What happened with Alyssa Milano sir?
Glad you asked. This is my claim to fame with a fu@#ing smoking star.
Okay, me and my all time best friend from the second grade up decide we'd crash the pool at the Grove Park. We grew up ten minutes north of the Biltmore Estate and Grove Park Inn. Well, after a fifth of Southern Comfort, we get up the nerve to ease in to the pool. Guys, this place just reeks of money. Ferraris out front. Plural.
So, we spend the whole day, sipping on SOCO. SHE walks in. Puts her towel down with an assistant in the chair next to my cooler. Scott (my bud) is freaking out. I'm so toasted that I just didn't give a shi#.
"You wanna shot?"
"No thanks, Miss Milano would not."
"I didn't ask You. I asked her."
"You know what? I'd love one."
We actually had about four apiece and the G-Man (Scott) couldn't even speak. She was half toasted and her assistant asked her to leave. I guess she's supposed to look out for her, you know. She was outgoing as hell. And... she wasn't about to quit hanging out. By the way, pictures do NO justice of her in a bikini. Thank you Dear Heavenly Jesus. We are in the pool, splashing and bs'ing like kids. Most guys that know me will tell you that I fear very little. Hell, to me, she was just a cool chick with cash. Poor Scott still couldn't speak. You should hear him tell this story.
Well, after about an hour and a half, we finish off the SOCO. So, being the "no fear" buzz guy. I asked her to walk into the bar and continue the evening. The sun is going down. It's about 6-7:00? The bar is right inside the hotel, one door away. I swear I could feel the promised land around the corner. Or... maybe I was just buzzed. Little of both? Don't ruin this for me. This lives in my mind daily. So, she tells me that she's soaking wet and needs to dry off. I grab the towel and dry her. No SHIT. Praise God. Her assistant gets in between us and reminds her she's got a shoot in the morning. Here's the fu#$ed up part. At that moment, the poolside bartender asked for my room number to charge my tab. I said no, I'd pay cash. Scott is so 'merred that he blurts out, "We've already checked out." Well, I felt stupid. It was obvious we weren't staying there.
She just laughed and asked if we were from Asheville. "Yeah, we live about ten minutes from here." I was dead in the water. Kind of feeling like an idiot, I asked her and Clarice to join us at Stephen's Pub ( a local watering hole). She got directions and finished drying off. "We might see you there. No promises."
I waited for two straight drunken days. Sat in the bar, sat in the parking lot, went back to the Grove, stalked that area like a good stalker should. No luck. But.... I touched and dried off Alyssa Milano. And Scott can verify this shit.
By the way, when you've drank SOCO for two straight days, you shouldn't take any painkillers with it. Just another thought.
If you're out there, I know you're dry now.
Forgot one awesome point. Scott always reminds me to tell this. They are real. Bet my last .12 cents on it. Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you oh God tonight. Real.