'We Forgot About The Flowers'


Modern homage to French Country in a Northern Californian living room.
Cobblestone-ed hearth unlit by fire yet coated with a seasonal cobweb.
But first…

OPEN on wine country home exterior.

THRU the open window of mustard stucco and cornflower-blue shutters, one can practically sniff lavender fields. FEEL the gravel beneath your bicycle wheel, jeopardizing the revolving spokes as it jostles woven willow. Lens on our nosy CORK CAM crawls thru open weave of the basket. PEEK inside to SPY petals vibrating on a Van Gogh-evoking sunflower. Its hairy stem mashed beneath onionskin-thin paper enveloping a fresh baguette - still warm sourdough – with crust chilled by San Franciscan Bay fog. Sunset magazine ventures east of the Rockies and over Atlantic Blue to stamp its passport. THINK cover of Pierre Deux catalog MEETS special issue of House Beautiful: Provençal on Cal West Coast.


MULTI-CAMERA/VIDEOTAPE commonly employed in once, cost-efficient production of daytime drama.



BACK LIT, African-Asian-American female, bone-strait-blown, jet-black,
shoulder-length do like ebony wood grain framing a poured caramel complexion. Thirty-esque, beauty pageant runner-up make-up powders a pert nose and lines irrefutable Asian eyes. From the East, a ginger-glazed Barbie, Syrah Hemmings. From her south? Distinctive derrière. Stares uncomfortably
OFF-CAMERA. THINK Kimora Lee pre-bling.

Greek male, exiting-twenties/thirties-eve, testosterone-dipped, chiseled-features of museum antiquity - stands behind her. CORK CAM lens smolders, daresay, aches, of a cavity from the eye-candy that is Nikos Andrippos.

You don' can't understand,

(Greek accent)
What it's like to be blind? No. But
I was lost in the dark...before you…
before us.

Losing my sight is not the end of
everything. I can still smell and
taste. If not better now. Those are
the best assets in Sonapy Valley

Nikos moves in, caressing Syrah's cheek.

And, Syrah, you can still...

BEAT. Passionate, romance novel-cover kiss. Enough to make one strain to hear: 1950's organ crescendo during tenure of soaps on radio.




g ouda Frommage, blonde – exempting her roots. Neither platinum nor gold flaxen. Sandy like hourglass grains – down drain - on a shelf overlooking shore. Daughter of French émigré in this wine country of younger vines –
Beaujolais nouveau riche. Gouda. Lying face-down...and lying about her age. Petite powerhouse – a height forcing her ever straining upwards with full intention of lording over all below. No, not merely beneath the cut-out of a massage table. Vast. Seeking dominion over every resident of Sonapy Valley.



Snipped Phal orchid at the height of its bloom. Feather petals squeezed between rocks like a dainty spear thru two black olives – bumping about - in a
dry martini. Trail of heated Basalt stones skip down her spine. Reptilian.
PAN-UP from beneath the massage table to REVEAL. INTRO to our Gouda: a face squished into that padded-hole-massage-table attachment. Collagen-assisted pouty lip and piercing cat eye pulled to a squint by the pressure of the cushion.

And breathe in...all the healing
wind...and...out...with aaaall
debris...Good. Don't recycle.
Gooood Gouda...Ohhhmmm.



Dream-Home-Barbie-Brie pulling
the Sleeping Beauty card is one
thing but Syrah?! She's not even
real family. And never will be.
Yet even blind, somehow that
damsel makes out diva. Next
time...and there will be one...not
just the brakes on her hippie
hybrid...but the airbag too…




Zinfandel Vintniere, willowy-kind-of-muscular, finely groomed,
Northern Californianized, Italian-American, dewy-skinned-for-a-forty years – "quiet-on-the-Western-front".

Zin strolls in from a glossy page of a Versace ad. Casual though cautious, interrupting Nikos and Syrah in mid-embrace.

Syrah, I heard, uh...

...the fact that I'm blind now? You
can say it, Sledge. I've accepted it.
It's just one of life's many

Like us.

Yes, like Nikos and I finding each

BEAT before opening theme:




Twelfth Night theme groove to "soothe the savage breast". 'Pairing' rhythm bleu cheesy with flavela decanted funk – Marilyn McCoo up, up, n away in her belle balloon over wine country MEETS Jill Scott taking a long walk down an Ipanema beach. Or something to that effect. Long as it's catchy enough to rouse a hummed rendition when least expected or noticed. Kinda demi beat that leaves
lips parted slight to hips swaying light.

Subliminally-planted samba soundtrack for each thespian doing that soap-operatic, requisite, slow turn to the LENS where they either laugh openly, smile warmly, or stare longing and pensive to reflect their character's 'inner-world'.

Opening sequence concludes with PAIRING's iconic, savory tablescape:

This entrée of PAIRING
brought to you today by
Sonapy Valley Goat Milk Soap.




Homage to/mockmmercial of those infectious Real California Milk ads.
Instead of the "Happy Cows", Billy D, Best In Show winner at any goat competition er, uh, west of California. Uh, yeah. A silky voice - Lou Rawls tinged with a Masterpiece Theatre accent. Billy D (CGI ANIMATED) lounges on his belly and sports a monocle. Oddly, a few Lawrence Welk bubbles float about him.

Co-o-old pressed, extra virgins for
your linguini? Imported smoked
gruyère pre-e-essed in your
panini? Boast of Grey Poupon on
those brioche croutons?

Billy D - the rebirth n resurrection of Cool. Twirls a bubble like a
Harlem Globetrotter's basketball atop an adroit hoof. Suddenly pops! to Billy D's unfazed composure.

BILLY D (cont'd)
Sun-dried mine as well be
de-e-eep fried if you don't...

CLOSE-UP on monocle as Billy D's last sentence concludes in the catchiest of jingles sung by female, big band/swing back-up singers. Voices of WWII radio – hair up in fish-netted snoods for long hours at factory assemble lines by day and nightly minutes at the USO mic winking reasons to go AWOL.

BILLY D (cont'd)
...make your hooves happy with...



Wine/cheese/olive logo VOICE OVER:

In our next entrée of PAIRING…




'Helena...oh, S'Helena. S'Helena Vintniere Yount Vintniere Healdsburg
Rutherford. Diva of old. Old school, that is. Epitomes diva. You know the drill. Not pseudo diva from pop charts but hard core, 1940's ingénue, Lolita type – swore she was nineteen at thirteen with erotic calves of her 'gams' to back her up. Hollywood studios-under-contract/Oscar-nominee/bitch-slapped-
Bette Davis/rejected-and-blacklisted/ marched-with-King/slept-with-Brando-Belafonte-Chagall-and-Deitrich/reborn-as-one-woman-Broadway-review/
thrice-divorced/eternally-impersonated-by-adoring-drag-queens. That kind –
diva as endangered species.

Actually, a baby boomer. Born after most of the above but also born way ahead of her time. Too far. Which decade, then, might she claim? Timeless trouble in
back-seamed stockings: fully-fashioned, Manhattan heel, never more
than 10 denier.

There's the Mayan calendar. The Chinese and Roman to boot. Yet little has been written of the Tina Turner/ Sônia Braga/Gloria Steinhem calendar.
Black/Brazilian/Jewish strands just too damn brassy to grey. No, not as pin-ups so much as weavers of a wrinkleless spell: At some point, the calendar ceases to flip and just lingers on one page – too lazy to battle a warrior of S'Helena's ilk. The thing is, when you own Sonapy Valley's foremost winery? Now, could be all those facials of organic grape seed and a smear of Vintniere soil with a drop of raw Frommage goat milk. Oak smoke and mirrors swindling Father Time into thinking, instead of a clock, he'd much rather be a fine wine.

Gouda, you keep your cheese cloth
away from my nephew,
for that matter, even my
chauffeur...or at least his back
seat. And as for this irrefutable
evidence? How irksome – the way it
implicates you in Syrah's visual
misfortune? Well, dear, I'll do...what
only a Vintniere keep it away
from Sonapy's D.A. Oh, and though I
don't indulge the following freely, you
should know…Vintniere owns
substantial stock in The Valley Vine.


Rhymes with hag.

California poppy & Dutch bulb hybrid. In late bloom. Gouda posed in a structured tulip skirt from TILTT R O U P E wait list. (THINK delayed
GILTG R O U P E log in for the Pacific's well heeled.) Nail bitten minutes tock down on the clock – in another member's cart. Purchase purgatory. The WILT of flora taken for granted.

Why would Vintniere be an owner?

Light, fluffy. Granted, too 'airy' to
warrant Examiner comparison. Who
peruses those pages? Valley 'news'!
Avoids fact checking as if all wine
notes should remain elusive and
verification might leave some whiff
of oak. Yet? I find clout in print…or
web…or what have you…an
unparalleled coup when exposure of
transgression can sink an adversary –
beaten so but somehow? Puffed up.

I'm no threat to you, S'Helena.

Holland botanical influence stops not at the petal cut - barely skimming the knee. Belgian chocolate peau de soie wraps tulip fold like sarong, then bunched to rise like soufflé. TO the fine print: clothing as canvas for a pointillé floral motif of
pastel blue abstract of Forget-me-nots. EXTREME CLOSE-UP.

