Monday, September 17, 2012

My Evenings with Double-O-Seven


I live by the beach in Malibu.  I love it, but I’m telling you right now our place looks nothing like what you’re envisioning.  Same as most in our neighborhood, our house is very humble.  I often refer to it as a cottage, but the technically correct architectural term is “tear-down” (tair-doun).   A little ways up the street, however, sits a whole ‘nother world -- a world where all the original cottages have been lovingly restored … into 20,000 square foot beachside getaways.    Many represent picture-perfect examples of the architectural style known as “holy crap, that place is huge!”

Most evenings I pour myself a glass of wine, slip a plastic bag in my pocket, and head out to let Bebe, our trash talkin’ Chihuahua, do her duty.  My husband once suggested the neighbors probably didn’t appreciate my whole drinking in public ritual, but I told him having a toot while walking the dog seemed like a cool-chick, Chelsea Handler-type thing to do.  Hubs said it seemed like a Mrs. Roper-type thing to do.  So be it.  Three’s Company – me, Bebe and Robert Mondavi.  Anyhoo… as soon as we walk out the door, Bebe makes a beeline toward the fancy houses, as if she honestly believes she belongs to one of those families instead of with us.     

During one such sojourn, while I was distracted trying not to dribble my wine as I cleaned up after the dog, a smooth baritone laced with touches of Ireland wished me a lovely evening.  I looked up in time to see a ridiculously gorgeous, instantly recognizable actor stride by on his way up his driveway.  To respect the man’s privacy, I will refer to him here as Bierce Prosnan, but, trust me, you know him. (If you can’t crack my code, there’s a mega-hint in the title of this blog).      

Now let’s take a slightly deeper dive into exactly how this first, fateful meeting between me and People Magazine’s 2001 “Sexiest Man Alive” went down.   I’m wearing a t-shirt covered in dog hair, a hole-in-the-seat pair of cargo shorts my husband didn’t want anymore, and that most seductive of footwear, Uggs.  I’m bent over like an arthritic old man, picking up dog poop.   Lovely evening?  Probably not from any onlooker’s perspective, but Remington Steele was far too suave to mention it.  He, on the other hand, looked smashing.   If memory serves, I turned red, croaked hello and spilled my Mondavi all over the dog.  Boy was she pissed.

After that, Thomas Crown and I had several encounters.  Almost all of them involved me picking up dog crap, but each time I sensed a certain thrill -- on my part.   And each time, Mr. Fifty Most Beautiful People in The World offered me a heart-stopping smile and debonair greeting.  If anyone else stood in the vicinity, he offered them the same, so as never to hint at our special … ah … bond.   

Alas, earlier this year he and his clan moved to a snazzier stretch of the ‘Bu … way too far for Bebe to walk.  My evenings with James Bond have come to an end.  I’m kind of relieved.  I can stop brushing my hair before I walk the dog.   I did spot Danny DeVito once recently, but it wasn’t the same.
True confessions time.   Ever meet someone famously yowza up-close-and personal?   Did you stutter and blush or smile winningly, toss your hair, and say, “Hey, how’s it going?”  Post a comment.  Inquiring minds want to know.  

15 comments:

  1. I'd love to live at the beach. In anything!

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  2. You crack me up! Loved reading this! I literally laughed out loud. Can I come walk Bebe with you? Please, oh pretty please?

    I've lived in So Cal my whole life and have had several encounters with the rich and famous and every time I'm a total fan girl and am too shy to talk.

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    1. Anytime! Don't know if you're aware but we have a Crumbs here in the 'Bu too!

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  3. I have never met a famous person on the street while doing something else. However, that is because I am terrible about paying attention. All of my friends have to nudge me, and then shout out loud after the whispers don't work, "There goes Ron Howard, you twit!" My response is normally, "Who? Did you say Ron Howard? Where?" Of course by that time, said friend is smacking their head against the wall and muttering things like "I hate going out in public with you." and Ron Howard or whomever is long gone. Probably laughing his hind side off.

    And I am with Janie. I WISH I lived at the Beach. I MISS living at the beach.

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    1. You and my hubs were separated at birth. He dined right beside Tyra Banks a few years ago at El Cholo and never noticed!

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  4. I love your post. Adore your voice. I lived in the hills of Encino (back in the day when I had money) and one of my neighbors was a writer for RS. I used see PB zipping up the hill quite often. I also had neighbors in "the biz" and got to meet many of the rich and famous. Some of them even spoke to me. ; )

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    1. Back at you, Miz Grant, re: post and voice. Your blog was a highlight of my Monday morning!

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  5. Just to let you know, your blog is so much fun and your voice shines through. I adore Beirce Prosnan! He only gets sexier with age, but I hope poop bag lady wasn't the reason for his move? Kidding. It was probably your dog.

    Now, I've never thought about bringing an adult beverage while walking my dog. Must reconsider my strategy - walk fast and get exercise or stroll, sip, enjoy life...hmm.

    Once many many years ago I went to Dantanas with some friends for dinner. We had a looong wait. In the waiting area I saw Connie Chung. I glanced into the restaurant while we drank a glass of wine waiting for our table and noticed some big guy who used to play Grizzly Adams on TV (that's how far back I'm going), glanced to a cozy table in the corner and saw Columbo himself, Peter Falk. I took another sip of wine and noticed far in the corner was Fred Astaire at the time he was married to the jocky. None of them wished me a nice evening, but I was star struck that night.

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    1. The trick to the happy hour dog walk is to have a small dog, (and no workout ambitions).

      So, I love Connie Chung, and I totally remember Grizzly Adams, but Falk and Astaire ... those are STARS ... legends ... Hollywood royalty. I would have passed out.

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  6. What a fun blog, and lucky you to see PB up close and personal.

    As far as meeting famous people up close and personal, I too had some Ron Howard encounters. He lived down the street from my cousins and they knew him fairly well. This while he was playing Opie. I saw him a few times and he seemed quite nice. I was about 7 or 8 at the time.

    I also saw Buffy from the TV show Family Affair. I was working for the police department. I can't really say more, except that night she definitely wasn't cute and adorable.

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    1. Uh-oh. Sounds like Mrs. Beasely would not have approved. Loved your blog today.

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  7. Is there room in your tear-down for me? I'll even carry Bebe all the way to Mr. Bond's new digs so she can do her thing. :-)

    And no, I've never come face to face with a celebrity, or if I did, I didn't notice. Oh wait! I did see Tippi Hedren once.(The Birds, and Melanie Griffith's mom). She came into the Lowe's I was working at, and lucky me, chose my checkout counter.

    I'm painfully aware that my story doesn't come close to yours, but it's all I've got. I have had my photo made with Nora Roberts and Janet Evanovich. Does that count?

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    1. Roz, you are your own celebrity! Plus, anything involving Nora Roberts counts.

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  8. That is the side benny of living in LA, celeb sightings. I had a brief exchange with comedian Louis C.K. recently as I was putting air into my flat tire at a gas station,wanting it to get me five blocks down the street to the tire place (it did). Had the table next to Angela Bassett, her husband, ?mother? ?mother-in-law? and her twins for breakfast a couple years back. Sat near Harrison Ford & Callista Flockhart in a restaurant a couple years back - he had a burger, I think she had two carrot sticks, lol!

    Then there was my chatting with (and not recognizing, because I'm an idiot) Jayne Ann Krentz at conference not so long ago. Apparently I am simply a celebrity magnet!

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