Le Fan Mail- Part Deux
OMG! I can’t believe he knows I’m here. It’s like fate or something. And he even wrote about me! Well, he didn’t actually write about me, and I wasn’t actually here when he did, but that’s just details. Don’t try to convince me that there’s no connection between his most recent article and my relocation. Last week, mere hours before I officially became a Healdsburger, Jay profiled Ramey Wine Cellars in his WSJ column. Ramey Wine Cellars of my very same Healdsburg, California. Jay of the McInerney variety. You know - the guy who compares Puligny to supermodels? And powwows with Christie Brinkley who speaks French. “Voulzez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” Uh, hello. Me, too. Seeing Jay write about me in a national publication is a prolix embrace that transcends written word (excepting mine). I cannot begin to explain the pitter patter in my heart, even if I still haven’t noticed any of my neighbors wearing Prada at the grocery store (nylon backpacks don’t count). You know, Jay’s the biggest celebrity we’ve had around here in a while. Except Giada from Food Network. And Pink. And the drummer from The Killers. And Journey (all of them).
It must have been quite a spectacle to witness Jay arrive in town, like the annual 4H parade. I wonder if the Healdsburg police called in extra security detail from Windsor (that’s the town next door). If he passed through my neighborhood, he accidentally forgot to leave his calling card. It’s probably because he inadvertently deleted all of the e mails where I sent him my address. And erased the voice mails, the ones from before he unlisted his phone number. After all, he did call me “ridiculously picturesque.” Way nicer than “celebrity stalker,” right?
I’m fully going to be like way so better prepared for his next visit. When Prince William married Kate Middleton, my expat English pal purchased life sized, cardboard cutouts of the engaged sweeties to commemorate their nuptials. I plan to commission a similar one of Jay based on the dot matrix cartoon that runs with his column. And he’ll be wearing a Prada suit so he fits right in with the local attire. Nobody will mistake him for an outsider next time.
Dear Mr. McInerney,
Please consider this blog post a formal invitation to visit me here in Healdsburg and personally taste all of my delicious wines. I do not speak French unless you give extra credit for the above warbled sentiment. I do not know Gwyneth Paltrow either. But I am quite sure her beautiful bone structure is an apt comparison for my pinots, too. I’m sorry to make this epistolary request in public, but I couldn’t seem to upload the details into Facebook. Please kindly remove the Firewall filtering out all correspondence bearing any and all possible spellings of my e mail address. I look forward to seeing you in Healdsburg again very soon. I promise that I’m seductive and full bodied too. Plus I’ve got a great mouth feel.
P.S. You can e mail me firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also call me. Or send a letter. Or a telegram. I am fluent in smoke signals and Morse code.