they're flirting, eyeballing and ball scratching. There are the inevitable golf-playing sales men in one corner pounding back Sam Adams and checking out every female in the place. There are the perfectly coifed, styling women who just left their glamorous jobs to pop down here for a smart cocktail and to be picked up by a guy. Then, there are the geeky guys who are here to actually network and make contacts and pitch their freelance services to potential clients. Then, there's Griz and me. Just a couple of average working gals looking to meet people, make contacts and have a good time.

Only, we seem to blend into the rock walls of the Legal Seafood's wine cellar where the party is taking place. We stand at the bar and are virtually ignored by the bartender who's tending to a buxom red-head who is leaning over to yell her drink order near his ear.

Are we invisible?

No...we're nice people with good personalities and each cute in our own way. We're just not bowl them over first impression gals.

A friend of my family once told me "Vanessa, you get more beautiful the more I get to know you." Huh? Well, at first, I took it as a horrible backhanded compliment. So...upon first look, I frighten little children? Oh no, wait...he was saying that the more he got to know me, looks didn't matter? Or that my personality made me beautiful? I mean...what the f*ck? I never knew how to take that...but maybe he's right. The people who are long-lasting in my life appreciate me for my personality, my sassiness, my jokes and my wit. They don't hang around me because of my 34C's or my basic hair cut.

Have we become a total society of first glance impressions? And if so, are we missing out on some pretty terrific people who could be in our life by literally judging a book by its cover?

Don't get me wrong...I groom daily. I bathe on a regular basis. I use perfume and makeup. I'm just not your over-the-top glam gal. I'm just...me. What you see is what you get. But are people dismissing me as a person on first meet all because I don't meet some high expectation they might have?

Course, we all do it, don't we? That weirdly dressed student on the train with his pants around his butt cheeks. We judge him. That business man with the circa 1989 suit with the paisley tie. We have an opinion on him. The woman in the office down the hall who wears glasses when you know contacts would bring out her eyes more. We feel sorry for her.

We're such a judgmental society...what with all the reality TV shows (I know...there I go again!) where people are scored, ranked and judged on their talent, looks and size. Of course we're going to do it with our fellow man. Should we? No...but it seems to be a fact of life that we just have to accept.

So, I ordered myself a Pinot Grigio and enjoyed it with my friend, Griz...who is as cute as a button and any guy would be lucky to have her as a girlfriend...and any woman would be privileged to have her as a friend.

The lesson here...get to know people before you dismiss them.

I'll try to do the same.

Double Vee

Monday, March 14, 2005

Desperate for more...please...

Vanessa here...

What's happened to Desperate Housewives? Not plot wise...I mean viewing wise. It's never on on Sunday night anymore. It ran like two episodes in January and maybe one in February. But they opted not to go up against the Super Bowl, the Grammys and the Oscars. Okay, understandable...but where is it now? It was promoted all week on the entertainment news shows, talking about getting back to the Dana mystery and "you might just know who she is" but then they ran two episodes of "Jake in Progress" in its time slot. Vanessa's Note to ABC: Don't charm me by a new show starring Blackie Parish (sorry, I remember him from General Hospital) and then put it up on Thursday night against "Joey." I can't watch Jake because I have a 10 year relationship with Joey Tribiani. Bad move ABC.

But I digress...back to the Housewives. When it first started, man....it was EDGY! Out there, even. They didn't give in to convention or care what people thought about them. The storylines were interesting, compelling, sexy, shocking...and fun. The first 4-5 episodes rocked and had me sitting there going..."now this is good television." I'd resigned myself to accept that my 9:00 p.m. Sunday night slot was no longer filled by the Sex and the City gals, but rather by the women of Wisteria Lane.

Then, all the crazy people in the red states (you know who are!) got freaked out over the sex, the relationships, the mystery and most particularly...the way Lynette was portrayed as a woman not satisfied with merely being a stay-at-home mom with four unbearable brats and a husband who was never around. Did you blame the woman? Vanessa side note: Her husband, sorry...but he'll always be the affable, gay Matt Fielding from Melrose Place to me.