Forget-me-not stomping its stems for attention - ironic audacity. Then again, is not audacity at its best when tongue-in-cheek? And coming from those quiet flowers.

You are Frommage. So worse? A
nuisance. Herbed when least
S'HELENA (cont'd)
expected. Unnecessary petals in
chèvre. Threats - I vanquish.
Your kind just get under my skin.
And not in the good way –
succulent – like sprigs of thyme and
Meyer lemons stuffing the skin of
your father's renowned garlic roasted
hen…no. Not hardly that appetizing.
Just a mild, dull irritation…So many
ways to be lactose intolerant.
Gouda, get off the road; stay
behind an ageing cheese wheel.



Sonapy Valley Patisserie Bar – NEXT DAY

Passing by, in the BACKGROUND, long bistro apron wrapped innovatively. Pulled all the way up from waist and just over bust. Empire-waisted waitress from the Regency Period if not for the stiff A-line produced from the heavy cotton drape.

Makes for more hanbok of Korean flare than J. J. could entertain
(Jane Austen or Joséphine.)



Oh-so obvious. A quaint/chic sign, Sonapy Valley Patisserie Bar. Oh, c'mon out with it, already. Scrolled wrought iron in the moonlight? Uh-huh.
Banned bohemian rhap lyric from an Alphonse Mucha poster. Art Nouveau letters burned in an oak barrel plank. Sign swinging from patina-ed iron. Hinges swirled like two hanging French horns.

But rewinding to mode Bonaparte, Napoléon's stature, too, reportedly gave him a power complex. With that said…to the FOREGROND…

ON Gouda, seated alfresco, in Pucci print head scarf and darkened Jackie-O sunnies – at dusk. Mid Century Mucha. Whispering on her smart phone,
ONE WAY to unknown caller:

All I'm saying is they're known for
two things here: boys and
tiramisù. And…Zin Vintniere?
Notoriously allergic to
mascarpone cheese.




As if the sky were some winter wonderland garden and its snowflakes? Deepest red petals. Not a shaving nick nor paper cut red. More transfusion via trendy vampire teen kinda red. Florals most dark and foreboding. In fragments. Only fixture in the room sans a bloodied petal might be the rustically elegant, oak wood beams - intersecting ceiling.

Now TO the stemless wine glass atop a cork coaster – novel – both the absent stem and the notable corks. Actual recycled corks from across the valley formed into stylish stemware mats. Alongside a hardback best seller on the bedside table – a verifiable rosé? Or a mere pink hue dimly refracting the glow from all the strewn petals? Sans stem, the glass is low. A posture more brewed coffee bean than aged crushed grape.

To rudely paraphrase The Rhime of The Ancient Mariner, II, st. 5:

"Roses, roses everywhere, Nor any petal to sniff."

CLOSE on Zin.

...Is there? Will there ever be
enough to you take
my breath?




PAIRING theme song:

"Ba, ba, ba, daaa…"




Pinot noir - a proprietary shade of nail polish. How it gleams against steam rising up from sensuous curves of stainless steel - the handle encasing half an
Irish coffee mug. Fingertips tapping steel and glass. Heat resistant glass.
PAN DOWN to wrist sporting an artsy cuff - mother of pearl replica of
television test pattern. Color bars iridescent in pearlescent brown, grey, and ivory.

Irish mug as steel drum for nails on coffee break from keyboard keys.
Cup's exterior? Little more than Calypso tempo - suspended - in a Viennese café.
Glass-etched, clear circle with diagonal slash thru S after PAIRING logo. Raised towards CORK CAM. OUT OF FOCUS until mug is set back down again on compulsively organized desk. Not obsessive-compulsive by psychiatric diagnosis. Such order, though? Infers that kind of minor neurosis to put just enough 'quirk' in a character.

Alongside computer monitor, last page of The SoHoin
(THINK The New Yorker magazine) opened to its ever maddening
Cartoon Caption Contest. Notes scribbled all over page."

Just under and off to the side of The SoHoin, an issue of daytime drama 'news' magazine, corkoperadigest (THINK soapoperadigest )."

Be advised of a possible pop-up after Soap Opera Digest's custom cover link. If subjected, in no way condones nor promotes its contents. However, is a creative exercise in cultural critique. Inescapable, isn't it? Incessant marketing feeds the beast, Consumerism. Death, taxes, and ads. Thus, consider this one-time, unwarranted and unapproved advertisement a societal comment within these parameters of e-performance art. Oh, and the above should not deter consideration of sponsorship from reputable wine, culinary, lifestyle, hospitality and/or publishing industries. Inquires encouraged.

Back to ACT II, thank you.
Where were we? Oh…cod. Yes, so cod's cover features Sonapy recognizable residents.

CLOSE on computer monitor as hands return to keyboard. Message Board
FILLS FRAME. More character/actor shots on PAIRING homepage.

Finger right clicks Message Board:

Log-in name:




Topics Posted by Replies Last Post

We forgot about the flowers MistaEddy'sFatha 0 June 22@ 10:15AM

Hand on mouse. Mouse pad is bold copy of Serenity Prayer.

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

Finger right clicks on:
We forgot about the flowers.



Time 11:59 AM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.10
Posts: 3,650
For a better blind/love story, check ICE CASTLES. They kept it real while Chrys&Co are on crack. (Save Danielle Bronzenstein, the show's only sober scribe). But back to THE ICE. In the end, Lexi's a champion again and gets the guy back but in that rarest of anomalies: neither character dislocates their dignity like a pubescent Cirque du Soleil contortionist. Speaking of puberty, thought even the news was written for 8th grade comprehension, but PAIRINGS barely taps the
DORA EXPLORA crowd. If Chrys would stop shooting up from the inkwell and actually pen a scene fit to air, it may dawn on TIIC that a woman's self-esteem ain't an old-school tube of toothpaste that you squeeze and roll out a little everyday until the shell that is left of old girl is a plastic, gnarled-up wad of fleeting, fresh breath. By the time Sisters o' Sonapy get what they want from men, who&what have they become? Where's the romantic pay-off in that? Not true champions. Not like Lexi. Truly sad when early Eighties camp trumps this crap. Lexi's blind s/l had more of an arc and ICE CASTLES has a 108 min running time. Imagine what one could achieve five days a week on a serial? But you have to care, Chrys. Hell, even continue to kick us, we victims of Battered Viewer Syndrome, to the curb, if need be, but at least front like you give a roach's a$$. Since you need an example of a real love story, I suggest promoting Danny Bronze or at least fast forward thru some vintage P entrées of Cliff&Claire along with a cursory viewing of IC. Right after HER accident, Lexi stumbles around in the dark attic in a class Helen Keller turn(pre-water pump). She even sports her dead mother's clothes. Macabre but a master stroke IMHO. Will PAIR eva have the cohones?


Time 12:10 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Bump No!



Ascending several floors in same building, CORK CAM stops in corner office.




And by the by? This office? Set decorators of Mad Men best beware.
CLOSE on office desk. In periphery, the impressive view entices an otherwise corporate imagination. Shadows fall from neighboring skyscrapers just outside the window. Blurred but busy wall of achievement connotes multiple diplomas/awards/featured cover articles.

SOUND FX of lengthy typing reminds one of making air-line reservations the old-fashioned way - over the phone - when one answers a query with two words but then over-hears enough typing for a chapter in the
'Great American Novel'.



Time 12:15 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
When hell freezes over.



Framed picture of couple on somewhat cluttered desk. Photo of windmill on Santorini Island, Greece. Sparkling aqua sea beneath stone homes embedded in chalk white cliffs. REVEAL SantaBarbarella: African-American female,
new-to-forty-and-doing-it-proud, pleasant-kind-of-pretty, fit with realistic, ethnic curves, hair of tight spirals defying gravity and conservative convention.

Equally attractive, Jamaican male, cradle-of-his-forties, undeterred by the kind of minor gut oft protruding thru a chef's jacket. Fine dining not his profession but indubitably his main proclivity. More ✭✭ chef though than ✭✭✭ gut. How trim of tummy can echo a Michelin rating. Kind of abdomen surplus a 'man' girdle can still salvage. In the PHOTO...his hands – fingers dark, long, and crooked like tree branches shading the Serengeti. Only too happy to hold her girth from behind as they both beam genuinely for the camera.



Time 12:20 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
At least Lexi could skate there.


PULL BACK from picture to focus on computer monitor's default accessories. Paperback copy, Lies At The Alter: The Truth About Great Marriages on side of monitor. Cover of book has prominent photo of the author, Dr. Robin Smith,
one of the past therapists-in-residence for The Oprah Winfrey Show.



On other side of monitor is a Greek salad. Last-of-the-plastic take-out boxes (rest in peace, not a landfill). Lid popped all the way back – back to the revolving breeze from a Santorini windmill: Fillet of feta cheese. Grill-marked from the kitchen; puny dents from capers once plated. Splintered, last, with flecks of dried oregano. Sheep's milk sponge atop plump wedges of tomato and moist cucumber coins. Forked kalamata olive just inches from keyboard. Olive slick from the balsamic vinaigrette spill. One drip dangles from the olive's bottom (or is that its side?) Lone drop exhibiting fierce determination – clinging to the olive skin in flawless tear formation. Stubborn drip like bp crude on wingtips of Bayou pelicans. Before typing, French manicured tips reach for Andrippos olive - the culprit keeping her mouth full.

