Best Regards, Hey Pretty

I've been thinking a lot about how I sign off on my work-related emails. A while back I read an article somewhere that asked various creative to share their signature closing lines, but I can't remember where that was.

Mine have evolved over the years. At my first job, unsure of proper protocols, I followed my boss's lead and closed every letter or email with the ending, Many Thanks. But I eventually came to question this closing. Many Thanks for what, exactly? Since then I have cycled through several of alternatives.

Best Wishes
Sincerely
Best Regards

None of these sound particularly satisfying, do they?

Best Wishes is the verbal equivalent of a limp handshake. Sincerely is generic and unimaginative, what the guy who does your taxes probably uses to sign his letters. Best Regards, there is nothing particularly wrong with, I am just a little tired of it.

There are other endings I like, such as As Always, but that sounds too unprofessional. I suppose I could try I am Sir, Your Most Obediant and Humble Servant, but I fear that the sarcasm wouldn't convey properly over the internet (Microsoft needs to invent a sarcasm font) and that sarcasm probably wouldn't be very appreciated in a professional setting. Whatever, I don't care is a sentiment that I often feel when closing a letter at work, but I obviously couldn't use that one. In other words, I am at a loss. Any creative new ideas?

Oh, my weekend, you ask? Oh, of course.

It started off with a bang and a most excellent Friday--lots of wine and beer and general awesomeness with completely cool people, many of whom had never met and seemed to get along extraordinarily well. I love it when I can bring people together and folks hit it off. Anyone who missed out seriously missed out.

On Saturday morning, as I was contemplating my options for getting out of bed and having a productive day, my homegal Lorelai texted me to go get brunch. Nothing rallies the spirits on a Saturday morning like the promise of a plate of eggs and some good strong coffee.

A couple of hours later, L and I found ourselves seated outside in the shade at Open City where we were confronted with a most unusual situation. It seems that the couple sitting next to us were reading self-help books about infidelity. I can't remember the exact titles--something like After the Affair and Surviving Infidelity. They perused these books on the after-effects of cheating as if they were skimming the morning paper, occasionally switching volumes to point out passages of note to one another, casual as can be. At one point, the man left the table and the woman asked me what neighborhood they were in. Seeing as how we were steps from the Marriot, I formulated a quick theory. Somebody in the couple cheated, and now they're on a "romantic get-away" to Washington, DC to patch up what remains of their fractured relationship. The self-help books are their form of therapy. Not that it's any of my business, but since I have made it such I have one piece of advice: couple's counseling.

Other weekend highlights: shopping with L, drinks on the Georgetown Waterfront and rediscovering my game. New and improved pickup lines were tested out. I could teach you, but I'd have to charge. On Sunday, I walked a million miles and saw the movie Ocean's 13.

Now I know that Ocean's 13 wasn't made to be picked over or analyzed too deeply, so I am willing to overlook its convoluted plot and anti-climatic ending. What I liked most about it was its aesthetics. The film uses the spirit and style of late 60's cinematic art direction as a spring board for its own visual language. Similarly, it's use of color is quite thoughtful. During certain moments the screen is saturated in red, followed by a cool blue, and an almost sci-fi green in others.

What also makes Ocean's 13 a delight is its offhanded humor. Towards the end of the film George Clooney's character, when bidding farewell to Brad Pitt's Rusty, tells him to "slow down" and have a "couple of kids" a sly nod towards Pitt's real-life tabloid love affair with Angelina Jolie.

And can we talk about George Clooney himself? When was the last time you encountered an actor who fills the screen with such a laid-back, self- assured, elegant sex appeal? Clooney has been widely acknowledged as a sex symbol for over a decade, and he gets better and better with each new strand of silver that emerges on his head.

Following the movie I bought myself dinner at Bourbon in Adams Morgan and was attended to by a most wonderful bartender. I love men who bedeck themselves in arm-sleeve tattoos and scruffy beards in an effort to look more bad-ass, but manage to maintain a certain fragile sweetness. He hooked me up with an excellent glass of Chenin Blanc and was wonderfully sweet and attentive. Who doesn't love being called darlin'? I'd be his darlin' anytime.

Also of note: I stayed up way too late finishing the Russian Debutante's Handbook.

And now I find myself at work. I was out last Monday for our staff meeting so I missed the announcement that my boss won't be in for two weeks. I wrapped up a big project before she left and now I find myself slightly adrift. Sure would be nice to have a manager who cares about my workload...