It’s really hard to move to L.A. and not become a stalker

By  | May 4, 2015 |  Comments | Filed under: Feels


Hi, I’m creepy. I did a thing today that if someone did it to me, I’d move.

When you live in Illinois and watch a show or hear some new music, you might pop on over to the ole interwebz and look up some facts. If I wanted to see any stars in person, I’d have to wait until their concert came to town and then pay for a ticket and deal with parking at the United Center. If it were 1992, I’d have to buy a book to know things, like a caveman. I certainly couldn’t just hop on the Twitter machine to find out what they are eating today, look at their house on Google street view with literally one click of my finger (WHY ARE ADDRESSES PUBLIC INFORMATION??) and show up at their house on the way to brunch in a neighborhood I swear I was already passing through anyway. I swear!

Now I live in L.A. and celebrities are just waltzing around getting coffees like people or something. For 99.9% of them it’s not hard for me to follow the “act like you don’t give a crap” rule because I genuinely do not give a crap. Well. Except that time I saw Nick Nolte out in his bath slippers haggling the price of a used book. That was kind of interesting, but also sad and it certainly never occurred to me to drive to his house like a killer.

The other .01% of celebrities? Specifically Michael C. Hall of Dexter fame? God this is embarrassing. Guess what I did. I just have to get this off my chest because I feel like such a creeper. Okay. At brunch today and YES, I promise I was in the neighborhood for real anyway, NOT to stalk him on purpose I . . . (breathe) I . .. mademyhusbanddrivemetohishouse. Just a drive by! I swear! I just, like, was on my way to look at a piece of real estate, totally unrelated to driving past his house, but it was near that road and we kinda slowed down – but it was up a hill! Maybe we were slowing because of gravity and not my psychotic curiosity!

Can you believe I did that? I am very ashamed to tell you that I saw his porch light was on. Ugh, I hate me right now. Why did my mother give birth to such a menace?!

We happen to be looking at houses to buy right now and my friend, being a total jokester, sent me the listing to Trent Reznor’s house. Do you mean that me, a nobody of the first degree, could just, like, go to Trent Reznor’s house and all I need is the cooperation of my realtor, (who is a personal friend and would totally do it) and a letter of pre-approval? That is it? I could go stand in Trent Reznor’s shower tomorrow if I wanted to lose all self-respect.

I want to be clear this makes me feel terrible, not giddy. It’s not like, what, I’m suddenly going to be 20 pounds thinner and the mom wagon I’m sitting in along with my three kids and the husband driving me are just going to *poof* disappear and Dreamweaver is going to start playing and one of these guys is going to run into my arms forever. Dexter, marry me! Trent, call me! Nine Inch Nails 4Ever!!

The truth is it’s a mental adjustment to be in close proximity to people you’ve put way up on a pedestal. I guess they are just people too and they certainly, clearly deserve respect and not insane soccer moms peeping on their property. Right? Why is that so easy to understand when we’re talking about someone like Justin Bieber or a random One Dimensional guy or whatever?

Someone please take my Google away.

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The psycho in the pearls was a bit too excited to be in Los Feliz today.

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