Time 12:24 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Shout out, Mista! You know your RICE CRACKLES analogies do a triple sow-cow on my last nerve but you're on point today. Bush got the country in enough of a quagmire. Must PAIRINGS create its own? Look no further for WMD than a P script.


CAMERA – and by now our 'equipment'/literary device is long since christened,
CORK CAM. So CORK CAM drifts (Zemeckis' Forrest-Gump-feather-style) out
PLUSH CORNER OFFICE DIGS window, up…up…into the sky.

Unknown time/distance lapse for typing SOUND FX of
'Great American Novel' sequel.

From previous downtown office vibe (suggestive Midwest or further east, perhaps) to Northern Californian nouveau gentrified Oakland-proper-Berkeley. CORK CAM DRIFTS thru open window of charming bungalow-ette. PAST tie-dyed batik print haphazardly drafted for the reluctant role of window treatment.

Craftsman style, known for its many built-ins, makes for a proficient home office sketch of drunken doodling from a Lloyd Wright protégée's sketchpad. Or? Try lesser celebrated though no less cerebral Arts & Craft 'Moves'. THINK detached garage apartment in back of the Greene & Greene Thorsen House. Tarnished brass address number with a ½ tacked to it. Hum sweet home in a demi abode.

Vocal floor of hard wood planks drop creaky hints to refurbish. Requisite
Che Guevara poster on one wall. Requisite Angela Davis poster right on opposite wall for über-liberal overkill. Several post-consumer kraft boxes stacked high in background. Top box opened, exposing folded, organic, fair trade hemp. One apron unfolded with obscured logo - that fuzzy copyright technique for tees in music videos and Cops episodes.

CLOSE-UP on long, auburn, dread locks. Female, heavily freckled, marvels to be middle-aged hand (that "fifties-is-the-new-forties"- earned it/owning it –
mine-as-well-bring-on-sixty) comes into FRAME. Hand with bohemian cocktail ring pulls red dreads back into ponytail. Once dreads are off her neck, spot a Chinese letter/character tattooed on her freckled shoulder. PULL BACK to view back of woman, seated at desk. Posture like a garment on a Merce Cunningham hanger. Arms – Pilates taught, here and forgivingly fleshy, there - wearing a camisole tee in the same eco fabric as cryptic aprons.

Chinese toddler wanders by, bout three-years-old, wearing cornrows though her hair is comically too thin to hold them as well the red-dreaded woman. CLOSE-UP on hand of woman. Condition of cuticles unappreciative of the limelight. Crosses over mouse pad - a replica of Into His Dark Heart, Shag Art by Josh Agle, from his "Greetings From The Soul Patch Collection," 2003:,+josh+agle,+into+his+dark+heart&source=bl&ots=JI1XZtp4x1&sig=y27Vcrd-W6tN9FfOsgJybj3N1f4&hl=en&ei=F2QFTOjuJI6sNqO57Ts&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=9&ved=0CDQQ6AEwCA#v=onepage&q&f=false",+josh+agle,+into+his+dark+heart&source=bl&ots=JI1XZtp4x1&sig=y27Vcrd-W6tN9FfOsgJybj3N1f4&hl=en&ei=F2QFTOjuJI6sNqO57Ts&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=9&ved=0CDQQ6AEwCA#v=onepage&q&f=false



FOLLOW hand with ring as it absent-mindedly tickles the tummy of little girl.
Crossword from The Nation .magazine lies open, on top of the mouse. Couplet in Deadline Poetry induces chuckling as magazine gets tossed to the side.

*must subscribe to play Progressives' Scrabble * HYPERLINK ""
Time 12:32 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Oh, and speaking of free clinic pamphlets, eh-hem: My name is
EdgeOfNot and I have BVS.



French-manicured hand twirls another olive before tossing it back in the plastic container. Licking finger. Her other hand remains poised for keyboard punditry…

Time 12:44 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Hiii, EdgeofNot.




Time 12:46 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Bump No! Hiii, EdgeOfNot.


Time 12:52 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
And speaking of battery, make the woman vulnerable to give her some depth but keep the character assertive for our respect. Syrah is a strong woman, not The Indomitable Snow Sistah. That balance ain't so hard to grasp, TPTB. Bump forBronzestein. She had the
Rosh Hashana entrée down!! Now that was some must-see-Tivo! Complex yet satisfying as a 'Sonapy' vintage.




Time 1:02 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
If TPTB's intention is to keep me ROTFLMAO, not with, but at P, stop passing it off as daytime drama and call it a sit-com. Or better yet, a reality show since they're supposedly UNSCRIPTED. C'mon now, Chrys.




Time 1:09 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
And for the record, it now and eve shall be plural. What?! Is an abbreviated title supposed to bring in more viewers? Something so 'hip' about the singular? Really? My mother watched PAIRINGS. My grandmother too. That S is one of the few things working for the show. Watching PAIR is how my grandmother & great aunt improved their English.




Time 1:15 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
That abandoned S is enough to make one contemplate the tattoo parlor (when inebriated).




Time 1:22 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Ho just got that daytime Emmy nod proving she's enough of an actress to carry an honest examination of what it might really mean to experience a monumental trauma like...oh, say, losing one's sight! WTF! Not one scene of Syrah stumbling around in the dark? No hint of anger? Faye Dunaway as Joan had more beef with wire hangers than Syrah has with her blindness. Instead of tastings with Barry-White-Wine, she needs to throw that glass and let the shards fall where they may. But "Sho' ya WRONG." The best Chrys Hãck has in his arsenal is wine and cheese as usual. RME (since they won't let Ho).




Time 1:30 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
ICAM. How much more patronizing can TIIC be? Manipulating Syrah's blindness as a plot point so Nikos can redeem himself as quasi-heroic is a new low. Even for P. You'd think with that initial, they'd avoid excrement. Our Syrah, the one we know (when D. Bronze writes her), might even push away Nikos for the time being. Instead, Chrys&Crew make Syrah into Supa Sniff on Nikos' arms. Ni-ice though they may be. But we'd actually empathize with her FOR this very struggle – prioritizing her own needs for once and having to redefine her independence in the world. Or at least wine country, anyway. But no-o: Pen as hound & ink as hose. Water our girl down. Sprayed all up against the narrative wall; keep her in her place. To get with Nikos?! Nikos, now - the underwear model for nepotism. Hmph, as gooood as he looks on her arm, she needs a cane! And dare I utter the forty acres & a white mule in the room? The real reason Nikos is so 'available' is cause Brie ain't.

Time 1:32 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
ITA. When will Brie regain her memory?




Time 1:39 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
After Twyla renews her contract.




Time 1:44 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
HOPE, where've you been?



Tight CLOSE-UP on only a slowly-turned-up, sheepish grin of
African-American male. Lips stay shut though one corner turns up SLOW.

Time 1:50 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Been wondering why Wilhelmina hasn't changed her last name. Entertainers change their names all the time. For a while there, Prince and Puffy did so every spring. And she's married now anyway. Why not take his name and squash the ridicule? Women give much 'titude to the bitch/ho lexicon so why invite it in the public eye? Might be advantageous for video work but Wilhelmina has class; she's starred in
Lifetime movies. Hallmark channel too.




Time 1:59 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Her grandmother's Hawai'ian. Apparently some cousin of the late Don Ho. Played back-up ukulele on TINY BUBBLES. I respect her keepin' it real. Hey, if my maiden name was Skeeze, and I came from some musical, illustrious Island family, I'd keep it too.




Time 2:08 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Black Hawai'ian playing Black Canadian. What does PAIRINGS have…




I belong to a wine and cheese



Time 2:08 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
… PAIRINGS have against sistahs in contiguous states? Low blow to
the lower 48. Guess ya gotta be abroad for homegrown negro to seem 'novel' .






MistaEddy'sFatha's hands freeze on keyboard just as lounge jazz screeches to a halt. Cursor blinks. BEAT. And blinks. MistaEddyFatha's hands make tight fists. PULL BACK to spy 'Kool-Aid' leaning over MistaEddy'sFatha's shoulder.


MistaEddy'sFatha REVEALED: Filipino woman, forties-central. Straight down the decade's middle though you'd only guess under harsher light. Now, style? To spare. Loitering thru the Looking Glass where elegant reflects eccentric. Nearly the cosmic stuff of fashion iconography. Never trendy; always forward absent any following. Elaborating at this early juncture in our tale would constitute… digression.

Unveil more of her 'post' cubicle. Office redux where gerbil-maze desks were just swapped out for chic suites. Office mates at The Table to spur intimacy of ideas and company camaraderie. Origami chandeliers and open shelving – transparency. IKEA produced haiku of mass design. Muzak smooth jazz MEETS soft rock in surround sound. Toss in the afternoon fruit plate. Always white grapes – conventionally grown. Aesthetic playing on the base senses - to lull one into a false sense of job satisfaction. Generally works too. On the new guy. Then the next new and the next. Fresh blood. A space appeasing like a tourniquet wrapping broken skin over bruised bone atop high turn-over arteries. Productivity clotting until the middle management placebo or entrepreneurial cure.

