WHAT COLOR ARE YOU?
>>
>>Read this and then send it to as many friends as you
>>can including the person who sent it to you.....after
>>discovering what "color" you are,read the
description
>>at the bottom for that color.....send this back to the
>>person who sent it to you and to other
>>friends....don't forget to change the color in
>>the "subject" of your e-mail! !!!!!!!
>>
>>If your birthday is on......
>>
>>December 23rd~ January 1st = Red
>>January 2nd ~ January 11th = Orange
>>January 12th ~ January 24th = Yellow
>>January 25th ~ February 3rd = Pink
>>February 4th ~ February 8th = Blue
>>February 9th ~ February 18th = Green
>>February 19th ~ February 28th = Brown
>>March 1st ~ March 10th = Aqua
>>March 11th ~ March 20th = Lime
>>March 21st ~` Black
>>March 22nd ~ March 31st = Purple
>>April 1st ~ April 10th = Navy
>>April 11th ~ April 20th = Silver
>>April 21st ~ April 30th = White
>>May 1st ~ May 14th = Blue
>>May 15th ~ May 24th = Gold
>>May 25th ~ June 3rd= Cream
>>June 4th ~ June 13th = Grey
>>June 14th ~ June 23rd = Maroon
>>June 24th = Grey
>>June 25th ~ July 4th = Red
>>July 5th ~ July 14th = Orange
>>July 15th ~ July 25th = Yellow
>>July 26th ~ August 4th = Pink
>>August 5th ~ August 13th = Blue
>>August 14th ~ August 23rd = Green
>>August 24th ~ September 2nd = Brown
>>September 3rd ~ September 12th = Aqua
>>September 13th ~ September 22nd = Lime
>>September 23rd = Olive
>>September 24th ~October 3rd = Purple
>>October 4th ~ October 13th = Navy
>>October 14th ~ October 23rd = Silver
>>October 24th ~November 11th = White
>>November 12th ~ November 21st = Gold
>>November 22nd ~ December 1st = Cream
>>December 2nd ~ December 11th = Grey
>>December 12th~ December 21st = Maroon
>>December 22nd = Teal
>>
>>
>>*RED*
>>Cute and lovable type, You are picky but always in
>>love...and liked to be loved. Fresh and cheerful, but
>>can be "moody" at times. Capable with people nice,
>>soft, and that can love you for the way you are. Likes
>>people that are easy to talk to, and can make you feel
>>comfortable.
>>
>>*CREAM*
>>Competitive and sportive. Don't like losing and always
>>cheerful! You are trustworthy, and very out going.
>>You choose love carefully, and don't fall in love
>>easily. But once you find the right one, you don't let
>>go for a long time.
>>
>>*TEAL*
>>You are mostly interested in your looks. And have high
>>standards in picking love. You think and make a
>>solution precisely, and hardly make stupid mistakes.
>>You like to lead, and is easy for you to make new
>>friends.
>>
>>*GREY*
>>You are attractive, and active. You never hide your
>>feelings, and express everything that's inside. But
>>can be selfish at times. You want to be noticed, and
>>don't like to be treated unequally. You can brighten
>>up people's day. You know what to say at the right
>>time, and you have good sense of humor.
>>
>>*GREEN*
>>You get along well with new people. You are not
>>really a shy person, but sometimes you can hurt
>>people's feelings by your words... You like to be
>>loved and noticed by your lover, but mostly you are
>>single waiting for the right person.
>>
>>*GOLD*
>>You know what's right and what's wrong. You are
>>cheerful and out going. It's hard for you to find the
>>one you want, but once you find the right person, you
>>won't be able to fall in love again for a long time.
>>
>>*PINK*
>>You are always trying your best in everything, and
>>like to help and care for other people. But you are
>>not easily satisfied. You have negative thoughts, and
>>you look for romantic love like in a fairytale.
>>
>>*YELLOW*
>>You are sweet and innocent. Trusted by many people,
>>and have a strong leadership towards relationships.
>>You make good decision and make the right choice at
>>the right time. And always dreaming of romantic
>>relationship.
>>
>>*MAROON*
>>You are intelligent, and know what's right. You like
>>to make things go your way, which can sometimes cause
>>trouble for not thinking about other people's
>>feelings. But you be patient when it comes to
>>love..Once you get a hold of the right person, it's
>>hard for you to find a better love.
>>
>>*ORANGE*
>>You are responsible for your own actions, and you
>>know how to treat people. You always have goals to
>>reach and u really work hard to get there, you are
>>competitive. Your friends are really important to you
>>and you appreciate what you have, you sometimes over
>>react that's because you are sensitive.
>>
>>*PURPLE*
>>You are mysterious, never selfish and get interested
>>in things easily. Your day can be sad or happy
>>depending on your mood. You are popular between
>>friends but you can act stupid at times, and forget
>>things easily. You go for a person that's trustworthy.
>>
>>*LIME*
>>You are calm, but easily stressed out. You get
>>jealous easily, and complain over little things. You
>>can't get stuck into one thing, but you have a capable
>>personality for everyone to trust you and like you.
>>
>>*SILVER*
>>You are imaginative and fun, you love trying new
>>things. You like to challenge yourself and you learn
>>things easily, your easy to talk to and you give good
>>advice, When comes to friendship, you find it hard to
>>trust someone, but once you find the right friend, you
>>trust them forever
>>
>>*BLACK*
>>You are challenging, and have the "guts". But you
>>don't like changes in your life. And once you make a
>>decision, you keep it that way for a long time. Your
>>love life is also challenging, and different.
>>
>>*OLIVE*
>>You are warm and light hearted. You seem to flow well
>>with friends and family. You don't like violence and
>>know what's right. You are kind and cheerful, but
>>don't envy other people easily.
>>
>>*BROWN*
>>You are active and sportive. It's hard for other
>>people to become close with you, but you fall in love
>>easily. But! once you find out you can't get
>>something, you give up and let go easily as well.
>>
>>*BLUE*
>>You have low self-esteem, and very picky. You are
>>artistic and like to fall in love, but you let your
>>love pass by, by loving with your mind, not your heart.
>>
>>*NAVY*
>>You are attractive, and love your life. You have a
>>strong feeling towards everything. And very easily
>>distracted. Once you get angry at someone, its hard
>>for you to forgive them.
>>
>>*WHITE*
>>You dream and have goals in your life. You get
>>jealous easily and you don't react to things easily.
>>You are different and sometimes weird, but everyone
>>loves that in you.
>>
>>*AQUA*
>>Your feelings change suddenly and easily. You are
>>always lonely, and like traveling. You are truthful,
>>but listen and believe other people too easily. It's
>>hard to find love for you, and get lost in love
>>easily. Sometimes get hurt by love.
Saturday, May 31, 2003
Friday, May 30, 2003
Monday, May 26, 2003
A Touching Story
Marge went to her mail box
and there was only one
letter. She picked it up
and looked at it before
opening, but then she
looked at the envelope
again.
There was no stamp, no
postmark, only her name
and address. She read the
letter:
Dear Marge:
I'm going to be in your
neighborhood Saturday
afternoon and I'd like to
stop by for a visit.
Love Always,
Jesus
Her hands were shaking as
she placed the letter
on the table. "Why would
the Lord want to visit
me?
I'm nobody special. I
don't have anything to
offer."
With that thought, Marge
remembered her empty
kitchen cabinets. "Oh my
goodness, I really don't have
anything to offer. I'll
have to run down to the
store and buy something
for dinner." She reached
for her purse and counted out
its contents. Five
dollars and forty cents. "Well, I
can get some bread and
cold cuts, at least."
She threw on her coat and
hurried out the door.
A loaf of French bread, a
half-pound of sliced
turkey, and a carton of
milk... leaving Marge with
grand total twelve cents to
last her until Monday.
Nonetheless, she felt
good as she headed home,
her meager offerings
tucked under her arm.
"Hey lady, can you help us,
lady?"
Marge had been so absorbed
in her dinner plans,
she hadn't even noticed
two figures huddled in
the alleyway. A man and a
woman, both of them
dressed in little more than rags
"Look lady, I ain't got
a job, ya know, and my wife
and I have been living
out here on the street, and,
well, now it's getting
cold and we're getting kinda
hungry and, well, if you
could help us. Lady, we'd really
appreciate it."
Marge looked at them both.
They were dirty, they
smelled bad and frankly,
she was certain that
they could get some kind
of work if they really
wanted to.
"Sir, I'd like to help you,
but I'm a poor woman
myself. All I have is a
few cold cuts and some
bread, and I'm having an
important guest for
dinner tonight and I was
planning on serving that to
Him."
"Yeah, well, okay lady, I
understand. Thanks
anyway."
The man put his arm
around the woman's
shoulders, turned and
headed back into the alley.
