of ryan reynolds and garden eels

It doesn't happen very often but occasionally, after a martini or two, I blame myself for the d-i-v-o-r-c-e of Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johansson...

 

The time, place and why are not relevant here.  Two weeks after he was named "world's sexiest person alive" I met Ryan Reynolds.  He was tall, he made me weak in the knees, he was polite (take note Vince Vaughn, he even knew how to say "thank you"), he made me blush, he really was the sexiest man alive.

 

I would be wise to advise that our interaction took place after I had been at work for 8-hours and was working late, like 6-hours late....

  

Around 3-hours after he first said hello and made me blush like a giddy little girl, we found ourselves in front on a garden eel exhibit.  Glancing over his shoulder he smiled at me and asked while all the eels were looking one direction.   We had chatted throughout the evening, but here was my chance.  In a moment of delirium I replied "because they have been staring at me for 5-years and now you are here" in a sarcastically witty tone.

 

And that is when Ryan Reynolds looked at me and laughed.   A laugh straight from the gods to his perfect lips.

 

Seeing our interaction someone in his pose responded "well yeah, he IS the sexiest man alive..."  To which Ryan eloquently replied with an adorable eye-roll "that was so two weeks ago, I like her answer" - and I swear his teeth sparkled when he smiled.

 

Two weeks later, as I waited in the grocery line, I read a tabloid that screamed "Ryan and Scarlett divorce". 

 

I never did read the article - it is much more fun after a few martinis to think my spinster-self maybe contributed to the tabloid headline.

dinner with vince vaughn

What should have happened: 

  

It was a wonderful Friday evening and we were out celebrating at a trendy eatery.  A single Vince Vaughn walks into the restaurant, spots me and sends over a martini.  I wave thank you.  Vince joins the table.  I start writing my blog via postcards sent from fabulous places around the world.

What happened in reality:

It was a wonderful Friday evening and I joined my family to celebrate a 60th birthday at Benihana (safe to assume the 60 year old picked the chain restaurant).  We order cocktails, laugh and celebrate.  As the chef is making a heart out of fried rice my sister taps me and says "that man looks just like Vince Vaughn". 

 

And then we heard him speak, confirming Mr. Vaughn was in the building, and I noticed his wedding ring (strike one).

 

We resumed our celebrations - which included a photographer to capture all the joy that is a 60th birthday celebration.  I have to assume here that when I hit 60 I will want to remember the celebration too so I posed for photos and smiled.

 

At the table next to us Vinny had two sake bombs, a glass of red wine, and two beers (strike two, three, four, five and six).  Like magic he became every one of the characters he plays on film.  And just like that character he was loud and putting on a show (strike seven and eight).

  

It was somewhere between the red wine and second sake bomb that our table sang happy birthday.  Cameras were out, we were laughing and being louder than the table next to us.  Then the second sake bomb happened and a voice, straight from the movie screen, yelled across the restaurant to "put the camera away" (strike nine and ten).  Apparently at a 60th birthday celebration you aren't allowed to take photos when a certain Mr. Vaughn is in the restaurant.

 

Naturally we ignored and continued our celebrations.

 

But what I wish I had said:

 

I wish I had ordered another cucumber vodka.  I wish I had made eye contact as he yelled across the restaurant - which should be noted is a family-style restaurant.  I wish I had calmly stood up and floated across the room.

 

And that is when I would have said "I am not sure who you think you are, but I have an Emmy and I don't yell across restaurants."

Let's face it Vince, you are at a chain restaurant that is notorious for birthday celebrations.  If you can't handle someone taking photos, that aren't even of you, maybe you should stay home.

  

This encounter was the defining moment when I decided Emmy needs a boyfriend named Oscar, just so I can thank Vince Vaughn in my acceptance speech.

 

  



crawfish and my future husband

This weekend I was invited to a good ol' fashioned crawfish boil.  Unsure of what to expect I packed by cooler with vodka-lemonade (which in reality was just a big ol' bag of vodka, water and some crystal light), called my best friend and prepped for what was to be a fabulous evening with strangers.

It should be noted that I called by best friend at 2PM, I was showered, pretty and had the dog walked by 2:30PM and was out on the porch waiting from him by 2:35PM.  When I called to say I was ready he wasn't even dressed yet.

As luck would have it I had a chair, a bag of vodka and a cup, so I justified a 2:35PM cocktail by telling myself someone had to sample the vodka before the party...

One cocktail later my friend showed up and we went on our way.  Traffic was horrid and we finally arrived at the party, vodka in-hand, around 4PM.  There was already tons of crawfish piled on a table, with all sorts of veggies, a cooler of beer and a delightful strawberry-basil-lemonade for my wonderful bag of vodka.

Having never attempted to eat a crawfish I naturally dove right in.  Snapping tails, peeling shell and ending up with the tiniest piece of protein I have ever seen.  I am pretty convinced you burn more calories getting the suckers open than you do actually consuming them.  After a dozen or-so I grew bored of the creatures and ventured to sit in the sun with a cocktail in hand.

And then a southern gentlemen sat at the table of crawfish and taught me the art of eating a freshly boiled crawfish.

Who knew shellfish could be a turn-on?!  He never peeled the shells, he simply snapped the tiny lobster-like crustaceans and sucked.  Tail, brains and even claws.  Someone noticed me staring and asked what was so interesting - I giggled and pointed out the man, his pile of shells and told her to just watch.  Soon all of us were mesmerized.  We must have watched him for three cocktails as we giggled and blushed over his crawfish skills.

And that, dear friends, is how I decided my future husband must be able to properly eat a crawfish.  (Thinking about it still makes me blush)

vodka confessions: adele

Somewhere between Valentine's Day and my 30th birthday this year I had the most fabulous vodka water cocktail, and then another and another and thus "vodka confessions" was born.

The night is a little fuzzy so I'll start at the beginning...

It was a love that happened very fast and was rather intense. Just like Alice I fell into the rabbit hole and continues to fall - hitting "I love you" and spiraling when the love stopped. He was older, divorced. I was young and carefree. I have no regrets about our time together - love that happens that intense and fast is destined to fail and I'm sure if I'd paid attention to my horoscope it would have told me the exact same thing. Eventually I hit the ground, single, and dusted myself off - ready for the next bout of love to hit.

And then Adele happened.

In the years since our breakup we have stayed in touch - checking in here and there. It isn't a friendship but it is what I assume is a sense of what real love is once it's "over". He has since moved into a creepy cabin in the hills with a new love and I have stayed in the city with my dog. Somewhere between Valentine's day and my 30th birthday I was no longer ok with this scenario...

And then vodka happened.

I should mention that it was a typical night. I'd enjoyed a run. Had salmon for dinner. Watched a silly romantic comedy and then I woke up the next morning and texted one of my best friends: "I think I Facebook messaged my ex a YouTube video of Adele" I had in fact Facebook messaged said video. It is probably wise to mention we aren't Facebook friends. Not only did I have to search for this fabulous video about moving on from a broken heart, I had to Facebook stalk said ex. The best part was my message with the video: "Don't read into this, but I kind of look like her"

Oh vodka and Adele - you are horrible friends. If I didn't love you both so much we would be divorced by now.

My only option was to laugh at myself, naturally. My friends laughed with me and the ex had to have laughed too - he wrote back to my message but I'm too chicken to read it. When asked how much vodka I'd had that night I had to, pitifully, admit that I had no idea...it was somewhere between dancing to Diana Ross and singing to Adele.

That day vodka taught me that if you can't laugh at yourself you have no business laughing at all - life lessons like these make me glad I didn't break up with vodka (or Adele).