the VSFS

it's pitch black, freezing, drizzling, and dreary here in Pennsylvania as i type. i don't get on that plane back to sunshine for another day and a half. just hoping i can survive till then...feeling faint...so cold....mama?

November's almost over now and no one is more glad than ME. this month has been quite the bitch. well...more like a bastard. allow me to explain...

the Victoria Secr3t Fashion Show basically ran me into the ground. a week-long string of 12-17 hour days really sucks the life out of you. come show day i was quite the cranky script supervisor.

not even the Spice Girls reunion debut performance could cheer me up. in fact it made matters worse.

speaking of the SG's, you oughta get a look at them BEFORE hair and makeup goes to town. YOOOOOWZA!!

i've had substitute teachers in grade school more attractive than them.

but thanks to the hair & makeup wizards at ILM, even grubby middle-aged British ladies can look gorgeous these days. i never cease to be amazed...





i tell you who's got some al-naturale good beauty genes -- that Heidi Klum.

and she's a MOTHER. twice!










i'm gonna save her pic to show to my future pregnoid wife.

see this, honey? yes. it IS possible. it IS.
you've got three weeks to lose that baby weight.
i said THREE. no. NO.
now you listen HERE -- don't make me...DON'T make me --
Look! now look what you've made me do!
...
baby, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.


so like i was saying, by the time show day rolled around, i was more or less ready to tell the VSFS to go FCUK themselves.

and then came the Wrap Party.

never in all of my days have i been to such a party. open bar, free flowing champagne, caviar! the DJ was spinning mash-ups and out on the dance floor -- the models. dozens and dozens of models. and orlando bloom (tool).

after tossing down a couple quick Vodka T's, i cruised on out to the dance floor. as we white folk say, it was time to "bust-a-move." and i unleashed my best.

keeping my arms tight and to my side, my torso began writhing...swaying in mid-air. i dilated my pupils and flicked my tongue rapidly -- tasting the air for pheromones. they were EVERYWHERE. it's a move i learned from watching a documentary on India, directly inspired by the mating ritual of the king of the cobras, himself...the King Cobra.

and it worked like a charm. a snake charm, if you will.



see this girl in the baby blue. i had her under my spell.

our eyes met on the dance floor, then she'd turn away...but then she'd look back! then away...BACK!...then away... the game was afoot.

i slithered my way in for the kill...

and got cock-blocked by one of her "handlers".

no matter, i had all the time in the world...

for what seemed like eternity we danced. at times only mere inches apart...then feet...then yards...then meters...but then inches again...

slowly i was hypnotizing her with my swaying bod...my unblinking gaze...flickering tongue...

until i felt a PINCH on my ass.

Eureka!

surely my trance must've worked on some other poor unsuspecting super model, so i spun on a dime. who would i find before me...Alesandra?? Karolina??? the Klumster herself???

but NO. my friends/co-workers Augie and Jessica, snickering like schoolgirls.

but wait! -- yes, Jessica was a looker, i could USE her to make aforementioned super model jealous. yesssss. yesssssssssssss...

so i pulled back and slithered my way over to Jessica instead.

and when i turned around to shoot that model my patented "see what you could've had for dessert tonight" look -- she looked me straight in the eye...AND WALKED OUT.

Gone. Gone, baby, gone.

funny...that never happened to that King Cobra.

til next time...