When ABC ran the "Towel-Drop-Heard-Round-The-World" on Monday Night Football with Terrell Owens and blonde bombshell Nicolette Sheridan, you would have thought the broadcast advocated naked sex in the streets in front of children and little animals. They even compared Nicolette's towel tease to poor Janet's ta-ta showing at the Super Bowl. When did Americans become so frightened of the naked (or semi) body? Do people not know what they look like when they shower or change clothes or do they all do it with their eyes closed? Not only were the Philadelphia Eagles and NFL forced into an apology for participating in that ad, but poor Nicolette seems to have been banned from DH for the foreseeable future. Have you seen her lately? Hell no.

And the interesting Lynette storyline has turned from this woman unhappy in her life to this super mom who uses her children as weapons against all the evil in her neighborhood. Okay, the episode where her lecherous husband was starting down at the nanny's boobs was funny, but let's face it...Lynette and Tom are about as compatible as Ranch dressing on Captain Crunch. And where's the romance between Susan and Mike? They had that one semi-hot (for network TV) sex scene, but that's been it. And poor Mary Alice...the forgotten (dead) housewife...we're getting no where in the mystery of her suicide that drew us all into the show. We won't even talk about the hunky, young, 18-year-old gardener who's all but gone from the show and poor Eva Longoria's stock keeps going down 'cause she's no longer featured week after week in her Body by Victoria.

Perhaps, ABC is running the show sporadically in order to cater to the madness and pull back on these exciting, edgy plot lines. Are they replotting? Reshooting? Or merely counting all of their Emmys, Golden Globes and People's Choice Awards? (Hello! People like the show as it is!) Or are they trying to confuse the audience from when the show actually runs, thinking we'll bail on the show. A confused audience is one that'll quit watching. I know I'm on the brink of WTF on this one. ABC -- a "family channel" owned by the biggest corporate whore of them all, Disney -- must be appealing to the advertisers who pulled from this show when the plots got too "realistic."

Let the housewives be desperate and despicable and entertaining and sexy and out there...that's what's made this show so great and so much fun to tune into week after week...when it's on. We don't want to constantly see Lynette's struggles with nannies, diapers and medication for overactive children...we want to know what Mike's up to, where Evie is, what's going to happen with Dana...and Mrs. Huber's death. Get back to those edgier plot lines that keep us tuning in.

Course, as always, this is just my opinion. I just want to be entertained. Until DH returns -- whenever ABC deems it -- I'll just watch reruns of Entourage and Unscripted on HBO.

Hang loose...

Double Vee

Friday, March 11, 2005

The reality is...it's not reality...

Vanessa here...

Another dateless Friday night, but that's okay...don't cry for Argentina. I'm going to watch Wednesday's America's Next Top Model that re-runs tonight at 9:00 p.m. (ET) on UPN. The model I predicted to win the whole thing was the first chick booted off. So, it makes me wonder, how "real" is reality TV.

For the record, I don't like reality TV. But I really don't have much choice but to watch it, eh? That's pretty much what's on. Now, I've never gone for the American Idol or Great Race or the eating bugs and dog food show, but I have believed that these more targeted competitions are real...and honest...and not scripted. However, that's just me wearing that Pollyanna hat again. When, let's face it, reality TV is as scripted as The Sopranos and ER. They just don't pay professional actors to come on and instead showcase "real"people. But how real are they? How much of these reality shows are based on things that just happen? Probably not too many.

Case in point, my girl, Brita. Let's face it people...she's GORGEOUS and I don't mean that in an "I want her way" but in an appreciative way. She was the most beautiful of the contestants and while yes, she was a bit chunkier (what a depressing society this is where a 138 pound woman is considered "fat" -- no wonder girls are anorexic and bulimic!), she was by far the best looking. And I suspected they didn't put her best picture forward, but read it for yourself from Brita in this article.

This saddens me because I want to believe that America's Next Top Model is really about who has the potential to be the best model. Look at last season. It was apparent from the get-go that Eva Diva was the best of the bunch. But what did they have to do? They had to heighten the drama by making her and Ann go at each other, cat fighting and backstabbing each other. All planned, people! I saw an interview with Ann where she said it was all dramatized for TV. Quite frankly, I don't need the extra drama. Life...work...friends and family...that's drama enough. If I'm watching "reality" TV, I want the elements to be realistic.