As she watched them leave,
Marge felt a familiar twinge
in her heart.
"Sir, wait!" The couple
stopped and turned as
she ran down the alley
after them. "Look, why
don't you take this food. I'll
figure out something else
to serve my guest."
She handed the man her grocery
bag.
"Thank you lady. Thank
you very much!"
"Yes, thank you!" It was
the man's wife, and
Marge could see now that
she was shivering. "You
know, I've got another coat at
home. Here, why don't
you take this one." Marge
unbuttoned her jacket and
slipped it over the woman's
shoulders. Then smiling, she
turned and walked back to
the street... without
her coat and with nothing
to serve her guest.
"Thank you lady!
Thank you very much!"
Marge was chilled by the
time she reached her
front door, and worried
too. The Lord was coming
to visit and she didn't have
anything to offer Him.
She fumbled through her purse
for the door key. But
as she did, she noticed another
envelope in her mailbox.
"That's odd. The mailman
doesn't usually come
twice in one day." She took the
envelope out of the box
and opened it.
Dear Marge:
It was so good to see you
again. Thank you for
the lovely meal. And
thank you, too, for the
beautiful coat.
Love Always
Jesus
The air was still cold,
but even without her
coat, Marge no longer
noticed.
If you love Jesus, send
this to ten people. Do
not keep this message. The
mantra must leave your
hands within 96 hours.
You will get a very pleasant
surprise.
This is true, even if you
are not superstitious.
Very good things will
happen to everyone that touches
this story.
Marge went to her mail box
and there was only one
letter. She picked it up
and looked at it before
opening, but then she
looked at the envelope
again.
There was no stamp, no
postmark, only her name
and address. She read the
letter:
Dear Marge:
I'm going to be in your
neighborhood Saturday
afternoon and I'd like to
stop by for a visit.
Love Always,
Jesus
Her hands were shaking as
she placed the letter
on the table. "Why would
the Lord want to visit
me?
I'm nobody special. I
don't have anything to
offer."
With that thought, Marge
remembered her empty
kitchen cabinets. "Oh my
goodness, I really don't have
anything to offer. I'll
have to run down to the
store and buy something
for dinner." She reached
for her purse and counted out
its contents. Five
dollars and forty cents. "Well, I
can get some bread and
cold cuts, at least."
She threw on her coat and
hurried out the door.
A loaf of French bread, a
half-pound of sliced
turkey, and a carton of
milk... leaving Marge with
grand total twelve cents to
last her until Monday.
Nonetheless, she felt
good as she headed home,
her meager offerings
tucked under her arm.
"Hey lady, can you help us,
lady?"
Marge had been so absorbed
in her dinner plans,
she hadn't even noticed
two figures huddled in
the alleyway. A man and a
woman, both of them
dressed in little more than rags
"Look lady, I ain't got
a job, ya know, and my wife
and I have been living
out here on the street, and,
well, now it's getting
cold and we're getting kinda
hungry and, well, if you
could help us. Lady, we'd really
appreciate it."
Marge looked at them both.
They were dirty, they
smelled bad and frankly,
she was certain that
they could get some kind
of work if they really
wanted to.
"Sir, I'd like to help you,
but I'm a poor woman
myself. All I have is a
few cold cuts and some
bread, and I'm having an
important guest for
dinner tonight and I was
planning on serving that to
Him."
"Yeah, well, okay lady, I
understand. Thanks
anyway."
The man put his arm
around the woman's
shoulders, turned and
headed back into the alley.
As she watched them leave,
Marge felt a familiar twinge
in her heart.
"Sir, wait!" The couple
stopped and turned as
she ran down the alley
after them. "Look, why
don't you take this food. I'll
figure out something else
to serve my guest."
She handed the man her grocery
bag.
"Thank you lady. Thank
you very much!"
"Yes, thank you!" It was
the man's wife, and
Marge could see now that
she was shivering. "You
know, I've got another coat at
home. Here, why don't
you take this one." Marge
unbuttoned her jacket and
slipped it over the woman's
shoulders. Then smiling, she
turned and walked back to
the street... without
her coat and with nothing
to serve her guest.
"Thank you lady!
Thank you very much!"
Marge was chilled by the
time she reached her
front door, and worried
too. The Lord was coming
to visit and she didn't have
anything to offer Him.
She fumbled through her purse
for the door key. But
as she did, she noticed another
envelope in her mailbox.
"That's odd. The mailman
doesn't usually come
twice in one day." She took the
envelope out of the box
and opened it.
Dear Marge:
It was so good to see you
again. Thank you for
the lovely meal. And
thank you, too, for the
beautiful coat.
Love Always
Jesus
The air was still cold,
but even without her
coat, Marge no longer
noticed.
If you love Jesus, send
this to ten people. Do
not keep this message. The
mantra must leave your
hands within 96 hours.
You will get a very pleasant
surprise.
This is true, even if you
are not superstitious.
Very good things will
happen to everyone that touches
this story.
The Princess's Problem
Once upon a time there lived a king.
The king had a beautiful daughter,
the princess.
But there was a problem.
Everything the princess touched would melt.
No matter what;
metal,
wood,
stone,
anything she touched would melt.
Because of this, men were afraid of her.
Nobody would dare marry her.
The king despaired.
What could he do to help his daughter?
He consulted his wizards and magicians.
One wizard told the king,
"If your daughter touches one thing
that does not melt in her hands,
she will be cured."
The king was overjoyed and came up with a plan.
The next day,
he held a competition.
Any man that could bring his daughter an
object that would not melt would marry her
and inherit the king's wealth.
Three young princes took up the challenge.
The first prince brought a sword of the finest steel.
But alas,
once the princess touched it,
it melted.
The prince went away sadly.
..........................................
The second prince brought diamonds.
He thought diamonds are the hardest substance
in the world and would not melt.
But alas,
once the princess touched them,
they melted.
He too was sent away disappointed.
..........................................
The third prince approached.
He told the princess,
"Put your hand in my pocket and feel what
is in there."
The princess did as she was told,
though she turned red.
She felt something hard.
She held it in her hand.
And it did not melt!!!
The king was overjoyed.
Everybody in the kingdom was overjoyed.
And the third prince married the princess
and they both lived happily ever after.
Question:
What was in the prince's pants?
(Scroll down for the answer)
V
V
V
V
V
V
M&M's of course.
They melt in your mouth, not in your hand.
What were y ou thinking?
Shame on you
Once upon a time there lived a king.
The king had a beautiful daughter,
the princess.
But there was a problem.
Everything the princess touched would melt.
No matter what;
metal,
wood,
stone,
anything she touched would melt.
Because of this, men were afraid of her.
Nobody would dare marry her.
The king despaired.
What could he do to help his daughter?
He consulted his wizards and magicians.
One wizard told the king,
"If your daughter touches one thing
that does not melt in her hands,
she will be cured."
The king was overjoyed and came up with a plan.
The next day,
he held a competition.
Any man that could bring his daughter an
object that would not melt would marry her
and inherit the king's wealth.
Three young princes took up the challenge.
The first prince brought a sword of the finest steel.
But alas,
once the princess touched it,
it melted.
The prince went away sadly.
..........................................
The second prince brought diamonds.
He thought diamonds are the hardest substance
in the world and would not melt.
But alas,
once the princess touched them,
they melted.
He too was sent away disappointed.
..........................................
The third prince approached.
He told the princess,
"Put your hand in my pocket and feel what
is in there."
The princess did as she was told,
though she turned red.
She felt something hard.
She held it in her hand.
And it did not melt!!!
The king was overjoyed.
Everybody in the kingdom was overjoyed.
And the third prince married the princess
and they both lived happily ever after.
Question:
What was in the prince's pants?
(Scroll down for the answer)
V
V
V
V
V
V
M&M's of course.
They melt in your mouth, not in your hand.
What were y ou thinking?
Shame on you
Saturday, May 24, 2003
A.J. Benza's Book Has Chapter All About Mariah & Tommy
A.J. Benza's book, Fame: Ain't It A Bitch, has a chapter called Dandelion, pages 215-225, all about
Tommy and Mariah. And here it is...
Some columnists hate it when their publisher knocks on their door with a
favor. It usually means the columnist has to scrap the column he has
spent time building and compose another column to fill the agenda of the
boss. And when your publishers are Fred Drasner and Mort Zuckerman, the
agenda could be anything from loosening gun control laws to the Artists
vs. Actors Hamptons softball classic. At any rate, I liked it when Fred
or Mort came rappin' at my door. Partly because I could never believe
that I had ascended to a place where millionaires and billionaires
relied on me to make their lives easier. But mainly because I liked
having powerful men indebted to me without having to do anything too
fucked up or compromising.
