It must be nice! Hobnobbing in the Hamptons, enjoying the beach for all its worth, lounging poolside with B level hip hop and R&B celebrities.
My small triumph today was salads outside with Leigh and the work gals at Café Métro. Le Bloggeur is wondering if I might want to venture to Caroll Gardens for an outdoor beer at Gowanus Yacht Club.
“Charliii…,” Lil Leigh drawls my name. “Charli. Darlin’. WUT is Guh-WON-is Yacht Club, and do I need to go??” her lashes flutter.
—
We’ve taken to calling her Lil Leigh because Leigh’s mother called the office line one Tuesday morning.
“Well, now, who’s this I’m talkin’ to, I’m looking for Lil Leigh? It’s her mama calling from Texas!” Lil Leigh’s dominant superior happened to answer the call.
“Lil’ Leigh? You mean Leigh Lawrence… in the Merchandising Department?”
“That’s the one! It’s her mama Vicki, waitin’ on the line, if you don’t mind?”
Leigh being a deb-bred, West Village-dwelling, Tulane-educated Southern belle, I knew she didn’t catch the irony of Gowanus Yacht Club.
—
“Nah, sugar pie, it’s built on the site of a former toxic waste dump. In Brooklyn,”
“Ugh!” she recoiled.
“Well that simply will not do…,” she drawled, firing up a Marlboro Light. “Charli, what’s this guy do again?”
“Comedy Central!” I replied, omitting the suffix “Entry Level Mailroom Employee”.
deux mille six 