Saturday, October 28, 2006
Stalking the Q-List
There is this blog called Gawker that has a section called "Gawker Stalker," where people lurking around Manhattan can report celebrity sightings along the lines of "Last night Chloe Sevigny was wearing some hideous outfit, sneering boredly, and blowing lines in the bathroom at Nobu, then she didn't tip the coat check girl" or "George Clooney took some whorish old bimbo to a benefit at Lincoln Center and shot his mouth off about politics" and other cut-rate gossip that isn't entertaining and frankly doesn't hold a candle to Perez Hilton.
I could never report anything to the Gawker Stalker, because I only ever see celebrities that nobody cares about in New York. Once I saw Stockard Channing having brunch at the table over at the Good World Bar and Grill. Another time LL Cool Jew and I saw Chris Matthews gasping into his cell phone after what must have been a vigorous jog, judging by his sweatiness and shortness of breath, at the 72nd street entrance to Central Park. Once I saw Gloria Steinem downtown, but that was no biggie since she was the number one alumnae whose pussy Smith College liked to regularly lick with various awards and trusteeships, and I'd always see her and her corduroy-collared jean jackets skulking around campus back in my college days. That same day, I caught a glimpse of Susan Sarandon and Billy Bob Thornton, but they were in a tent doing nothing remarkable. Probably the most exciting celebrity sighting was when LL Cool Jew, Rack, FalloniusMonk, Wmania, and myself bumped into Chris Noth, Mr. Big from "Sex and the City" and Detective Mike Logan from "Law and Order", randomly trying to get buzzed into some Upper East Side apartment. My New York celebrity sightings are nothing to blog about, because they are typically tame and uneventful.
Today's celebrity sighting was equally mundane, but I got all excited about it anyway. I had just finished the miserable experience of scouring various Ricky's stores for a costume that could be manipulated into a Lil' Kim outfit. Since everyone else in New York was also getting last-minute costumes, the process of locating a slutty purple leotard capable of being recut with minimal effort and an affordable purple wig in a large crowd of children and excitable teenagers to the aggravating tune of multiple Avril Lavigne and JoJo songs was about as close to hell as I can envision. When I finally left the store and got some Tasti-D-Lite to calm down, I was frazzled and trying to get back to the subway as quickly as possible.
Thus I didn't notice the man in the History Channel baseball cap standing on the corner of 72nd and Columbus Avenue, and bumped into him. As I looked up to say, "Excuse me," I stopped in shock. I was looking at none other than former NBC nightly news correspondent, sexpot journalist of the '91 Gulf War nicknamed the "Scud Stud", and current host of "History's Mysteries," ARTHUR KENT!
I managed to beg his forgiveness for running into him, but he kept giving me shifty looks. I think he thought I was weird, with my bag overflowing with fake purple hair and my dumbfounded stare as I shoveled butter pecan fudge Tasti-D-Lite with Oreos into my mouth. I felt awkward and I didn't want to seem like a stalker, so I hastened my clip and hustled into the subway station.
The whole way home, I kept thinking of shit I should have said to him when I had the chance. I should have said that I love "History's Mysteries" or that I thought he was hot when I was 11 and writing supportive letters to Operation Desert Storm servicemen in Mrs. Fjetland's 7th grade class. I should have at least asked him why in the name of God and Christ he was wearing a History Channel baseball cap, which in my view was a pretty effing nerdy fashion statement. As usual, I see a not-very-famous celebrity, and yet am still so awestruck by their presence that I fail to capitalize on the opportunity. Way to go, Razzy. At least I got my Lil' Kim costume.
I could never report anything to the Gawker Stalker, because I only ever see celebrities that nobody cares about in New York. Once I saw Stockard Channing having brunch at the table over at the Good World Bar and Grill. Another time LL Cool Jew and I saw Chris Matthews gasping into his cell phone after what must have been a vigorous jog, judging by his sweatiness and shortness of breath, at the 72nd street entrance to Central Park. Once I saw Gloria Steinem downtown, but that was no biggie since she was the number one alumnae whose pussy Smith College liked to regularly lick with various awards and trusteeships, and I'd always see her and her corduroy-collared jean jackets skulking around campus back in my college days. That same day, I caught a glimpse of Susan Sarandon and Billy Bob Thornton, but they were in a tent doing nothing remarkable. Probably the most exciting celebrity sighting was when LL Cool Jew, Rack, FalloniusMonk, Wmania, and myself bumped into Chris Noth, Mr. Big from "Sex and the City" and Detective Mike Logan from "Law and Order", randomly trying to get buzzed into some Upper East Side apartment. My New York celebrity sightings are nothing to blog about, because they are typically tame and uneventful.
Today's celebrity sighting was equally mundane, but I got all excited about it anyway. I had just finished the miserable experience of scouring various Ricky's stores for a costume that could be manipulated into a Lil' Kim outfit. Since everyone else in New York was also getting last-minute costumes, the process of locating a slutty purple leotard capable of being recut with minimal effort and an affordable purple wig in a large crowd of children and excitable teenagers to the aggravating tune of multiple Avril Lavigne and JoJo songs was about as close to hell as I can envision. When I finally left the store and got some Tasti-D-Lite to calm down, I was frazzled and trying to get back to the subway as quickly as possible.
Thus I didn't notice the man in the History Channel baseball cap standing on the corner of 72nd and Columbus Avenue, and bumped into him. As I looked up to say, "Excuse me," I stopped in shock. I was looking at none other than former NBC nightly news correspondent, sexpot journalist of the '91 Gulf War nicknamed the "Scud Stud", and current host of "History's Mysteries," ARTHUR KENT!
I managed to beg his forgiveness for running into him, but he kept giving me shifty looks. I think he thought I was weird, with my bag overflowing with fake purple hair and my dumbfounded stare as I shoveled butter pecan fudge Tasti-D-Lite with Oreos into my mouth. I felt awkward and I didn't want to seem like a stalker, so I hastened my clip and hustled into the subway station.
The whole way home, I kept thinking of shit I should have said to him when I had the chance. I should have said that I love "History's Mysteries" or that I thought he was hot when I was 11 and writing supportive letters to Operation Desert Storm servicemen in Mrs. Fjetland's 7th grade class. I should have at least asked him why in the name of God and Christ he was wearing a History Channel baseball cap, which in my view was a pretty effing nerdy fashion statement. As usual, I see a not-very-famous celebrity, and yet am still so awestruck by their presence that I fail to capitalize on the opportunity. Way to go, Razzy. At least I got my Lil' Kim costume.
Labels: celebrities, epic geekery, Halloween, History Channel
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Chloe Sevigny is always wearing some heinous outfit. I don't claim expertise in these matters by a longshot, but I've seen that chick rock rolled up acid-washed jean shorts with four inch clog stilettos and a Blossom-era hat. Even the cast of Singles knows it's wrong.
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