One day Fred walked in and tossed Vanity Fair on my desk. "You read this
yet?" "No," I said. "These fuckin' articles are so long, I'd rather wait
for the movie." "Read the piece on Tommy Mottola and call me." And with
that, Fred was gone. On to his next agenda. Fred and Mottola are hunting
buddies, drinking pals and Rao's regulars. And on one of those
occasions---maybe even the previous night---Mottola let Fred know that
Robert Sam Anson's VF profile on him was a hatchet job. Fred then took
it the next step by dropping it on my desk and asking me if I'd correct
it in my own way. In other words, the orders came down for me to do a
hatchet job on Anson.
And it was easy. Principally, Anson just rehashed the usual shit mostly
associated with the Sony bigwig---alleged mob ties, hot Guinea temper,
controlling husband, etc.---and went about it in a lazy, stereotypical
way. I can say that because all writers have done that now and then and
I'm just as guilty as any of them. I can also say "Guinea" because I'm
damn proud to be one. Anyhow, a week later I ripped Anson a new ass and
pledged my allegiance to Mottola---without having ever met the guy, mind
you. And Fred was happy. And that made me happy because all I ever
wanted was a pocketful of favors when I left the business. A day after
the column ran, Mottola was kissing my ass over the phone. "Hey man . .
. you did me a real solid," Mottola said. "Let me know if I can do
anything for you. *Anything*." I thanked Tommy and let that sit for a
few days. And in the time I pondered what I might enjoy as a payback, my
mind wandered to a rainy day in June several years earlier, when I was
looking to make a splash in the gossip business. Just dying to make my
bones as the new guy in town.
Flashback: The newspapers and tabloid TV shows are abuzz with the
impending nuptials of Tommy Mottola and Mariah Carey. The ceremony will
take place at the fancy Metropolitan Club in Manhattan. The guess list
includes Robert De Niro, Tony Bennett, Michael Bolton, Dick Clark,
Barbra Streisand and more. I am sitting at my sister's kitchen table
spooning Cap'n Crunch into my mouth when I decide to sneak into the
wedding. Just crash the fuckin' thing and bring in this giant scoop for
my newspaper. To go from "Who's the new guy?" to "Hey, you're the guy
who sneaked into Mariah Carey's wedding!"
The wedding is starting in six hours, so I have to work fast. I rent a
tux at RSVP in Bay Shore. With no time for tailoring, I use staples to
keep the hemline at the back of my heel. I kiss my sister good
bye---"Good luck, you're crazy" she shouts as I drive off in her old
Buick---and head into Manhattan. As soon as I put the car in the garage,
I stick some kind of official-looking pin in my lapel (it was my
ex-wife's high school honor roll pin), run the wire from my Sony Walkman
into my ear and calmly walk up to the Metropolitan Club, smack-dab in
the middle of the entire security team Mottola has assembled to keep out
assholes exactly like me.
I look one mook in the eye and say, "Hey there, is Jimmy working the
back detail or the front detail?" The guy shrugs his shoulders and says,
"I guess the back detail." And with that, I had penetrated the first and
only wall of defense and I remember thinking, "Is this the kind of
security big money buys you?" It was tougher to get into my niece's
spring recital for God's sake.
Once inside, I marched straight up to the bridal suite to get me a peek
at the new Mrs. Mottola and man, she looked gorgeous. "Mariah," I said,
knocking on the door and peeking in. "Hi, my name is Al Romano and I
just want to let you know I'll be right outside if you need me. Just
holler." "Oh, thank you Al." And then I heard all the girls in her
bridal party giggle. Meanwhile, I spent the better part of the night
just walking around wth my hands folded behind my back and looking very
"official." I directed De Niro to the men's room, helped Dick Clark off
with his jacket, showed Barbra Streisand to the registry book, and,
basically, eavesdropped to my heart's content.
Every fifteen minutes or so I was running off to an old-fashioned phone
booth and scribbling notes on cocktail napkins. And the following day,
my tidbits got heavy play in the paper. But I heard through the
grapevine that my crashing his wedding brought Mottola's temperature to
a boil. I didn't care much. To me, Tommy Mottola wasn't much more than a
name I heard in that "Cherchez la Femme" song.
But suddenly he was willing to let bygones be bygones and now he was on
the phone with me thanking me for watching his back and offering me the
world in return. The friggin' guy even sent me a Sony television set. I
decided to handle the payback in a professional manner. I had heard
Mottola and Mariah were having their difficulties and that the songbird
was looking to fly the coop. So I asked Mottola if I could speak with
Mariah from time to time with regard to her career. "I think she gets a
bad rap," I said. "And I just want my column to be the column she runs
to whenever she has to clear shit up. Can you do that for me?" "Done,"
Mottola said.
A few days later Tommy arranged it so I could meet Mariah---and a few
bodyguards he employed for her---at Spy. Basically, Mariah's little bit
of independance was a new label she was starting called Crave---a place
that would later become the home from which she carved her new sexy
image. Tommy wanted to see to it that I gave her new venture a little
play in the paper. "And while you're at it," he said, "let's see if you
can set a few people straight who say we're having trouble in our
marriage." "Done," I said.
Not that this is anything new, but by the time Mariah arrived at Spy, me
and my pal Johnny Boy were feeling pretty loaded sitting atop the club's
piano---the perch that was reserved nightly for us by Spy owner Jeff
Gossett. Rather than waltzing right up to her, I decided to spy on her
from twenty feet away just to get a feel for where her head was at. You
can tell a lot about someone when they don't know you're looking at
them. To be honest, I thoroughly believed every report I had read about
the couple's marriage headed for the toilet, and on that particular
occasion Mariah was huddled with New York Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter
on what turned out to be the first night the future lovers had ever hung
out. But on this night, and because my new pal was the almighty Tommy
Mottola, I didn't let that interfere with my mission. I threw back my
fifth gin and tonic and headed over to the velvet couch she and her
girly friends were sitting on.
"Okay," I said, "I got direct orders from your husband to talk to you.
You okay with that?"
"Oh great, another one who takes *orders* from my husband," Mariah shot
back.
"Listen, I'm my own man," I said. "I just want to talk to you a bit and
clear up some of the bad press you get."
"And how do I know you're just not going to give me more bad press?"
"Because I already arranged it with your husband what we're going to
talk about and all," I said. "It's gonna be fine."
"So, let me get this straight, you and *him* decided what you and *I*
are going to talk about?"
Jesus, this was a tough nut to crack. But I have to be honest---forget
the crazy lion's mane of hair she sometimes weaves in and forget the
slightly tacky dresses she's sometimes busting out of and forget the
fact that she likes to be swimming in spiked heels in almost all of her
videos---you can fall in love with this woman after a five-minute chat.
Not real love, mind you. But at least the kind of love where you
feel---crazy as it might sound---that you might actually have a shot at
this woman. I don't know, maybe it was the gin talking, but I was
falling for her and I didn't give a shit who her husband was. Or that
the Yankees captain was sweating her as I leaned over him to get some
quotes. Anyhow, it wasn't the first time I fell in love at Spy.
"I have to ask you about your marriage," I said.
"We are on the record or off?"
"We're off. Way off."
"We're fine, Mariah said. "People want to spread rumors and cause
trouble. But we're fine."
I knew she was lying like a rug, but I was going to write that their
marriage was fine just so I could placate my new best friend Tommy. And
with the weight my column carried around that time, a confirmation like
that was doing a tremendous service to the little bug guy. So there I
was and there was Mariah and there was way too much fun taking place
between us and I didn't want that night at Spy to be the last time I got
to speak with her and flirt with her---even if I was the one doing most
of the flirting. And I just said "fuck it" and dove right in.
"Listen, I want to call you sometime, but I don't want to have to go
through the Pentagon to do it. You ever come down from that Ivory Tower?
You're twenty-six years old for God's sake."
She laughed.
"Do you expect me to trust you after you sneaked into my wedding?" she
asked. "What if you were a murderer? Half of Hollywood could've been
dead."
"Would that be so a bad thing? Anyhow, listen," I said. "I don't know
how to say this but I don't want to go home and never talk to you again.
I want to be friends with you."
Then there was a huge moment of silence.
"Wait, that sounded gay as hell. What I mean to say is . . ."
"I know what you mean to say. But it's hard for me to trust a lot of
people. And how do I know you aren't gonna fuck me? Are you gonna fuck
me?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but *no*, I'm not gonna fuck you."
Then there was another awkward pause between us.
"I might *say* I did one day . . ." I said.
"Okay here," Mariah said. "Call me at this number if you want to to
talk. It's my machine and only I check it."
"Cool," I said. "Gimme a kiss. You're a cool girl."
"You're all right yourself," she said.
And then I walked out of Spy with Johnny Boy hanging on my arm and
Mariah Carey's phone number in my back pocket. I jumped into my Benz,
popped the top down and listened to Sly Stone sing "M'Lady." Who was
cooler than me?