Didn't we learn anything from the Wendy Pepper cockroach existence (thanks to the producers of the show who kept her on as the villain) on Project Runway? Drama does not equal talent. And on these shows where contestants survive on their talent, is it fair to throw off the more talented designer or the more beautiful woman all because he/she won't "act" or cause a scene?

I know...I know...I get what I pay for. I watch reality TV, I should expect things like this. I just miss the good old days of comedies and dramas all over the place. You knew what you were getting, what you were in for. You watch Dynasty, you're getting a night time soap with cat fights. You want Friends, you're going to laugh. Course now...with my beloved ANTM, I have to factor in the drama factor...what's going to get people talking, what's going to get the blood boiling and what will get them on Entertainment Tonight tonight. I'll still watch, but with a jaded eye. I won't pick a favorite and root her on because it doesn't matter. It's all an act.

I say bring back Amish in the City! Now that was reality television...

As always, these are just my thoughts...decide for yourself.

Happy weekend...stay out of the snow and cold.

Double Vee

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Side order of tortillas with my sexual frustration...

Vanessa here...

So, my girlfriend, Griz, tells me I need to channel my sexual energies (frustrations, hello!) over the whole PC ordeal. What does she do? She signs us up for a Mexican Fiesta cooking class at Williams-Sonoma. It's a whole evening of tapas and recipes to help me get over the fact that I was this ---> <--- close to the "sex date" and didn't get the candy busted out of my pinata.

We show up for the class last night and it's couples and us. Everyone seems to think Griz and I are lesbian lovers out for a night of tortillas, quesadillas and margaritas. Sad part is, there were a lot of cute guys there...but they seemed tortured to have been drug to this with their girlfriends, wives or significant others. We learned how to make tortillas on a flat iron on the stove. They're supposed to puff up like a blow fish, but of course mine, like my chest, came out flat. The chef running the class was really nice and came over to help out...and of course he flirted with Griz and not me. It's that Southern accent of hers that sticks out like a thumb here in Boston.

I was no help. They kept making quesadillas that, to me, were more like empanadas. Quesadillas are like the round, cigar-like flour rolls you get at Taco Bell filled with cheese. But this guy was filling them with pork and avocado and frying them. Mine turned out like door stops. I don't know what it is with me. I'm not domestic in any way, form or fashion. I mean, how am I going to find a guy if I can't even make a simple meal at a class I paid $40 to attend?

I'm a sad sack...I do realize this. But you know how you work hard on something and almost get there only to fail miserably. I still can't get over how PC blew me off because of something I couldn't control. He didn't give me a chance for him to really get to know ME. I'm nice...I'm cool...I'm fun...aren't I?

So, the class finishes up, we get to eat our makings (mine were beyond bland) and then we retired to The Rattlesnake Cafe. Griz, of course, gave her number to the guest chef and they're having dinner this weekend. Me, I came home to watch The Food Network and see if Emeril Lagasse, Rachel Ray and the Iron Chefs can teach me how to seduce a man with food.

Tonight, it's delivery pizza, a big ole salad, a bottle of Rosemount Estate Grenache Shiraz and America's Next Top Model. You heard it here first...Brita's gonna win.

Until later...

Double Vee

Monday, March 07, 2005

"I'll have a couple of brats with my gnocchi..."

Vanessa here...

Can we talk about parents who let their children run around heathen monsters? I mean, honestly...

When I was a kid, I was supposed to be quiet and act like I had some sense in my head. I wasn't allowed to roll around on the floor at the train station or put things back in my mouth that had hit the ground. I also wasn't allowed to scream at the top of my lungs and annoy every patron in a restaurant...and if I did, I'd get the slipper to my backside when I got home. (I know...shock, shock, horror, horror...my parents spanked me...well, look how I turned out!)

