Friday, September 30, 2005

10 Things I Don't Hate About Me...

Vanessa here...

8:50 p.m. on a Friday night. Man, this has been a shitty week. After all the crap Hunter put me through, he had the nerve to send me an e-mail and ask if we could have drinks tonight. And you know what I did? I deleted it. I mean, honestly! Does he think I'm a desperate fool and that I can be friends with him?

I spent the majority of this week totally hating myself. Hating that I wasn't sexy enough or tempting enough. What was it about me that pushed him to sleep with some skank? I've been blaming myself when I really should blame...him.

So, William just ordered Chinese food, got us some DVDs and a bottle of wine and we're having Girl's Night.

He also told me that I have to find 10 things I like about myself. Or as I call it "10 Things I Don't Hate About Me." So, here we go:
  1. I don't hate my hair. It's this goldy-brown and and it behaves more than it doesn't.
  2. I don't hate my feet. I have really dainty feet with nicely shaped toes.
  3. I don't hate my personality. I'm outgoing and bubbly. Someone will appreciate it.
  4. I don't hate my laugh. I've been told it's infectious.
  5. I don't hate my apartment, although I do hate my landlord.
  6. I don't hate my car. It's been with me since sophomore year in college. It's a trap, but it's paid for.
  7. I don't hate my parents. Although they hound me about "coming home," they love and support me in their own way.
  8. I don't hate my friends. They're the bestest and always lift me up.
  9. I don't hate the Yankees. Okay, I know that's not about me, but it sort of is 'cause I live in Boston and there's this bitter rivalry. I respect that they're a good team, but I just can't get embroiled in the fever of hating them. Now, don't get me started on hockey...
  10. I don't hate my life. I'm healthy, I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, a job that helps pays the bills and clothes on my back. Looking at what Katrina did to people, I shouldn't complain.

And I'll add an eleven...I don't hate Hunter. I feel sorry for him 'cause he missed out on what a great gal I am.'s that for positive reinforcement!

So, what don't you hate about you? Speak up!

Hang loose and tune in tomorrow for Weekend Eye Candy...
Double Vee

Thursday, September 29, 2005

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach...

Vanessa here...

Make that Chef Virtue!

So, last night, after three glasses of pity party wine (a fine Cab by Cypress Hill), William told me that the only true way to a man's heart is through his stomach. (And he should know.) He decided it was time to teach me how to really cook. Not just making grilled cheese and flipping burgers on the George Foreman, but really following a recipe and making it work.

And could he start me with something simple? Hell to the no. He started me out with Asparagus Risotto. I mean, I watched Hell's Kitchen and heard how Chef Gordon Ramsey ripped new assholes to his chefs when their risotto sucked dirt. Who am I to think I can make it? But I read the recipe, followed the directions and voila...a gourmet dinny.

Oh! And I'm total geek and took pictures. I'm like one of those food blogs that make you think everything is so simple to do. Well, hell, when you follow the instructions, it is. Who'd a thunk it? (Okay...three glasses of red wine in my system didn't hurt.)

First we got everything read. William said it's called the mise en place which is the French term for getting everything ready ahead of time so you just have to dump it in. Here's what that looked like (see left.) Shittakes, rice, parmesan cheese, thyme, asparagus, garlic, onions and a pad of unsalted butter.

Actually, here's the recipe:

About 4 cups chicken stock or canned low-salt chicken broth
1 large bunch asparagus, about 1 pound
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 cups sliced shiitake mushrooms (1/4 inch thick)
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 cup finely chopped onion
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 cup Arborio rice
1/2 cup dry white wine (optional)
1-1/2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1-1/2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley (optional)


Pour the stock into a saucepan, place over high heat, and bring to a boil. Meanwhile, snap off the ends from the asparagus and peel any tough skin from the stalks. Add the asparagus pieces to the stock, reduce the heat to low, and simmer gently until the stems are tender, about 7 minutes. Remove and set asparagus aside.

Heat the olive oil in a heavy medium saucepan over medium-high heat until hot. Scatter in the mushrooms and do not move them until they begin to brown, about 1 minute. Then season with salt and pepper, and sauti until brown, about 5 minutes. Remove to a plate.

Lower the heat to medium, add the onion, season lightly with salt, and cook until soft but not brown, about 2 minutes. Add the garlic and cook briefly. Add the rice and stir until the grains look pearly white, about 2 minutes.

Add the wine, if using, and cook until the pan is nearly dry. Adjust the heat so the rice cooks at a slow simmer. Add 1/2 cup of the stock, stir, and cook until the pan is nearly dry again. Season lightly with salt and pepper now so the flavor permeates the rice. Add another 1/2 cup of the stock and continue to stir and cook, adding stock as necessary, until the rice is three-fourths cooked, about 15 minutes. Stir in the thyme, mushrooms, and sliced asparagus tips. Continue to cook until the rice is al dente and the asparagus is bright green and just tender, about 4 minutes longer.

Remove from the heat and stir in the butter, Parmesan cheese, the parsley, if using. Taste for seasoning. Dust with Parmesan before serving. Pass more cheese at the table.

And here's how it looked when the mushrooms and asparagus were added in. William said it was one of the best things he'd ever eaten and I admit, it rocked the house. Now, all I want to do is research recipes and make them. Maybe I'll meet a nice guy one day who I can cook for. Maybe I'll have a dinner party. Like that one on Sex and the City where friend brought guys they didn't want anymore. I'll fill them with my yummy risotto. Course, their pee will stink. Not that I'll be smelling their pee, but it's just a weird thing to think about. Shut up, Vanessa.

So, whattaya think of my culinary talents? Think you'll try this?

What are your favorite recipes? Please share!

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Something for the hell of it...

Vanessa here...

Okay, enough blathering and boredom of my love life. Let's spice things up with a fun quiz that was e-mailed to me today. Take it and pass it on to your friends.


A - Age you got your first real kiss: Twelve. It was when my dad was stationed at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, Alabama. I was in 7th grade and at a party at Carol Barker's house. She was the "cool" girl in school because her parents let her have unchaperoned parties. With some good ole 70's disco music playing in the background, Carol announced that it was time for people to pair off. The serious couples retired to her father's den where the satellite TV was hooked up for insta-porn and the rest of us were lined up like criminals in a police line up. Then, you had to step forward and kiss the person in front of you. I was paired up with Lee Lockhardt. He was Marky-Mark cute back then. He marched forward, laid one on me, thrust his tongue into my mouth, wiggled it around a bit and voila! my first kiss!

B - Band listening to right now: Pussycat Dolls "Don't Cha"

C - Crush: Patrick Dempsey in "Grey's Anatomy"

D - Dad's name: Stanley...Major Stanley Virtue. And yes, he's scary.

E - Easiest person to talk to: Toss up between William and Griz. They're both the bestest girlfriends a girl could ever want.

F - Favorite bands at the moment: I'm really getting into The Black Eyed Peas and Damien Marley's "Welcome to Jamrock"

H - Hometown: I'm an Air Force brat, so I don't really have one. I was born in West Berlin, Germany -- when The Wall was still up. I've lived in Texas, Georgia, Alabama, Las Vegas and Washington, DC (Arlington, VA)

J- Kindergarten: Little Bigtop in Waco, Texas

K - Kids: Not 'til I get a husband, thankyouverymuch

L - Longest car ride ever: From Montgomery, Alabama to my cousin Claudia's high school graduation in Baltimore. Got caught in rush hour in Atlanta, a car wreck back up in North Carolina and the George Washington Bridge being up in Metro DC. My father cursed the whole way.

M - Mom's name: Vivian. Yes, it's totally mom is Vivian, I'm Vanessa and my little sister is Victoria. Buy some new consonants folks!

N - Nicknames: DoubleVee, VV, Virtuosity

O - One wish: To find true love.

P - Phobia[s]: Deadly fear of flying, can't stand bugs, don't like smelly people.

Q - Quote: "A kiss is where the romance is." - Kate from French Kiss

R - Reason(s) to smile: I've got good friends, a place to live, a job to pay the bills and relative good health when I don't gorge out on chocolate and champagne.

S - Song you sang last: "Cry Me a River," Justin Timberlake. What? It's a good CD!

T - Time you woke up [today]: 5:58 a.m., just like every freakin' day.

