Frequent and dedicated readers of the Kevin and Leslie blog will remember that last summer I willingly discarded my hopefully-well-established masculinity in order to indulge my sweetheart by attending “Mama Mia!” Because of this thoughtless act of generosity I have spent the last year scratching and clawing my way out of the pit of metrosexuality: I now belch more, tell dirtier jokes, and no longer enjoy the simple pleasures of a pedicure. Well, it appears that despite my best efforts the dog days of summer have a way of infusing me with unnatural levels of estrogen because I have done it again. I spent the last year scrapping to take a single manly step forward; unfortunately, going to the play “Legally Blonde” may have been two steps back.
HOWEVER, if you think this post is just another meandering rant about a chick-flick, I exhort you to read on and ye shall be rewarded. True, Leslie and I, along with her mother and sister, went to see “Legally Blonde” last week in Hollywood. I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t bad, but that’s not the point. As we sat in our seats skimming the playbill waiting for the lights to dim, Leslie grabbed my arm and in an excited squeal exclaimed, “It’s Bridget and Holly!” I looked over in time to indeed see Bridget and Holly walking past our row. Then, they sat down literally four rows in front of us!
For those of you who clearly have jobs and independently satisfying lives, I will explain who Bridget and Holly are: Bridget and Holly were on a little reality program called, “The Girls Next Door.”
The premise of the show is centered on life at the Playboy mansion. The “Girls,” three in all, Bridget, Holly, and Kendra (Holly is in the middle, Bridget on the right above), were Hugh Heffner’s girlfriends. Although we all thought surely this was a love meant to last forever, the group recently broke up and the girls went their separate ways.To make a long story short, Leslie eventually dared me to go get my picture taken with them. At intermission, I watched as Holly left for the bathroom. Then, in a stalker-like fashion that even made me uncomfortable, I followed after her. In the lobby I caught up to her and trying my absolute best to not look like a lonely psycho loser who chases Playboy Playmates through theater lobbies, I asked in my least creepy voice if could get a picture with her. She was very friendly and someone passing by offered to take the picture. As I put my arm around her to get the shot, I just couldn’t help but thinking that Hugh Heffner’s withered, 80+ year old arms have been in this exact spot. Suppressing a shudder, I got the picture, thanked her, and went back to my seat where Leslie and I mused over our fortuitous brush with a B grade celebrity.
I must admit that although meeting Hugh Heffner’s ex-girlfriend isn’t exactly like having dinner with Jack Nicholson, this really was the first “celebrity” I’d ever met. The closest to celebrity I’d ever come besides this would be when I shook Elder Holland’s hand while on my mission. While I can’t be positive how broad the spectrum of celebrity is, I am pretty sure that I have now been to both ends of it!
Shana=cutest golfer