Not kids today. They're little darlings. Precious angels who can do no wrong. And heaven forbid they ever be punished for being brats or told no. Instead, parents negotiate. Heard it on the train this morning..."Brittney, I'd prefer you not put that in your mouth. Brittney, I prefer you don't lick the handrail." How 'bout, "Brittney, don't do that because I'll have to take you in for a rabies shot!" But no...little Brittney continued to swing about on the handrail, lavishing her tongue over it like a cow at a salt lick. Think of the germs going into this child! Think of how many people before her had coughed into their hands and then held on...or sneezed or God knows what else. But because Mom couldn't take her head out of her Metro newspaper long enough to see what her kid was doing -- or tell her straight up to STOP doing it -- well, little Brittney may have come down with some sort of communicable disease.

I start this rant because my date Saturday night with PC was ruined. Totally and completely ruined. And this was supposed to be the sex date, dammit!!! He picked me up and we went for dinner at Appetito in Newton Center. Nice place. Classy atmosphere. Good food. But...the booth behind us had two kids who completely took over the restaurant!

It was fine that they kicked the back of my seat...I smiled through that. But it kept going on and on and on. And then, little Patrick (LP) and little David (LD) decided that the whole restaurant was an extension of their family room at home. While Mom and Dad completely ignored the little beasts, LP and LD wandered from table to table waiting to be adored. Mom would yell across the restaurant at them saying "I prefer you don't do that..." (again with the prefer!) and LP and LD would continue about their way, terrorizing the other patrons until you were forced to smile at them and tell them how cute and precious they were. LP came up to our table and took BREAD out of our basket! PC thought it was adorably cute, but I was pissssssed. I'm on a date, for heaven's sake, not babysitting!

So, The Family finally got their meal and next thing I know, gnocchi's being tossed over my shoulder....ha, ha, ha...isn't it so funny what LP's doing?! Not just no.....HELL no! I've got cream sauce on my new blouse from Neiman Marcus and there's potato in my hair. PC actually laughed at me! LAUGHED! No one's going to want to have sex with someone with gnocchi in their hair that they're laughing at.

I turned around and politely asked the parents to please control their children...that they were throwing food at me. Mom, of course, said "I prefer you don't do that Patrick" -- like Patrick cared! He just threw more food. PC continued to laugh and I continued to get miffed beyond reason. I complained to our waiter and asked to be moved, but the place was packed. And the thing is, no one else seemed as bothered as me. Is there something wrong with me? I mean, sure...maybe some day in the future I'll want kids, but does that mean I have to deal with them tonight? When I'm on a date with a cute guy...trying to make him desire me? It ain't gonna happen when Mean Vanessa has to come out and complain against people's offspring.

Needless to say, I begrudgingly made it through the meal. It was hard to concentrate on PC with the kids yelling and screaming behind me and I think PC got the wrong impression of me. 'Cause when he walked me to my door, he says that he's enjoyed spending time with me, but that he's not ready for another serious relationship with someone who might not be "the one." He barely knows me...how can he make this assessment? Besides, he wants a whole slew of kids and my attitude tonight showed that I wasn't ready to share my life with other people. WHAT??? All because someone's brats upstaged me and threw food at me? Well...that really sucks, but if PC's going to be like that, then I don't want a guy like that in my life...cute with a ponytail or not.

Ah well...Vanessa Virtue's single again...

Anyone know any single guys they can fix me up with?

Double Vee

Friday, March 04, 2005

Corporate games and other things with balls...

Vanessa here...

So, I walk into our weekly sales and marketing team meeting yesterday and three of the sales guys are standing around, slapping each other on the back and practicing golf swings with imaginary clubs, talking about how they can't wait to get on on the green and hit some balls. I'd say some balls are banging against each other nice and hard already... Then, our VP of Sales comes in -- this evil troll of a guy with complete Little Man Syndrome -- and starts talking in meaningless terminology...

"We need to crank up the ROI for the best payout dividend for the bottom line."

and

"Let's play with these sales numbers and tease out the nuances to better benefit profitability."

and at the end...

"Let's all tickle our files for a follow up on the head's up from XYZ customer."

WHAT are these people saying? What kind of corporate games are they playing? Do I need to go down to The Language Institute of Boston and take a course in Corporitis? I mean, honestly.

