I am the kinda guy who brings flowers
Celebrity Touch Target: Seth Meyers
Why: Because the former SNL Weekend Update star and current Late Night host was standing between me and my Baby’s Breath.
Where: New York City Whole Foods
How: It’s quite a rare occurrence that you would run into a legitimate celebrity in a grocery store, other than, of course, Bethenney Frankel trying to convince you that skinny cocktails are still a “thing.” But that is exactly where I found recent late-night it boy Seth Meyers, loitering in the densely packed flower department of the Whole Foods on 7th Avenue (watch in amazement as I don’t refer to this store as Whole Paycheck even once in this diatribe… look we get it… it’s expensive… move on for Henry Cavill’s sake). Replete in my age-appropriate 7” inseam saffron-colored shorts and Pilgrim Surf +Supply naughty nautical themed t-shirt, I hadn’t noticed the giraffe-faced comedian until he proved an apparent obstacle for me to obtain a delicate bouquet brimming with Gerber Daisies (reader’s note: my favorite, thanks for remembering) and a whisper of Baby’s Breath (again, why is this still a “thing”). My annoyance quickly swung to mild-annoyance when I realized a Celebrity Touch™ had presented itself. So, as I bent from the knees – never from the waist (Flower Fitness Journal June 1987) – to extend my slender, cocoa butter-lathered arm and reach the Gerber (no relation to Rande) Daisies, I casually nicked Seth’s elbow with mine. Celebrity Touch and “Sorry I Made You Wait in Line at Shake Shack” bouquet secured!
Look at Me! I mean Her!
Unless you sat through the People’s Choice award-winning Lifetime movie chronicling my personal saga (starring Meridith Baxter-Berney in her most challenging role yet, ‘natch), many of you may not be aware that I spent my formidable (read: sober) years growing up on the redneck streets of West Virginia. And by redneck, I don’t mean that time you bought that gold by the inch necklace at the Glendale Galleria. I mean country. Like gun rack chic. Cracker Barrel couture. During my tenure in John Denver’s (R.I.P.) home turf, I took it upon myself to bring pop culture to the Blue Ridge Mountains, often challenging the hillbilly status quo in the name of fashion or consumables. For example, I was the first to wear my overalls with one strap untethered– an incredibly bold choice for the time, later found on many a Karl Lagerfeld runway and Color Me Badd band mate. But, perhaps my most daring statement was my flowing, shoulder length blond hair. If Dorothy Hamill was bouncing and behavin’, I was bouncing and befuddlin’, confounding onlookers with my perfect androgynous symmetry. Continue reading
Just Beat It… No really, beat it.
Celebrity Touch Target: Lars Ulrich
Why: Because I thought the outspoken drummer for heavy metal rock band Metallica was actually nonagenarian Betty White
Where: United Airlines flight from JFK to SFO
How: It is a known fact that rock stars age about as well as a Jim Carrey RomCom. So when you see a rock legend in person, you are as likely to mistake them for a sad, week-old Edible Arrangement, as you are a Grammy-award winning artist. That is exactly why my faithful travel companion Elizabeth had to point out, on a recent flight from New York, that the shriveled thing sitting in First Class wasn’t a coworker’s half-hearted attempt to gain favors through skewered fruits and vegetables, but the perpetually angry little drummer for heavy metal band Metallica. Complete with a buckwheat-filled neck pillow (Enter Sandman indeed!), Lars Ulrich and his wispy Crypt Keeper coiffure was unfortunately many, many rows away from my well-manicured Celebrity Touching fingers. The closest thing to a celebrity near me was the caterwauling Russian infant across the row looking to replace Ann Wilson as the lead singer of Heart (not possible). How was I going to touch Lars if I was way back here? Would I be denied this prime Celebrity Touch™? As luck would have it, when we landed, the gods (and by gods, I mean Stevie Nicks, Pat Benatar and Debbie Harry) were with me, because Lars got up from his seat and just stood there… as if he was actually waiting for me… or maybe he thought I was Steven Tyler given the multitude of vibrant hemp scarves I was donning due to something called a “Polar Vortex.” I shimmied up the aisle like Axl Rose in genital-restricting John Varvatos leather trousers and grazed Lars’ grandma clapper as I walked past. Surprisingly, he didn’t disintegrate like so many Ark of the Covenant-gazing Nazis. Celebrity Touch secured!
I’m A Barbie Girl, In a Barbie World
The iconic Barbie Doll was first unleashed on an unsuspecting world in 1959 (the same year Fidel Castro came to power in Cuba, which explains a lot). A huge hit for Mattel, apparently the throngs of repressed, Pall Mall-smoking mothers who bought them for their precocious daughters didn’t give much thought to the fact that Barbie’s proportions didn’t reflect reality in the least. If she was a real person, Barbie would be a horrifying 33” hips, 18” waist – same as mine – and a Dolly-challenging 39” bust, all immortalized in shiny, slick and highly-flammable plastic (apologies to my sisters… plastic boobs are Zippo magnets). Barbie’s glossy, seam-busting frame is exactly what came to mind the night I touched Jessica Simpson. Continue reading
Naked Statues Make Me Think
Celebrity Touch Target: Calvin Klein
Why: Because the famous fashion designer has been in my pants for years
Where: The new Uniqlo store in SOHO
How: The last place you would expect to find Calvin Klein is at a Japanese discount clothing store in Manhattan, but there he was, floating down the stairs with his little Gasian (gay-Asian… no relation to the Craisin). This time, something did come between him and his Calvin (digital high-five to me for dated Brooke Shield’s reference). I had to be careful, because Gasians are known to attack blond white guys without warning and the last thing I need is to be mauled by someone in a crocheted Fendi poncho. As Calvin walked by, I bent down as if to tie my white LA Gear high tops, cautiously reached out and touched his pant leg. I then quickly curled up in the fetal position to protect myself from the furious attack which never materialized. Celebrity Touch™ secured!