Thursday, 30 August 2007

He Plays with Balls

Some of you have heard about the new man. I've decided to blog him, make it offish. Of course if we break up in three weeks when I go see him, I'm totally gonna feel Aniston exposed. She's half Greek too, you know.

So Bertrand, pictured above. He was doing the underbite to amuse me, I told him how BFF Jenny and I in adolescance would do underbites. Once we had a really good one sticking out, we would ask each other out on a date.

Immediatly after taking this picture Bertrand asked "do you want to go out with me?" but the French accent added sex appeal thereby negating the desired affect.

I know what you're thinking and yes, he's a professional volleyball player based in Verona, Italy. When he isn't getting paid to work out, play with balls and other men, he plays World of WarCraft.


Some of you got an email from me when I got back from France that details celebrity frienships, new found romance and tan hue. This is a sample of the feedback I got from the NY posse.

Clay: "Your boyfriend is hot! You should try and pregnancy trap him, move back to your apartment. You could probably set up a volleyball net in there." (remember when Daryl Hannah fills up the tub with water and sea salt in Splash?)

Nico: "So glad to hear you're dating a hot athletic dude. He looks very cute in that 1x1 photo you sent."

Benjy: "What happened to the other Adonis? Did they duel for your love? In speedos? Wouldn't you love to parade him by Nader? Of course he would faint and them hump Bertrand's leg."

Anne: "Volleyball? Thats not gay at all!"

Kristina: "You didn’t mention your boyfriend is almost a minor. Sweet juvey summer loving!"

Gisela: "Can he read?"

I miss you all so much.

So Bertrand and I are getting along great and he wants me to move to Italy and he wants to come to NY in May when the volleyball season is over (they have seasons just like weather!) but if experience has taught me anything its that just cuz they seem in love doesn't mean they like you. And he's never seen me not tan. And World of WarCraft may become the other woman.

I'll keep you posted...

your fan,


Best of the British

The Sunday TV Times described the movie Forrest Gump as "an idiot has adventures."

Its good to be back in England.

I've also discovered Titty Bangbang, sketch comedy perfromed by two very talanted women. Here's one of them doing possibly the best Tom Cruise rip ever.

Impressive. Youtube everything they've done, you won't be disappointed.

Last night I watched "The Devil's Own" starring Harrison Ford, Brad Pitt and Brad Pitt's Irish accent. So Brad's IRA living in hiding at Harrison's house in the Jerse. Harrison's one of them American Irish with red headed children, catholisism and surprising access to Irish folk bands whenever he has a house party. The whole movie was so ridiculously EYERISH with continuous pan pipe jig music, I'm surprised the director didn't take it one step further and go for the green tinted camera screen.

For added hilarity I watched the movie with me ma who didn't understand anything Irish Pitt was saying and so obliterated "plot development" with "I don't understand one word that boy says" type commentary. A fair point, he just sounds like he's saying the word "shush" as a question over and over.

This morning over breakfast she said:

"you know what I like about that cute kid?" (she is randomly talking about Pitt - I know this without asking because I know her brain).

"What do you like about him, ma?"

"That he has scars on his cheek and they left them."

your fan,


Wednesday, 29 August 2007

My New BFF

So I'm back from my month and a half in France and loads of things happened, and yes I met someone special blah blah blah...a lot more importantly is the fact that Jerry, her twin sister Terry (non identical) and I became quite the threesome around the rose bottle.

It all started one champagne filled night around the heated pool of a Riviera villa (doesn't it always?) when reclining on deck chairs we chatted about my writing, men, her divorce, her kids, her career. She's hosting Britain's Next Top Model and is delighted cuz its a 2 day a week gig that pays well and for her working permit.

"You never became a British citizen?" I asked her.
"No, Mic is a tax exile so I couldn't get the nationality" she pronounces is "exaaale" and I don't even blink at the mention of Mic, such is my comfort level with celebrity.

Our friendship progressed to lunch at the beach we frequent to poetry readings at her house. Now here's something you didn't know. Jerry Hall writes hilarious, intelligent beautiful and dark poetry. I know! And apparently Mic is a sex addict. I know!

I read her some excerpts of my book (the one I'm busy not writing) and she said all the right things and made all the right noises but failed to provide useful tips, such as Harper Collins CEO's cell number.

Spent about 4 hours at her house, smoking her American spirits, drinking coffee - reading, talking, talking, talking. She encourages me to move to Verona, she thinks my new boyfriend is "very nice and cute", she pronounces it "naaace". Swoon.

So after readings and chats and smokes and coffee, we went back to the beach and swam and read and hugged and kissed and said "see you next year" as I was leaving the next day.

I know what you're thinking, there was no phone exchange, no email..its deeper than that people. She can't wait to buy my book.. "hurry up and wraaate it!" she said, "I can't wait to buy it! Whats your last name? Pila what? I can't wait to buy it."

I'm officially motivated.

your fan,