A week or two goes by and I decide to give Mariah a jingle but when I
dial the number she scribbled on the napkin the answering machine pops
on with a routine from a Jerky Boys CD. I dial again and get the same
thing. Stupidly, I then dial Mottola to find out what's what. "Tommy,
I'm trying to get ahold of Mariah to ask her a question about an item
I'm writing and the number I'm dialing . . ." Mottola cut me off.
"What's the number she gave you?" I read it to him. "Listen to me, he
said. "That ain't the number. Throw it out. If you want to get to
Mariah, you call me and I'll get her for you. Understand?" "Sure, I
said. "No problem."
At that moment it dawned on me: Mariah had given me a number, a private
number, that her husband wasn't hip to. A few minutes later Mariah calls
me.
"You told Tommy I gave you that number?"
"Yeah, what the fuck did I know? I just thought it was a service or some
shit and then I heard the Jerky Boys stuff and I didn't know what was
going on."
"Listen," Mariah said. "That is my number. He just hates when I get
calls he doesn't clear first."
Jesus Christ, I thought to myself, that's a hell of a way to keep a
woman happy.
"A.J., if you ever want to call me again, just call that number and I'll
call you back."
And that's the way it went for a few months. I would routinely dial
Mariah's number---giggle at her outgoing Jerky Boys message---and she'd
usually phone back within a few hours. And our conversations were sweet.
I learned that she is one of the funniest chicks I have ever met and I
also learned that she was once convinced I was gay---and that the macho
image I'd project on TV was a big con. At any rate, I was happy I had a
new friend and happier than hell that it was a sexy international pop
star. That sort of thing kills me. It was like Beatty giving me his
number and asking me to call him as I left Evan's house that night. Or
sharing a joint with Jack.
It didn't take long to figure out that the great Mottola-Carey marriage
was all but over and that her husband was using his friends in the press
to deny the rumors. There was one particular day where Mariah and I were
about to hang up and she said, "Tommy is a good man. I know he wants the
best for me. But it's hard. There is a big age difference between us and
sometimes that works against us." I half-jokingly said, "Well, whatever
you do, if you ever get around to having an affair with someone, don't
do it with the guy who cleans the pool or the limo driver or another old
millionaire. Make it with someone cool. Writers are cool, you know . .
."
"Shut up, you idiot." She laughed, and hung up.
Now here's where it gets creepy.
Bad marriage or not, I know I was being awfully flirty with another
man's wife and I knew that meant I was in line for some kind of
repercussion. So when my phone rang with a calm but irate Mottola on the
other end, I was half-expecting the date with destiny. "Hey, man,
listen," he purred. "I want you to come to my office tonight after work.
We need to talk. I'll see you at seven." Truth is, I know I was being
half a scumbag with the guy's wife, so I dutifully hopped in a cab and
visited him in his grand office. Strange as it sounds, I was okay with
anything he was going to do to me---whether it was threaten me or warn
me or simply tell me to go fuck myself and never call his wife again.
I walked into his office and he was on the phone with his buddy and my
publisher, Fred Drasner, at the time. They were setting up a hunting
trip and the talk was guns and ammo. "Sit down, man," Tommy said. Before
him was a tray of shrimp, some hot and cold antipasto, nice Italian
bread and a bottle of Riserva Ducale breathing on his giant desk. "Help
yourself." My instant take on the situation was that my name had come up
one too many times in the Mottola mansion and the king of Bedford castle
wanted to put an end to it.
"Tommy, am I breaking up your marriage," I joked.
"Listen to me, man. Mariah is young and she sometimes feels like she is
missing out on things. It doesn't help me any when I got you telling her
she needs to go out more and she needs to have fun and let loose and all
that shit."
"I'm just trying to change the public's perception that you're
controlling the poor little rich girl . . ."
"You know what, fuck that," he said. "There's nothing out there. You
know better than I do. You go out every night and you see the same
assholes and night after night it's the same shit all over again.
Everyone is swimming around the fishbowl and everybody not inside the
fishbowl is dying to get in. But once you're in it a while, you realize
there's just a bunch of shit in the fishbowl."
"So what are you telling me."
"Im telling you, man to man---and this is not some tough guy
meeting---that me and Mariah *are* having a tough time and marriage is
not always easy, but I don't need you speaking in her other ear. You
understand what I'm saying?"
I absolutely did. It was the kind of shit I went through with my ex-wife
and the Special Ed teacher who was always sabotaging me in the fuckin'
teacher's conference room every morning. Instant fantasy by the instant
coffee.
"I mean, why would you want her on your side more than me anyhow,"
Mottola said. "Do you realize what I can do for you? I can make any call
you want me to and get you want you want."
"I know . . ."
"Don't you want to be an actor?"
"Yeah."
"Bobby De Niro's my best friend. I can call Jane Rosenthal at TriBeCa
and have her see you in a second. Do you understand that?"
"I know, I know. I'm not trying to sabotage anything between . . ."
Before I could finish, he had already rung up Rosenthal and was asking
her---no, *telling* her---that he'd like her to see me at her earliest
convenience. And a date was set on the spot.
"What else do you want? You want more money from Drasner? I'm going
hunting with him this weekend and I'll bust his balls about it."
"Jeez, Tommy . . ."
"You need me. You don't need her."
It was going to be hard letting go of the fun and whimsy and sex appeal
of chatting up Mariah from time to time, but this was her husband
talking and her husband was right. It's just a thing some guys suffer
from that has to do with needing the high of getting close to a piece of
ass, even though you already have one at home. And, in my opinion, my
piece at home was hotter. But that's guys for you and don't ever let
anybody fool you or tell you otherwise. I'm telling you right now, if
there had been another woman in addition to Eve in the Garden, Adam
would've tried to fuck her like crazy.
As I got up to go, I swigged back my wine and reached out to hug Mottola
good-bye. "Listen, Tommy, I'm sorry," I said. "It won't happen anymore."
Everything would've been fine except I spotted something in the way
Mottola embraced me that gave him away---in my mind anyway---as a
complete phony who could never be trusted. He shook my right hand firmly
and reached around me with his left hand and rubbed my back. Might sound
nice and civil to you, but my Sicilian father always taught me to never
trust a man who greets you in that fashion. "Those are the men who are
looking for a soft spot to stick the knife in your back," he always
said. Pappa was right.
Fast forward several months later. Tommy---who's now publicly seperated
from Mariah---sees me at Boom Bistro in Sag Harbor and asks me and my
nephew Joey to pull up a couple chairs. "What are you guys drinking?
Lemme buy you a drink." He was crazy with kissing our asses. The talk
was light and generally entertaining, aside from the times he would send
a friend over to surrounding tables and ask girls to join "us" for
drinks. I wouldn't have minded except all the girls he was trying to hit
on were girls who rode in on the Jitney. And, I'm sorry, but that's a
long way away from rolling off Mariah Carey in the morning. Anyhow, I
was feeling kind of ridiculous, so I pulled my nephew Joey from some
pretty young thing and split.
The next day, I told Kara what had happened with my meeting Mottola in
Sag Harbor and she innocently told me he had sat at her table at another
restaurant an hour before he ran into me. And that didn't sit right in
my book: You don't sit at my girlfriend's table and chat her up for an
hour---no doubt flirting to your heart's content---and then neglect to
tell me you saw her when you run into me an hour later.
"Was he flirty with you?"
"Come on," Kara said. "He was, you know, the way guys are."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"He was like all men," she said.
"Bottom line," I said. "Did he act like he was looking to fuck you."
Kara stuttered a little bit.
"Did he make me look like an asshole," I said.
"I don't think he's your friend, let's put it that way."
Kara always said more with the space between the sentences than she did
with the actual sentences, but this time it was good enough for me to
want to punch that fucker out. I never went at Mottola or called him or
anything like that, but I did run to my phone a few hours later and ring
up the private number of Mariah's I had promised Tommy I'd never dial
again. And this is basically what I said.
"Hey baby, it's A.J. Hey, I just want to say I just saw your new video.
And you look so fuckin' good. You look black for a change, your tits
looked great, you're in that little bikini and you're smooching it up
with that good-looking guy on the beach. Good for you, baby. I'm glad
you got rid of the old man. I'm glad you're happy sweetie. I'll talk to
you later. Take care."
I never got a call back from Mariah, but I did run into Tommy two nights
later at the premiere party for Cop Land. I was sitting at a table with
Sly Stallone and Frank Vincent at the Supper Club when Mottola walked
over and started to chat up my pal Frank.
"Tommy, how are you," Frank said. "You know my friend, A.J., right?"
And Mottola just looked at me and said, "No, I don't."
I just sat there and said, "No you *don't*?"
Mottola looked away and kept right on chatting with Frank.
"Tommy, you don't *know* me?" I said.
