Y'aaall. This pumpkin bread is good. I know it's probably technically the exact same as pumpkin bread at any Starbucks anywhere in the country, but here, at this Starbucks—the Starbucks in Malibu, California (I can see the Pacific Ocean! Almost!)—the pumpkin bread tastes different, somehow. Better. Famouser.
GOD. I love Los Angeles like a fat film critic loves pumpkin bread. First of all, because I got to ring in the New Year with sunshine and pink clouds and just a light wrap to ward off the evening chill—instead of under the drenching gutter spout of Sad Sacktown, Bummer County, USA (that's YOU, Seattle [JK, I love you, girl]). And second of all, because CELEBRITIES LIVE HERE. And they are my favorite.
I know we're all supposed to be unimpressed by celebrities, because they're just a bunch of entitled bitchez and pretty much anyone can become a celebrity at this point because have I heard of reality TV (yes, I have, you dick) and who cares and all that. However, I MUST BE BEGGING TO DIFFER. I love the fuck out of celebrities, and I get excited each and every time I see one, and I probably always will. Because everything a celebrity does is funny! Yesterday I saw Hilary from Fresh Prince at the grocery store. I laughed in her face! One time my friend saw Kiefer Sutherland coming out of a LensCrafters. Funny! One time I saw Kato Kaelin eating frozen yogurt. More like frozen joke-urt! (Hmm. Not my best.) My number-one sighting was when I accidentally went to Dabney Coleman's 100th birthday party, and then his 120-year-old wife fell down a stair (she's okay!). It was double funny because I was pretty sure he was Gerald McRaney the entire time. Apologies to both.
But the problem with being in L.A. for any length of time is that it warps your perception of who's famous. Since Danny Glover or Criss Angel: Mindfreak or the Mon-Pratt Family Singers could be lurking around any and every corner, you start seeing celebs around any and every corner. Even when they're not celebs—just non-famous ordinaries (quit lurkin', ordinaries!). That skinny blond lady at the Bed Bath & Beyond? Clearly a famous model past her prime. That old dog taking a poop? I think it was on Gilmore Girls! That bald guy with a mustache drinking a flaming margarita at El Compadre? LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE ONE AND ONLY DENNIS FRANZ. So as a rule of thumb, when I'm in an area where it's entirely plausible to run into Chiwetel Ejiofor weighing the pros and cons of various trowels at the Home Depot, I like to just speed past plausibility to certainty. When it comes to would-be celebrity, I always round up. Because prove me wrong, person listening to my story about celeb sightings! PROVE ME WRONG.
Speaking of things that are totally awesome such as Chiwetel Ejiofor, this pumpkin bread is rocking my—holy shit—is that Judy Tenuta? Parallel-parking!?!?!? (No. But YES! [Wink!]).