me any different.
And as for being called a Botticelli Venus, believe me, there are better things to be called.
Now, what’s the dog guy really wearing?
Nad :-/
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: What he’s wearing
What do you care what he’s got on? You’re engaged.
But if you insist….
Let me see, he is laying (or is it lying? No wonder they stuck me on Page Ten) on the bed in jeans and a T-shirt (sorry, no muscle tee—you’re right, I was lying to see if you were paying attention). He has his laptop out again. Paco is there beside him. Paco is looking disgustingly happy, I must say. That dog never looked that happy when I was over there. Maybe—
Oh, my God! No wonder that dog is happy! He’s feeding him Alpo—on the bed! That dog is getting Alpo all over Mrs. Friedlander’s guest room’s chenille bedspread! What is wrong with this man? Doesn’t he realize chenille has to be dry-cleaned?
This is so pathetic. This is so pathetic, Nadine. I mean, the pathos of it all just suddenly came washing over me. I am sitting here in my apartment, recording the guy next door’s activities for my best friend, who is engaged. Nadine, you are getting married! And what am I doing? Sitting here at home in my sweats e-mailing my girlfriend.
I AM PATHETIC!!! I am worse than pathetic, I am—
OH, MY GOD. OH, MY GOD, Nadine! He just saw me. I’m not kidding. He just waved!!!
I am so embarrassed. I am going to die. I am going to—
Oh, my God, he’s opening the window. He’s opening the window. He’s saying something to me.
I’ll get back to you.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: WRITE BACK!!!!
If you don’t write me back tonight, I swear I am calling the cops. I don’t care if I’m just like your mother. You don’t know anything about this guy, except that his crazy aunt lives next door to you and he has a naked picture of himself up in the Whitney. Which I think you and I need to take a little field trip on Tuesday to see, by the way.
WRITE BACK TO ME…
or the boys from the eighty-seventh precinct will be paying you another visit.
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Tony Salerno
Subject: Cut it out
I’ve been trying to get through to you for the past two hours, but your phone’s been busy. I can only assume that either it’s off the hook because you don’t want to talk to me, or you are yakking it up on-line with Mel. If it is the latter, go off-line and call me at the restaurant. If it is the former, stop being such a spaz.
All I said was if you’re that freaked out about this whole wedding dress thing, get a personal trainer, or something. I mean, jeez, Nadine, you’re driving me crazy with this whole size 12 crap. Who CARES what size you are? I don’t care. I love you exactly the way you are.
And I don’t give a rat’s ass how many of your sisters have worn that stupid dress of your mother’s. I hate that dress anyway. It’s ugly. Just go out and buy a new dress, one that fits you the way you are NOW. You’ll feel better in it and it will look better on you. Your mother will understand, and who cares what your sisters think? Screw your sisters, anyway.
I have to go. Table 7 just sent back their salmon because it was undercooked. See what you made me do?
Tony
To: Tony Salerno
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Excuse me…
but I do not appreciate your attitude toward my sisters. I happen to like my sisters. What if I said screw your brothers? What if I said screw your uncle Giovanni? How would you like that, huh?
It’s all very well for you to talk. All you have to do is throw on some rented tuxedo. I on the other hand have to be radiant.
DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND???
God, it’s so easy to be a man.
Nad
To: Nadine
And as for being called a Botticelli Venus, believe me, there are better things to be called.
Now, what’s the dog guy really wearing?
Nad :-/
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: What he’s wearing
What do you care what he’s got on? You’re engaged.
But if you insist….
Let me see, he is laying (or is it lying? No wonder they stuck me on Page Ten) on the bed in jeans and a T-shirt (sorry, no muscle tee—you’re right, I was lying to see if you were paying attention). He has his laptop out again. Paco is there beside him. Paco is looking disgustingly happy, I must say. That dog never looked that happy when I was over there. Maybe—
Oh, my God! No wonder that dog is happy! He’s feeding him Alpo—on the bed! That dog is getting Alpo all over Mrs. Friedlander’s guest room’s chenille bedspread! What is wrong with this man? Doesn’t he realize chenille has to be dry-cleaned?
This is so pathetic. This is so pathetic, Nadine. I mean, the pathos of it all just suddenly came washing over me. I am sitting here in my apartment, recording the guy next door’s activities for my best friend, who is engaged. Nadine, you are getting married! And what am I doing? Sitting here at home in my sweats e-mailing my girlfriend.
I AM PATHETIC!!! I am worse than pathetic, I am—
OH, MY GOD. OH, MY GOD, Nadine! He just saw me. I’m not kidding. He just waved!!!
I am so embarrassed. I am going to die. I am going to—
Oh, my God, he’s opening the window. He’s opening the window. He’s saying something to me.
I’ll get back to you.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: WRITE BACK!!!!
If you don’t write me back tonight, I swear I am calling the cops. I don’t care if I’m just like your mother. You don’t know anything about this guy, except that his crazy aunt lives next door to you and he has a naked picture of himself up in the Whitney. Which I think you and I need to take a little field trip on Tuesday to see, by the way.
WRITE BACK TO ME…
or the boys from the eighty-seventh precinct will be paying you another visit.
Nad
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Tony Salerno
Subject: Cut it out
I’ve been trying to get through to you for the past two hours, but your phone’s been busy. I can only assume that either it’s off the hook because you don’t want to talk to me, or you are yakking it up on-line with Mel. If it is the latter, go off-line and call me at the restaurant. If it is the former, stop being such a spaz.
All I said was if you’re that freaked out about this whole wedding dress thing, get a personal trainer, or something. I mean, jeez, Nadine, you’re driving me crazy with this whole size 12 crap. Who CARES what size you are? I don’t care. I love you exactly the way you are.
And I don’t give a rat’s ass how many of your sisters have worn that stupid dress of your mother’s. I hate that dress anyway. It’s ugly. Just go out and buy a new dress, one that fits you the way you are NOW. You’ll feel better in it and it will look better on you. Your mother will understand, and who cares what your sisters think? Screw your sisters, anyway.
I have to go. Table 7 just sent back their salmon because it was undercooked. See what you made me do?
Tony
To: Tony Salerno
From: Nadine Wilcock
Subject: Excuse me…
but I do not appreciate your attitude toward my sisters. I happen to like my sisters. What if I said screw your brothers? What if I said screw your uncle Giovanni? How would you like that, huh?
It’s all very well for you to talk. All you have to do is throw on some rented tuxedo. I on the other hand have to be radiant.
DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND???
God, it’s so easy to be a man.
Nad
To: Nadine
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