Again, Mottola kept right on talking but Frank knew shit was about to
brew between us.
"You got a problem with me, Tommy? Something you want to talk about?"
Finally, he looked at me all innocentlike and said, "No."
". . . Because we can go outside and talk about it any time you want?"
The table grew quiet. And Tommy said good-bye to Frank and walked away.
The only reason why he would've adopted that attitude with me is if he
had heard what I said to Mariah on her private phone machine. And the
only way he could've heard what I said on that machine was if he was
somehow listening in. I'm not accusing him of it, I'm just talking out
loud. Either way it's a creepy thought.
A.J. Benza's book, Fame: Ain't It A Bitch, has a chapter called Dandelion, pages 215-225, all about
Tommy and Mariah. And here it is...
Some columnists hate it when their publisher knocks on their door with a
favor. It usually means the columnist has to scrap the column he has
spent time building and compose another column to fill the agenda of the
boss. And when your publishers are Fred Drasner and Mort Zuckerman, the
agenda could be anything from loosening gun control laws to the Artists
vs. Actors Hamptons softball classic. At any rate, I liked it when Fred
or Mort came rappin' at my door. Partly because I could never believe
that I had ascended to a place where millionaires and billionaires
relied on me to make their lives easier. But mainly because I liked
having powerful men indebted to me without having to do anything too
fucked up or compromising.
One day Fred walked in and tossed Vanity Fair on my desk. "You read this
yet?" "No," I said. "These fuckin' articles are so long, I'd rather wait
for the movie." "Read the piece on Tommy Mottola and call me." And with
that, Fred was gone. On to his next agenda. Fred and Mottola are hunting
buddies, drinking pals and Rao's regulars. And on one of those
occasions---maybe even the previous night---Mottola let Fred know that
Robert Sam Anson's VF profile on him was a hatchet job. Fred then took
it the next step by dropping it on my desk and asking me if I'd correct
it in my own way. In other words, the orders came down for me to do a
hatchet job on Anson.
And it was easy. Principally, Anson just rehashed the usual shit mostly
associated with the Sony bigwig---alleged mob ties, hot Guinea temper,
controlling husband, etc.---and went about it in a lazy, stereotypical
way. I can say that because all writers have done that now and then and
I'm just as guilty as any of them. I can also say "Guinea" because I'm
damn proud to be one. Anyhow, a week later I ripped Anson a new ass and
pledged my allegiance to Mottola---without having ever met the guy, mind
you. And Fred was happy. And that made me happy because all I ever
wanted was a pocketful of favors when I left the business. A day after
the column ran, Mottola was kissing my ass over the phone. "Hey man . .
. you did me a real solid," Mottola said. "Let me know if I can do
anything for you. *Anything*." I thanked Tommy and let that sit for a
few days. And in the time I pondered what I might enjoy as a payback, my
mind wandered to a rainy day in June several years earlier, when I was
looking to make a splash in the gossip business. Just dying to make my
bones as the new guy in town.
Flashback: The newspapers and tabloid TV shows are abuzz with the
impending nuptials of Tommy Mottola and Mariah Carey. The ceremony will
take place at the fancy Metropolitan Club in Manhattan. The guess list
includes Robert De Niro, Tony Bennett, Michael Bolton, Dick Clark,
Barbra Streisand and more. I am sitting at my sister's kitchen table
spooning Cap'n Crunch into my mouth when I decide to sneak into the
wedding. Just crash the fuckin' thing and bring in this giant scoop for
my newspaper. To go from "Who's the new guy?" to "Hey, you're the guy
who sneaked into Mariah Carey's wedding!"
The wedding is starting in six hours, so I have to work fast. I rent a
tux at RSVP in Bay Shore. With no time for tailoring, I use staples to
keep the hemline at the back of my heel. I kiss my sister good
bye---"Good luck, you're crazy" she shouts as I drive off in her old
Buick---and head into Manhattan. As soon as I put the car in the garage,
I stick some kind of official-looking pin in my lapel (it was my
ex-wife's high school honor roll pin), run the wire from my Sony Walkman
into my ear and calmly walk up to the Metropolitan Club, smack-dab in
the middle of the entire security team Mottola has assembled to keep out
assholes exactly like me.
I look one mook in the eye and say, "Hey there, is Jimmy working the
back detail or the front detail?" The guy shrugs his shoulders and says,
"I guess the back detail." And with that, I had penetrated the first and
only wall of defense and I remember thinking, "Is this the kind of
security big money buys you?" It was tougher to get into my niece's
spring recital for God's sake.
Once inside, I marched straight up to the bridal suite to get me a peek
at the new Mrs. Mottola and man, she looked gorgeous. "Mariah," I said,
knocking on the door and peeking in. "Hi, my name is Al Romano and I
just want to let you know I'll be right outside if you need me. Just
holler." "Oh, thank you Al." And then I heard all the girls in her
bridal party giggle. Meanwhile, I spent the better part of the night
just walking around wth my hands folded behind my back and looking very
"official." I directed De Niro to the men's room, helped Dick Clark off
with his jacket, showed Barbra Streisand to the registry book, and,
basically, eavesdropped to my heart's content.
Every fifteen minutes or so I was running off to an old-fashioned phone
booth and scribbling notes on cocktail napkins. And the following day,
my tidbits got heavy play in the paper. But I heard through the
grapevine that my crashing his wedding brought Mottola's temperature to
a boil. I didn't care much. To me, Tommy Mottola wasn't much more than a
name I heard in that "Cherchez la Femme" song.
But suddenly he was willing to let bygones be bygones and now he was on
the phone with me thanking me for watching his back and offering me the
world in return. The friggin' guy even sent me a Sony television set. I
decided to handle the payback in a professional manner. I had heard
Mottola and Mariah were having their difficulties and that the songbird
was looking to fly the coop. So I asked Mottola if I could speak with
Mariah from time to time with regard to her career. "I think she gets a
bad rap," I said. "And I just want my column to be the column she runs
to whenever she has to clear shit up. Can you do that for me?" "Done,"
Mottola said.
A few days later Tommy arranged it so I could meet Mariah---and a few
bodyguards he employed for her---at Spy. Basically, Mariah's little bit
of independance was a new label she was starting called Crave---a place
that would later become the home from which she carved her new sexy
image. Tommy wanted to see to it that I gave her new venture a little
play in the paper. "And while you're at it," he said, "let's see if you
can set a few people straight who say we're having trouble in our
marriage." "Done," I said.
Not that this is anything new, but by the time Mariah arrived at Spy, me
and my pal Johnny Boy were feeling pretty loaded sitting atop the club's
piano---the perch that was reserved nightly for us by Spy owner Jeff
Gossett. Rather than waltzing right up to her, I decided to spy on her
from twenty feet away just to get a feel for where her head was at. You
can tell a lot about someone when they don't know you're looking at
them. To be honest, I thoroughly believed every report I had read about
the couple's marriage headed for the toilet, and on that particular
occasion Mariah was huddled with New York Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter
on what turned out to be the first night the future lovers had ever hung
out. But on this night, and because my new pal was the almighty Tommy
Mottola, I didn't let that interfere with my mission. I threw back my
fifth gin and tonic and headed over to the velvet couch she and her
girly friends were sitting on.
"Okay," I said, "I got direct orders from your husband to talk to you.
You okay with that?"
"Oh great, another one who takes *orders* from my husband," Mariah shot
back.
"Listen, I'm my own man," I said. "I just want to talk to you a bit and
clear up some of the bad press you get."
"And how do I know you're just not going to give me more bad press?"
"Because I already arranged it with your husband what we're going to
talk about and all," I said. "It's gonna be fine."
"So, let me get this straight, you and *him* decided what you and *I*
are going to talk about?"
Jesus, this was a tough nut to crack. But I have to be honest---forget
the crazy lion's mane of hair she sometimes weaves in and forget the
slightly tacky dresses she's sometimes busting out of and forget the
fact that she likes to be swimming in spiked heels in almost all of her
videos---you can fall in love with this woman after a five-minute chat.
Not real love, mind you. But at least the kind of love where you
feel---crazy as it might sound---that you might actually have a shot at
this woman. I don't know, maybe it was the gin talking, but I was
falling for her and I didn't give a shit who her husband was. Or that
the Yankees captain was sweating her as I leaned over him to get some
quotes. Anyhow, it wasn't the first time I fell in love at Spy.
"I have to ask you about your marriage," I said.
"We are on the record or off?"
"We're off. Way off."
"We're fine, Mariah said. "People want to spread rumors and cause
trouble. But we're fine."
I knew she was lying like a rug, but I was going to write that their
marriage was fine just so I could placate my new best friend Tommy. And
with the weight my column carried around that time, a confirmation like
that was doing a tremendous service to the little bug guy. So there I
was and there was Mariah and there was way too much fun taking place
between us and I didn't want that night at Spy to be the last time I got
to speak with her and flirt with her---even if I was the one doing most
of the flirting. And I just said "fuck it" and dove right in.