U - Unknown fact about me: My piggy toe on my left foot curls under.

V - Vegetable you hate: Bok Choy...can't digest the shit. I know...TMI.

X - X-rays you've had: Thought I broke my arm in 5th grade. Had my lung x-rayed in college when they thought I had walking pneumonia.

Z - Zodiac sign: Pisces

Now it's your turn! Have at it while I dig into the yummy Asparagus Risotto William's making for dinner tonight. Mmmmm...

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Recipe for a broken heart...

Vanessa here...

Let's just say...there have been better days. But according to Griz and William, I am allowed to continue my moping, so I am. However, being the good friends they are, they have advised me that there are very necessary ingredients to healing a broken heart...

They are:

Lobster bisque, which William brought home with him from the Stanhope Grille downtown. Who can beat cream, butter and rich shellfish?

Chocolate, which Griz brought over fresh from Rosie's Bakery in Cambridge. The Chocolate Delirium...and it's sinful and hits the spot.

Champagne, 'cause both Griz and William told me I had to celebrate shedding my life of such a total loser. Bubblies always help to lift the spirit.

Moulin Rouge! on DVD, a tear-jerker, a love story, a triumph, a masterpiece. And it doesn't hurt that Ewan McGregor's in it. He'd never screw around on someone he cared for...although there were rumors that he knocked up Nicole when they were filming this...hmmm...

Mani and pedi, Griz and William. Since she's a graphic artist, at least she stayed within the lines. William, well, he need to go to cosmetology school before trying this again, but the thought is tres appreciated.

Sleeping with someone. NO, NO, NO...I am not slutting around. I'm talking about sleeping with someone who cares. None other than Donny the Bear, who's been with me most of my life. He understands me.

I think I'll get by with this recipe for now.

What do you do to mend a broken heart? How do you handle utter, sheer disappointment and pick yourself back up?

I need your advice!

Hang loose...I'm trying...
Double Vee

Monday, September 26, 2005

Get the hats and streamers out for a real pity party...

Vanessa here...

And let me just say that life sucks.

Big time.

Yes, I have not respected Hunter's sexual boundaries. Why the hell should I? We're adults. We're allegedly attracted to each other, yet nothing. He's been closed off and strange since he returned from his week in Langley, so finally -- on the advice of William (although should a straight woman take advice from a broken hearted gay man who fits in her clothes), I put the moves on Hunter Saturday night.

The result? I'm single.

But before you start tsk-tsking me for not respecting his boundaries and stuff, Mr. Hunter Langdon is no innocent in this melodrama. He's a bastard. Just like all the rest of them out there who take your heart, toy with it and crush it like beans in the Starbuck grinder.

What happened?

Well, everything was going great on Saturday. We did this whole office outing thing with my company. It was this picnic in North Attleboro where we had tennis, frisbee, a softball game and this huge spread of food. William and Hunter went with me. (I find it hard not including William in stuff since he's so down about his own break up.) We were having a great time, enjoying the final summer hang on weather and munching on some kick-ass BBQ ribs. My boss, Aislin, remembered Hunter from the fingerprinting and gave me a thumbs up. William told me he was picking up some sexual frustration from Hunter and that I should definitely take another stab at moving the relationship to the next level tonight.

So, Hunter and I go out to dinner and then back to his place 'cause he's rented some Netflixing for us. He's got non-alcoholic beer for himself and a nice bottle of wine for me. Thoughtful, eh?

We're sitting there watching a classic Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell movie called "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" (that has the "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" routine in it) and Hunter remarked about how sad it is that in this day and age women like curves like Marilyn and Jane were considered "fat" now. I take this as a sign that he sees more than skin deep in people.

So, we start making out. I couldn't help myself. He was so cute and sweet and saying all the right things. I didn't take things further, just enjoyed the kissing. (Okay, so maybe I groped his ass a little.) Then, all of a sudden, he stops, pulls back, leans further away into the couch and wipes his mouth.

WIPES his mouth! Like he's wiping away my kiss!


Here's the convo:

Hunter: "I can't do this."

Me: "Do what? We were just kissing."

Hunter: "I can't go on like this."

Well, glory hallelujah!

I move towards him, but he stops me.

Me: "Hunter, what's wrong?"

Hunter: "I can't keep you dangling like this."

Me: "I understand your feelings, but it doesn't mean we can't kiss and make out and stuff."

Hunter: "I can't be with you right now, Vanessa."

Me: "Why? What have I done?"

Hunter: "It's not you, it's me."

Great...I've heard this speech before.

Me: "What exactly is you?"

Hunter: "This. I can't touch you knowing what I did."

Me: "What did you do?"

Oh God...he slept with William! He's gay after all and my new best friend stole him from me. I must stop thinking these things.

Hunter gets up and paces.

Hunter: "Something happened when I was in Langley."

Me: "Something? Like what?"

Please don't let him be gay.

Hunter: "Something I vowed wouldn't happen."

Me: "Hunter, you're wigging me out. Just tell me."

Hunter: "I slept with someone."

World. Stops. Spinning. Axis. Frozen.

Me: "A guy or girl?"

Hunter: (incredulously) "A girl, are you crazy?"

Me: "I don't I? You tell me you've taken this vow of celibacy and you won't have sex with me, yet you have it with a complete stranger on a business trip?"

Hunter: "She's not a stranger. I've known her for a few years. We always end up at training sessions together in Langley. She's stationed in Atlanta, but we've...well, we've flirted."

Me: (can't hold back the pain) "And apparently fucked, too!"

Hunter: "It wasn't like that, Vanessa."

Me: "Sounds like that's exactly what it was."

Hunter: "I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself. It was so tempting and we got to kissing and I just couldn't stop."

Me: "So, let me get this straight. Kissing me isn't tempting. Your chastity can stay in tact with me, but with this Fuck Monster down in Langley, you fell off your celibacy bandwagon?"

Hunter: "It just...happened."

Me: "No, Hunter. Things don't just happen with you. You're a planner. You have specific goals and ideas. Something like that doesn't just happen."

Hunter: "I admit it...I've always been attracted to her. We just...well, it did just happen."

Me: (on the verge of tears and totally borrowing from When Harry Met Sally) "So, it wasn't that you didn't want to have just didn't want to have sex with me."

Hunter: "Vanessa..."

Well, what else could I say at that moment? My perfect pseudo boyfriend had just admitted to cheating on me and in the process tamping down any hopes of me being tempting enough to make someone want to have sex with me. I'm nothing compared to Ms. Slutty Langley Chick.

Needless to say, I walked out. Caught a cab and cried the whole way home. I called ahead to make sure William was there and God love him, he had brownies in the oven by the time I got there. We stayed up all night talking about how much men suck and eating all of the brownies.

I've had it. I'm off the market. I've put my heart out there too much with this one and now I'm officially in Pity Party mode. Griz says I'm allowed one day per date I've had with Hunter. Well, that would be about 10 dates, so I get a week and a half of pity. And I dare anyone to tell me I'm not in the right.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever been dumped so cruelly? Please tell me I'm not alone.

Off to drown my sorrows in something fattening for dinner...

Hang loose,
Double Vee = (

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Weekend eye candy...

Vanessa here...

Sorry for the eye candy delay. Girlfriend had to go get her hair did this morning.

Take a gander at this. His name is Gil. I'd like to find this in my bed.

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Friday, September 23, 2005

MBTA stands for...

Massachusetts Bay Traveling Awfully...

Vanessa here...

I've got some time to kill before Hunter comes to pick me up for dinner. (And I'm shaved, plucked, perfumed and I've got my new IPEX bra and matching panties on...maybe I can make things happen!) Let me bitch about the T.

Okay, well, that's not the MBTA's official name, but it should be. It's just awful. Awful, I tell you. I know I've sung this song before, but same verse is like the first. If the MBTA got any better, maybe I'd stop complaining.

