I See Famous People: British Invasion

NOTE:  I'm posting some old stuff until I'm back in September - Enjoy!  Or ignore!  Whatever!

I have the completely useless talent of running into famous people.
They're everywhere!  Gay people have gaydar, I have this.  Sometimes it
can be a curse, because these encounters have never led to anything
other than a story I can't share since most people don't care.  So I'll
tell you!

I'm telling you this because if VH1 can make silly shows more
interesting simply because famous people are involved, then surely this
silly blog can only benefit from being infused with some celebrity.  So
every once in a while (like when I don't have anything else to say) I
will share a random celebrity sighting experienced by me. 

Most of these happened when I lived in Miami.  In Miami, celebrities are almost as plentiful as the Palmetto bugs.   They both must love the humidity and the palm trees.

So here it is, my big encounter with a cute Brit.  Brace yourselves.

The Husband and I were leaving our hotel (The Delano) when I spotted
a short, alarmingly pasty guy who was obviously wasted beyond belief.
He could not stand up without swaying, his eyes were out of focus, he
looked like he was going to throw up.  This is not such a strange sight
in South Beach, but this guy was just standing there and had an eager,
sad look in his eyes.  I think he was waiting to be recognized.  Well,
I recognized him, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction.
Hell no.

"Honey look!"  I whispered, "I think that's Hugh Grant!"

"There's NO way that's HUGH GRANT.  That guy is WAY too short."

Obviously we'd already begun our, um, festivities and The Husband
could not whisper to save his life.  Thankfully, he didn't hear us.
But a group of trashy girls wearing cheap clingy dresses and way too
much makeup did.


And they ran over to him, making both a scene and fools of themselves. 


These women were obviously not locals, since they violated Cardinal
Rule #1 of the Random Celebrity Encounter (always ignore celebrity) and
Rule #2 (do not touch celebrity under any circumstances).  Come to
think of it, celebrity sightings are not unlike wildlife sightings.
And as with wildlife sightings, there are good reasons for these
rules.  Follow them, people!

Mr. Grant was not scared of the running mass of polyester and Ciara
headed his way.  Instead, he suddenly came to life and grabbed one of
the women, thrust his tongue down her throat, pawing and slobbering all
over her.  It was a sad, sad sight.  Back then he was with Liz Hurley.
Where was she?

All I could think of was that this was the man who spent $45 to catch Divine Brown's
cooties.  **shudder**  Now he was getting his kicks for free, and
passing all the things he'd picked up to this girl.   Maybe he was
generous enough to share with all of them?

We did not stay to find out. 

"That could have been you," said The Boyfriend (he hadn't been promoted to The Husband yet) "if you weren't with me."

No, not really.  I'm too stuck-up for that.  And now whenever I see
Hugh Grant I need to shower.  He spoiled adorably bumbling British
heartthrobs for me. 

That is, until Colin Firth came along.

Lesson Learned: Celebrities are shorter in person than you
would expect.  And, unlike most regular people, you don't even have to
buy them a drink to catch their cooties.