May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey be plump
May your potatoes & gravy
Have a nary lump
May your yams be delicious
And you pies take the prize,
And may your
Stay off your thighs
May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey be plump
May your potatoes & gravy
Have a nary lump
May your yams be delicious
And you pies take the prize,
And may your
Stay off your thighs
I peered into the large glass front restaurant and knew it was him. He stood there, posed, one leg up on the bottom rung of the bar stool, looking confidently toward the front door. Even from twenty yards away I could tell something was off. What was going on with his hair? I approached suspiciously. He caught my eye and immediately turned on his heels kissing me on both cheeks. He was very animated and his skin tight and bright – heathy eating or Dermabrasion, I wondered. As he chatted away asking what I’d like to drink my eyes went back to his hair – full and dark brown – not a gray hair in site and no variation in color, a thick helmet of hair. Surely it was a wig. Not just a wig but one of the worst wigs I’ve seen in my life. I was angry with myself for being disappointed. What if he had been ill? Surely, I could forgive a wig.
As my date downed two ice teas and I sipped half a bottle of San Pellegrino I looked past the wig and focused instead on his crepe-y skin. It was not the skin of a man my age let alone someone a few years younger as he had mentioned. I immediately wondered if he had lied on his dating profile. Pink flag. Hair and age could not be vetted on the telephone. I told myself to see if I liked the guy and then worry about the wig and the fib about his age.
The most interesting part of the date was when he mentioned that he was working with a woman, I’ll call Sandra, I had met decades before. And a woman who I knew had been a high-priced call girl/madam for New York’s elite. These were women who wore only Chanel, Armani and Balenciaga. Their designer handbags only carried a lipstick and a hundred dollar bill which naturally they couldnever break. They dripped in jewelry and tended to travel by chauffered cars way before Uber, Gett and Lyft. Sandra was now a legitimate business owner and living at one of the most prestigious buildings in the city. When I asked how they had met, my date said he knew her a good twenty-five years after that he suddenly became very evasive. Another flag.
Wig or not, I knew that my date wasn’t for me. I looked at my watch and said I had to run. My date seemed disappointed I was skipping out so soon. I kissed both his cheeks and was on my way.
Three days later while on my personal Facebook page a “Friend Suggestion” popped up. I examined the familiar photo. It was my date with the wig! The really surprising thing was his name appeared as Dominic Christiano not Dominic Black. I thought back to our initial phone conversation where he dropped his last name. Something about the way he fit it into the conversation didn’t feel natural. So when I hung up, I did something I normally would not do, I Googled him. I couldn’t find one person with his full name – and oh, yes. I spelled it every which way. In today’s world this was a dark pink flag.
I left Facebook and googled Dominic Christiano and up popped an awful lot of information about my date! He was actually 17 years older than he had told me! Yes, 17. One – Seven! And they say women take off a year or two! Surely he had had a facelift! That was just the tip of the iceberg. There was also an $70 million-plus judgment against Bad Wig for falsely marketing and devising an “elaborate hoax” for hair-growth products! Initially, I found that extremely funny considering the awful toupee until I began to realize how many people he had deceived. This guy had lived the life of Riley while hair challenged people had spent thousands of dollars hoping for some hair miracle.
Ladies, and gentlemen, trust your gut and do your research before you get involved. A pink flag will likely become a field of red flags. You surely don’t want to be dating a criminal with or without a wig.
Tomorrow is Larry David’s birthday. I don’t care how old he is. I just love him.
I was invited to the NYC Friar Club for a roast – I think it was for Soupy Sales – he was there in a wheel chair with his nurse. So were Stiller and Meara, the press, many of the old-time Jewish Alps comedians and a room full of more notable people. I had a ball!
I quickly noticed there were virtually no women there, and if they were they were in orthopedic shoes with canes and wigs and yellow teeth. With odds like those every man with a pulse wanted to talk to my friend. I on the other hand was fit and in my prime. I was in my uniform of tight jeans, high heels, low-cut top and push up bra with my long blond hair blown perfectly straight. I was invited back the next week by the Treasurer who took a shining to me. He wasn’t a comedian or an actor, just a music executive with lots of stories about Tommy Motola . I accepted without hesitation. I loved the club. I would live there if I could.