Here are my Top Ten complaints about the T:
  1. Chivalry is dead: Okay, I know this isn't necessarily the MBTA's problem, but what happened to the good ole days of men giving up seats to women or young people respecting older people and giving them their seat. Nooooo...not in Boston. Today, I was headed for an open seat and this teenage boy actually pushed me out of the way and swooped the seat and then said, "Ha!" Across the aisle, Mr. Business Man sat behind his Boston Herald while this sweet, wobbly 85 year old woman stood in front of him gripping the railing. Did he care? Hell no. Pregnant women sway with the train because no one will let them sit and blind people balance so the college kids won't be inconvenienced out of their seats. The MBTA tried this "Be Polite" campaign a couple of years ago, but when one of the posters constantly got graffited with "Blow Me," well, they punted that campaign.
  2. Being told to "take your personal belongings": Like I have to be told this? Like I'm going to leave my Prada backpack? Or my purse? Or my lunch bag? Or what...some mom's going to forget her kid? Are we this moronic of a society that we have to be told to take our personal belongings? What exactly do people leave on the trains?
  3. Move your ass! Again, this isn't necessarily the MBTA's fault, but it occurs in their station. You get behind someone and you're trudging up the stairs. As you near the top, you can see their struggle. It's the most exercise they've done since Clinton was president and we had relative peace and prosperity. But now, this person can't even haul themselves up the stairs. And when they get to the top...what do they do? They stop. Dead in their tracks. At the top...sufficiently blocking the way for everyone else. Note to all you people...get out of the way and keep moving.
  4. Paint the Green Line Yellow: Why? Because it's a fucking school bus! It hauls high school kids down Comm Ave out to Brighton High and it carts the rich and privileged little cherubs of Boston University from one class to the next. It makes the MBTA a glorified school bus, only without the bra popping, rubber band fights and bus driver telling you to sit down.
  5. Screen the Entertainment: When I was in London, I remember how awesome the performers in the tunnel were. They could actually sing and dance and play guitars or other instruments. They made you want to stop and listen and jam along. Noooo...not in Boston. At Park Street, you've got the dude who plays random notes on a saxophone. I want to give him a $10 and tell him to go buy a real song. There's also the banjo guy who plays the same song over and over and over. Then, there are the hip hop kids who bang drum sticks on flipped over buckets and while the jam is good, it's repetitive. Nothing fresh or new. In some cities, you have to audition to be the entertainment in the underground. Come on, Boston...form a committee!
  6. I'm Going Where? Griz told me last weekend that she was on the Red Line headed south of the city to meet up with a friend at this pseudo beach bar in Quincy called Water Works. Well, she gets on a Braintree train and then all of a sudden, without announcement, it's an Ashmont train and she's headed to Forest Hills -- very off the beaten track for where she's trying to go. 20 minutes later, she's back at JFK waiting for a Braintree train, but did at any point the train announce they were switching? Nope. Guess us T riders need to learn how to be omniscient. Would it kill the announcer to give us a little info?
  7. Back up in the Tunnel: As if the Big Dig tunnel back up isn't enough in a car, now the train cars feel they have to slow down and stop between stations. For what reason? I've been to New York and those trains run their asses off. They never slow down or stop or creepy crawl from one station to the next like they do here. And Boston's like 90 times smaller than New York's system. We should move more efficiently. But today, I sat between South Station and Downtown Crossing for EIGHT minutes. And there wasn't another train in front of us. It was for a "schedule adjustment." Yeah, well...adjust this.
  8. I wanna meet him... The guy on the Red Line in the morning with the sexy voice. The one that wishes you a good morning and sings out the station names like he's telling you what he's serving you for dinner. He must be hot. (And if he's not, let me think he is.)
  9. And now a word from our sponsors: What's with stations being sponsored by particular items? I get that South Station is nothing but a giant iPod ad, but Park Street is pushing Dove Moisturizer at me? And Harvard is nothing but Bank America ads. As if I'm going to get off the train, see all the red, white and blue posters and immediately say, "Dammit...I must give them my money!!!" I'm in marketing. That shit don't work on me.
  10. That'll be $2.50: Seeing all the other problems I have with the service, I'm outraged at the price. $2.50 from Quincy into town. $1.25 for a single ride. And don't even get me started on the price of the commuter rail passes or how much it costs to park in an MBTA garage. Dear Administrators, if you're going to charge me so much for a pass, then please, don't throw me off the train in the dead of winter with a fresh Nor'easter blowing around me, telling me the train is going "Express."

Well, Hunter will be here in half an hour. Guess I better go hit the pulse points with some him wild. (Hopefully!) And we won't be taking the T anywhere tonight.

Hang loose and check in tomorrow for eye candy...
Double Vee

Thursday, September 22, 2005

And now a word from our sponsors...

Vanessa here...

Got this hilarious e-mail forwarded to me and just had to share with you. I can't take credit for the photos, but I hope they'll make you laugh as much as they did me.

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

White Shirt Wednesday is Judgment Day...

Vanessa here...

Has this ever happened to you?

So, I had to run into town today to this printer on Boylston Street to pick up these proofs for my boss, Aislin. (I know...I they've never heard of a courier or a .pdf file!) Anyway, I slipped over to Souper Salad for a Bostonian Walkabout (one of my top five sammiches [a whole other blog!] on earth -- turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, lettuce and the mysterious, yummy "walkabout" sauce.)

I'm standing there patiently waiting my turn and this group of young, hip financial tupes come in. (It's obviously White Shirt Wednesday in Boston...) They're cute guys (probably know it, too), and I admit, I looked twice. But they each looked at me, gave me the once over (did I see a sneer on Fashionably Baldy's face?) and then looked away as if dismissing me. Like a two second assessment of me deems me worth of more attention or not?!

And what did FB and the other high-fiving white guys learn about me in those mere nanoseconds?
  1. I'm standing in line for lunch
  2. I'm female
  3. I'm breathing
  4. I'm not naked
  5. I'm average looking

Yeah, you heard it. I, Vanessa Virtue, am average. Just like most everyone else. I'm not too fat, not too skinny. I don't stand out like waifs like Lindsey "Eat a Cookie, Honey" Lohan, nor do I cause a scene like Anna Nicole "I Married a Stiff" Smith.

But in those few seconds of recognizing my averageness, what did these guys miss finding out more about me if they'd cared to?

  1. I'm a funny, outgoing person
  2. I'm damn good at my marketing job
  3. I'm an Air Force brat
  4. I'm deathly afraid of flying
  5. I just gave $200 to the Noah's Wish Katrina Fund
  6. I was born in Germany
  7. I'm fiercely loyal to my friends
  8. I have a thing for dimples
  9. I'm obsessed with owning every skirt Kenneth Cole makes
  10. I'm a complicated, wonderful, special, unique human being with thoughts and feelings who deserves more than the once-over and dismissal

We all do this, though. We all judge books (and people) by their covers. We're all guilty of that three-second assessment of another person. Hell, I do it every day. I mean, this made me realize how bad I am about it.

Like, there's this guy over in our Research department who always e-mails me product trends and information so I can update our marketing reports and white papers. Worked together all this time and we've barely spoken in person The other day, I'm in the lunchroom refueling on coffee at 3:00 p.m. when I'm starting to run out of gas. (You know what it's like!) And Russell (that's his name) comes in and says "hey." Me being me, I give him the once-over:

  1. Soft, brown eyes
  2. Baby smooth-looking skin
  3. Tall
  4. Nice dresser
  5. Nice ass
  6. Teeth you could drive a Macy's day float through...

And when I hit #6, it was like the first five didn't matter. How mean is that of me?

So what was it those guys saw in me that made them turn away? How far down their mental list did they get before writing me off?

The point is...(yes, Vanessa, get to the point, please...)...this is a fact of life and beauty really is skin deep and in the eye of the beholder.

Someone once told me: "You know, Vanessa, the longer I know you, the more beautiful you become to me."

At first, I was offended by that, not knowing how to respond. But now that I think about it more, it makes a lot of sense. (Not the I'm beautiful part...natch!) There's more to us than mere looks or physical attributes. We're eyes and smiles and personalities and voices and laughter and...souls. And when you get to know me, you learn that.

So, next time you see that crazy lunatic person on the train or someone with severely challenged fashion sense, don't judge. Instead, mentally say, "Bless their soul."

And wouldn't the world be a better place? A gal can dream.

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Crazy women who give us a bad name: Part III...

Vanessa here...

