hanging out in the book and magazine area while she goes to inspect the produce or whatever. I’m flippingthrough the latest copy of Self (which has a great article on how to do self-tanners right . . . check it out if you can get a copy in Smorgasbord or wherever the hell you are) and this guy I’ve never seen before comes up to me. He asks if I’m a friend of Valerie Winslow’s.
Strange, huh?
I was like, “Um, yeah. Why?” and he says he was wondering if he could have your e-mail address. He says he knows you through your mom but wouldn’t say from where. And he said he really wanted to talk to you.
It was just weird, even though he was totally and completely polite. He was actually kind of hot, in a slightly older sort of way—I’d guess he’s a senior or maybe even a college freshman. He had brown hair that was longish and I’d say he’s six feet tall, maybe even a little more. Anyway, he says his name is John and that “Val will know who I am.” Then he said if I didn’t feel comfortable giving him your e-mail addy, would I give you his? I didn’t have any paper in my purse, but he scribbled it on the magazine, since I figured I was going to buy it at that point anyway.
Val, do you have any clue who this guy is? Because he looks a little too scruffy to be your type (though he’s very much my type . . . assuminghe’s not a lunatic of some sort and stalking you).
Christie? Jules? You guys know anything?
I swear, Valerie—fifteen years and you couldn’t get the guy you wanted to save your life. Now in a mere eight weeks, you not only got him interested (and dissed him), but you’re going out with a prince (which I’m still shocked about) and you have this hot older guy named John after you?
Tell me again—what kind of drugs have you been taking to make you irresistible to guys? Where can I get my hands on some?!
Color me jealous,
Natalie
PS—He was wearing an NYU sweatshirt, if that helps. And his e-mail address is [email protected] .
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: WHAT THE HELL?
I was about to answer your e-mail. But than I got the one from Natalie.
Um. . . JOHN?
Care to explain that one? Yeah, I’m thinkingyou’re in it over your carrot-topped head. Again. And apparently Natalie will catch on at some point that he must go to our high school (given that his e-mail addy is from Vienna West). I bet that tongue stud is causing magnetic disturbances with her brain waves.
I am so gonna kick your ass.
Jules
PS—On a side note to the ass-kicking, I am very sorry about your Dad’s casual “something.” And even more sorry he’s doing that casual something with someone bearing the world’s most hideous last name. That’s even worse than my brother’s name—I still say no one with the last name Jackson should ever name their son Michael. I don’t care how common a name it must be.
PPS—When you’re back home and can e-mail me again, give me all the dirt on this Putzkammer chick, okay? (But realize the Putzkammer Issue does NOT give you a free pass on the David Issue. You’ve still gotta tell Georg.)
To: [email protected]
Cc: [email protected] ;
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Who the hell is JOHN?
Hiya Nat (and Jules—again—and Christie),
I don’t have much time, ‘cause I’m on a ski trip with Dad and Georg AND this chick from the palace public relations office named Anna Putzkammer. (No, I’m not kidding about her name, and no, I’m not happy about having her along. Christie and Nat, have Jules fill you in since I just e-mailed her with the early report.) I have to meet them in exactly one minute for dinner.
But long story short: JOHN IS A FRIEND.
More later, I promise . . . I’d write more but you know how Dad is about punctuality.
Advising you ALL to relax,
Val
Four
PFLAG John. The John whose last name I didn’t even know (though now I’m guessing it’s Morant. And
Strange, huh?
I was like, “Um, yeah. Why?” and he says he was wondering if he could have your e-mail address. He says he knows you through your mom but wouldn’t say from where. And he said he really wanted to talk to you.
It was just weird, even though he was totally and completely polite. He was actually kind of hot, in a slightly older sort of way—I’d guess he’s a senior or maybe even a college freshman. He had brown hair that was longish and I’d say he’s six feet tall, maybe even a little more. Anyway, he says his name is John and that “Val will know who I am.” Then he said if I didn’t feel comfortable giving him your e-mail addy, would I give you his? I didn’t have any paper in my purse, but he scribbled it on the magazine, since I figured I was going to buy it at that point anyway.
Val, do you have any clue who this guy is? Because he looks a little too scruffy to be your type (though he’s very much my type . . . assuminghe’s not a lunatic of some sort and stalking you).
Christie? Jules? You guys know anything?
I swear, Valerie—fifteen years and you couldn’t get the guy you wanted to save your life. Now in a mere eight weeks, you not only got him interested (and dissed him), but you’re going out with a prince (which I’m still shocked about) and you have this hot older guy named John after you?
Tell me again—what kind of drugs have you been taking to make you irresistible to guys? Where can I get my hands on some?!
Color me jealous,
Natalie
PS—He was wearing an NYU sweatshirt, if that helps. And his e-mail address is [email protected] .
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: WHAT THE HELL?
I was about to answer your e-mail. But than I got the one from Natalie.
Um. . . JOHN?
Care to explain that one? Yeah, I’m thinkingyou’re in it over your carrot-topped head. Again. And apparently Natalie will catch on at some point that he must go to our high school (given that his e-mail addy is from Vienna West). I bet that tongue stud is causing magnetic disturbances with her brain waves.
I am so gonna kick your ass.
Jules
PS—On a side note to the ass-kicking, I am very sorry about your Dad’s casual “something.” And even more sorry he’s doing that casual something with someone bearing the world’s most hideous last name. That’s even worse than my brother’s name—I still say no one with the last name Jackson should ever name their son Michael. I don’t care how common a name it must be.
PPS—When you’re back home and can e-mail me again, give me all the dirt on this Putzkammer chick, okay? (But realize the Putzkammer Issue does NOT give you a free pass on the David Issue. You’ve still gotta tell Georg.)
To: [email protected]
Cc: [email protected] ;
[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Who the hell is JOHN?
Hiya Nat (and Jules—again—and Christie),
I don’t have much time, ‘cause I’m on a ski trip with Dad and Georg AND this chick from the palace public relations office named Anna Putzkammer. (No, I’m not kidding about her name, and no, I’m not happy about having her along. Christie and Nat, have Jules fill you in since I just e-mailed her with the early report.) I have to meet them in exactly one minute for dinner.
But long story short: JOHN IS A FRIEND.
More later, I promise . . . I’d write more but you know how Dad is about punctuality.
Advising you ALL to relax,
Val
Four
PFLAG John. The John whose last name I didn’t even know (though now I’m guessing it’s Morant. And
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