Strike That. Reverse It.

Suddenly, the lobby silence was broken by the loud clatter of hurried footsteps dashing up the stairs from the hall’s subterranean sound-proofed rehearsal studios. I looked up to see the woman in the flesh, looking exceedingly fit in her body-hugging blue jeans.

With such sexy, smoldering hot looks, no wonder she landed on People magazine’s list of the “World’s 50 Most Beautiful People.” I could not help but remember a French boy’s description of her when I was in Paris a few years back: “She eez zee Franch Tyra Banks!”

Rousing from my reveries, I stammered out, “Uh...I’m Empiricus. Do we...uh...have an interview?” Her face lit up into a supernova smile as she affirmed, “Of course!” We were soon walking together...

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Now for the real one about baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky, written by Cheryl North of the Oakland Tribune.

Suddenly, the Zellerbach lobby silence was broken by the loud clatter of hurried footsteps dashing up the stairs from the hall's subterranean sound-proofed rehearsal studios. I looked up to see the man in the flesh, looking exceedingly fit in his body-hugging blue jeans.

With such sexy, smoldering good looks, no wonder he landed on People magazine's list of the "World's 50 Most Beautiful People." I could not help but remember a Russian girl's description of him when I was in Moscow a few years back: "He is the Russian Elvees Prezley!"

Rousing from my reveries, I stammered out, "Uh "... I'm Cheryl. Do we "... uh "... have an interview?" [sic] His face lit up into a supernova smile as he affirmed, "Of course!" We were soon walking together across the street to his Opera House dressing room, during which stroll, in impressive, gentlemanly fashion, he adjusted his long-limbed pace to my slower one. When we arrived, he gestured for me to take the room's single upholstered chair while he pulled up a hard-backed one for himself.

I don’t know what gets me more, the blatant sexualization, the insulting imitation of a Russian girl, or saying the King's name in vain.
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