Ice Castles. 1978 movie poster as screensaver. Image of
Lexi & Nick dwarfs her 8x10 with family/Pacific Rim friends. Two additional photos in a teak double frame, 5x7: Winter Olympic podiums a decade apart. Spandex/nylon blend with teeny Starred N Striped sequins along collar and wrist. Borders - all sparkly. Descendent of China after the new millennium. Descendent of Japan just before. Michelle Kwan more recently crowned than Kristi Yamaguchi. Accolades on a non-cubicle's wall of fame. Higher props bestowed by MistaEddy'sFatha than upon cereal boxes, soda cans, or 'swoosh' sneakers to burn off sugary consumption. Endorsements for gold. Like the jangle of that shiny brass bell round Billy D.'s neck. Potent notes – in that most minor of deafening keys, Jingoism. Jingle written, composed, performed for the ice champ debonair goat tramp hawking soap.

REVEAL 'Kool-Aid', red-headed Irish-American yet possessing some peculiar, cultured shades of WASP aspirations. Signifier of his fifth decade's dawn? Few strands yet to stray in temples tempting grey – dyed to match a hairline yet to recede. Looks like he belongs over on NBC TBS as a cross between
Conan O'Brian and a lost cast member of The Office. Albeit more of your supercilious, foodie-type kinda metrosexual.
A look less global than the brand new Cooking Channel. Unless Euro (the identity, not the currency) is as retro as a Gen Y hipster watching Galloping Gourmet re-reruns thru cat-eye frames. Not black rims though – cobalt blue.

ENTER Kool-Aid. Too GQ to host a Food Network deviled egg exposé. Unless something about the rote yokes was a smidge more edibly urbane. A twist, like...say, tapenade:"

A cynicism born of foiled plans to poach the pear in red wine. Fruit purchased green at farmers market and encouraged to ripen nigh russet gold. Mauviel copper sauté pan as party tent atop the rumba of an indigo ring on gas stove's
front-and-center burner. Pear peeled with stem erect. Alas, a fatal bruise too camouflaged to signal the rotten pit. At least? Pour a glass. Though no, not to be either. Not with a bottle 'corked' - like the spoiled pear.

Yep, MEET Kool-Aid: Earl of Almost.



Intro to our contentiously flirtatious 'unduo'. Spearing forked tongue foreplay.
Rapid fire wordage. Robert Altman over-lapping dialogue MEETS the archetypically hip as flip, Carry Grant & Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday.

*entire classic film free & JUST A CLICK AWAY*

I just thought...

Don't do that.

Ask you out?

That other disturbing thing you do.

That would be?

Think...out-loud...or drink in
public...or read off a disgruntled
co-worker's monitor. If we could
mind our own business, I could
stop calling you, 'Kool-Aid'. We
could stop talking at all. Try only
reading e-mails from upstairs and
from your former Soviet Union,
mail-order fiancée.

Just thought we might...

MistaEddy'sFatha's chair swivels round to face her interruption – directly.

Might what?

Have something in common.

We both loathe working here.

And I love a peppery syrah.

I did too.

Shame they're harder to find.

Shame I didn't indulge more.
Before AA.

Kool-Aid's week-old 'man' mani points at the screen, confused. MistaEddy'sFatha glances back over her shoulder at monitor. BEAT. She holds – still considering whether or not to indulge 'Kool Aid'. Hmm. Nother BEAT:

Syrah is the bi-racial…well,
bi-cultural too, I guess. However
different black Canadians are
from black Amer…

African-Americans. Shouldn't
you say…

No, I shouldn't.


are actual African immigrants.
Syrah was raised in Ontario.
And I wouldn't get so
sanctimonious about
"African-American". Notice how
they tend to switch up to new title
every couple of decades anyway.

Like say…Prince or…that
Sean Combs. Is he Puffed again?

Like shying away from calling a
kabinett by its rightful name. And
assuming spätlese is superior.

Can basically be a spätlese.

While all the while kabinetts go
underappreciated. What makes
riesling a fine wine is widely

Analogy approved. Syrah? The
character not the cabernet. She's
the sudden half-sister to Brie and
Gouda. Gouda's The Wicked
Witch while Brie? Goody Glenda.
Or was before the amnesia. I
mean, um...coma.'re
looking lost, Kool-Aid. Please
keep up. So Gouda tried to off

(ineffectual p. c. whisper)
...because she's black.

Cause she can smell.

She smells?

MistaEddy'sFatha raises her arm slightly and facetiously fans her armpit. Searches her desk, exasperated before picking up her anti-plural PAIRINGS glass. Swirls it SLOW MO – round n round. Dips her wide nose in the rim, pretending to relish the bouquet. Eyes close SLOW until they pop! open into a long, locked gaze with Sir Kool-Aid. Speech, once more, off and running…

The Frommage family…

Oh…so why its spelled with two m's.

They make this blue ribbon,
boutique, gourmet cheese...

Artisan cheese, you mean.

I mean, Alex Trebeck, the best
cheese in Sonapy Valley or all of
TV land for that matter. Made
Ms. Gouda's plan backfire like a
gardener's pick-up truck. So
Gouda grows more incensed as
Syrah's senses only heighten.
And it doesn't help that Nikos
comes to Syrah's rescue...Yeah,
rescuing a woman who needs
saving like another hole in her
head. Oh yeah, and don't forget
Brie...though the writers have.

Who's Nikos?

Nikos Andrippos...of Andrippos

And Gouda wants Nikos?

Gouda wants power. And that
means a Vintniere…from her POV.

A vintner?

No. Well...yes.

'Kool-Aid' - split-second timing - holds a hand in front of his face, forms a 'glass' and tips it back and forth towards his lips with Stephen Colbertic eyebrows raised. 'Mista', perturbed, practically reaching lightening speed now. THINK audio
fast-forwarding of His Girl Friday:

They don't call it 'cheese' country.
So yes, she wants one of the
Frommage women to snare a

(Preferably herself.)

But not just any vintner in the
valley. The Vintnieres, an actual
family, the ruling family of Sonapy
complete with its matriarch,
S'Helena Vintniere – the grande
dame of diva-dom...and...her
brood: Barolo, the first-born
who...uh....broods. I mean it, that's
all he does – brood. But not the

Twins. Naturally.

Francessca and Francisco. But not
identical like the usual soap fare.
Like Brenda and Brandon.


Vintnieres? Easily roll n smoke the

The Waltons lived on a mountain,
not some Beverly-ed hill.

Walshhhhh. Like uh...mouth... there's Frankie
and Cisco...

…Catchy nicknames on the
menu, obscuring ethnicity.
'Freedom fries' – check.

And then...that Zin...

Zin? California varietal or Zen like,
"Confucius say...?"

That would be Zen Buddhism.
Don't think there's a
Zen Confucianism but new
religions crop up everyday. Just
takes someone who gets "word"
from On High. Take notes on
papyrus, find some followers
and…bouncing baby Faith!
Divine text weighing in at
7 pounds, 8 ounces A.D.

Military-polished shoe steps back mechanically. Another step, dusting off his shoulders:

That should leave enough space
to spare my lapels once the
lightening strikes.

If Zin was in a certain radius of
Eastern or Western holy water, it
would boil.

Not ferment – a vintner? Boiling
water can take more than a notion
for the uninitiated. There's your
poached egg H2O. Or
"like water for chocolate"?

Oooh, Netflix must.

Never catch it on cable.


You. You…uh…?

Z -"I"-N – as in Zinfandel. And he
is the nephew in the closet..

...or decanter.

Though nix "da funk". Not exactly
rabbinical leader of song.

Wait...if this Nikos is in olives...

In olives? Of olives! The... the olive
of olives, my lil' gastronome.
Andrippos Olive Oil? How do you
say...? More...first days of
Fine Living. Less present line-up of
Food Network.

That new Cooking Channel?

Too new to be referential but…
shows promise…the kind network
will blanche and drain.
Advertising angst: Will provolone
play in Peoria?

So…Martha or Bravo?

Ay, Madame Stewart. As for
Bravo? Maybe pre-reality. More
hag than 'housewife'.

PBS then?

Sponsoring Jacques & Julia –PBS.
Your four-digit-donor crowd - PBS.

Still don't get the conflict with this
KOOL-AID (cont'd)
Syrah? It's...the black thing...isn't

Nikos sees straight thru Gouda...

Actually, the Swiss varieties are
known more for the holes.

Now, now, neutrality is not some
gap in foreign policy.

Not their diplomacy. The dairy.

Was I even talking about exports
from the Alps?! Gouda is the
default diva of Sonapy.


Besides, who says cheese 'hole'?!
The proper term is 'eye'.

Downloaded smiley rolling eyes round the full circumference of it sunny bald spot.

That, right there!

What, right where?

Just that! The simple act, not
thought, mind you, but
non-verbal, universal gesture of
sarcasm…Ol' Bleu Eyes…That
move may've jarred the right
foodie lingo. An ode to your
silence. Shame...Where was...I?

Slice of Gouda. Non holes. But
then back to holes – in the black

Though not Noir. There is a
Pinot…Zin's father…but he's MIA.

Cellar is incomplete without a
geographic spattering of Pinot.

Burgundy region and then

But you say he's missing in action?

