SoBe it squared.

I was gonna let Paula off the hook. Was. Not any more. It went down like this…

…Me and Ffej arrived early to the Paris Theater. We took the transit near our hotel. We smelled good. We showered and put on our clean and shiny duds. Hopped off the bus with 1.5 hours to spare. Strolling past the Paris I noticed two women-one smoking a smoke. I commented quietly to Ffej: “I can’t believe that woman is copying Paula Deen. I mean geez! Look at her hair!” Ffej looks. The Paula emulater smiles at her. Crap. I’m an idiot. It is Paula Deen. Smokin’. We are number two in line behind radical Deen fans. They’re frustrated because they feel another is about to budge in line. The gal with the walker begins to take the other to task. “You didn’t wait in line, miss! We’re not gonna allow you to butt in.”

Geez. People get fucked in the head when it comes to pseudo-celebs, eh?

Nevertheless, me and Ffej are second.

Let me explain two pertinent factoids.

1) I didn’t drink the happy juice, just here for the food.

2) I loathe and despise cards, poker, slots, gambling in general.

The jist of the evening is to acquire a seat at the “final table” with Ms. Deen on stage.

I am uncomfortable in crowds unless it involves dancing or jello wrestling-neither of which were on the night’s menu. But Ffej is a shark when it comes to card games.

So she commenced to park herself at one of two poker tables. She was kicking ass and taking chips. I was the food/drink getter for the night. Oh and crowd avoider, too.

I parked my rather large posterior on the stage. Nice. Quiet. Away. Nobody near me. Until…

The food network shmoozers arrive. I can see Ffej in front of me taking the smarty-ass boys to task. Then here comes Paula. She tells a dirty joke but flubs the ending. No one is really interested. Enter an older gent with a British accent near to where I’m parked. He whoops it up. He says; “Hey Paula!” She looks over and introduces Gordon Elliot as her savior. At this point people have taken notice. They bum-rush the stage. I’m frantically waving at Ffej to whip out her camera. She is oblivious to me and the goings-on above her head.

I see Paula and her “handler.” I see Bobby, Guy, Giada and Todd, Cat Cora and Katie Joel. They’re kissing each other’s cheeks and acting as though there’s no one else in the room.

My legs are dangling from the stage and I feel a man between them. I have no idea who it is until I hear Bobby Deen ask where Gina is. The man between my legs is Pat Neely and it’s making me uncomfortable. He returns the question by asking where Jamie is. By this point Bobby is crouched by my shoulder and is fully engaged in a conversation with the latest addition the Food Network family. I’m appalled, yet feel strangely lucky. I mean, there are all these women around vying for the right position to snap a photo. Asking me this question about who was that and who that was and so on. I revelled a bit in the moment. Until…

Mr. Neely goes off on his tear telling Bobby Deen how he told the head of Food network that he, “already had a fuckin’ Lexus and already had sent his fuckin’ daughter to college…” I was mesmerized. Only because I find it rude when total strangers think it’s ok to swear like that. I mean, I wouldn’t swear in front of total strangers, I wouldn’t dream of it. Get to know you though, and look out!

So there I am, sitting on the stage hearing a weird conversation between Pat Neely and Bobby Deen. I notice four things just then. 1) Bobby smells yummy. Whatever cologne he has on is working. 2) He has the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. 3) He does not use even one curse word. 4) He knocked me over accidentally at one point but instantly apologized by placing his hand on my shoulder and acting as though I was his sister.

I was impressed by him. Even though he’s a boy and I’m generally anti-boy.

But his Mum? Here’s where the wheel began to take leave of the cart…

This entry was posted on Monday, March 3rd, 2008 at 9:52 am and is filed under Deetails, Food. Hell yeah!, Humans. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.