I met the Treasurer upstairs, where he was waiting for me, at one of the smaller bars. The Treasurer was seater with fellow friars but these guys were old school – senior citizen who could make you pee in your pants not the other way around. We had a drink while they told hysterical stories about their careers. I was deep in a story when I heard someone behind me say,
“Hey, Treasurer. How’s your wife?”
I could feel the Treasurer’s hand on the small of my back but I didn’t care. I listened with rapt attention to the two old comedians do their bit. I loved their stories and could have listened forever. Suddenly, it occurred to me that my date was married and I quickly realized that I was having so much fun that I couldn’t have cared less. I had no interest in him. And then I thought about that voice who delivered those words and their timing. I knew that all too familiar voice. I looked over. It was Larry David and he was gone in a flash heading out of the room and down the elevator.
I could have run out of the room. I could have chased him but I didn’t. Instead I continued listening to the stories of some of the greatest comedians way before Larry David’s time.
I knew that I missed my shot at meeting one of my all time favorite comedians. Chances are this would be my one and only time. Oh, well…
Happy Birthday, Larry, you old COCK BLOCKER. I love you. Call me when you can.
I love my mother. Has she been a perfect mom? No. Who is perfect? I certainly am not. Like most daughter, my mom and I weren’t always chums. As my mom aged and I wised up I was able to truly love her – warts and all. She doesn’t really have any warts – her issues were more about rigidity, anxiety and the need to hide or cover up the truth. With old age her anxiety has lessened and I’m very pleased to say she is much more open. I think the rigidity disappeared soon after my dad passed away. I have come to a place where I can say I have a wonderful relationship with my mom and really enjoy spending time with her. How fortunate I am!
Sadly, this Mother’s Day will be a blue one for me. I believe it will be the first year in my life that I am not with my mom on Mother’s Day. Thankfully, she is still on planet Earth, alive and well. Intead, I accepted a project and will not be able to spend Sunday doing the daughter thing. I know I am very lucky that I still have a mom. So many of my friends have lost theirs. I just feel more awful than I imagined even though I sent a beautiful card and she will receive flowers later today. I will see my mom next week to celebrate her awesomeness but I still feel like a made a mistake.
I want to wish all of you and your moms a Happy Mother’s Day whether you are fortunate to be together or for those of you who won’t be – whether physical distance or heaven separate you. We wouldn’t be here if not for our mom’s. Try to put any drama or issues away for the day and celebrate the woman who put you on this great planet. And to all you mom’s – I hope someone spoils you the way you should be! You’ve got the toughest job on the planet!
Photos by Stephen Bryer. You can follow him on Instagram at Modernfloralism.
Here’s a Monday laugh for you! Thanks College Humor.
She was my best friend from high school; the wild one, far from the best student, the first to lose her virginity and always dating guys from “the wrong side of the tracks”. We went to college together but she never finished. We remained close, sharing secrets, traveling together and being ridiculously silly. On one such night she talked me into going to some club 45 minutes from her home. It was usually easier to say okay then to decline her invitations. I had an okay time but just as the night was coming to a close she took me to a hole in the wall for pizza. (This friend ALWAYS knew where to find the best food even thousands of miles away). I will never forget the pizza I had that night. I never knew there was such a thing – lasagna pizza. Loaded with meat and spaghetti, it was heavenly after a late night of drinking.
We got back in her car and she began the long drive home. I felt sorry for her. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was doze off but I wouldn’t do that to a friend. I stayed awake and chatted away about ridiculous things. I cracked the windows open and blasted Bon Jovi to keep her alert. The roads were dark and empty which made it even worse. We were flying down the highway when we saw the lights. We hadn’t heard the sirens with the music blasting. Fuck.
Be cool? I immediately turned off the radio, adjusted my seat belt, slapped my face and sat up straight. My friend rolled down the driver’s window.