Missing in apathy. Unlike Nikos
who's all about family. His own
and Frommage females. Sees
straight thru Ms. Gouda. Gouda
knows this...sorta. In Gouda's
world...and…PAIRINGS is just
that - all hers. Albeit an
insufficient backdrop for the
totality of her machinations…

Site title had PAIRING singular.

Do. Powder the nose of your
ignorance. It shines so.
PAIRINGSzzz is Gouda's world.
And in the vastness of her ego's
universe, reading her is almost as
unforgivable as the fact that he's
never come on to her. Brie is
Nikos' heart...despite the writers
sharing her amnesia.

Thought it was a coma?

Brie ain't right. Okay? Currently.
Till her contract is settled.

Has to be under contract to be

How these things work; I don't
make the rules.

Just condone them. Complicit - an

'After the fact' accessory?
Clutch bag, tote or hobo?

A web forum for a cork opera™.
Hmm. Two apply. Interchangeably
defining the disgruntled viewer –
who stays tuned. The hobo is wiser.

Twyla – that's the actress. Could
wind up laying there for two…
three seasons or until they just
give up, move on, and recast.

So she's benched.
Good summary. Not sure if there
could ever be one for the
quandary that is Gouda Frommage.
See…issues galore. Syrah came to
town and inadvertently came into
Gouda's inheritance. Syrah is
daddy's guilt while Brie is daddy's
girl and Gouda's…well...Gouda.

And Father Frommage? Wait,
don't tell me: His name would

But you say it all wrong. Not just
"blue". Like the school, Cordon.

"E" before "U". Got it.

When you just say, Blue…like

Like what? That's his name.

But when you say it all…flat like
that? I find your tone dismissive.
Not "blue" like last year's pair of
jeans or...

(under breath)
...or a lesser Picasso...

...or a Matisse...nude...or...your
great aunt's hair rinse circa '75.
Bleu. Watch my lips: Bleu...with a
distinct French accent. Thought
you'd have some...appreciation.

Bien sûr.

Nikos is just a bit too familiar: yet
another man who favors Brie and
has the unmitigated gall not to
want her behind...and to add diss
to dismay...

...wants Syrah.

Speech still a notable speed yet somehow slower – every, other phrase punctuated with some hints or notes. Innuendo of wine enthusiasts lip-smacking subtleties upon a sniff.

I need a

We just spent the last few minutes
of my life...minutes that I can
never an actual
discourse about some...
cork opera™?!

No, my wine country family

You! You're on some cork opera™
website. Thought romance gave
you a rash.

Kool-Aid nods towards the PAIRINGS mug. Contradictory caffeine. Transparent thru steamed-up glass.

No...that would be the prescription
cream in your medicine cabinet.

I...I might actually think less of you.

Because of your cooties?

Because it's tacky.

(sighing so)
Certain aspects of society just are.
Take pop culture. By its very
nature...Culture which is most
popular? That with widest mass
appeal? For the most part? Tacky.


It's inescapable. The French
consider Jerry Lewis a scholar.

Nutty Professor. Convincing.

Inducted into their
Legion of Honor.

The telethons are commendable.
We should all be so committed to
a cause.

Their dap is for his comic genius.

Then that calls for a marathon of
classic Martin & Dean reels. I
mean…if the French think…their
palate is second to none. They
gave the world wine and cheese.
And U.S. jazz musicians.

Ouch, New Orleans. Everything
else taken. Let them keep the

But France recognized the artistry.

And the exotic. (Orientalism can
cut some rug.)

Long before they could dine here
in the same supper clubs where
they improvised. It was Paris who
revered them.

And back to my point: taste
amounts to? Nothing.

Or…it is nothing if not
idiosyncratic. Wine. What word
follows "wine" the most? Not "notes"
so much as "tasting."

Or "and cheese". Just the dairy
though at AA.


Don't. You've got something
there. At meetings? What we're
all really thinking. Sipping our
stale coffee. Fingers twirling
month or year sobriety chips.
Wishing the tannins weren't
from caffeine…Acidity need not
be so…bitter to swallow. Did
that make sense?

The most thus far.

Should have…a certain…strength.

A certain…bite.

Ah…tastings. A dry red? Ha!
"How dry I am." Hence…we
await that exalted day when
PAIRINGS has been syndicated
abroad long enough to tap into
something – that thing - beyond
domestic whims. Its story lines –
perceived as illustrious…

Don't lose it. Please. Ill-equipped
for any breakdown but my own.

Dissected in international lecture
halls. Doctorial candidates
debating the characters'
modus operandi. This day? Oh, it
shall come, Kool-Aid. Until then…
as for moi? Tacky TV. Vous?
Women in acrylic platforms.

Does Manolo make a clear heel?

Morning wood.

Double entendre.

How so?

Your meaning. My alleged
arousal or vin metaphor for too
much oak?

Snaps. (Would that it were

It's just…iceberg lettuce.
Diligent chats with losers on-line?
And from what I read, you don't
particularly like the show so your
loyalty is that much more

Provincial? As in simple, n'est pas?


Hey, one gal's provincial is another
hag's austere. Your average date
hails from the world's oldest
profession. My choice of
entertainment not only includes
the word, "opera" but happens to
be the very origin of every literary
Pray-tell but please don't
elaborate past reason. I'm prone
to bull%$@#-induced narcolepsy.

Vengeful God of the
Old Testament? Twins switched at
birth and star-crossed loves of
Shakespeare? And he adapted
Greek mythology. If the exploits of
Mount Olympus or the underworld
ain't a cork opera™, then what is?
Only difference is all those tales...
myths...legends...parables, if you
will? They all end. Mine are
decades old yet new everyday.
You take any human being,
anywhere on the planet and you
plop a campfire in front of them.
A radio. TV set. Now the net.
Demographic or nation's tech be
damned. They'll all long for the
same thing: stories.

Oh well. At the root of your
sarcasm, I'd always hoped lay a
certain...I don't know...

(No. You don't.)

I guess a kinda...kindred...


'Kool-Aid' shrugs. Clumsy shoulders under a starched, striped button-down.

Impressively maintains intense eye-contact. Loaded silence speaks louder than their witty repartee.

[MISTAEDDY'SFATHA] (cont'd) our banter
or need I divulge some of my
other pleasures...of the guilty
variety? Or might you be just
disappointed enough to crawl
back to your country club cubicle
perch over there and sip from
your Red Sox's mug? Guess
Fenway serves a peppery Syrah
these days.

Glass from Anderson Valley.

Keeping Sonapy honest.

More floral than I prefer. Nose?
Was a…faint whiff of garden.
Not too much…nor too little…

Yeah, yeah - just right,
Goldie Snout.

To your Bear the Third.

Third Grizzly or Panda? Cause
uh…Panda? Me? "Soft bigotry"
of Archie's arm chair.

You get to misquote a Bush Admin
speechwriter while simultaneously
forcing me into a bear cave corner.

Grizzly has gone the way of
Palin speak.

I can't win.

Good thing you're the kind of
sports fan who's used to

Like that Syrah…Madame Koala.
Aroma was a…warm breeze…
Late summer flower, not spring so
not so perfume-ey. One wouldn't
have anticipated that much petal
on the mid palate. Yet? So it was.

Eyes drifting to the figure skater in dark wash Eighties' denim. A lift captured in mid air. Lustrous hair flowing with an abandon to read the action as spontaneous - on a movie promo poster. Ice Castles screensaver FADES TO BLACK.

Can't…forget the flowers.

My team? Champions; we finally

But you never thought you would,
did you? Yet…you remained loyal.

We were cursed.

Were you? Were you really? Or
was it just bad management and
poor players?

It was a curse!

If not incompetence, something…
something beyond reason made
you believe in that team. Cuts me
deep to see this mockery made of
PAIRINGS former glory. Those
damn suits wouldn't know a good
cork op™ if it "shot their eye out"
New Year's Eve. But it's on them!
Not the show. Just bad writing
and poor acting. (The lighting
doesn't help much.) Yet and still?
There's hope.

Springs ephemeral.

Eternal. According to Al Pope.

I was being...

Kool-Aid. But Hope? No hope
and die-hard fans of losing


Well, we've got Danielle!
And the days Bronzenstein writes?
Enough to restore our faith and get
us thru the week. So if your team
can break its spell, P is but a...a...
Phoenix. That's right, not unlike
Merlot sales after the flic, Sideways.
Can take years to recover and meet
with good favor…

…or flavor.

I'm long haul - vine to wine. I don't
quit. (Why my sobriety seems so
counterintuitive.) Wine country?
Weathered brush fires before. We
are that Phoenix who will...must
rise from the network's ashes.





Decked halls, wall-to-wall red roses. A veritable carpet of petals. Zin stands proud of his presentation. Glyn Ellen gazes most appreciatively in her spa-stolen robe. Center left of her twenties, Glyn Ellen's smile lights up an endearing face complete with Hasidic nose and unruly mane of brunette waves in a wind swell.

All for you but all? It's just not
enough for you. Is there? Will
there ever be enough to express...
how you take my breath?

GLYN ELLEN are the best thing that
has or ever will happen to me.

They kiss. (SOAP)CLOSE on Glyn Ellen in pheromone-ed euphoria. (SOAP)CLOSE on Zin's sinus-stuffed ennui.

