Dmitri, The Stud
We think he’s a STUD.
He is Dmitri, The Stud.
All of you Elegant Ladies out there, try to contain yourself. There is a single man on the scene. A PERFECT, single man. And, as Dmitri would like to remind you, there are NO OTHER PERFECT MEN IN THIS CITY (your city? My city? Doesn’t matter. EVERY CITY, there is only ONE Dmitri) and he chose YOU because YOU are special. YOU are an elegant lady. YOU had best return his phone call.
This paramour was kind enough to share some voicemail clips with us, courtesy of his object of affection. Word on the street is that this sought after gem lives in Toronto, but I don’t know…there is a King Street in every city in North America, and likely the great U.S. of A. as well (HA! That was a Canada joke). But his story does have credence – I’ve dated in Toronto for a very, very long time. Finding a “perfect man” can be a challenge….
Dmitri likes a sophisticated glass when he drinks. Rock glasses are for the slums and buffoons who drink whiskey. He wants a convex glass with clean lines and a modern edge. Dmitri likes a masculine swizzle-stick, because he was willing to roll the dice on you. Dmitri wants to make sure that when you inevitably crane your neck to see what this exemplary specimen of masculinity is drinking, you will notice the following items:
1. A Blackberry – because he is IN HIGH DEMAND.
2. A wallet – worn and used, because he likes to SPEND MONEY and TREAT a girl right. But only if she deserves his affections. And she must be elegant. And special. And perfect. Because, you know, he is perfect. And special.
3. Keys – he will allow you to check out his ride. No, those aren’t really keys to a Honda Accord, you silly goose. Dmitri is a Beamer man, through and through. He just keeps the Honda key-top on there so it won’t get stolen. He has a VERY HIGH LEVEL OF INTELLIGENCE, this Dmitri of ours.
And I hereby present to you a man who makes women cringe, and makes men think, “DAMN, I got some good game” – because god knows that anybody looks better in comparison:
The clip is only a few minutes long, but I strongly suggest that you stay tuned for the second message. It’s priceless. In fact, you have UNTIL 3:00 PM TOMORROW TO LISTEN TO THAT MESSAGE. Or Dmitri will delete your phone number. You wouldn’t want to miss your last chance at romance, would you? He thought not.
Note: You don’t have to listen to the message if you have cancer or if your mother died. He’s very flexible, he understands.
Dmitri, The Stud
- 1 oz Tanqueray gin *
- 1/2 oz Campari **
- 4 oz freshly squeezed navel orange juice ***
- 2 oz San Benedetto sparkling water ****
Carefully measure all of the ingredients into a glass and stir counter clockwise exactly four times. You may insert ice cubes as long as they comprise no more than 30% of the total drink volume. The ice should be made from pure spring water but Dmitri is adaptable, filtered water can be used for the ice if you must. As long as it’s not from a Brita. He once knew a girl named Britta. She had psychological problems.
* If you must have an alcoholic beverage, make sure that it is a premium liquor. Dmitri only enjoys premium liquor.
** Campari is complex and just slightly bitter…….
*** The oranges must be of the utmost quality. Organic navel oranges are preferred. Try to avoid blemishes on the outside as Dmitri believes these adversely affect the flavour. The juice must be freshly squeezed within the last half hour. He can taste the difference.
**** Water has a taste as well. Dmitri knows that water has a taste. He likes Evian or boutique waters from Fiji or Italia. He approves of San Benedetto. He does not approve of Soda Water. That is a deal breaker. You may think that soda water and San Benedetto, a carbonated fizzy water, are the same. Dmitri would like you to know that you are wrong. HE knows water. He will allow you to use Perrier but only if you have a good enough reason.
And finally, a superfluous picture of my cat Bigelow because he started listening to the clip and became visibly agitated. He called Dmitri an ass-clown, and I have to say that I agree. Biggie Smalls knows an ass-clown when he sees one. Don’t you Biggsy?