I worked my ass off (turning around...see, it's gone!) on this major presentation today for my boss to present to the board tomorrow. I. Am. A. Goddess. Of. PowerPoint! I made all these cool graphs and charts and slides on our sale pipeline, the marketing leads we generate, the PR we've gotten and the advertising campaigns we've got layed out for the fall. I totally got praise from my boss, Aislin, and she said she's going to recommend me for the "Chef of the Year" award at work. (The person who contributes the most winning ingredients to the company's overall recipe....gag me!) But what the hey!

However, as I'm diligently working in my veal cube all day (not taking a lunch break...bad Vanessa!) or even getting to dally in e-mail too much with Hunter (who was remarkably flirty in e-mail...what gives?), I can't help but eavesdrop over the cube wall on All-Chicken-All-Day Mara's conversations non-stop over the phone with her brother. (She ate raviolis with thick meat sauce for lunch today and then went out for cookie dough ice cream. Yep, that's how to lose weight.) Anyway, this story beats all, people! This is yet another case study for the record books:

Case Study #8: The Girl Who Wants it All

So, this happened to A-C-A-D Mara's brother...we'll call him Rhubarb. Five months ago, Rhubarb met Scallion at a party and they hit it off immediately. Scallion told Rhubarb that her boyfriend, Endive, was serving in Iraq, but they'd agreed to see other people while he was away because it's nothing serious. Feeling he had permission, Rhubarb moved forward with a relationship with Scallion. She lives on the south shore of Jersey and he lives here in Boston. For five months, every weekend, he drove to Jersey to see her. She told him she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Rhubarb told Mara he'd found "the one" and everything was wonderful.

Fast forward to this three weekends ago. Rhubarb and Scallion weren't seeing each other because she had a "family" commitment. However, she called him all the time and text messaged him, telling him how much she loved and missed him. Then, the next week, he noticed there was something odd in her voice when they talked on the phone. So, he called her and asked her what was wrong. After a lot of querying on Rhubarb's part, Scallion broke down and admitted that she'd cheated on him. Not just that, but she'd cheated on him with Endive, whom she'd claimed to have broken up with. Endive was on a furlough from Iraq and is in Jersey for the week. She's with him all the time, practically living with him, sleeping with him and -- ewwww -- text messaging Rhubarb while Endive is showering after sex, telling him how much she misses him! (Scallion's a little fucked in the head, wouldn't you say?)

After her confession, she wants Rhubarb to come down and see her so they can talk it out. She's confused. She doesn't know what to do. She has to think it over. Rhubarb feels like the ultimate shit sleeping with the girlfriend of a guy who's off risking his life in Iraq, yet he's in love with her. Rhubarb gets down there, Scallion tells him she's made up her mind and she chooses...Endive.

Rhubarb comes home, gets drunk and tells all his friends that it's over. Then, today, Rhubarb gets a call at work from Scallion. She says Endive re-upped and is going back to Iraq in a week. Even though they're still together, he understands her "needs" and tells her it's okay if she sees other people while he's away. She has the audacity to ask Rhubarb if he wants to be her "fling" while the man she really loves is off fighting for his country!

Is she completely and totally insane?

The worst part is...Rhubarb's actually thinking about he's as insane as her!

I can't even get my gorgeous, FBI agent boyfriend to kiss me and this jackass woman (of 23) has two men after her? What am I doing wrong?

I'm telling you...this gives women a bad, bad name...

Have you ever? And then Mara asks me my advice! What the hell do I say? What would you say?

Must go calm down with a glass of Shiraz...

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Monday, September 19, 2005

How I spent my weekend...

Vanessa here...

Actually glad that it was Monday and I could delve back into the work world to keep my mind off my lack of a socially satisfying weekend. I told my boss, Aislin, that I was willing to do more work, travel even. I need some adventure and excitement in my life. I'm 27. I need to see the country. I'm in marketing. I'm hip and sassy. I know how to help sell our products. So, in the sales and marketing team meeting today, I noticed that this conference in January in Arizona...I'm down as one of the champions! (That's marketing talk to make people feel more special when in all actuality you're just doing all of the shit work, but I don't care!)

And what happened with the weekend, you ask?

Well, first off, Hunter was exhausted from his week-long training session in Langley. And distant, too. It was like he went away and came back a different person. He didn't have that spark in his eyes and he didn't hug me like he'd missed me like a dog misses his chew toy. Instead, he seemed tired and complained about work. And, he flinched whenever I'd touch him.

Yep. Flinched. Flinching is not a good thing in a girl/boy relationship. Flinching is something you do when that smelly man on the T sits too close to you. Or when you're crammed on the train next to the lady with rolls of fat on her arm and sweat forms between you. (What? It's happened!) Flinching is for when your grandmother pinches your cheek too hard over some family news. Flinching is not knowing someone's in the room with you when they make a loud noise, like when Griz surprises me in my cube, rounding the corner out of no where. Flinching is not romantic and it screams, "leave me alone!"

Course, Hunter said that wasn't the case. That he's just stressed and dealing with work stuff and this trip and the training. But somehow, I felt like he'd sort of lost that loving feeling.

So, I spent the weekend...
  1. Drinking anything that was poured for me
  2. Dancing with William, my new best friend
  3. Eating Chinese delivery at 2:30 a.m.
  4. Puking it up at 4:30 a.m.
  5. Hung over, drank Gatorade
  6. Hair of the dog that bit me, starting the next day
  7. Watching football with William and his buddies (and yes, gay men can like sports)
  8. Got over my depression and decided to pour myself into my work.

Okay, if Hunter can go all FBI on my ass, then I need to focus on my career. I'm a single gal in the city. I'm smart. I'm creative. I have a lot ot offer my company. Sure, it's all sales meetings and follow up and touching base like I'm a frickin' Red Sox, but Vanessa Virtue can take care of herself.

Griz told me I was overreacting. William told me to give Hunter more time. (Yes, I've filled him in on everything.) Griz told me to get over it. William told me to keep doing what makes me happy and if that's work and other distractions, then I should do that. I definitely want to know what's up with Hunter, but I don't want to push him. I don't want to be that crazy nut job who's asking for a ring after a month. That's not what I want. I just want him to open up. I want intimacy. I want him to talk to me.

I want a grilled chicken sandwich and fries from Wendy's.

That sounds like a good idea.

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Weekend eye candy...

Vanessa here...

Mmm..mmm...this guy's name is Cameron Mathison...he's Canadian, he's been on CSI...he's obviously been to the beach...

Hang loose and enjoy the weekend!
Double Vee

Friday, September 16, 2005

Short, sweet and to the point...

Vanessa here...

Not much to blab about today. It's Friday, baby!

Few updates here...
  1. My boss totally praised me for this PowerPoint presentation I did of all of our marketing materials that the web people were able to put up on our site for clients to download. Whooohooo...considering I taught myself PowerPoint in like three hours the other day. Could a promotion or raise be far behind?
  2. I have some very cool exciting news about a deal that's been offered to me by a kick-ass PR company in New York City. (Tune in for more information there!)
  3. Hunter's back from Langley. Said he's too exhausted to do anything tonight, but he'll be over for William's welcome party tomorrow. So, Griz and I are doing a girl's night out on the town. She heard there are some Boston Bruins players hanging out downtown, so we're gonna be skate chasers tonight.
  4. I've lost five pounds! (And don't tell me to turn around 'cause I'll find them. ) Guess I've been stressing about this whole Hunter thing, but hey, it just makes me more svelt and desireable, right?
  5. I think I have a lead to who "j" is who posts here in my comments section. Hmmm...
  6. And finally...I got whistled at today. And not by a bum or a creep, but a bonafide CUTE guy who was sitting at Starbucks as I breezed by. Now that just made my weekend!

Have a great Friday night, wish me luck tomorrow and check in this weekend for the eye candy!

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Voulez vous coucher avec moi ...

Vanessa here...

Okay, okay, I've gotten your cards and letters and e-mails and requests. You don't care who smokes or who doesn't smoke. You don't want to know what I'm eating for lunch or how many fat grams go in my mouth daily. All you people care about is my sex life. Or the lack, thereof.

You're sick. Sick I tell you. But I lubs ya.

So, what's going on? Well, as I said, Hunter's been down in Langley for training this week. I've had e-mails from him and he called me last night. He sounded a bit weird, but he said he was just tired and ready to come home. He said he missed me and couldn't wait to get back and give me a big hug. A big hug. Somehow that's not as romantic as it should be. I mean, my mom gives me A big hug when I see her. After a night of drinking, Griz gives me A big hug. Even last Christmas, after I gave him a cheesecake ('cause I'm a nice person), Mr. Paulsen, The Freak of Nature, gave me A (semi) big hug.

