The other night I went out with my friend Katie and some Australian tennis pros. Yes, it is good to have friends on the inside of the pro tennis circuit. Who doesn’t want hot professional athletes with hot foreign accents popping up on her social calendar from time to time?
About a month ago we went to a chic little bar called Origami with an Aussie tennis pro who looked like, I swear, Hugh Jackman. I almost came to blows with my friend over him, and we’ve been friends since high school. Those dang foreign accents make me do crazy things! Also, I loved that boy because he compared me to Kate Beckinsdale a la Pearl Harbor. Flattery; it works on me.
So that was fun. And when I heard more Aussie tennis pros were in town, I invited Katie and the boys to meet me at a pub on Main Street in Seal Beach. This time, not so cute. Aw, I’m shallow, I know. But it gets worse! Apparently, the pub was too dead for them. So we carted their whiny butts down PCH to a bar in Huntington Beach, trying to impress them by touting it as the real live “O.C.” They were once again unimpressed (although I don’t really blame them…I haven’t seen that large a gathering of unattractive people in Orange County since…never). Well fine, you little demanding Australians. I don’t care if you have accents. I served up the best I could on freaking Sunday night of Memorial Day weekend when everyone is out of town.
And one of them actually said that he loves the song “Don’tcha” by the Pussycat Dolls. I wish I would have known that before we went out…I wouldn’t have wasted my time.