One of the perks of living in Los Angeles is that, if you keep your eyes peeled (which is easy for me; I'm a born people-watcher), you will usually see one or two minor celebrities each week. Strictly B to D list--no Brangelina here, although we do live about a mile from one of George Cloony's houses.
I've chatted with Carnie Wilson at the farmer's market, listened to Jennie Garth order her coffee at the Coffee Bean at the end of our road, had a playdate with Kelly Martin (of Life Goes On and ER fame) and her little girl, and watched Ray Romano's twin boys order the most bizarre combination of icecream and mix-ins at Cold Stone Creamery, while Ray and his wife stood by grimacing at the idea of them actually eating it.
I generally tend to just make note of the celebrity, avoid eye contact in order to respect their privacy and it's pretty much become just, eh, part of the scenery. Husband and I initially had a running competition of who saw who, but we sort of gave that up when we realized that it was going to be a pretty-much-all-of-the-time kind of thing. This is the sort of place where you feel kind of lame if you get excited about seeing anyone shy of, say, the Cruises, because everyone is just so blase about it (which I knew how to make the accent mark above that e...).
But you know what? Tonight I let all of that "oh, whatever, celebrity person I've seen on TV. Big whoop," just slide right off of me when I found myself watching Matthew Perry come out of a restaurant as Husband, Ethan and I were leaving an adjoining restaurant. Can I just say big fat "YAY, ME!" for being way too lazy to make dinner tonight?
Actually, I didn't see him at first; Husband saw him and started frantically whispering, "Chandler Bing! Chandler Bing! It's Chandler Bing!!" And sure enough, Chandler Bing (or, Miss Chanandler Bong, if you like) was walking right towards us with a giant bag of take-out. And damn the ginormous jogging stroller, we had to take the elevator while he took the escalator--I was so hoping he'd get into the elevator with us because that would definitely be close enough to an ATM vestibule for me to pee my pants in glee. But alas, I had to jump up and down in the elevator while Husband shook his head laughing at me, and as soon as the doors opened, I had to jump into reconnaisance mode to locate him....going into a frozen yogurt place.
As Husband and I were walking the frozen yogurt place, I casually suggested we might want to get some frozen yogurt. You know, for dessert. Because that's what you do after dinner. Especially if Chandler Bing is also getting dessert. We stood in line behind him while he sampled a variety of flavors and settled on some combination of blueberry and vanilla (yes, I was standing stalker-close and totally ignoring Ethan as he fussed in his jogging stroller--because I aside from being a Friends fanatic, I am also an awesome mom).
Apparently many people had the same yen for frozen yogurt while Matthew Perry was ordering his, because within a few minutes the line was out the door--thank goodness I thought to be a psycho before the rest of them and had a front row spot to totally indulge the crazy-ass Friends fan in me.
I feel a little dirty for letting the teeny-bopper in me get the better of me; a 37 year old woman giggling and jumping up and down in an elevator because she just saw a guy who was on a TV show (albeit the greatest TV show ever in the history of the world--just sayin') is a pretty embarrassing sight, for sure. But another part of me is really okay with the fact that I got a little silly over it, and paid $4 for a frozen yogurt I didn't even want just so I could stand next to Chandler Bing. I figure, it's one of the perks of living in this town, so I kind of HAVE to indulge in it every once in awhile, right???