Updates: Coming Out of The Dark

1) Yes, Anonymous, it's true. A little more than one month after my initial posting (back when the Wizards had a losing record), my fair Buffy, as if through ESP (or self-Googling?) heard my cries of pain and reached out to me via email. Her message reads as follows:

A friend of mine showed me your webpage. It is a hilarious story but none of those things are true. Sometimes better opportunities arise, that's all.

So, what better opportunities might she be speaking of? Perhaps Dean Witter finally called. Perhaps her small business loan was approved and she's opened a small stationary store in Silver Spring.

Or perhaps... no. I shouldn't say any more. I should just keep my mouth shut. A gentleman doesn't tell.

(sigh)

Fine. But you didn't hear it from me.

Let's just say that, one week from today, a certain dynamically talented, former Washington Wizards Dance Team member and a certain mustachioed Eastern European gentleman of questionable nobility, dressed in nothing but a Speedo and his faithful smoking jacket, will be lounging by the pool on a private estate in Mustique eating frozen grapes, sipping on Thug Passions. By night, the two will dine by candlelight on lobsters and truffles, and dance to an oft-played Gloria Estefan mix CD. It will be a magical week, and neither will want it to end. But both will know deep down in their hearts that it must end. For the dynamic former dancer will have to return to her struggling stationary store, and this random European noble will have to put his pants back on and start smoking his pipe once again. And the owners of the private estate will arrive for their weekend stay, only to discover two sunburned strangers passed out by their pool with "Y-Tu-Conga" playing on repeat, blasting out of a CVS-purchased boom-box.

A better opportunity indeed.

2) I am pleased to report that, despite earlier reports, Kevin Federline did not eat Rocky in order to gain strength in his quest to defeat John Cena. I may have overreacted on that one. Turns out Rocky was just pulling his yearly mini-Rip Van Winkle/Costanza, sleeping underneath his desk, where I never thought to look.

3) Wizards v. Suns. Tonight. I'll be wearing all seven of my Tough Juice t-shirts as I scream like a 13 year-old girl, trying to get Gilbert's attention in the nosebleeds, though I don't think he can throw his jersey that high. This game is Derek Foreal - it's gonna be awesome. Not only are the WizKids on a tear at home this season, having only lost three, they've already beaten Phoenix once at Phoenix (ending a 15-game win streak). The Suns currently have a 13-game win streak that will have to end at some point, and this is the first game in a five game East Coast road trip. They're ripe for the pickin'! Needless to say, I'm styched.


Update: Ugh. That wasn't very much fun. At least I got upgraded this afternoon to awesome seats, giving me the opportunity witness the glory of Clinton Portis (who was at the game with a lady friend) from up close.

Where Wizards Dare

... Eddie looked into Gilbert's deep brown eyes, searching for even the slightest hint of forgiveness. But instead of finding what he most yearned for, Eddie's heart broke as he was met with a cold, emotionless stare. There would be no more intimate dinners, lit by the soft light of a single candle. Nor would there be any more horseback rides through Rock Creek Park. Those beautiful afternoons and evenings the two spent together that summer were gone, never to return again, and Eddie would forever yearn for even one more hour, where the two of them might spend the morning sprawled out on one of Gilbert's many Afghan blankets in Logan Circle.

"Please, Gil." Eddie implored, tears welling up in his eyes, knowing deep down that his pleas would go unanswered. "Don't go making the biggest mistake of your life. You know this feels right."

"Wrong Eddie," Gilbert replied with detachment. "It felt right."

Eddie reached out for Gilbert's hand, but could only grasp at air as his fingertips touched Gilbert's flowing, golden jersey. The man they call Agent Zero turned his back on Jordan for one last time, and taking a deep breath, stepped back onto the court. Caron, Antawn and Brendan were waiting for him.

-An excerpt from the forthcoming novel from Danielle Steel, The Secret Lives of Wizards

Where Art Thou, Fairest Buffy?

There's something missing from my life
Cuts me open like a knife
It leaves me vulnerable
I have this disease
I shake like an incurable
God help me, please

There's a hole
in my life
There's a hole
in my life

One of the great joys of attending the WizShow the last two seasons was without a doubt having the opportunity to witness the glory that is Buffy. Sonnets have been written, wars have been waged, and bar brawls have broken out over women who, for lack of a better word, are heffers by comparison. The young lady you see above is probably the most gorgeous member of any NBA Dance Team to grace the hardcourt. I was always so enamored of her that I would spend about half the game watching Agent Zero sew the seeds that would blossom into "The Takeover," and the other half gazing upon the pint-sized voluptuous and talented Buffy shaking her, ehm, pom-poms. I'll admit, I have a well documented obsession with cheerleaders, but this is different. Long before CMT even considered sending a camera crew to Texas Stadium, Buffy held my heart in her hand. Besides, she wasn't technically a cheerleader anyway. So you can only imagine my excitement when I saw that Buffy was to be the Dance Team captain for the 2006-2007 season. This could only mean 33% more Buffy, right?

Wrong. Without any warning or explanation, Buffy was yanked from the Wizards' Dance Team page, and in turn, yanked from my heart. Those who say that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all clearly have never felt what I'm going through right now. Instead of my heartbreak weakening a little each day, it merely grows stronger. Each morning, I rise from bed, grasping my chest, tearing my shirt and screaming to the heavens, "WHY, GOD! WHY, DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE HER FROM THE WASHINGTON WIZARDS DANCE TEAM!? SHE WOULD HAVE LOOKED GREAT IN BLACK AND GOLD!" Let me reiterate: every morning. My roommates can attest to this.

"... and this is only 60% of my sass potential."

Rumors have been flying. One states that Susan O'Malley, jealous of her beauty, disguised herself as a Chipotle cashier and fed her a poisoned burrito. Another one had her cutting up potatoes at the Gallery Place 5 Guys by day, dancing at Camelot by night, but I investigated this one thoroughly, only to find that it was sadly false. Perhaps the most common, and least plausible one said that she was "knocked up" by her boyfriend (husband? - is it still "getting knocked up" if you're married to the knocker?), but I find that really hard to believe. A delicate flower like Buffy would be saving herself for the Duke and all of the glorious velvet-smoking-jacket-cloaked riches that accompany him. Besides, "knocked up" is such a vulgar term, and it should never be used around my belle.

So where art thou, Buffy? We miss you. I miss you. And the Wizards have a losing record without you. Coincidence?

I may have to employ the bacon-fueled powers of the Wizznutzz and maybe even the journalistic prowess of future Pulitzer winner Agent Steinz to help in this quest.