“Good evening, Ma’am”
Hi? Ugh doesn’t she know any better? I leaned forward and peered up to the officer and cheerily said, “Good evening, Sir.” with a sweet smile hoping he would forgive my girlfriends lack of respect.
“License and registration, please.”
She handed over the papers without a word.
“Have you ladies been drinking this evening?”
“No, we were at a baby shower,” replied my friend.
A baby shower? It was after 3:00am. I could see him glance over at my sheer black hose and stiletto pumps. My dress was so short and tight it was bunched up under my ass. The police officer looked annoyed.
“Did you know that your rear headlight is out and you were doing 78 in a 55 mile zone. I’m going to have to give you a ticket?”
“Sir, can’t we just make this all go away?”
I wondered what in god names my girlfriend was up too now. Didnt she know how to speak to a police officer? Didnt she know bribery was against the law?!
“If I give you a blow job can we just forget about everything.”
Fuck! We’re going to jail tonight is all I could think. Why did I agree to go out with this nut job? Would I be in trouble by association? My mother always warned me about that as a kid. I was sobering up real fast as I wondered who my one call should be to once I was behind bars. Did I know any lawyers? I sat back in my seat. I wasn’t getting involved in this situation. I would plead innocent because I was.
And then my friend said,”Jimmy it’s me, Carey Masterson, from high school.”
They had a good chuckle while I had a small heart attack.
Kirstie Alley and I think alike. Although she’s 12 years my senior and has been struggling with weight ups and downs for decades she’s not impressed by her selection of men. Seems she’s met a lot of the same sort of characters that I have!
The 64-year-old actress recently told Entertainment Tonight about her dating dilemma as a woman over 50. “I wanted to say something to men over 45. Don’t be so freaking boring!” Alley said. “Don’t have the life already sucked out of you.” She too would like to do everything in her power to avoid dating much younger men.
Alley announced that she was ready to “hook up,” after her most recent weight loss. Here’s what she said about dating dull men her age,
“All it does is leave women to date young men and be really embarrassed, because we are dating guys in tank tops,” Alley continued.” I want some men around my age that aren’t boring, and act like they are tired.”
Believe it or not, even Sharon Stone, the absolutely gorgeous Casino actress, says she never goes out on dates. And she is hot as hell, bright, interesting and a talented actress. She said: “I never get asked out. It’s so stupid. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been getting more brazen with flirting, but I don’t think men realize that I’m flirting. They just think, Oh, she’s fun!’”
So it appears I’m in good company. I’m not the only one to lament about the lack of dating prospects. Last year, music icon Madonna, also in her 50s, said men her age were simple “undateable.” People who are older, and more set in their ways, are probably not as adventurous as someone younger,” Madonna said. So I guess of Kirstie, Sharon and Madonna share my dating woes I’m pretty much out of luck. I certainly don’t have their talent, looks, connections and not even a fraction of their fortunes. What’s a girl to do? I’ll keep trying and I venture to guess they will too!
Not that one! I bet you’re thinking about the John Edwards from The Montel Williams Show, Sally Jessie Raphael or the morning talk shows circuits. The John Edwards that speaks to the dead. I’m talking about the other John Edwards, the two-time presidential nominee. Remember him and the sordid scandal?
Here’s a little background: John was married to Elizabeth, the heir to the Heinz family. In 2004, Elizabeth revealed that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. He met Rielle Hunter * in 2006 while she was working on a documentary about him. They began an affair. In 2008 Rielle had a daughter. Well to make matters worse, John Edwards denied being the father of Rielle’s daughter, Frances Quinn Hunter, for over two years before finally admitting to it in 2010. It was a shocking and horrible story all while Elizabeth withered away from cancer. In 2011 a federal grand jury in North Carolina indicted Edwards on six felony charges of violating multiple federal campaign contribution laws to cover up his extramarital affair with his mistress.
After Edwards’ January 21, 2010, admission that he fathered the child with his mistress, Elizabeth legally separated from him and intended to file for divorce. Elizabeth died in 2010 of metastatic breast cancer at age 61.