Big hugs are for girlfriends...buddies...people you haven't seen for a long time. Parents and grandparents, siblings and college pals. From a boyfriend, you want...more.

Let's see what has to say...

v. hugged, hug·ging, hugs

v. tr.
To clasp or hold closely, especially in the arms, as in affection; embrace.
To hold steadfastly to; cherish:
To stay close to:

To embrace or cling together closely.

Well, let's see. There has been clasping. Mainly me going for his glutes. The hold closely...sure, we've done that. Sitting in the Public Garden, at the movie theatre. I considered it affectionate. Holding steadfastly? Well, I don't know since it's only been a month and half. Does he cherish me? I don't know. Do I cherish him? I could. We don't stay close 'cause he lives in town and I live in Cambridge and he's away on work a lot -- like now. To cling together? Well, I tell you what...when he gets back from Virginia, I'm liable to wrap myself around him like Saran Wrap and see what happens.

William moves in on Saturday, now. Moved it up a day. He's so ready to have a place of his own. (Well, shared with me.) We're having a party Saturday night and I'm going to introduce William and Hunter. I hope they hit it off. Well, not like that...I don't want anyone of yoursneakingg suspicions that Hunter's gay to come true. If William tries to steal him, I'll kick him back out on the street.

So, what do you think I should do Saturday night?

Wilting flower?


Smoldering temptress?

(Name that movie!)

Whattaya think? Will Double Vee get a little more than A big hug?

= )

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

No wonder we're so unhealthy...

Vanessa here...


Yes, I have more to bitch about. Don't look surprised.

So, for years, I've been eating at a certain Boston restaurant cafe for lunch. I've always thought it was "healthy" or "light" or "just something simple." I've had their turkey sandwiches, their soups and their salads. But today, for the first time, I decided -- for the hell of it -- to visit their website and check out their nutritional information.

And I was horrified.

We'll call the place With Good Bread 'cause that's the translation. But it should be With a Side of Zocor thanks to the zillion fat grams, artery-busting calories and general misconception that if something's green and in a bowl it's good for you.

At lunch, I'm thinking, I'll have the Hickory Smoked Turkey Club. And for shits and giggles, I look at the nutritional information and nearly fall out of my chair:

Serving size: 12.35 oz
Servings : 1
Calories: 710
Calories from Fat: 290
Total Fat: 32g
Saturated Fat: 12g
Cholesterol: 95mg
Sodium: 2250mg
Total Carbohydrates: 59g

For a fucking turkey sandwich?!?!?!?! Am I reading this correctly? Turkey, some bread and some fixin's is 32 mother-loving grams of fat? You're not supposed to eat that in a day! And forget the carbs. That's like two days worth of South Beach consumption.

Okay, the turkey's out. I turn to the Chicken Tarragon with Field Greens. Protein. Veggies. How can this be bad? Then I nearly choke on my intake of breath:

Serving size: 12.5 oz
Servings: 1
Calories: 800
Calories from Fat: 380
Total Fat : 42g
Saturated Fat: 7g
Cholesterol : 100mg
Sodium: 1710mg
Total Carbohydrates: 71g

Jesus, Mary and Saint Joseph! This is more than the killer turkey sandwich! 42 grams of fat? For chicken and lettuce? What the hell do they do to it? Send it out for collagen injections? Run it out to FatDonald's first so it can have a Big Mac before they serve it to me? Were these chickens abused as young chicks and their coping mechanism was overeating?, a salad should be a good choice. Right? With Good Bread has awesome salads. Why, the little guy behind the sneeze guard makes it to order just like I like it. Of course, I nearly have a myocardial infarction, which I'm sure to have if I keep eating at With Good Bread. No wonder my skinny jeans don't fit me. Check this out...

Chicken Caesar - 530 calories; 22 grams of fat
Tuna Garden Salad - 400 calories; 24 grams of fat
Gorgonzola and Walnut Salad - 340 calories; 28 grams of fat
Turkey Medallion Cobb Salad - 370 calories; 28 grams of fat

For salad??? Salad. Salad, people. Something we think is healthy and light and good for us. Yeah, well, apparently With Good Bread saturates these nutritious greens in dressing and oil and cheese and ick. Fat and calories and heart disease, oh my!

As if I haven't proven my point, I had to check out the soups. How many times on a winter afternoon do Griz and I bundle up and trudge through the snow to With Good Bread to warm up and have a "little" cup of soup. Well, check this out...

Broccoli Cheddar - 230 calories; 16 grams of fat
Chicken Stew - 230 calories; 12 grams of fat
Clam Chowder - 240 calories; 16 grams of fat
Corn Chowder - 240 calories; 13 grams of fat
Potato Leek - 190 calories; 14 grams of fat

Okay, I'll give them this, they do have some "light" soups and stews that fall in the 1-6 grams of fat range and that's cool. But then, you add a baguette with it and that makes the fat grams sour. So, see, you think you're doing good by getting this light soup, but when it's said and done, you're still piling up the calories and fat grams.

This was a real eye-opener for me. And I certainly won't be casually eating whatever I want at With Good Bread without thinking through the purchase. Who ever knew a turkey sandwich could cause such damage? Or a cup of clam chowder would be around for the entire winter?

And we won't even talk about All-Chicken-All-Day Mara and her Wendy's triple by-pass burger and fries she had for lunch and ate in under 15 minutes. That girl's arteries must look like the autobahn during rush hour.

Please people...take care of yourselves! Don't eat this crap! Save yourselves while you can. Live log, healthy, happy lives.

Course, with no sex, I should at be eating everything in sight. But then, I want to be fit and trim so I can tease and coerce him into having sex with me. LOL!

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Am I the *only* person in Boston who doesn't smoke?

Vanessa here...

Choking on second hand smoke.

I I the only person in boston who doesn't smoke?

I get off the train and people can barely wait to get up the stairs of the station before they light up. I walk down the sidewalk and am bombarded with smoke. I get to my building and there are people jonesing one last cig before heading in for a few hours. Then, at lunch, you have to run the smoke gauntlet to get out of the building and into any restaurant. The street is littered with butts and the air smells like tobacco.

Griz smokes. I've yelled at her about it. I've told her it will shorten her life. I've sent her pictures of smoker's lungs.'s gross! Yet she still smokes.

All-Chicken-All-Day Mara smokes, too. She leaves the office like eight times a day to go smoke and then comes back in and smells like someone set her on fire. Then I have to smell it.

Please don't get me wrong...I realize it's everyone's right to do what they want. But I don't want to smell it. I don't want to walk around it and through it and near it. I don't want to gag on it.

Now, I tried to smoke in college...I did. I was one of those drunk chicks at the college band party slopping beer all over the place and puffing -- yes, puffing -- on a cigarette. I could not for the life of me inhale. I totally understand when Bubba said in the 1992 presidential that he never inhaled. Like me, the man has massive allergies and it's physically impossible to inhale or do it right. The few times I tried, it made me sick as a dog.

And then, there are all these health professionals who purport the dangers of smoking, yet I walk by this medical complex every morning and all of the nurses are gathered around the door smoking like someone's going to take their smokes away from them. They're there in the winter time, too, during a Nor'easter, huddled together for warmth as they flick their Bics and get that one last drag.

So, please everyone...please take care of yourself. Quit smoking. Give your lungs a break! Give MY lungs a break! Let Boston breathe free.

And since I mentioned my drunken college days, I'll end with this great e-mail I got today...


1. I have absolutely no idea where my purse is.

2. I believe that dancing with my arms overhead and wiggling my butt while yelling "woo-hoo!" is truly the sexiest dance move around.

3 I've suddenly decided I want to kick someone's ass and honestly believe I could do it too.

4. In my last trip to pee, I realize I now look more like a homeless hooker than the goddess I was just four hours ago.

5. I drop my 3:00 a.m. submarine sandwich on the floor (which I'm eating even though I'm not the least bit hungry), pick it up and carry on eating it.

