anywaaaaaaaay, despite my total affection for celebrity gossip, if there's one thing i'm good at, it's playing it cool in front of a celebrity (unless the "celebrity" is aaron carter and rachel morgan is 17 and beyond excited to see the flesh-and-blood brother of her boyf, nick carter. under said circumstances, rachel morgan cries. true story). growing up in LA, i saw stars allll the time, and i always knew that it is definitely not cool to act like you're excited to see whatever celebrity is in front of you. therefore, i developed the following mantra: "see a star? act like you don't know who they are!"
well, i got another chance to pretend i don't care about celebrities today. i've lived in my new apt for over two months now, and until recently, i've paid little-to-no attention to this nearby hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street. it is in a totally nondescript strip mall, and i'm such a snobby bitch that i'd never look at the place and be like, "omg! that looks great! let's eat there!" however, thanks to yelp, i heard that this place was really good and that they had really great buffalo and ostrich burgers (ummmm i don't eat those animals). adventurers we are, momma b and i decided to hit up this teeny eatery for lunch, and we ordered some food to take back and eat at my apartment (so we could play with lulu!!). anywaaaaaay, momma b and i place our orders and sit down to wait for our food when...
rachel morgan spies a man in the corner. he is sitting by himself at the counter, eating some sort of burger and playing with his fancy schmancy shiny new black macbook pro. as momma b prattles on endlessley (something about her new hairstyle? an explanation as to why sleeveless turtlenecks are timeless and classy a la jackie o? ugh, mommy.), rachel morgan studies the man intently. he is really, super-duper, totally and ridiculously smokin' hot. rachel morgan eyes everything from his kinda-dorky-looking shoes, to his expensive and cool looking jeans, to the super badass necklaces he is wearing. he oozes sexy like the la brea tar pits exude the distillation of organic matter. if i were a dinosaur going extinct and looking for a place die, i would totally wade into his irresistible, gooey black pool of hotness. please lord, let his incredible sexiness fossilize my remains forever. i mean, how hot would that be... to live forever in the GAVIN ROSSDALE tar pits?!?!?!?!?!?!
yes, friends, this hunka-hunka-burning-hot-sex was the one and only gavin rossdale, aka mr. gwen stefani, aka lead singer of the grunge super-band, bush, and aka the total obsession of every girl at my junior high school in 1994 (um, glycerine was like MY JAM in the 7th grade). and there he was, sitting all by himself while momma b shoved an onion ring in my face and urged me to taste it (um, earth to momma b. i am NOT eating an onion ring in front of gavin rossdale.). as momma b waited impatiently for our food to be ready, doubt began to creep in. was it really him? was it really mr. machinehead, sitting there so nonchalantly in the middle of the valley? i crept closer, praying that he would get on his cell phone and utter something - nay, anything - in that super-hot british-accented-lead-singer voice that would confirm that he was, in fact, gavin rossdale.
well, ladies and gentlemen, god loves me (despite what you bible-thumping a-holes might say about a hedonistic, jew/agnostic, angry little lesbo who believes in pre-marital sex, aliens, evolution and other such sacrileges). lo and behold, my new boyfriend gav-gav (he asked me to call him that after we tottttaallly made out on the hood of momma b's station wagon. sweeeeet.) raised his phone to his ear (OMG i wonder if he was talking to gwen?!? or someone else famous? omg i wonder who his friends are?!?!) and began to speak. it was like a choir of angles erupted in my ears! there it was: his rich, delicious british accent! even more exciting, there it was: a tattoo on his inner left wrist that read simply, "kingston." for those of you who aren't as embarassingly obsessed with celebs as i am, kingston is gav-gav and gwen's super cute son (BTW, how cute is daddy gav-gav and his kingston tattoo?!?! like, sigh.)! IT WAS HIM AFTER ALL! yay!!!
anywaaaay, back to my i'm-too-cool-to-care attitude. when our food was ready to go, i shot one last longing look at super-stud gav-gav and bolted out the door. "that was weird," i said casually as momma b stepped into the bright sunlight. "what?" she asked. "oh, nothing, really. just GAVIN ROSSDALE sitting there!" my body tingled with excitement at the mere memory of his face, but i was determined to play it cool to the end and marched over to momma b's car, ready to leave gav-gav forever (we'll always have that steamy makeout session..... sigh). "what?! who?!" asked momma b, walking back towards the restaurant and staring in the window for approx 30 seconds ( FYI, MOMMY, that is NOT discreet, and it sure-as-shoot ain't cool), hoping to catch a glimpse of his royal hotness.
sigh. i guess some people will just never get it. if gavy-gav-gav had suspected that one of the 7 other people in this teensy-weensy restaurant had recognized him, he wouldn't have acted as naturally as he did! however, because i pretended to be too-cool-to-care, i had the chance to observe my future husband in his natural environment! i had tickets to the gavin rossdale hotness zoo! i watched him eat - just like he does in real life! i watched him chat on the phone - just like he does in the wild! i observed that he drinks yellow vitamin water - just like a real person! i watched him fiddle on his computer (trust me, i def tried to see what he was working on. it looked like something with words. my amazing beauty probably inspired him to write a song for me, so let's just all assume that's what he was typing), no doubt (bad pun intended), exactly as he does whilst sitting at home with his celebrity wife and son!
it was amazing. sigh... if only his zoo sold souvenir t-shirts.