If we can agree that this is indeed a perfect holiday, I'll move on. Grudgingly, and post what Mamie wants me to post. Which is possibly the most riveting series of events you could watch unfold.
Friday 1030pm
Mame came to keep me from bathing with my hair dryer, so we met up with Paul and Sal at Tayste. The server, who took this picture, would deliver items with a 'here you are, gorgeous.' And when he took the photo, at the last moment, he screamed, 'DIAMONDS!!!!!" at us, which possibly explains something. Maybe not why we look like tourists, but something.
Saturday 1245am
Saturday 1246 am
Saturday, 1 am
E-rock shoves off after watching the kids, refusing any part of an extra-large pizza order by saying unforgivably twittish things about eating at 1. At which point, he was no longer thanked for sitting, but chased out with a broom.
Saturday, 11 a.m.
We brunched with the children at the CAM. Everyone loved us. I mean, we look like there's another on the way from Laos or something.
Ehhh,actually, Haaaannah, I had a dream that we met a parrot.
Saturday 9 pm
border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152529344929509490" />She looks like a condom. We're dead sober. The night is falling apart. Tom is looking at his watch.
PARTY. Not captured is Mamie feverishly looking up a not-quite-ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend online because she is convinced that this girl is hotter and more successful. Which of course she knows in her soul can't be possible, but she just needs evidence.
Given this photo, you might not think that when I put Sally on the plane and Mamie in her car that I went home and stared wistfully at Sal's wine glass and Mamie's altoids, also her Capri ultra-slims with a lucky cigarette turned up, but I did.
*What there are no pictures of: Mamie and I weeping in Juno. And more to the point, Mamie and I weeping through the preview of La Misma Luna.
19 comments:
I like the direction your new header is going, but come on, crop both of you into the header. If you need me to work any Photoshop magic I would love to assist.
wait, what do you mean? we are both in the header. hannah, what's he talking about?
also, hannah, it's like you want carlyle to bolt: not-quite-ex should not be confused, you know, with someone other than my bf that i still might be dating but, rather, a man i never dated-dated who is now with someone who shops at cache and frequents dance clubs. but who is also maddeningly hot and successful.
the only people that find her hot and successful: you. the republican presidential candidates of 2008. the guys in the corner dancing to nelly's 'ride wit me'
also, i crop you out. you don't see it on yr computer but i do.
wrd, it's something with blogger that i can't figure out. but if you would, direct your photoshop magic to my complexion. the freckles, it's absurd, i'm not irish.
ok. now i have check this woman out and....i really don't even care. i'll give you my honest gay opinion.
1. You forgot to mention that Mamie squealed like a schoolgirl when this Carlyle person called at 1 am, but she was in a inebriated, giggling, staring-off-in-to-the-distance state.
2. I still don't believe he is real. It's so easy to do: would you like to meet my new g/f, Sasha, she's a Russian model.
3. So glad I didn't see Juno with you 2 blubbering fools. I didn't cry nor did I have an inkling to cry, but I am emotionally dead.
4. I think the gym's been paying off. I look thinner in that picture.
Hey! I like Brunch! WTF!
did not squeal, per se. and, sadly, he was merely returning my call to him.
i'd post a picture, loser, only the only one we have is of him making a weird face (a la dunbar on the real world: sydney) and inexplicably unbuttoning his shirt.
i mean, he'd shoot me.
the only house you'll see this year is the big house.
tell me about it, sister.
For fuck's sake, don't send'em my way.
wait, aquafina (which even i wouldn't misspell) hasn't been on any water guest list since '04. i don't care if morgan freeman does do the voice over on those commercials.
cool as gwyneth paltrow. seriously.
i just did this survey on flavored water, like, just the other day! lollololololololololololololol.
you ladies are fabulous.
how was taste in terms of food, not service??
omg, tom--we JUST got it. AQUAFINA. FRYING PAN. mamie ran out of her waiting shift to call.
she spotted a water bottle in the kitchen, a pan. it clicked.
I think that the header looks great, both of you look awesome, and would not change a thing.
As for The Freckles, they are not that prominent but if you want, send the picture to me so I can remove your adorable freckles. BTW-What is wrong with being Irish?
hey, i love ireland. would love to live there, in a stone cottage with sheep and a carpenter for a husband who also wrote sonnets and played the penny whistle. if you know someone...
re. the food at tayste (lamest spelling ever) is good, but overpriced. mame and i both had salads that were exquisite (and the oysters were prefect). brie flash fried in an almond crust with several 'jams' that was decent. but i ordered bread pudding for dessert, and it was a total fucking trainwreck: the top part of what appeared to be a stale raisin bran muffin from pcj, was deep-fried, with no sauce but instead a cinnabonish glaze that was really alarming.
made up for it the next night with the bread pudding from phoenix--chocolate chip and toasted almond, and the cream was lovely.
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When a lady says no, she means perhaps; when she says perhaps, she means yes; when she says yes, she is no lady.
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