Now that we’ve got all that straight, let me tell you, John Edwards is one of the most gorgeous men I’ve seen in person. I’ve seen many handsome guys and a few stunners – the true hotties, as in drop dead gorgeous, have been Brad Pitt, Liam Neeson, and believe it or not Don Johnson when he was way younger – around the time of Miami Vice. Hard to believe but true. He was stunning. Liam oozed sexuality but the hottest still remains John Edwards.
I was coming out of the Ritz Carlton in Manhattan one afternoon when he was coming in. We were eye to eye. He smiled and I swooned. I felt like the most beautiful woman on the planet. The only one he cared about or desired. And all it took was to lock eyes with me. He said nothing. Not a word. He just looked at me. If he had invited me that day, I would have gone right up to his room (and I’m not one to drop my drawers for just anyone). I had never felt like that before and I still have not five years later.
When I mention this to my mom she said, “He was probably in town for his haircut. You know he goes to Frederik Fekkai and pays hundreds of dollars.” It would make sense why he chose this hotel’s close proximity to Fekkai’s salon, I mused. (I was never able to confirm this but it would make sense. Various sources say he paid from 400.00 from Joseph Torrenueva a Beverly Hills stylist to 1250.00 for a special house call in Atlanta while on the presidential campaign). And then my mom said, “You’re just his type. He seems to like thin, blonds. Look at that tramp he had the fling with. You’re a gorgeous and very classy version of her!”
UPDATE: This just in, John Edwards is said to be lobbying a U.S. District Judge to play a leading role in the private class action lawsuits against Volkswagen over its widespread emissions scandal, according to a report Tuesday from Reuters. Could this be his come back? A good deed to every Volkswagen owner and the rest of the world? Will we be seeing more of John Edwards? I certainly hope so! Read more here.
Frederic Fekkai is located at 712 Fifth Avenue in New York City.
Joseph Torrenueva has his own salon at 9601 Wilshire Blvd in Beverly Hills.
*Fun fact: Rielle used to date Jay McInerny, the author of Bright Lights, Big City, who most recently appeared on Gossip Girl in 2008 and 2011 as the writer Dan Humphrey has an internship with. Jay’s a real life jerk, too. Rielle and Jay deserved each other.
I compared dating notes with a gentleman today. It’s not something I often do because I feel like we’ll become friends instead of each others potential love interests. I have enough friends! I was slightly curious about what this particular man was experiencing so I listened with interest. His three most recent dates, all of which were fix ups, went like this:
DATE #1 She was attractive and things were going pretty well over dinner when she said, “I just want you to know that I communicate with the dead. Your mom, dad and extended family are all here with you. Right now. I can see them.” She wanted to know if he was okay with that because she was working on a book about the subject. He asked if her ex-husband had been on board with the whole speaking to the dead thing. Her reply, “Of course, all three of my husbands were!”
DATE #2 This too was a blind date but he did see several lovely photos of his date first. She was attractive with unusually long dark hair. He was surprised that a middle age woman would have such beautiful, long, luscious hair He was mesmerized by her photo and really excited about meeting her. He selected an especially romantic place for their date. He sat at the bar anxiously waiting for her arrival. When she finally appeared she looked very different. She had a crew cut. His first reaction was to think she was ill. She claimed she was in good health but had been hounded for years by Locks of Love. She finally caved in and donated her waist long hair.
DATE #3 His third most recent date was going swimmingly when his companion mentioned her ex-husband had been a psychiatrist. He was surprised their mutual friend hadn’t mentioned she was a widow.“I’m sorry. I didn’t know your husband passed away?”
“Oh, no, no, no. He’s alive and well. He just lost his license when he raped a patient.”
His jaw dropped open. She continued, “He was arrested and went to jailed. That’s when I divorced him. When he got out he did it again just two weeks later. I’m surprised you didn’t see it in the news.”
And I thought I had it tough! We decided between all of our bad, werid and wacko dates combined we should have dinner. The fact that my ex-husband is not a felon, I have a full head long blond hair and I don’t speak to the dead will surely help. Who knows, we may just hit it off…