"Listen, I want to call you sometime, but I don't want to have to go
through the Pentagon to do it. You ever come down from that Ivory Tower?
You're twenty-six years old for God's sake."
She laughed.
"Do you expect me to trust you after you sneaked into my wedding?" she
asked. "What if you were a murderer? Half of Hollywood could've been
dead."
"Would that be so a bad thing? Anyhow, listen," I said. "I don't know
how to say this but I don't want to go home and never talk to you again.
I want to be friends with you."
Then there was a huge moment of silence.
"Wait, that sounded gay as hell. What I mean to say is . . ."
"I know what you mean to say. But it's hard for me to trust a lot of
people. And how do I know you aren't gonna fuck me? Are you gonna fuck
me?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but *no*, I'm not gonna fuck you."
Then there was another awkward pause between us.
"I might *say* I did one day . . ." I said.
"Okay here," Mariah said. "Call me at this number if you want to to
talk. It's my machine and only I check it."
"Cool," I said. "Gimme a kiss. You're a cool girl."
"You're all right yourself," she said.
And then I walked out of Spy with Johnny Boy hanging on my arm and
Mariah Carey's phone number in my back pocket. I jumped into my Benz,
popped the top down and listened to Sly Stone sing "M'Lady." Who was
cooler than me?
A week or two goes by and I decide to give Mariah a jingle but when I
dial the number she scribbled on the napkin the answering machine pops
on with a routine from a Jerky Boys CD. I dial again and get the same
thing. Stupidly, I then dial Mottola to find out what's what. "Tommy,
I'm trying to get ahold of Mariah to ask her a question about an item
I'm writing and the number I'm dialing . . ." Mottola cut me off.
"What's the number she gave you?" I read it to him. "Listen to me, he
said. "That ain't the number. Throw it out. If you want to get to
Mariah, you call me and I'll get her for you. Understand?" "Sure, I
said. "No problem."
At that moment it dawned on me: Mariah had given me a number, a private
number, that her husband wasn't hip to. A few minutes later Mariah calls
me.
"You told Tommy I gave you that number?"
"Yeah, what the fuck did I know? I just thought it was a service or some
shit and then I heard the Jerky Boys stuff and I didn't know what was
going on."
"Listen," Mariah said. "That is my number. He just hates when I get
calls he doesn't clear first."
Jesus Christ, I thought to myself, that's a hell of a way to keep a
woman happy.
"A.J., if you ever want to call me again, just call that number and I'll
call you back."
And that's the way it went for a few months. I would routinely dial
Mariah's number---giggle at her outgoing Jerky Boys message---and she'd
usually phone back within a few hours. And our conversations were sweet.
I learned that she is one of the funniest chicks I have ever met and I
also learned that she was once convinced I was gay---and that the macho
image I'd project on TV was a big con. At any rate, I was happy I had a
new friend and happier than hell that it was a sexy international pop
star. That sort of thing kills me. It was like Beatty giving me his
number and asking me to call him as I left Evan's house that night. Or
sharing a joint with Jack.
It didn't take long to figure out that the great Mottola-Carey marriage
was all but over and that her husband was using his friends in the press
to deny the rumors. There was one particular day where Mariah and I were
about to hang up and she said, "Tommy is a good man. I know he wants the
best for me. But it's hard. There is a big age difference between us and
sometimes that works against us." I half-jokingly said, "Well, whatever
you do, if you ever get around to having an affair with someone, don't
do it with the guy who cleans the pool or the limo driver or another old
millionaire. Make it with someone cool. Writers are cool, you know . .
."
"Shut up, you idiot." She laughed, and hung up.
Now here's where it gets creepy.
Bad marriage or not, I know I was being awfully flirty with another
man's wife and I knew that meant I was in line for some kind of
repercussion. So when my phone rang with a calm but irate Mottola on the
other end, I was half-expecting the date with destiny. "Hey, man,
listen," he purred. "I want you to come to my office tonight after work.
We need to talk. I'll see you at seven." Truth is, I know I was being
half a scumbag with the guy's wife, so I dutifully hopped in a cab and
visited him in his grand office. Strange as it sounds, I was okay with
anything he was going to do to me---whether it was threaten me or warn
me or simply tell me to go fuck myself and never call his wife again.
I walked into his office and he was on the phone with his buddy and my
publisher, Fred Drasner, at the time. They were setting up a hunting
trip and the talk was guns and ammo. "Sit down, man," Tommy said. Before
him was a tray of shrimp, some hot and cold antipasto, nice Italian
bread and a bottle of Riserva Ducale breathing on his giant desk. "Help
yourself." My instant take on the situation was that my name had come up
one too many times in the Mottola mansion and the king of Bedford castle
wanted to put an end to it.
"Tommy, am I breaking up your marriage," I joked.
"Listen to me, man. Mariah is young and she sometimes feels like she is
missing out on things. It doesn't help me any when I got you telling her
she needs to go out more and she needs to have fun and let loose and all
that shit."
"I'm just trying to change the public's perception that you're
controlling the poor little rich girl . . ."
"You know what, fuck that," he said. "There's nothing out there. You
know better than I do. You go out every night and you see the same
assholes and night after night it's the same shit all over again.
Everyone is swimming around the fishbowl and everybody not inside the
fishbowl is dying to get in. But once you're in it a while, you realize
there's just a bunch of shit in the fishbowl."
"So what are you telling me."
"Im telling you, man to man---and this is not some tough guy
meeting---that me and Mariah *are* having a tough time and marriage is
not always easy, but I don't need you speaking in her other ear. You
understand what I'm saying?"
I absolutely did. It was the kind of shit I went through with my ex-wife
and the Special Ed teacher who was always sabotaging me in the fuckin'
teacher's conference room every morning. Instant fantasy by the instant
coffee.
"I mean, why would you want her on your side more than me anyhow,"
Mottola said. "Do you realize what I can do for you? I can make any call
you want me to and get you want you want."
"I know . . ."
"Don't you want to be an actor?"
"Yeah."
"Bobby De Niro's my best friend. I can call Jane Rosenthal at TriBeCa
and have her see you in a second. Do you understand that?"
"I know, I know. I'm not trying to sabotage anything between . . ."
Before I could finish, he had already rung up Rosenthal and was asking
her---no, *telling* her---that he'd like her to see me at her earliest
convenience. And a date was set on the spot.
"What else do you want? You want more money from Drasner? I'm going
hunting with him this weekend and I'll bust his balls about it."
"Jeez, Tommy . . ."
"You need me. You don't need her."
It was going to be hard letting go of the fun and whimsy and sex appeal
of chatting up Mariah from time to time, but this was her husband
talking and her husband was right. It's just a thing some guys suffer
from that has to do with needing the high of getting close to a piece of
ass, even though you already have one at home. And, in my opinion, my
piece at home was hotter. But that's guys for you and don't ever let
anybody fool you or tell you otherwise. I'm telling you right now, if
there had been another woman in addition to Eve in the Garden, Adam
would've tried to fuck her like crazy.
As I got up to go, I swigged back my wine and reached out to hug Mottola
good-bye. "Listen, Tommy, I'm sorry," I said. "It won't happen anymore."
Everything would've been fine except I spotted something in the way
Mottola embraced me that gave him away---in my mind anyway---as a
complete phony who could never be trusted. He shook my right hand firmly
and reached around me with his left hand and rubbed my back. Might sound
nice and civil to you, but my Sicilian father always taught me to never
trust a man who greets you in that fashion. "Those are the men who are
looking for a soft spot to stick the knife in your back," he always
said. Pappa was right.
Fast forward several months later. Tommy---who's now publicly seperated
from Mariah---sees me at Boom Bistro in Sag Harbor and asks me and my
nephew Joey to pull up a couple chairs. "What are you guys drinking?
Lemme buy you a drink." He was crazy with kissing our asses. The talk
was light and generally entertaining, aside from the times he would send
a friend over to surrounding tables and ask girls to join "us" for
drinks. I wouldn't have minded except all the girls he was trying to hit
on were girls who rode in on the Jitney. And, I'm sorry, but that's a
long way away from rolling off Mariah Carey in the morning. Anyhow, I
was feeling kind of ridiculous, so I pulled my nephew Joey from some
pretty young thing and split.
The next day, I told Kara what had happened with my meeting Mottola in
Sag Harbor and she innocently told me he had sat at her table at another
restaurant an hour before he ran into me. And that didn't sit right in
my book: You don't sit at my girlfriend's table and chat her up for an
hour---no doubt flirting to your heart's content---and then neglect to
tell me you saw her when you run into me an hour later.
"Was he flirty with you?"