6. I start crying and telling everyone I see that I love them soooo much.

7. I get extremely excited and jump up and down every time a new song plays because "oh my god! I love this song!"

8. I've found a deeper/spiritual side to the geek sitting next to me.

9. The man I'm flirting with used to be my 5th grade teacher.

10. The urge to take off articles of clothing, stand on a table and sing or dance becomes strangely overwhelming.

11. My eyes just don't seem to want to stay open on their own so I keep them half closed and think it looks exotically sexy.

12. I've suddenly taken up smoking and become really good at it.

13. I yell at the bartender, who (I think) cheated me by giving me just tonic, but that's just because I can no longer taste the vodka.

14. I think I'm in bed, but my pillow feels strangely like the kitchen floor.

15. I start every conversation with a booming, "Don't take this the wrong way but..."

16. I fail to notice that the toilet lid's down when I sit on it.

17. My hugs begin to resemble wrestling take-down moves.

18. I'm tired so I just sit on the floor (wherever I happen to be standing) and take a quick nap.

19. I begin leaving the buttons open on my button fly pants to cut down on the time I’m in the bathroom away from my drink.

20. I take my shoes off because I believe it's their fault that I'm having problems walking straight.

Oh, you know we've all done it!!!

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Monday, September 12, 2005

My new (soul) roommate?...

Vanessa here...

One week into official celibacy with a gorgeous boyfriend and one week into official search for roommate. I think I've found a new potential's like he's my soul mate.

And before you start thinking I'm dumping Hunter...this guy I met is gay as as the proverbial goose.

Griz and I went out on Saturday night because after yet another Friday with Hunter watching TV, cuddling, yet keeping my hands to myself and not drinking, I needed a glass of wine...or twenty. We went to The Black Rose downtown and Griz ended up meeting this guy who'd just gotten off the boat from Ireland. He was pretty cute and then ended up having a two person party, which was kind of cruel 'cause I was left on my own. I was going to have "one more" and went to the bar where this really adorable guy was literally crying into his beer.

The facts:

  • His name is William McEwan.
  • He just broke up with his boyfriend, Curt, of three years. (Left him for a woman, of all things...decided he was out of his "gay phase." What a jerk!)
  • He's from Montpelier, Vermont. Came to Boston with Curt.
  • He dresses like a model.
  • He works at Harvard University and bartends at night on the weekends
  • He looks like Ewan McGregor's twin brother.
  • He's living on a friend's couch since he and Curt broke up. He needs a place!
  • He's moving in!

Yes...William is moving in. He's totally going to be my new best friend, I can tell. We have so much in common. I'm not a great cook, he's a gourmet. I love wine, he loves drinking it. I'm a late riser, he's a morning person. He likes to work out, I like to go out. He's single, I'm single...we can commiserate.

So, he came over on Saturday and checked the place out. He even met Mr. Paulsen, the Freak of Nature, and completely charmed him. For some reason, though, Mr. Paulsen thinks William's my new boyfriend or something. But then again, Mr. Paulsen is a mental patient. Or should be.

William's officially moving in on Sunday, so I have the week to myself. That means DVDs of the LOST season (to catch up) and watching the season premiere of AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL on Thursday night. (Thank heavens Mia left me her television!) We're going to have a party next weekend to welcome him and bring our friends together. I hope he and Hunter get along. I mean, if Hunter's so adamant about the no pre-marital sex, I bet he'll have an opinion on William's homosexuality and us cohabitating.

I just hope I can be a good roommate. I mean, I don't smoke. I don't leave wet towels on the floor. I pay my rent on time.

What can I do to be a good roomie? Any good advice?

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Weekend eye candy...

Vanessa here...

Something yummy to look at. Check out those abs, baby...


Double Vee

Friday, September 09, 2005

I've almost lost faith in mankind...

Vanessa here...

Lately, it's been all about me. And yes, I know it's my blog, so technically that's allowed, but today, I don't want to talk about Hunter, sex or the lack thereof. I want to ask a very important question...

What the fuck has happened to people?!?!

Has everyone lost their mind? Is there no sense of kindness and courtesy anymore?

At work, I heard one of our sales guys saying the most disgusting, unfathomable, nauseating things about the sitch in New Orleans and Mississippi. I won't even deem it repeatable. But it included words and phrases that shouldn't be uttered in America in 2005, followed by the ha-ha-ha-ain't-I-so-funny nervous laughter. It breaks my heart. Breaks. My. Heart, I tell you! What is wrong with people? Where is the compassion? Where is the reaching out to your fellow man?

And, it's not like I have the problems of the poor people and animals in the Katrina zone, but I've experienced a couple of things today that really blew me away and made me wonder what the fuck has happened to everyone. Have everyone gone insane? Or are they just so caught up in their own little worlds and making everything about themselves that they can't see past the end of their nose?

For example, I'm at the deli getting my sandwich for lunch today and I want to sit down. There's an open table, but it's pulled next to this table of two babbling business men. I said (very politely) "May I sit here please?" They actually looked back and forth at each other, one moved his drink to the empty table and said, "we're, umm...expecting someone else." Okay. So, I stand there with my tuna salad wondering what I do...shove it up my ass or something? Then, this couple on the other side of them got up and moved and I took their table. Mr. and Mr. Babbling Business Men sat there the whole time, playing smack ass and yuck, yuck, yuck over bottom lines and the stock market and profit statements and how this "damn hurricane has completely fucked with my stock portfolio" and never did anyone else join them. What assholes! What was wrong with me sitting there? So, I couldn't resist as they were leaving (and not cleaning up after themselves) saying sweetly, "I'm sorry your friend wasn't able to make it." And then I added..."there's the garbage can over there." They stared at me like I was some sort of crack addict. But I felt good.

Then, I had to swing by CVS to pick up some stuff. I look behind the counter and there's this woman working in the pharmacy who also works at the liquor store. Not that I have a problem with someone working two jobs, but she starts talking to this woman in front of me like she's the pharmacist. She was giving her advice on what pills to take with what and she's a trained pharmacist! I mean, just because CVS gave you a white lab coat does not a pharmacist make! Then I'm thinking...well, maybe she is a pharmacist who just moonlights at the liquor. But no...her name tag reads "Technician." So when it's my turn, she says, "Hey, I know you from Old Colony Liquors" like it's the funniest coincident ever. I ask her, "what exactly is a 'technician?'" She laughs and says it's the nametag they give to everyone working behind the counter. Yes, this person who doesn't know the difference between Advil Extra Strength and a Fleet enema is giving advice to people all because she's in a white coat. And she has the nerve to say to me, "It doesn't matter what I say as long as their credit cards clear and I get paid every week."

How can people be this uncaring? This irresponsible? This...Jesus...I don't know.

You'd think with the horrific images we've seen over the past week and how we're all assessing our own lives and seeing how we can reach out to people 2,000 miles away who need our'd think people would soften up just a squidge? Maybe it's a cold-hearted New England thing. Maybe it's just a selfish all-about-me thing. I don't know.

I do know that I will do everything in my power to be a kinder, gentler, more caring, giving citizen of planet earth. I promise to bus my own table, not flush my tampons down the toilet, give spare change to the homeless guy at South Station, give more money to charity, thank my friends any time they do something nice for me and not sneer at people or smart off (especially on the train.) I think if we all just followed The Golden Rule the world would be a better place.

Then again...maybe I'm just a 27 year old Pollyanna.

I'll leave you on this note for the weekend. Here's another wonderful, worthy cause to help the little victims of Hurricane Katrina. My company's kicking in on this and maybe you can help too. Check it out...Project Backpack. Please help out!

Have a great weekend, check in for eye candy and hang loose,
Double Vee

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Have you ever had to make up your mind...

Vanessa here...

I have to thank each and every one of you for the wonderful outpouring of advice and help today in the Hunter Celibacy matter. You guys are the greatest and I appreciate everything everyone's had to say on the subject. Thanks for playing nice with each other, too. ;)

It's a quandary, eh? And there have been several questions asked, so let me just step back and get a can opener and pry open the head and heart of Vanessa Virtue a bit so you can take a peek.

See...I'm a romantic at heart. I admit it. I want love and romance and flowers and candy and attention and happily ever after. (Who among us really doesn't want that?) But, I'm also a staunch realist. I tend to be too pessimistic about things and am usually waiting for the other shoe to drop. (In this case, a nice Bruna Magli size 11.) So, when Hunter made this announcement, I honestly wasn't surprised. I knew there had to be a catch. Things were just going to well for me. Sure...I was expecting something much worse, but in retrospect, this isn't a complete deal breaker. Not yet.

