Date With A Celebrity?

[Boleslav]

My Date Part I

It's 6:15pm, and Mariah pulls up outside my work to take me home in her 1999 Ford Explorer. She's an hour late. I open the door and slide into the passenger seat. Mariah smells to me like a summer's day in California, but other people may recognize the scent of lemon household cleanser on her breath. She flashes me a toothy smile "hey champ!" and slams the pedal. Staring at her magnificent foot, I make a note to buy her some anti-fungal cream.

[Server139Player]

Any celebrity? Living or dead?
*wonders if we can go by generation because there's a lot of people i'd like to ask questions of*

I think I'd go with Audie Murphy (not for a romantic type date, more of a question and answer type date)

After seeing the movie To Hell and Back - he's a historical figure I would love to talk with about all the things he saw and did.

For those of you who don't know who i'm talking about - a nice way to get a good idea of who he was is:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audie_Murphy

He died 40 years ago..

[Boleslav]

My Date Part II

Mariah breathily husks "baby, I'm gonna treat you tonight" as we pull up outside her favorite restaurant. Because this is our special night, she's letting me choose three things from the dollar menu. She gets a bad press from time to time, but I wish people could see her generosity. I get two cheeseburgers and an apple pie. Mariah gets the happy meal, she's collecting the toys. When she belches in front of me, the vanilla milkshake smell makes me imagine we are on a hammock in Tahiti.

[SickbyDefinition]

Ooooh I liek this thread.
Clive Owen, all the way. Rugged raspy voice and 5 O clock shadow is irresistible in a man, plus him knowing how to kick ass doesn't hurt his attractiveness.
He'd speed up in the mazarratti I rented and say plainly, "get in."
Flying through the town and dodging traffic, he wouldn't look at me the whole time, and we don't say a word. But that's ok, Clive doesn't have to talk much to convey his feelings of passionate, zesty love.
Seafront at a modern looking restaurant, and he gets out. But I notice he's locked the doors, I can't get out. Before I start feeling too foolish, the car clicks and he opens my door. "I hope you dont mind my driving," he says cleanly with a slight smile. I only smile and blush. He takes my arm and we strut in, I tell the host my name and he directs us outside to our table, alone in the court yard.
While we drink and chat a bit, Clive is continually looking around, inspecting the crowds.
We're really hitting it off, and Clive is making that eye contact that soo endearing. But before we can even order dessert, it happens. He grabs my arm and snatches me down to the ground just before a barrage of bullets fly in our direction.
"not even one damn dinner. I'm sorry, but our meal will have to be cut short. Stay here," he says calmly, which I find odd since bullets continue to dot the table he has flipped over in front of us. He darts out front behind the table and the popping sound of gunfire increases. After a good old modern shoot off, Clive returns to the table and takes my hand, guiding my outside to our maserati. He opens my door and we drive away, when I notice he is bleeding from the abdomen.
Our date is cut short by his need to go to the hospital, but he leaves me with the assurance that we will surely run away together to a tropical secluded island in the pacific somewhere.
He never called.

[Boleslav]

My Date Part III

It's 7:30pm. Mariah and I are home at last. We can't linger though, we are going out tonight and need to quickly get dressed. As I pull a fresh shirt over my chest, Mariah sniffs around the dirty laundry basket, rooting around for the most acceptable panties. Once dressed, we head back into her Ford Explorer. The Madagascan chamber orchestra is playing La Boheme at the city opera tonight, and we have tickets for row F. On the drive to the opera we giggle and laugh at each other as we try to translate Pablo Neruda's poetry from Spanish to Farsi and then to Dutch.