In the crazy haze that was last month, I signed up to be part of the A to Z blogging challenge and pledged to blog 26 times this month.
Pledged seems like a big word to use here, like I’ve joined a sorority or something, but I sort of feel like I have. 26 times? Is this possible?
What is a sorority?
I think that most people who move to Malibu have some version of a Cinderella story in their minds. I’m sure it varies from person to person and interest to interest, but you’d be hard pressed to find a 20-something student in Malibu who has never entertained, even for one second, the possibility of randomly meeting and subsequently falling in love with a celebrity.
“Oh my gosh, I never saw this happening. I totally didn’t even want in on the scene. But it was Adam, you know? Adam convinced me.”
“He’s just a good, solid guy, don’t let his stunning looks and curly hair fool you.”
“I mean, hanging out with Chrissy Tiegen at the Oscars was cool and all, but she and Johnny are normal people like us. You’re making too big of a deal out of this.”
(Should I stop or do 25 more?)
My dream Cinderella story involves Adam Brody in all his awkward glory fighting for my attention, me rebuffing him again and again, and Adam declaring his love for me on top of the Starbucks coffee counter.
I love him back. We kiss. Death Cab for Cutie swells in the background. We move to Orange County. He makes a comic book character named Diva Jillian. I seek psychological treatment.
And oneeeeeeee more.
OK, feeling better.
I’m ready to continue.
Alas, this isn’t a story about my unhealthy love of Adam Brody. Nor is it a story of how I’ve been coping since his marriage to Leighton Meester.
No, this is the story of my Malibu Cinderella moment with a celebrity you likely haven’t heard of (and who shall rename nameless) and how I seized the mother freaking day.
It all began at Malibu Kitchen…
(Screen swirls taking us back to that fateful day.)
I was all dressed up, a ploy my friends and I were trying in order to improve my mood. Looking good means feeling good, right? Onwards and upwards! A penny saved is a penny earned!
I wore this little blue dress with ankle boots that placed me somewhere around the 6’1’’ zone and I shopped for cookies with a vengeance and a purpose. Basically, it was like any given Thursday afternoon in Malibu plus heels.
There was this hot, disheled, Jewish man (not Adam) outside of Malibu Kitchen reading the newspaper. I noticed him, vaguely, and then put on my best “I’m so fabulous I don’t even notice you” face and bustled around buying three extra Kinder Buenos for good measure. Hot Man smiled at me. I acted like I didn’t notice. There was a check out and another smile. I moved on.
Back at Pepperdine I pulled out my laptop and settled down for an afternoon of writing when Hilary casually mentioned, “Oh hey. That hot guy outside Malibu Kitchen who smiled at you? Yeah, that was CELEBRITY NAME.”
I about fell out of my chair.
WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME??
WHAT IS LIFE???
I WANNA KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!
I WANT HIM TO SHOW ME!
(More theatrics I will spare you.)
Within minutes Hilary and I were back in her car speeding towards Malibu Country Mart and within a few more minutes I was (very, very awkwardly) giving my number to CELEBRITY NAME and then running off in a fit of giggles and ankle boots.
I spent the afternoon giggling and shaking and saying “oh my gosh” at less and less frequent intervals. (By the end there I think I was down to four times a minute!)
It was the bravest, craziest, seize-the-mother-freaking-day-est thing I have ever done in my entire life.
Call me Cinderjilla.
Call me Mrs. CELEBRITY NAME Denning.
(I’m keeping my last name.)
Oh my gosh.
Oh my gosh.
Oh my gosh.
Oh my gosh.