Let me interpret..."crank up the ROI for best payout on the bottom line" -- translation from Corporitis means "we don't have enough money and need to charge our customers more so I can take the wife on that trip to St. Barts at the end of the year." Got it. "Tease out the nuances?" Well, that simply means "we'll dick around with the financials until they look positive and the investors won't go ape $hit asking for their venture capital back." Got that one too. "Follow up on the head's up?" Means "I don't trust you to remember to do something I ask of you, so I'm going to bug the hell out of you -- even while you try to eat your lunch -- to make sure you do what I want you to do."

Riiiiiiiiight.

Wouldn't corporate life be easier if people just really SAID what they meant instead of tap-dancing around each other with niceties and corporate bull$hit that doesn't really mean anything? Like when we were kids. When someone pissed you off, you told them....or shoved them into your stack of homemade mud pies. When someone made you happy, you let them know by drawing them a picture or carrying their books at recess. When did we lose this honesty and realism in life? At what point did it become socially uncool to tell people what you really think or how it is? Work is not a sport...it's not football, nor golf nor squash. We use computers, not rackets. We have meetings, not matches and we all do it for the individual pay checks not for the sake of teamwork.

I swear, if I get another e-mail that starts out, "Just wanted to touch base..." AHHH!! Let's get this straight. People, I do NOT play for the Red Sox, therefore there are no bases to touch., no questions to field or balls up in the air. Don't give me a head's up, nor say you'll follow up with me. I have a Palm Pilot that politely beeps at me when I need to be reminded of a task. Treat me like the responsible adult that I am. I can take it...I promise you.

Let's keep all those corporate balls where they belong, fellas....in your pants.

And that's all I have to say about it. = )

Date tomorrow night with PC...if he utters one of these catch phrases to me, he's toast...

Double Vee

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

And the Oscar goes to...me!

Vanessa here...

It's bitter cold...it's snowing off and on...and I couldn't be happier. Why? 'Cause I'm totally digging on Phillip Coulter! Yes, Ponytail Cutie and I had a second date and it was fab-u!

We went to a co-worker's of his for an Oscar party. There were tons of people there and we really didn't get to spend a lot of time together because people were swarming around the food and stuff. But when the major awards were announced, PC and I found each other. I have to say, I was a little disappointed that he was so jazzed that Million Dollar Blunder won so much. He has this thing for Hilary Swank. Hello...she has a horsie mouth and looks like a guy! And Clint Eastwood soooo shouldn't have won. It should have gone to Martin Scorsese who's a frickin' genius. Problem was, I was in a room full of Million Dollar Blunder fans. Apparently, PC's whole company had a team building outing where they all went to see the movie as motivation. I hate when companies do stuff like that. They force interaction between people who can barely stand working with each other as it is, but then you have to spend time outside of the office doing something that's usually enjoyable, but it's so you'll "learn a lesson."

Every time Million Dollar Boogink won, everyone in the company like high-fived each other and were all..."remember when..." relating back to their company outing. I felt like such an outside, so instead, I just acted like I was all happy. Big smiley face. I mean, I haven't even seen the stupid movie. I was the only one in the room who cheered when Sideways won for writing and for when The Aviator got stuff. So...I was all Best Actress myself, trying to fit in and smiling through the pain of this bad, bad movie winning everything.

At least the end of the evening was nice...VV got her a little sugar. He kisses really nice, let me just say. Not sloppy, not too drooly...just nice. No complaints from me. And no...things didn't go any further. It was just our second date, but we are going out Friday night...so who knows what I'll have to report. (Bwah, ha, ha, ha, ha...)

There's plenty at work to keep me occupied in the meantime, incluing the obnoxious inside sales guy who I'm still battling with the open window thing. He came in the other day and started spraying dissinfectant on his chair. When I asked him what was going on -- I mean, everyone was gagging on the Lysol smell -- he said that someone had used his chair without his knowledge and they "left DNA and human dander" that was making his sneeze. This guy is certifiable!!!

Almost time for season four premiere of Tyra Bank's America's Next Top Model. Time to get sucked into yet another reality TV show.

Double Vee

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