First of all, my friends, a heartfelt thank you for responding to yesterday's poll. I'm not very good at reading percentiles but I have sent the results out for interpretation and I can't wait to see what they mean.
Now, the news!
Yesterday I met her. Yes, her -- in the flesh.
I think most of you already know that Elaine is relocating from wherever it was she'd been living, some say due to an unexpected job offer, some say due to an angry torch-bearing mob shouting Seize the Witch!
Regardless, she deflated handsome polyvinyl Dan (oh, puleeze), rolled him up into her carry-on, and headed for the hills. The FedEx cargo plane she stowed away on landed in New York and here she is, marking time while she awaits orders from her coven.
I think I speak for most of us when I say I will miss that cinder block backdrop most of all. Obviously gray skies and ill winds follow Elaine wherever she goes, so there will be plenty of equally depressing modeling pics ahead for us all.
I am not at liberty to reveal Elaine's destination, but I will say that it is not a place for the lactose intolerant, not that I'm making any assumptions about Elaine's metabolism.
And speaking of food...
Elaine and I dined at the beautiful Galanga Garden Thai restaurant in Chelsea, just blocks from my apartment. I ordered the marvelous Laap Pet, described on the menu as "Hudson Valley duck breast marinated in Thai spice grilled and tossed with a spicy sweet and sour dipping sauce." It was superb!
Elaine had the Pad Thai...perhaps not the most daring choice but look who's choosing.
Things got off on an awkward note from the start.
Readers, we simply had nothing to say to one another -- nothing. After admiring her Vogue 1051 wide-leg pants, hoping she might return the complement by acknowledging my Simplicity 8255 princess-seamed mens shirt -- which I practically had to take off and wipe down the table with to get her to notice -- there followed a series of uncomfortable silences accompanied by the sounds of crickets and punctuated by the inebriated laughter of fellow diners obviously having a much better time. If only I'd ordered something alcoholic instead of my Thai Iced Coffee!
To kill time and flatter Elaine's ego, I suggested some picture taking and that's where things got ugly.
As you can see, at first everything looked fine.
Then this. Was this not a provocation?
Followed by this:
Which only led to this:
Resulting in this:
When next we started pulling each other's hair and gouging flesh -- not recorded on film, thankfully -- the management politely asked us to leave and who can blame them?
I won't say how our "date" ended, but let's just say we won't be seeing any more of each other for a long, long time.
Did you ever see that show Blind Date (or one of its countless imitators), where the man walks back to his car alone at the end of the evening (usually after a soak in the hot tub) and a thought bubble reads "Later for THAT, be-atch!" or "I'll call you -- on a cold day in HADES!"
I think that about sums it up.
Readers, have you ever been on a date from hell that never seemed to end, saved only by a pitcher of Margaritas?
Did you wake up the next day with a hangover and perhaps a bad itch down there followed by a week's course of Erythromycin or its generic equivalent? (Luckily things with me and Elaine never got to that level of intimacy -- OMG!)
Your secret is safe with me.
P.S. -- We make sort of a cute couple, no?
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