GLYN ELLEN (cont'd)
You've been so patient, Zin. In
every way. Without you...I would
never have trusted myself enough
to stop holding on to this
destructive myth of a happy
childhood. But and
Dr. Shapiro would not give up on
me. You insisted that I face the
truth...buried too deep for even
memories. My truth. That I...

Don't do this to yourself,
Glyn Ellen.

I want to. I must claim it.
You've made me strong enough to
admit that I was...

No, don't...


And we won't make love until it
will feel like love for both of us. I
don't care how long it takes.

But I do. I want...


I want to give myself to

But our marriage will be beyond
physical. Don't get yourself
worked up, Glyn Ellen, over
something that doesn't matter to
me as much You know
what Shapiro said about
upsetting yourself.

You love me so much but you
also have...needs. Zin, you're a
man and we can't deny what
should come so natural.

Glyn Ellen kisses Zin's neck, delicate pecks tentatively descending past his collar bone. Wand of blown bubbles evaporating on skin impervious. CLOSE on Zin's facial mêlée with an obstinate yawn. Zin PAUSES in the midst of lips still wrestling with the universal reflex of twice-dipped boredom. Pulls Glyn Ellen back by her shoulders – massaging. Takes both of her hands in his.

CLOSE on intertwined fingers:
I...just need to hold you.

Glyn Ellen, flattered and reconciled to an unfulfilled embrace. Zin sighs relief.




Make your hooves happy with...
So-na -a-appy!

PULL BACK to reveal commercial playing on flat screen, above fireplace:




Commercial IN PROGRESS. PULL BACK more. Tall, sterile white walls give that newly-built-just-moved-in-decorated-by-numbers kinda feel. When contractor/builder fails to consult even rudimentary principles of interior design resulting in ubiquitous construction restricting substantial décor. A detectable cosmopolitan air, rest assured. Or at least an evident attempt. Nonetheless wanting. Lacking that je ne sais quoi that gives a room a quantifiable aesthetic arc. Oomph, if you will. Leaves one longing for a special appearance by that controversially eliminated third or fourth place finalist from an HGTV contest. Could not go the distance? Probably so. Remiss, however, and shamefully so, to dismiss an amateur of such distinction. He/she knew: rooms - like wine – matter when remembered.

Framed pictorial of career highlights only evident personal décor. Team name prominent in photos: the COLORADO SPRING SPOOKS. Other photos/clippings of Winter Olympic podium. REVEAL RyansHopeTo: African-American male in same still photos laid up on an imposing, leather sectional that Bogarts the farthest wall of the great room. Traces barely left of his twenties, football physique, leg brace from thigh to shin. Wearing threadbare team jersey reading: RYAN, 69.

Standing next to breakfast bar in great room, Lichtenstein woman, organic blonde, 1988 Olympic bronze medalist figure skater-turned pro. Inching into forty with the athletic grace inimitable to her judged sport. German accent with that much-traveled/well-schooled-multi-lingual-lifestyle-of-holidays-spent-interchangeably-in-Aspen-or-St.Moritz. That kinda dialect – layers of locale.

We still need to talk.

RyansHopeTo glares at Hildegard before returning attention to flat screen.
Hildegard takes a deep breath - the kind of breath to keep one's cool when it's hardest. Tapping her fingers on bar's limestone and gritting her
expresso shot-stained teeth. Takes another breath before speaking:

HILDEGARD (cont'd)
To...with each other. You
weren't here this much even in
the off-season but neither was I.
Home is hard for both of us but
since we're
"Seventy percent of success in
life is showing up."
With...uh...Soon-Yi? You really
think quoting Woody Allen for
marital advise is wise?

Hildegard holds her tongue but not her arm. Tosses an ice-pack towards him with a little too much force. From the couch, RyansHopeTo's arm is raised in that impressive 'goes long' stance to catch the coldest rocks.

[RYANSHOPETO] (cont'd)
Danke schoen.

RyansHopeTo places NASA-esque 'ice-pack' on his knee. Less frozen solid than mystery goo. No cubes crumbling beneath the plastic like a glacier crashing in a warmed climate. Just some plasma – that numbs. ON Ryan, horse blinder-ed.

Oh, excuse me. PAIRINGS.
(God forbid the state of our 'union'
pre-empts your cork opera™.)

A vase with water past due. Red Gerbera daisies – Provençal Peoria. Stems sturdy threatened by water murky. NEXT TO work-out bag. TIGHT on scrolled embroidery:

Sonapy Valley Goat Milk Yogurt Presents Cirque du Verglas.

EXIT Hildegard, hastily grabbing her bag. SOUND FX of door slam.

PAUSE just outside the door, expressionless. Turns round. BEAT. CLOSE on door as her left hand with wedding band comes INTO FRAME. Pained, her palm remains pressed to the door. Hand slowly balls into a fist with tension visible in white knuckles – snow capped mountains before the avalanche.

DISSOLVE to RyansHopeTo's hand donning a Super Bowl ring. Picks up lap-top and struggles to adjust it comfortably on his compromised, braced leg. Once on, quick trip to PAIRING homepage.

Finger right clicks PUNCHES! Message Board.



Log in:




Topics Posted by Replies Last post

We forgot about the flowers MistaEddy'sFatha 20 June 22@2:08 PM

Anxious right click:
We forgot about the flowers

Lounge jazz ventures farther south for a bit of bossa nova flavor.

Following commentary sure could use a BEAT. Something… swanky. Say, like background music to…eh, how about…Rock Hudson/Doris Day, three-martini-lunch, lovers' quarrel?



Time 3:15 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Damn! Let Da Gouda do what she does best. Push that boy out the closet already! Let it all hang out! Please! Initially, I wasn't so down for some BROKEBACK PAIR bidness, but now? I got Chrys to have Danny write Gouda outin' Zin. Just let the yucca chips fry where they may. Let that poor gal, Glynn Ellen move on.



Time 3:22 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Poor girl: spelled p-i-t-i-FOOL.


Time 3:31 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
LOL. With initials like G.E., homegirl's bulb needs a higher wattage.


Time 3:38 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Yet lest one fail to give credit when due. Dap for PAIR is so rare but hey, I LIKE that Zin is (beg your pardon, Van Peebles) "sweet bad a$$". Like a wine should finish. TPTB usually feel the need to pose p. c. for we, the under-entertained. Lest we forget: this is a cork opera™. Any minority too upright = airtime outta sight. For their limited capacities, p. c. translates as wooden. Hell, even Pinocchio got real. Down low? Works for the show. Sly notes give a wine dimension. Once past the mid? Should sneak up on the palate. Clarity may be ideal in a glass of Zin. But this is S'Helena's nephew. Duplicity makes for delicious drama. Out him? He goes from bottle shock to Bland Land.



Time 3:41 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
LOL. True dat/ICAM.



Time 3:42 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Isaac Who?


Time 3:45 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
From THE LOVE BOAT. How many seasons was he 'aboard' and not one episode with genuine, romantic chemistry? Look! Lola Falana on the Lido deck! Meant Isaac MIGHT get some. Fast forward two seasons: Look! Jane Kennedy in the Acapulco lounge! Only two blacks in the bar so it doesn't even matter that TIIC had my man dressed like a damn pirate?! Shout-out for syndication, for granted, as a young, nappy, whippersnapper, late-night re-runs of those ladies endeared them to me. Ah, my firsts! The first ladies I fondly remember...saluting, if you will. Them and JET Centerfolds. I'd like to think their screen presence - though media minutia - made an invaluable contribution to the man I try to be today. Mad props to the dearly departed, but what the late Aaron Spelling allowed his writers to do with Ted Lange's portrayal of Isaac Washington was truly no less than negligence for even fluff broadcasting has standards. I mean, c'mon, now! Show was called LOVE BOAT and he was the bartender, of all things – c'mon, the conduit to alcohol ON A CRUISE?! At the very least, on land, bartenders get de facto play. And Isaac was the brother in a fly-a$$ 'fro while Doc, in thick glasses and white postal-worker Bermudas, was written all mac daddy?! I only ask why?




Freckled fingers, agitated, twisting her ring back and forth. Boho cocktail ring taking up two fingers: Janis Joplin meets gossip girl bobble. Seemingly inspired, fingers suddenly stop twisting semi-precious jewel and return to keyboard.
Time 3:58 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Excuse me for not typing sooner. My fingers were busy on the violin accompanying HOPE in the key of WTF minor. Thanks for sharing, man, and waxing poetic about adolescent wood.


Time 4:02 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
No hating here. We post in peace.


Time 4:08 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
'We' post TMI and yet I'll rescind my diss and offer you a bump.


Time 4:14 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
I see your bump and I'll raise you a bump.
Time 4:18 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
O-tay...barkeep? 'Sledge' hammers all around. FACT: Zin is written better wuv scenes NOW (at least full chest) conniving his way out of goo-goo-eyed Glynn-EEE's bed than he'll ever get once out the closet on network. Issac-ed! Mark my words.



Time 4:22 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
I'll mark any words Chryeus-A-E-I-O-U-tienne hasn't phoned in. Whups, my bad. Seems like I read in a back issue of corkoperadigest that he doesn'teven live in California.



Time 4:29 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Nope. Vegas, baby!