What can I say? I'm 27 years old. I'm healthy. I'm active. I have lust in my heart (just like Jimmy Carter admitted in Playboy back in 1976.) And I lust Hunter. Plain and simple.

My philosophy is that relationships are a recipe of many elements:
  • love
  • trust
  • friendship
  • companionship
  • physical attraction
  • constant communication
  • commitment and staying power

Now, I know that looks like a step ladder, but I believe that each ingredient is equally as important. I have friends who on the surface have a great marriage...they're best friends, they get along, but there's like no sex. Nothing. And that leaves a hollowness in the relationship. On the other hand, I know people who have the sexual part, but they're hardly ever together and have their own sets of friends. Each combination works differently for different people.

Me...I like the whole package and I think for any relationship to be successful and really pack a powerful, lifelong punch, you have to have a mix of everything. Of course, all of these things can't be present immediately and some have to be worked up to, but I honestly believe in instinctual physical attraction. And this is something that can develop over time and isn't always immediate. But it's a building and growing process and when all of a sudden you're told that that particular building block is missing from the set, then it does get one thinking.

I'm not saying I'm breaking up with him. I'd be a total dork to do that...right now. I'm not some nympho who has to get it all the time and I don't need to resort to the Rabbit Habit, Nubby G or Finger Fun yet (although the last one is definitely intriguing...), but I would like to see where this can go. Maybe he'll be so attracted to me that he'll want to test out the cow to see if he can get the milk for free.

I don't have to decide this today. Right? "Go with the flow," that's what Griz is always telling me. (That and some other crazy saying about "Ain't nuthin' but a chicken wing." WTF?)

Hunter and I are going out tomorrow night and we're going to talk a little more about this turn of events. I want to respect his wishes, but I always want to let him know my concerns and where I'm coming from. Communication, after all, is on that list up above. Then, he's going out of town on Monday for a week-long training course at the FBI headquarters down in Langley. Maybe our time apart may make the heart grow fonder.

Either that or I'll just get him drunk and attack him. (What?! I'm kidding!)

Thanks for the pearls of wisdom. Now, on to the next challenge in my life. Mia's rent is paid up through the end of this month...I need a new roommate 'cause I ain't made of money. Think I'll go put up an ad on Craig's List. Can't be that hard to find

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

This is beyond even Ann Landers...

Vanessa here...

Honestly, you people are so impatient! Let me finish my story would you (Emily! *giggle*) where was I? Oh yeah...making out with Hunter, going for The Promised Land and him stopping me.

The thoughts swirling in my mind as I'm catching my breath and trying not to cry:
  • He's revolted by the sight of me and has just been being nice all these weeks
  • He has some incurable disease and doesn't want to take this further
  • He's secretly gay and was using me to try and switch to the other side
  • He's married with a wife and nine kids
  • He's actually The 30 Year Old Virgin
  • My breath stinks
  • I'm not thin enough
  • My boobs aren't big enough
  • Maybe his u-no-what isn't big enough

Who needs these thoughts?

So, I mentally flip myself off, take a deep breath, sit back on the couch and ask him (casually, yeah right) what up?

He tells me he really likes me. Oh God...I feel the break up coming. The "it's not you, it's me." But then he says he like me more than he's liked anyone in a really long time. But he (are you ready for this) doesn't believe in pre-marital sex!

Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? Sorry...channeling Wayne there for a mo.


So, this gorgeous man with a body for sin doesn't believe in a little sum'in-sum'in without the bonds of holy matrimony. (Explains the sneers at Mia and her preggo belly at the wedding reception.)

The first question I ask (Emily) is "Are you a virgin?"

I mean, The 40 Year Old Virgin was a cute movie, but I don't want to be dating Andy. And I'm certain I haven't seen any superhero action figures over at Hunter's place. Was he hiding them in the closet? Is he secretly working at Tech World and doesn't know how to use a condom? (I didn't give anything pertinent away in the movie.)

He tells me that he did lose his virginity in high school to a girl named Pennie McDougal. (Who names their kid Pennie?! Like...a bad penny...a lucky penny...or wait, an I can't SPELL penny.) But since then, he really looked inward, spiritually, at the person he wants to be and being promiscuous isn't for him. (Not that I'm asking for promiscuity. Just a little sat-si-fac-tion.)

Breathe Vanessa.

But, this amazing man has not done the deed since 1990! I mean, even I have had sex since 1990. Why? Why! Why.

Hunter says with all the diseases going around and people taking relationships lightly that you really have to know that you want to spend forever with someone before spending a few hours in the sheets with them. Apparently, his sister got knocked up in college and it ruined her life. He never wanted to cause that to happen to anyone and he's never cared enough about anyone to be tempted. He says he channels all of his sexual frustrations and energies into working out at the gym, out on the shooting range and at work. Why can't he channel them to me? I assure him that I'm skank. But he just kisses me again.

He hopes I understand as he really wants to keep seeing me. (Awww...)

Can I do this, though? I mean...can I do this? I'm not some sort of foaming at the mouth nympho, but I'm human. I have wants, needs and desires. And I'm young. There will be enough time for no sex once I'm actually married. Right? Oh God, I'm going to turn into one of those crazy Case Study women we talk about? Can I just date him? Can I not take this further? Or will I go blind from lust or something? Why can't I be the woman to tempt him to drop his guard (or his pants?)

His convictions are strong. Just as they are with his no drinking policy. I mean, let's give it to the guy...he's dedicated and has incredible will power.

I guess I need to, as well. I've done Weight Watchers. I can handle portion control. And he does like to kiss and cop a feel here and there. Will that be enough?

I have to be content to just sleep with him -- we're talking cuddling and nothing else, but I feel gypped! He's drop-dead gorgeous, he's funny, he's charming, he's polite...and he's celibate? And apparently, I am too now.

What am I going to do?

What would you do?

In need of advice...
Double Vee

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Baby lamb, a drunk uncle and a big surprise...

Vanessa here…

So, where did I leave off on the wedding story? Oh yeah, the blessing by the priest about any “possible children” and all of us choking back our snickering.

Well, the reception was a real hoot! There was all this traditional Portuguese food for the reception – soooooooooo good. We started with this cream of shrimp soup that had this creamy, spicy texture to it. Then, there was this gorgeous salad with all sorts of mixed greens and radicchio and this lemon vinaigrette that was too delish for it’s own good. Then, the main course came out. now, I don’t mean to go all WASP on your ass, but one of the choices was perna de cabrito à moda da beira alta, or translated: leg of baby goat roasted the beira alta way and fresh tuna steak marinated Madeira-style. I don’t know about you, but eating a little baby goat just wasn’t my idea of fun, so I stuck to the dish I knew best.

(I know what you’re thinking about how this was going to be this simple, non-descript wedding, but once Mia’s mother and grandmother got involved, it turned into a whole big Pimental family reunion, complete with relatives from Lisbon and the Azores flying over for the big event. Mia’s the first in a long time to walk down the aisle so it must be like a national holiday in Portugal and New Bedford, Massachusetts.)

Hunter was a doll though, really getting into the festivities, the dancing and yes, eating the baby goat. He said it was delicious, especially with the roasted potatoes (which I did try), but I just had to take his word for it. I kept envisioning that farm I visited when I was 15 where we got to milk goats and cows and I bottle fed a little baby goat as part of the petting zoo-like experience. There are just some cute animals that shouldn’t be eaten. (I don’t have a problem with chickens as they’re ugly as sin.)

The funniest part of the whole evening was that Mia had to run interference with her great uncle, Duarte, from the Azores. He spoke very little English except for “another Johnny Walker Red.” He and Johnny became well acquainted during the course of the evening. So much that Duarte started causing a scene. At one point, he picked up the leftover leg of lamb, started dancing with it and waving it above his head like the caveman in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Larkin was chasing the 90 year old man around the dance floor and damn, if Duarte wasn’t getting the best of him.

