Wonk'd: Dustee Tucker Special Edition
Jared Paul Stern, formerly of Payola Six , famously quipped: "We know how to destroy people. It's what we do."
Here at shiny happy Wonkette, our motto is a little different: "We know how to create celebrities. It's what we do."
Jessica Cutler? Check. Butterstick? Check. Stormie Janzen? Check. And, of course, our most recent creation: HUD spokeshottie Dustee Tucker (at left).
Dustee may not yet be a household name. But she's certainly "famous-for-D.C.," or fast on her way there. First, she's already getting noticed by the Posties (who refer to her as "Wonkette's new favorite").
Second, she's getting spotted around town:
Is it possible to type breathlessly? Because I am, sugar.
I saw Dustee Tucker today. The Dustee Tucker.
There I am, at the Austin Grill on E Street, shoveling handful after handful of chips and salsa into my mouth with a steady and practiced hand, when I looked up to see Dustee Tucker walking toward me. Dustee Tucker. Toward me.
After the jump, check out the rest of this hilariously brilliant -- but yes, vaguely creepy -- email.
Here's the balance of the email, in all its glory:
[Dustee] was flanked by a slightly younger blonde--who resembled, oddly enough, a junior Rita Cosby--and a nondescript man in his fifties who appeared to be of modest means (read: GS-9 or 10) in a disappointingly dandruff-shouldered blue Haggar blazer. Dustee, on the other hand, was simply dazzling. Her tanned skin was set off by a creamy skirt and a pearl blouse that offered just a teasing hint of inviting cleavage. She looked spectacular.My co-workers ignored my almost giddy attempts to apprise them of the who, what, and hows of Dustee Tucker. Despite their embarrassing ignorance of all things Dustee ("She's what now?" "What are you going on about?" "Who the fuck is Alphonso Jackson?"), my enthusiasm was undetered.
Star-struck, I watched her every move. She refrained from delving deeply into the chips and salsa and instead saved her appetite for her seasoned chicken and/or steak salad. She said little to her compatriots, and most of the talking was done by the ill-garbed man accompanying her. He gesticulated often. She appeared polite and attentive. At one point Rita Cosby dribbled some salsa down her chest (Rita Cosby's chest, not Dustee's--although such hotness would have been too much to bear), and excused herself to go clean up. Haggar man turned his attention elsewhere, and in that moment Dustee--not knowing she was being watched--was alone with her thoughts.
She slowly chewed her food, and her gaze zoned off. And I wondered: Where are you right now, Dustee?
I wish I could say I had the answer to that question. Alas, the check came and was paid, and I was escorted away by my colleagues after much cajoling.
Oh, Dustee, take heart. We are all your teenage fanclub.
WOW. We have nothing to add; you don't mess with perfection.
Sure, Dustee Tucker may have made inconsistent and arguably misleading statements to the news media. But doesn't everyone do that in this town?
At any rate, she's super-hot. Go Dustee!
Nightlife Agenda [WP]