"Come on," Kara said. "He was, you know, the way guys are."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"He was like all men," she said.
"Bottom line," I said. "Did he act like he was looking to fuck you."
Kara stuttered a little bit.
"Did he make me look like an asshole," I said.
"I don't think he's your friend, let's put it that way."
Kara always said more with the space between the sentences than she did
with the actual sentences, but this time it was good enough for me to
want to punch that fucker out. I never went at Mottola or called him or
anything like that, but I did run to my phone a few hours later and ring
up the private number of Mariah's I had promised Tommy I'd never dial
again. And this is basically what I said.
"Hey baby, it's A.J. Hey, I just want to say I just saw your new video.
And you look so fuckin' good. You look black for a change, your tits
looked great, you're in that little bikini and you're smooching it up
with that good-looking guy on the beach. Good for you, baby. I'm glad
you got rid of the old man. I'm glad you're happy sweetie. I'll talk to
you later. Take care."
I never got a call back from Mariah, but I did run into Tommy two nights
later at the premiere party for Cop Land. I was sitting at a table with
Sly Stallone and Frank Vincent at the Supper Club when Mottola walked
over and started to chat up my pal Frank.
"Tommy, how are you," Frank said. "You know my friend, A.J., right?"
And Mottola just looked at me and said, "No, I don't."
I just sat there and said, "No you *don't*?"
Mottola looked away and kept right on chatting with Frank.
"Tommy, you don't *know* me?" I said.
Again, Mottola kept right on talking but Frank knew shit was about to
brew between us.
"You got a problem with me, Tommy? Something you want to talk about?"
Finally, he looked at me all innocentlike and said, "No."
". . . Because we can go outside and talk about it any time you want?"
The table grew quiet. And Tommy said good-bye to Frank and walked away.
The only reason why he would've adopted that attitude with me is if he
had heard what I said to Mariah on her private phone machine. And the
only way he could've heard what I said on that machine was if he was
somehow listening in. I'm not accusing him of it, I'm just talking out
loud. Either way it's a creepy thought.
Friday, May 23, 2003
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Mariah - The Greatest Voice Of Our Time
Mariah Carey hits very high note on MTV2 list
By Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY
Mariah Carey is the greatest voice of the past two decades. So declares MTV2, which unveils its highly debatable list of the era's most unique and powerful voices at 2 p.m. ET/11 a.m. PT Saturday.
On the two-hour 22 Greatest Voices— first in a series of countdowns that also will anoint rappers, bands and performers — celebrities, critics and fans weigh in on the roster, determined by votes cast at MTV2.com. Freddie Mercury was second, trailed by Whitney Houston, Bono, Christina Aguilera, Alanis Morissette, Kurt Cobain, Bjork, Celine Dion, Tupac Shakur, Michael Jackson, Chris Cornell, Eminem, David Bowie, Alicia Keys, Steven Tyler, Jewel, Thom Yorke, Mary J. Blige, Michael Stipe, Sade and Bruce Springsteen. Quibbles and quarrels are expected and welcome.
The list's diversity results from broadly defined criteria that go beyond "range and style," says Tom Calderone, music and talent vice president at MTV2 and big sister MTV. "We considered how the voice complements the music and connects with listeners. It comes down to how compelling and influential that voice is to people's lives."
Why no Billie Holiday or Roy Orbison? The list surveys only the past 20 years, a timeline familiar to MTV2 viewers and a period conveniently rife with readily available video footage.
Sources:
Jen, Paul, USA Today (Life Section)
Mariah Carey hits very high note on MTV2 list
By Edna Gundersen, USA TODAY
Mariah Carey is the greatest voice of the past two decades. So declares MTV2, which unveils its highly debatable list of the era's most unique and powerful voices at 2 p.m. ET/11 a.m. PT Saturday.
On the two-hour 22 Greatest Voices— first in a series of countdowns that also will anoint rappers, bands and performers — celebrities, critics and fans weigh in on the roster, determined by votes cast at MTV2.com. Freddie Mercury was second, trailed by Whitney Houston, Bono, Christina Aguilera, Alanis Morissette, Kurt Cobain, Bjork, Celine Dion, Tupac Shakur, Michael Jackson, Chris Cornell, Eminem, David Bowie, Alicia Keys, Steven Tyler, Jewel, Thom Yorke, Mary J. Blige, Michael Stipe, Sade and Bruce Springsteen. Quibbles and quarrels are expected and welcome.
The list's diversity results from broadly defined criteria that go beyond "range and style," says Tom Calderone, music and talent vice president at MTV2 and big sister MTV. "We considered how the voice complements the music and connects with listeners. It comes down to how compelling and influential that voice is to people's lives."
Why no Billie Holiday or Roy Orbison? The list surveys only the past 20 years, a timeline familiar to MTV2 viewers and a period conveniently rife with readily available video footage.
Sources:
Jen, Paul, USA Today (Life Section)
A Million thanks nga pala sa mga walang patid na tumulong sa akin during COMSEC Graduation. Sila sina JEFFREY RIVERA, LLOVEL ALDAY, JETT SALVADOR, REYNALDO ABALIN, RODERICK REYNANTE, WETZEL PANCHO, WILSON ENRIQUEZ, KRIS ROMMEL RAMOS, SALVADOR RIBAYA at selected ME III-1 students headed by PACIS REMUS. Thanks again for your undending help and cooperation!!
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
Saturday, May 10, 2003
Wednesday, May 07, 2003
Saturday, May 03, 2003
"TEACH ME NOT TO COMPLAIN"
>
> A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife
> stayed home. He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed:
>
> Dear Lord:
>
> I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays
> at home. I want her to know what I go through, so please allow her body
> to switch with mine for a day. Amen.
>
> God, in His infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish. The next morning,
> sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast
> for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them
> breakfast, packed their lunches drove them to school, came home and
> picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners and stopped at the
> bank to make a deposit, went grocery shopping, then drove home to
> put away the groceries, pay the bills and balance the check book,
> He cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog.
>
> Then it was already 1:00 p.m. and he hurried to make the beds, do the
> laundry, vacuum, dust, and sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Ran to the
> school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the
> way home, Set out cookies and milk and got the kids organized to do
> their homework, then set up the ironing board and watched TV while
> he did the ironing.
>
> At 4:30 P.M. he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for
> salad, breaded the pork chops and napped fresh beans for supper. After
> supper he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry,
> bathed the kids,and put them to bed.
>
> At 9:00 P.M. he was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren't
> finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love which he
> managed to get through without complaint.
>
> The next morning he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said,
> "Lord, I don't know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my
> wife's being able to stay home all day. Please, oh please, let us trade
>back."
>
> The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, replied, "My son, I feel you
> have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to
> the way they were. You'll just have to wait nine months, though. You got
> pregnant last night."
> _______________________________________
> GREAT SPIRIT, help me not to judge another until
> I have walked a mile in his moccasins.
> -- Sioux Indian Prayer
> _______________________________________
>
> A MOMENT WITH THE LORD:
> Dear God, to You I humbly pray,
> Teach me not to complain or judge,
> Hold me back when I would speak
> The things I know I should not say
> Of my dear wife who does her best
> For me and our kids day by day. *
> _______________________________________
>
> Shared by Joe Gatuslao
> Bacolod City, Philippines
>
> A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife
> stayed home. He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed:
>
> Dear Lord:
>
> I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays
> at home. I want her to know what I go through, so please allow her body
> to switch with mine for a day. Amen.
>
> God, in His infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish. The next morning,
> sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast
> for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them
> breakfast, packed their lunches drove them to school, came home and
> picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners and stopped at the
> bank to make a deposit, went grocery shopping, then drove home to
> put away the groceries, pay the bills and balance the check book,
> He cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog.
>
> Then it was already 1:00 p.m. and he hurried to make the beds, do the
> laundry, vacuum, dust, and sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Ran to the
> school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the
> way home, Set out cookies and milk and got the kids organized to do
> their homework, then set up the ironing board and watched TV while
> he did the ironing.
>
> At 4:30 P.M. he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for
> salad, breaded the pork chops and napped fresh beans for supper. After
> supper he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry,
> bathed the kids,and put them to bed.
>
> At 9:00 P.M. he was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren't
> finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love which he
> managed to get through without complaint.
>
> The next morning he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said,
> "Lord, I don't know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my
> wife's being able to stay home all day. Please, oh please, let us trade
>back."
>
> The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, replied, "My son, I feel you
> have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to
> the way they were. You'll just have to wait nine months, though. You got
> pregnant last night."
> _______________________________________
> GREAT SPIRIT, help me not to judge another until
> I have walked a mile in his moccasins.