At one point, he decided he wanted to do this Portuguese version of old man break dancing. He was trying to spin around on the dance floor on his back, but Mia’s mother and Larkin were trying to rein Duarte in. He was laughing and having a good old time…drunk off his old ass! It was a sight! I could tell that Mia was mortified, thinking old Duarte and Johnny Walker were ruining everyone’s time.

That’s when Hunter stepped in. He helped Duarte to his feet, offered to buy him a drink and escorted him out to the bar where he got him one for the road and then took him up to his room in the hotel. I was amazed at how calming and authoritative Hunter was…and how Duarte, who didn’t understand a word he was saying (more than likely) went along like a good boy and quietly passed out on his hotel bed.
We went back to the reception and Hunter wrapped me in his arms, danced with me, told me how beautiful I was (can you see me blushing) and that he couldn’t wait to get me alone.

Well, hello Dolly! What were we doing here? Sure, sure, my roommate and very good friend still had to cut her cake, toss her garter and bouquet, but I wanted to get out of here. I wanted some alone time with Hunter. Could this be the night? Could this be what I’d been waiting for?

When Mia tossed the bouquet, her 12 year old niece literally knocked me out of the way (this chica was big!) and grabbed the flowers. Not that I necessarily needed to catch them. I’m not thinking marriage. I mean, Hunter and I’ve been barely going out. But I am thinking about honeymoon activities.

We tossed rice and wished the couple well and Mia and Larkin left for their trip (going to Brazil for the honeymoon, although the doctor herself realizes she probably shouldn’t be flying this late into her pregnancy.)

Hunter and I drove home, got in the door of my apartment and literally attacked each other. Man, this guy can kiss. I mean, heart stopping, toe curling, palm sweating, knee knocking deep, wonderful kisses that touch my soul.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him, like badly. I’m a desperate woman here! I reached for the button of his pants and that’s when he put his hand over mine and…stopped me.

He kind of sat up and said, “Vanessa, we need to talk…”

Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

And oh shit. I’ve got to go for now…but I promise to finish the story. Sorry to keep you hanging…tune in…it gets really good!

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Monday, September 05, 2005

Here comes the bride, all fat and wide...

Vanessa here...

...grateful for Labor Day and the day off so I can catch my breath from the weekend. Man! So much happened...where do I start?

Well, first of all, Mia did not look all fat and wide, but she did look obviously preggars in her wedding gown. What did she expect, she's like five and a half months along?

But before I get to that, let me start with Friday and I'll work up to today. I can't believe all that's happened...

Remember how Hunter sent me the flowers and said he couldn't wait to spend the weekend with me? Well, I was really looking forward to the weekend and what might happen. After work on Friday, I did the proper grooming for my date with Hunter and he came to pick me up right at 7:00 p.m. Um-boy, can that man kiss. It was definitely an "I missed you so much" kiss and promised for more to come.

We went out to dinner and then went to Loews to see a movie. He let me pick. I was thinking maybe Must Love Dogs, but thought it might be too much of a chick-flick, so I picked The 40 Year Old Virgin. I'd heard from friends that it was wicked funny, so that was it. Hunter didn't look too interested in seeing it, uncomfortable almost, but he went along. We laughed all through it (and it was a great movie) and afterwards, I was commenting on how sad it was that someone that old was a virgin. I mean, even me with my bad man luck, I at least lost the big V in college.

So, we get to my apartment and curl up on the couch to watch TV. I don't even remember what was on (Iron Chef America re-runs or something) because I put the moves on him. This man is fine and I have him alone in my apartment on the couch. Hello?! Am I stupid? Nope. We roll around on the couch and kiss a lot and stuff, but he's not really making the moves to go further. I understand him wanting to be a gentleman and all, but I'm so ripe I'm about to fall off the vine. Then, he asks if he can stay over and I'm like hell yeah! Well, okay...I just said "sure."

But that was it. We just slept. It was heavenly, let me tell you, wrapped in his arms. He likes to cuddle and totally held me all night. It was the best night's sleep I've had in a long time. But I'm worried that he's not interested in me sexually. I was going to put the moves on him Saturday morning, but right when I turned in his arms and started munching on his lips, Mia burst into the apartment in her pre-wedding jitters.

Apparently, she and Larkin had this huge fight. We're talking throwing things down the staircase fighting. I told her they were just nervous about what was about to happen and everything would be okay once they got down the aisle and said "I do." Hunter was a sweetheart. While I was calming down Mia, he went into the kitchen and put on the coffee, made waffles and bacon for the three of us. (Good looks, great kisser and he cooks!) By the time we'd fed our faces, Mia had calmed down and realized it was just the whole "death do us part" thing that was wigging her. Hunter explained what a beautiful thing marriage was and how Mia and Larkin had another life to think about. She, of course, broke down crying about how much she loved Larkin and couldn't wait to get married. So, thanks to Hunter and his soothing voice and delicious breakfast, the wedding was back on.

Hunter left to home and change and said he'd meet me at the chapel. What a great guy going to this wedding with me. Most guys would wig and think you're just trying to hook them in (which maybe I am trying to do) by taking them to a wedding. But, it's a small affair and it'll be nice not to be by myself.

Mia and I spent the morning and into the afternoon spoiling her with a mani, a pedi, a massage especially for pregnant women and then we had her hair done. Now, this woman looks like a million dollars wet stepping out of the shower, so believe me when I say it didn't take much of a makeover to make her shine. Her long, black hair looked like silk and her eyes were highlighted with just the right amount of shadow.

Her dress was gorgeous...seed pearls and yard and yards of silk. She splurged a little on the dress, figuring she was only going to do this once. The design didn't do much to cover up the poochy bulge under her dress, but then again, maybe it was the pregnancy making her glow so much.

Although, let me say, we were not allowed to mention the bambino at all around Mia's grandmother. The woman was old as Noah and from the homeland of the Azores. Mia's mother came up from New Bedford and provided the Portuguese translation for us trying to talk to the grandmother. (We just told her Mia had gained weight...I guess she bought it.)

I was wearing this flowing, flowery, teal-colored Ann Taylor dress. Very dressy, but not your typical, cliched, embarrassing bridesmaids dress -- thank you, Mia! When I walked into the church, I literally saw Hunter's face break out into this humongoid smile. He watched me the whole way down the aisle and even as the ceremony started, I could sense his eyes on me. I didn't pay as much attention during the ceremony as I should have because I was eye flirting with Hunter the whole time. He looked amazing, too. Crisp, black, three-buttoned Hugo Boss suit with a white shirt and a light blue and white Tommy Hilfiger tie. He could easily have graced the cover of any magazine.

And he was mine. Mine, mine, mine. At least for the moment. This gorgeous, sweet, caring, kind man is here with me. After only knowing me for about a month, he's here as my date to my wonderful roommate's wedding. Now, that guy's a keeper.

(Oh, a funny aside during the wedding -- which was a full, two hour mass in Latin, English and Portuguese -- at one point, the priest held his hand over Mia and Larkin's head and said a prayer that "if these two happen to have children, may God bless any children of this union." The snickering filtered about the church, but I guess it was good that the bambino was included in the ceremony, after all.)

Mia and Larkin were pronounced man and wife. They kissed. We cheered.

Outside the church, after everyone filtered out, Hunter found me and put his arm around me. He leaned in so close that I could smell the yumminess of his Tommy cologne. Placing a kiss on my neck below my ear, he said to me, "I know you're supposed to watch the bride at a wedding, but I just couldn't take my eyes off of you."

Melt. Into. Butter.

He does like me! I mean, really likes me!

More tomorrow on the reception and what happened next...

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Weekend eye candy...

Vanessa here quickly...

...before I run off to Mia and Larkin's wedding! Can't forget the weekend eye candy. And get this...this male model's name is Hunter! LOL! No, not my Hunter. (More on that later...check back on Monday!)

Hang loose,
Double Vee

Friday, September 02, 2005

We all need to do our part...

Vanessa here...

Serious post today, just because it's necessary.

I implore you, if you haven't already, please open up your check book, open up your heart and reach out to the people of New Orleans, Mississippi and Alabama and help them with your donations.

I agree with the Mayor of New Orleans, Ray Nagin (my new hero...I want to hug this man) that I'm tired of all the goddamn press conferences...I want action, too. And you can join me.

The Red Cross

Louisianna SPCA

Noah's Wish

Human Society of South Mississippi

Big love,
Double Vee

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