Time 4:32 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Guess that means (cough, cough) Chrys literally phones/faxes it in. What's written in Vegas should keep its a$$ in Vegas.



Time 4:34 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
LMHO. And the best Vegas can do by P…with an "S" - is some sommelier with a cold at Bellagio.



Time 4:39 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Bellagio has not one but four Master Sommeliers. Enough for Hubbãrd to fake the funk. Funny how expertise makes the best fiction.



Time 4:43 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
LMAO now. Has he even been to 'Napy? I mean, this ain't
Lucy & Ethyl stompin' on grapes here. Can Chrys tell a wine barrel from a Calistoga mud bath?


Time 4:48 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
This 'couple' just feels like a waste of air-time. Don't they bother to read the cod polls? TIIC clearly ain't deep enough for some new-age-beyond-borders-platonic WILL&GRACE quasi-supercouple so just
MOVE-ON-DOT-ORG. The affection Will had for his hag was sincere.



Time 4:54 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Couldn't watch that show consistent like. Had to be in a mood to watch Rosie gettin' dissed by the minute. Like Benson before her, when will TPTB learn: BoldNotBeautiful domestics poppin' yang in tennis match wise cracks can't level the game like actually playing? Wise cracks ain't racquets.

Time 4:59 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Wise cracks ARE the racket.



Time 5:07 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Bump but my BVS-behind watched and Will WAS Isaac-ed. Missed the one where Will blackmails Grace's shrink into implanting repressed memories of 'the abuse that wasn't.' Now, Karen might've gone there but only to make Jack laugh.


Time 5:12 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Hate to go here but Cliff&Claire became THE capital P supercouple of all time and we all know their sorted past.


Time 5:16 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Hey now, back up off C&C!!!!!


Time 5:19 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Cool your jets, Daddy, with the exclamation points before we get all bold and italicized up in here.


Time 5:23 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Shouldn't he be a contract player first? How much can they do with Zin anyway if he's still recurring status?


Time 5:25 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
SIGH…Sounds like the NFL.

Time 5:34 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Like Rosencrantz & Guildenstern, supercouples are DEAD. If "Video killed the radio star", then TiVo killed the supercouple. PAIR Cliff&Claire could only exist in the early 80's; half of VCRs were still Beta. 1981. C&C were married the same year as Princess Di. Viewership required special effort. Was 8-yrs-old and got up at the crack of dawn in SUMMERTIME just to watch royalty wed. C&C's wedding was later that fall. Should've been in school but the cork op™ gods saw fit that I had strep throat. Cliff&Claire was an event because people… STOPPED. That won't happen again. Combined with writers who have DROPPED the better tenets of the genre. Love stories need heated rocks down some/any kind of spine - backstory on slow burn. A barrel to age; a bottle that breathes. And THEN? An audience in awe. But you can't muster awe while multi-tasking. Moment of silence...


Time 5:35 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012


Time 5:35 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Bump squared.
Time 5:35 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Bump cubed.



Time 5:37 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
While we're on the bump…or the hustle…Guess samba may be the
'step du jour'. Thoughts on the new theme song? Dig Bossa Nova but I don't know if it works here. Like they're trying too hard to up the cool quotient.



Time 5:40 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Changed the name, well, its tense, anyway. Guess they thought tweaking the sound track would help. Like younger athletes. Speed over experience. Such details are aesthetic. And cool? That's jazz or wine. All about the notes. Not the font of the name or the bottle on the label. What's the shine worth off the brass of a trumpet if the playa can't blow?

Time 5:45 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Can't just go from Eighties' muzak to Bossa Nova swank and poof! Nouvelle vibe. Forgetting a few steps. Can't do that in salsa.



Time 5:47 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Oh, now, you can. Sure. Although…you'll fall right…on your a$$.




Too many wires in EdgeOfNot's power strip, making an inviting octopus for tiny, nosy hands. Just a bit of smoke rises from one wire. Broken ring of smoke rising up from one wire. SLOW. THINK shadow from glass cigarette tray in classic
film noir.

Cornrow-ed Claire's eyes light up. Meanwhile, ON a virtual EdgeOfNot –
e engaged. Face intent upon a pixilated screen with back to the inquisitive toddler.

TO Claire, on a pivot sideways – away from smoke. Distracted, perhaps, by the tippity-tap-tap-PAUSE-tap rhythm of keyboard. Lot like finger snap out of hypnotic state. Smoke…keystroke…

Leaving us in goose-bumped suspense, LENS chronicles the typing talk of fingers. FAST. As CORK CAM floats – SLOW - back up to desk, past the smoke puff,
and lands on/in computer monitor:

EdgeOfNot's back remains to the crawling toddler.

Leaving us in nail-bitten suspense, CORK CAM floats back up to desk and lands on/in computer monitor:



Time 5:59 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
SIGH...About that room though? Could it be more contrived? Inspired by the new theme jam? Cause a rose in the teeth is tango, not bossa. Failed the 'hip' factor. Looked like the battlefield for War of the Roses.


Time 6:13 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
LOL. Like "the little old lady from Pasadena" ran into a Rose Parade float.


Time 6:18 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Don't hate on the flowers now! That right there was
"looove in the afternoon."


Time 6:27 PM
SantaBarbarella Join date: 06.04.08
Posts: 3,012
Or facsimile thereof.

Time 6:39 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Ah-ight, ah-ight. Much love for P floral & set design.
PEE-RO-FESH-UN-ALS. Now, they do their job: let the petals speak and stay silent.




Spy Red Light flashing on SantaBarbarella's office phone. French manicured fingertip absent-mindedly presses Red button.


Red Light's curved acrylic nails - each a kaleidoscoped limb on a cherry tree. Posh plantation horticulture. George Washington hatchets by way of the Beatles detouring Richard Pryor: "Bustin Luce…in the sky with diamonds rubies".

Hypnotic fingernail presses speaker button as INTRO to Red Light's unapologetic, hyper-Ebonic tongue. {*Will we ever see her or shall Red Light remain that mysterious 'Charlian' voice a la Charlie's Angels?*}

Delphi on line two.

Thanks, Red.


SantaBarbarella's hands back on keyboard to log off. Back n forth betwixt flying fingers in SLOW MO a la Matrix, deftly striking a key to each letter as each appears on monitor. TIGHT on computer clock clearly reading 6:47 pm. Whilst logging off, two or three rose petals mysteriously fall from above. Nowhere near
American Beauty flic volume but same peculiar vibe. Floral snow drift remains unknown until we PAN-UP. Stunning dome bouquet of three-dozen red roses on SantaBarbarella's desk. Nestled inside the bouquet, a handwritten note reads:
After seven... ;) Love, Delphi.

Same bat time. Same bat channel.

SantaBarbarella's finger sweeps away a petal. Lands like a fragrant bookmark on an open page of Lies at the Alter…

Pressing Line 2.






Hand of MistaEddy'sFatha raising her PAIRINGS 'protest' mug just OFF-CAMERA for sip – seven seconds delayed. Other hand shuts a file drawer, turning a key in its lock. CLICK! Before closing the steel drawer, catch a glimpse of flask inside.

Lounge jazz seems to fade with clear liquid in cup.

One hand remains on keyboard. BEAT. Hard gulp. Irish coffee mug put down - missing half the company-embossed coaster like a partial lunar eclipse. Her other hand returns to comfort of keyboard.

Time 7:11 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Am I the only one who remembers that last scene, THE scene from
ICE CASTLES? Lexi wisely didn't want the whole joint knowing she was blind. She & Nick made sure every base was covered – as to appear sighted while skating. So every step counted. All's well...until the crowd's ovation…



Blinking curser. Feels like an eternity. Wrist with pearl TV test pattern bangle moves from her keyboard, past her glass cup to a file marked
"Confidential". File handed off to an unknown hand –
Black Panther gloved. MistaEddy'sFatha returns to more pertinent business – that of Message Board – ing. CLICK!


Time 7:15 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Eh-hem...they forgot about the flowers...




Rose 'garden' revisited. Even that debatable rosé, stem-free. Swirl n sip now resolves our query off-camera n off-line. Where life fears to tread and bashful wines do blush. Eerily reminiscent of previous episode of PAIRING scene in
SINGLE-CAMERA instead of the routine MULTI-CAMERA/VIDEOTAPE of all
P footage. A familiar bossa nova rhythm? Nah – couldn't be! REVEAL couple from office desk photo in Santorini. Now in boutique hotel suite – somewhere – stateside.

Delphi's speech a plantain-peeled Jamaican accent. Fried influence - that certain speech inflection of nouveau Americans educated but not born/raised stateside.

...and all for you but all? It's just
not enough. Is there? Will there
there ever be enough to express take my breath?

Delphi descends to one knee.



What the...What are you doing?

I just knew you'd like...

I know… you are not quoting...



You adore that show.

And deplore the dialogue. Oh!

But that Daniel Copperstein dude?

Danielle didn't write yesterday. And
that scene: Zin n Glyn?! Uh…

Uh, baby? I'm on bended knee.

SantaBarbarella nonchalantly kicks off her sample sale stilettos. Edgy 'notes' indict Catherine Malandrino. Bet they are from her line – last fall. But we can't see the label. In wine terms? FEELS like blind tasting fashion.

