I'm officially one step closer to Paris in April. Try on your best accent and say like the French, "Super cool!"
In other not exciting news, I played grown-up a week or so ago and attended Flight Night at the Wentworth by the Sea. A sampling of three wines, with foods to accompany, for $16. Not a bad date, actually. But I was there with colleagues, so romantic it was not. Still, a good time.
But my favorite thing at the moment is my celebrity valentine.
It appears that no one knows who Adam Goldberg is. He was in Saving Private Ryan, 2 Days in Paris, Friends . . . Still don't know? Well, he's this guy.
A girl can't always account for her crushes. There's something about his yummy, hairy, tattooed, angry presence that makes me giggle like a school girl. So I spent some quality time stalking him on YouTube because I wanted to hear him talk without a script. I caught a couple clips of him sparring with Craig Ferguson. He's got a dry sense of humor (which the commenters didn't get because they mostly thought he rode the short bus to the studio), and he's a fast talker (=smart/smartass). Then, suddenly, I spied, with my tiny eye--cowboy boots! Fuck me. I hate cowboy boots. So what does a person do now whenever she has any fucking thought going through her head? She becomes an asshole like everyone else and shares her upset with the universe. On Twitter. Without thinking there will be any repercussions. Thus ensued our tryst.
RT @nhmillgirl Damn. Adam Goldberg wears cowboy boots. Reassessing... #waningcrush http://twitpic.com/3zk9yi
@TheAdamGoldberg Well played, sir.
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