> -- Sioux Indian Prayer
> _______________________________________
>
> A MOMENT WITH THE LORD:
> Dear God, to You I humbly pray,
> Teach me not to complain or judge,
> Hold me back when I would speak
> The things I know I should not say
> Of my dear wife who does her best
> For me and our kids day by day. *
> _______________________________________
>
> Shared by Joe Gatuslao
> Bacolod City, Philippines
nice message!!! grabe nainspired ako...
--- In pupt_ECE_batch2003@yahoogroups.com, ariel mecina
wrote:
>
>
> hoy mga gaGOO KAYO. KAYONG LAHAT PUTANGINA NIYO FUCK
> YOU KAYO LAHAT, IWASAN NIYO NA AKO. YUNG ISPERATIONAL
> TXT MO MIKAELAng payatot DI KO MABUKSAN PUTANGINA YAN
> NAG EMAIL
> KA PA. HOY LOUIS GAGOO KA SA AKIN NG GALING YUNG PLS.
> FORWARD IT YOU SEE IN EMAIL MO PA RIN SA AKIN TANGINA
> KA. ey YUNG MGA PICTURE NIYO SA YAHOO PURO CORNED BEEF
> ATTACKERS DI NAMAN PANGLAHATAN YUN EH PUTANGINA YUNG
> GUMAWA NOON SANA DI NA SYA GUMAWA. HINDI KAYO MGA
> TUNAY NA KAIBIGAN LALO KA NA CARLO CEDOL ANG LIBOG MO
> BAD INFLUENCE KA AT PAULO GARCIA ANG ARTE AT YABANG MO
> PARA KANG BLANK.
>
>
>
> __________________________________________________
> Do you Yahoo!?
> The New Yahoo! Search - Faster. Easier. Bingo
> http://search.yahoo.com
--- In pupt_ECE_batch2003@yahoogroups.com, ariel mecina
wrote:
>
>
> hoy mga gaGOO KAYO. KAYONG LAHAT PUTANGINA NIYO FUCK
> YOU KAYO LAHAT, IWASAN NIYO NA AKO. YUNG ISPERATIONAL
> TXT MO MIKAELAng payatot DI KO MABUKSAN PUTANGINA YAN
> NAG EMAIL
> KA PA. HOY LOUIS GAGOO KA SA AKIN NG GALING YUNG PLS.
> FORWARD IT YOU SEE IN EMAIL MO PA RIN SA AKIN TANGINA
> KA. ey YUNG MGA PICTURE NIYO SA YAHOO PURO CORNED BEEF
> ATTACKERS DI NAMAN PANGLAHATAN YUN EH PUTANGINA YUNG
> GUMAWA NOON SANA DI NA SYA GUMAWA. HINDI KAYO MGA
> TUNAY NA KAIBIGAN LALO KA NA CARLO CEDOL ANG LIBOG MO
> BAD INFLUENCE KA AT PAULO GARCIA ANG ARTE AT YABANG MO
> PARA KANG BLANK.
>
>
>
> __________________________________________________
> Do you Yahoo!?
> The New Yahoo! Search - Faster. Easier. Bingo
> http://search.yahoo.com
salamat sa FRIENDLY TIPS. GUSTO KO LANG IPAALAM SA'YO UNG MGA
PICTURES DUN AY PURO KAMI KASI KAMI LANG ANG NAGBIBIGAY PARA MAISCAN.
I ASKED FOR YOUR PIX LAST TIME BAGO UNG GRADUATION PERO WALANG
NAGBIGAY KAHIT ISA, SOOOO... KANINONG KASALANAN UN.. AT UNG
INSPIRATIONAL TXT, KAYA SIGURO HINDI MO MABUKSAN KASI MABABANG URI NG
COMPUTER ANG GAMIT MO. AND SORI KASI HINDI MO NAMAN FRIEND C KARLO AT
C GARCIA NO? AT HINDI IKAW SI ARIEL...
PICTURES DUN AY PURO KAMI KASI KAMI LANG ANG NAGBIBIGAY PARA MAISCAN.
I ASKED FOR YOUR PIX LAST TIME BAGO UNG GRADUATION PERO WALANG
NAGBIGAY KAHIT ISA, SOOOO... KANINONG KASALANAN UN.. AT UNG
INSPIRATIONAL TXT, KAYA SIGURO HINDI MO MABUKSAN KASI MABABANG URI NG
COMPUTER ANG GAMIT MO. AND SORI KASI HINDI MO NAMAN FRIEND C KARLO AT
C GARCIA NO? AT HINDI IKAW SI ARIEL...
Posted by zarcsman for mikaela202
tnx sa tip mo pare pero cino k ba talaga?! if you really are concern
in this groupsite, bat di ka magpakilala dahil for sure hindi ikaw c
ariel na kilala namin. at bakit c ariel p ang ginamit mo, ano gusto
mo? iwasan namin c ariel, e friend namin iyun at mabait iyun. in the
first place, ano ba gusto mo mangyari? wats ur reason? kung
napagtripan mo lang iyun e hindi magandang biro iyan kasi feel namin
seryoso ka ng gawin iyun
in this groupsite, bat di ka magpakilala dahil for sure hindi ikaw c
ariel na kilala namin. at bakit c ariel p ang ginamit mo, ano gusto
mo? iwasan namin c ariel, e friend namin iyun at mabait iyun. in the
first place, ano ba gusto mo mangyari? wats ur reason? kung
napagtripan mo lang iyun e hindi magandang biro iyan kasi feel namin
seryoso ka ng gawin iyun
Posted by zarcsman for Jeanne
asar bakit ayaw magappear ng mga messages ko, jeanne and karlo, baka
naman pinagtritripan nyo ko, joke lang.
anyway, di ako natuwa sa nabasa ko last time ung message ni ariel, im
sure its not him in the 1st place. saka bakit nya naman ako sinasama
sa kalokohan niya, someone told me who the heck is the culprit, i was
really shocked to discover that this person that i truly respect and
admire doesnt deserve to be treated kindly. one of the things that i
hate is stabbing me in the back and im sori to say that we have been
nurturing a snake all along. he's coward, okay lang sana kung sabihin
nya sken ng harap-harapan hindi ung kelangan nya pang ipangalandakan
na mayabang at maarte ako. baka insecure lang siya sa atin, thats
what i think............. di ko ito palalampasin.
naman pinagtritripan nyo ko, joke lang.
anyway, di ako natuwa sa nabasa ko last time ung message ni ariel, im
sure its not him in the 1st place. saka bakit nya naman ako sinasama
sa kalokohan niya, someone told me who the heck is the culprit, i was
really shocked to discover that this person that i truly respect and
admire doesnt deserve to be treated kindly. one of the things that i
hate is stabbing me in the back and im sori to say that we have been
nurturing a snake all along. he's coward, okay lang sana kung sabihin
nya sken ng harap-harapan hindi ung kelangan nya pang ipangalandakan
na mayabang at maarte ako. baka insecure lang siya sa atin, thats
what i think............. di ko ito palalampasin.
Posted by zarcsman for magickweaver31
To all members of this site, I Gilbert M. dueñas BSECE
graduated was the one who send those silly message by
using the emailaddress of Mr. Ariel Mecina. My only
aim in doing it was to have some fun by saying those
words which i believe will make you felt angry to Mr.
Ariel but it seems you know him very much. I here by
to apoligized to those persons whose names got
involved more specifically to Mr. Carlo Cedol,Mr.
Paulo Garcia, Ms. Michaela Santos and Ms. jeanne
Santos. All of those written words and saying about
them were not factual and it was only my pesonal aim.
Maraming salamat sa mga taong naapektohan ng ginawa
kung katarantaduhan dahil pinatawad nila ako kasi alam
nila na kulang lang ako sa pansin, walang magawa sa
buhay. Salamat sa pagiintende nila sa kalagayan ko,
pasensya na gusto ko lang mapalapit sa kanila kaso
hindi gfanoon kadali kasi napakamahiyain. PATAWAD ULIT
graduated was the one who send those silly message by
using the emailaddress of Mr. Ariel Mecina. My only
aim in doing it was to have some fun by saying those
words which i believe will make you felt angry to Mr.
Ariel but it seems you know him very much. I here by
to apoligized to those persons whose names got
involved more specifically to Mr. Carlo Cedol,Mr.
Paulo Garcia, Ms. Michaela Santos and Ms. jeanne
Santos. All of those written words and saying about
them were not factual and it was only my pesonal aim.
Maraming salamat sa mga taong naapektohan ng ginawa
kung katarantaduhan dahil pinatawad nila ako kasi alam
nila na kulang lang ako sa pansin, walang magawa sa
buhay. Salamat sa pagiintende nila sa kalagayan ko,
pasensya na gusto ko lang mapalapit sa kanila kaso
hindi gfanoon kadali kasi napakamahiyain. PATAWAD ULIT
Posted by Zarcsman for Mr. Gilbert Duenas
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