MistaEddy'sFatha VOICE-OVER continues as sole soundtrack to SantaBarbarella's action. MistaEddy'sFatha mini aria backed by harsh typing SOUND FX:



Time 7:20 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Flowers everywhere. Lexi trips. Only she's completely disoriented. Without her bearings, she freezes. Tries to rise again but sputters all over the ice. The crowd is hushed…


SantaBarbarella kneels but then, struggles a bit on both knees. She wobbles for a fleeting spell but is propped back up by his automatic hand. A reflex – quick as gallant.


Time 7:21 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Nick(as played by Bobby Benton).


Time 7:24 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Robby Benson.


Time 7:30 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Like he's on this board.


Time 7:35 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Just sayin.


Time 7:47 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Hey, now, you can't go and get all wistful, recitin' some memory and then get his name wrong. That's something Chrys would do in a
P script.

Time 7:56 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
Been done.

Time 8:04 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
So there's no "t". Is this a Scrabble board or message board?


Time 8:08 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
Just think, "BENSON", as in SOAP spin-off...Remember Kraus?

Time 8:15 PM
EDGEofnot Join date: 07.01.08
Posts: 2,209
At least she was German. Gave a little diversity to the whole of televised domestic demography.

Time 8:26 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
FYI: Lexi's still sprawled out on the Bens helps her up. And there they are: he's in these tired sneakers and she's on skates...and...those damn flowers…

SantaBarbarella's hand plucks one of the umpteenth, scattered, long-stemmed roses. Lifts it, noticing carpet – a shade of grey.

Time 8:27 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
...the roar of the crowd...and their cheesy song...



Time 8:29 PM
ryanshopeto Join date: 08.28.09
Posts: 1,969
My wife skated to that. First time I saw her…actually. Danced to it at our wedding.


Time 8:33 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
See? Just cause its cheesy, doesn't make it void of meaning. Winds up 'pairing' rather well. The melodrama counts for something. Don't hold your breath for a PAIRINGS scene of that caliber unless you carry a respirator.
Her nose to the petals, SantaBarbarella takes a sniff. Long.


Time 8:33 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
Remember the Afternoon Delight summer promo?
AFTERNOON TORMENT! Sole commonality? They always seem to forget the little things too. Just like PAIR…to the "S". Forgoing attention to detail inevitably busted Lexi out…



SantaBarbarella sits back on her bare heels. A pose relaxed to a mind pensive.


Time 8:34 PM
MistaEddy'sFatha Join date: 05.20.08
Posts: 3,650
...and spoiled everything for the skating judges and even the audience who could have both been far more fair with the façade.



SantaBarbarella's hand gently drops rose and takes Delphi's hand in hers as
the ice rink's cheering, although distant, nears a fevered pitch.

I love that you did this. That
you went to all this trouble.

SantaBarbarella's hand travels from the palm of Delphi's hand to his face. CLOSE on her hand pressed against the prickle of his five-o'clock-shadow.

But we don't have trouble, Delphi.
PAIRINGS? All drama and drama
means dysfunction. You know
what's up. And it can't be
brain-washed out of you by a rival
wine maker with ties to the
Black Hand in the old country.
And mother was long-lost.
I just don't think I'd finally find your bed. You won't...
switch a baby to keep me or...or
say you had a twin in Jamaica?
His sport of choice? More likely
bobsledding than blackmail.

Or badminton. Popularity's
increased back home.

And...okay…to avoid prosecution,
you won't fake your death.

A trite solution to any legal

See! It's...that show's my 'not so'
guilty pleasure.

SantaBarbarella's hand motions to the space between them.

There's no guilt here – at all. P?
PAIR…it's an escape. You and I have a

Bossa nova on MUTE. A poignant silence…

Our life. So "our life" would be
a...a yes?



But...I love it's an...
uh...a "What-I-want-more-is-to-
get-it-right." We haven't talked
about marriage. You obviously
thought about it and I have this? You
thinking I want something a
certain way but you'd know I
don't if we just...confer. Thank
you for all this. But I want...

I...I just wanted to...

To what?

Delphi takes a moment. Sheepish shrug. Fingers rolling a fallen petal. Velvety. Keeps his eyes on petal unfurling in lieu of MEETING SantaBarbarella's gaze.

I just wanted to...I don't know.
I guess…sweep you off your feet.

You...oh, they don't make em like
you! But the thing is, we are
making this up as we go. And
getting all...swept up and away?
I...I don't know about that. Not
at some key moment in my life. I
want...what's...real. I think I


Here...right in it, with you...present.
Like...I guess…solid, you know?

Delphi nods upon a half-hearted smile. Entirely unsure herself yet somehow encouraging, SantaBarbarella manages to nod too. A weak bob of chin – less affirmation than affection. Reaches out - for the rosé. Swirls…

Right...yeah, along with you.


[SANTABARBARELLA] talk. With me.

Glass passed betwixt two to share a sip.

At least we were spared this.


Toasting our engagement to a rosé.

We like rosé.

But you accepting a proposal to it?
I don't know. Seems more…
Salade Niçoise at a jazz festival.

Newport or Monterey?


Why is that?

What, baby?

That we both say it with surprise?

Don't know.

Just seems…I mean, if your pour
has earned its props and all?
Take cheese. Libel to think of a
foam head in Wisconsin before
Canada. How can that be?

Québec cuisine?! Can put the
'art' in 'tee-zzin-al'.

So French…though they're not.

Though they…are.

More French than Canadian…


Why do we forget about their rosé?

" 'Napy' Valley of the North."

Certain enclaves like that? So…


Confess to not knowing much
about the Gullah until I first saw
Daughters of the Dust. Québec
should make a…hmm…
Mothers of the Maple.

That's just the point though.
Québec is content to be Québec.
And don't need nobody to be hip
to their game. Cause they're not
playing that; they are it. Can't be
qualified; not supposed to. Why
try capturing something…so…so…


So elegantly elusive…For whom?
The last hold-outs still supporting
independent film festivals?

And who says matrimony requires
the more 'prestigious' pour?

But drinking something so light?

To a commitment most…heavy.

You never have been much for

Sinatra got "no kick from" it.

Ol' Blue Eyes or Cole Porter?

Speak…and sip…for myself.
Don't like my 'fro to frizz nor my
pour to fizz. I'd toast us – easy –
to Québec Grenache.

The Canadian vine? Takes more…
when ya stop to think on it. Gotta
respect the grape who grows
slow – in the cold.
"Mere alcohol…doesn't thrill me
at all…"

"I get a kick…"

"…out of you."

To the pink pour!

Your cork opera™? That scene?
Just figured? Best to buy Sonapy.

My *Bro vivant!* The show? It's
not how I wine n dine…Unwind.
Amusing aspect of my routine - this
daytime listing at night. To…uh…"


Wedding toast Champagne,
corporate promotion Cognac,
Thanksgiving Beaujolais. PAIR
yields five, fresh entrées a week.
And ya never know. I mean, you
do. Get the characters. Too well.
But you don't know – unless you…
stay…tuned. Like wine notes. In
every sense: past five to sixth sense.
Always that vintage that could
surprise…might inspire…and even?

Rate 90 plus. The pleasure of
finding that right bottle - the one.
Something just slightly decadent
though decent for everyday.

PAIRINGS. An ideal, televised
accompaniment. Nothing more.

When watched responsibly.

To the bridge of Through The Eyes of Love, theme from Ice Castles, written by Marvin Hamlisch & Carole Bayer Sager, sung by Melissa Manchester, 1978:

"Please don't let this feeling end,
It might not come again…"




Music continues. Song soon accompanied by notes of typed furry.
Streaming. Midday light from above. Grass-always-greener blade tickling away the last cloud taunting a blue-as-ever sky. Ubiquitous desktop in why-fi. Office building or home library? Hotel room round midnight or afternoon internet café? Site of message board poster or roaming visitor? Content consumer or creator? Business or home office? Hotel or internet café? Site of message board poster or roaming visitor? Content consumer or creator?
"…Since I found you
looking through…"

Remains to be seen; all's a mystery.
"…the eyes…"

Last notes of song, conveniently, are solo piano – somewhat alluding to slow rhythmic typing. Ms. Manchester diminuendos:
"…of love."





None of the links - provided merely as e footnotes, of sort - are, in any way, affiliated with the site, Same goes for the royalty free images. Provided solely for research/entertainment purposes. And more so the latter. Assume readers of this site have ravenous intellectual and artistic appetites to match their culinary proclivities - like that of its creator, and may simply appreciate the option for further reading if not their own access to the original reference. is conceived as a critical/satirical conversation about pop culture – in particular, blurring the line betwixt high n low art. Josh Agel's Greetings from the Soul Patch Collection captures this confounding wavelength in our zeitgeist. Wine Spectator's deviled egg redux? C'mon, now! Take the following links, just lines apart: either your own customizable cover of Soap Opera Digest and/or your own cartoon caption entry for The New Yorker. Too, too irresistible! And The Nation? Liberalti crossword – for a fee. is an e gem of a web find and one can only hope the reader/viewer treats oneself to the complete viewing of His Girl Friday, a hallmark of romantic comedy of yore – unambiguous in its inspiration for the chemistry of Kool-Aid & MistaEddy'sFatha. Like Wikipedia, is free to us all though your contributions there are not discouraged.





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