Gotta Love Ted

 

My friend Ted just e-mailed me some pictures from the party.

I'm pretty sure it's this one that eventually led to the whole singing in public shenanigans.


 

This is me opening a coveted bottle of Brambleberry from Hazlitt 1852 Vineyard.

 

I have been staring at this bottle for six months.

 

I became addicted to Brambleberry when I worked in New York.

 

The rumors that I would send Ted massive amounts of cash so he could buy the wine by-the-case for me once I moved away may be true.

 

But good 'ol Ted left New York and moved to nearby Washington, D.C. to be a political correspondent.

 

He brought me two last bottles when he came six months ago.

 

And I couldn't bring myself to ever open those last two bottles.

 

But then I downed one on Saturday.
 

Did I mention they were 1.5 liter bottles?
 

That may explain some questionable ballet moves I thought I was so awesome at performing by the end of the night.
 

I always say boots are the new heels ... but leather soled boots also double as ballet slippers on a smooth concrete shop floor.
 

At least that's what the Brambleberry leads me to believe.
 

By the way, who is Ted?

 

He's this guy.

He was a reporter at the station where I anchored in New York.

 

And he's the only person who truly appreciates wine and fast food like I do.

 

We took this picture the morning after the party when we went to the casino breakfast BOO-FAY in town.

 

We both look a little rough, I know.

 

I do for obvious aforementioned reasons.

 

And Ted is on a post- RNC/DNC shaving strike.
 

Because it's the cool thing to do when you have a whole week without liveshots.

 

Otherwise, he's Mr. Clean Cut.

 

 

See?

 

I wasn't kidding.