I Don't Mean to Brag...Well, Actually, I Do.

Last year about this time, I was fortunate to have a celebrity sighting practically everywhere I went. For some reason, it is still so exciting to see a famous person--even though we get them at the bakery all the time (Faye Dunaway came in today!!! And I got to talk to her!!!). For the most part I can remain pretty calm and collected...until Alan Alda came in last Saturday. I grew up watching M*A*S*H*, and even though I have seen every episode, I still enjoy the show. In fact, when I returned home from France and had no job I watched about four hours of M*A*S*H* everyday...to the point of having Hawkeye cameos in my dreams. When I recognized Alan Alda in the cupcake line my heart pounded loudly and my jaw hit the floor. It was Alan freakin' Alda!!! I couldn't help myself and I became that giddy fan, gushing about how much I enjoyed the tv show and won't my dad be excited to hear that I met Alan Alda....I was retarded and Mr. Alda was very polite to thank me and shake my hand. Don't worry, I didn't mention that he has showed up in my dreams. I am not that stupid.

I never liked the idea of going right up to a favorite celebrity and start gushing. I've always hoped for something more organic, like reaching for the same bottle of soy milk or sitting next to him/her on the subway. That's what I imagine for an ideal celebrity meeting. So Saturday's experience was a little embarrassing, along with the coolness of it. Fortunately, Sunday's celebrity sighting was so much better than I could ever imagine. Try this situation on for size:

Last Sunday, my roommate S and I took a trip to Williamstown, Massachussets for the Williamstown Theatre Festival. I know I am going to get a few lectures about Sabbath Day observance, so please let me continue by saying that we went to the festival to support a friend. Well, S's friend. My very talented roommate received her Master's degree in Drama Therapy at Kansas State> While there she met a girl named Megan (studying the same thing) who just so happens to be married to an up and coming playwright, Nathan Louis Jackson. (Variety Magazine calls him "one to watch.") Nathan, who is currently at Julliard, penned a play entitled Broke-ology that was entered into the Williamstown Theatre Festival. This is a big deal. The WTF is like the Cannes Film Festival or Sundance of theatre, and after showing at the festival, Nathan's play could very likely get picked up by a theatre company and show on Broadway in the next couple of years.

Despite all that coolness, I had another reason for accompanying my roommate to the Birkshires...the play starred Gaius Charles, who also plays Smash Williams in Friday Night Lights. Maybe you recall me dedicating an entire blog entry to the show. (Are you watching yet?) For S, Smash's appearance was just icing on the cake; she's a fan of the show as well. So we bought our tickets, rented a car, and planned our trip to Williamstown.

We used my credit card to rent the car, so that meant I had to drive. In New York City. I was actually hoping I would never have to drive here. It is scary. People honk and run red lights, and I gripped that steering wheel tightly.

Keeping my eyes on the road, S, her friend, and I made it out of the city in one piece.

The trip to Williamstown is four hours of lush green scenery dotted with charming villages and idyllic farmhouses. We even came across a little touristy country store that sold fudge and turtle candies the size of my hand. You better believe I bought one. Since I haven't driven for a long time, my body was a little sore and tired from driving. I was very happy to see this sign:

The play was beautiful. The story involves a family (a widower and his two sons) dealing with the issues being stuck in a bad Kansas City neighborhood. One son went away to school, and is afraid to get stuck, his brother stuck facing a bleak future of going nowhere, and the father, dealing with MS, regrets never helping his family have a better life. Throughout the play, Nathan wove rules to the game of dominoes throughout the themes of the play. It was warm, touching, and also pretty funny. I enjoyed it immensely.

After the show, Nathan (above) and his wife (below) invited us over to the place they are staying to hang out with the cast. Oh yes, the whole cast, including Gaius Charles. This was cool enough, but the other cast members were just as cool.

Playing the father was Wendell Pierce. Now, I cannot pinpoint where I've seen him, but he has an extensive resume including films such as The Fighting Temptations, Malcom X and Ray, as well as appearances on Law & Order, In Plain Sight, plus he had a recurring role on HBO's critically acclaimed The Wire. He was seriously the most down-to-earth person. I would never guess that he was a Julliard-graduate actor if I saw him on the subway. S and I clicked with him right away. He even showed Sarah how to play bones, er dominos. His friends were pretty cool too. Joining him was a graphic artist by the name of Powell, and Ricky a jazz musician who plays in Wynton Marselis' band.

S and I told ourselves we will allow ourselves five minutes of dorkiness over Gaius, but after that we would have to be cool, calm and collected. While eating our pizza, S got Gauis' attention to let him know that we were fans of the show. I told him that he was the reason I came up to watch the play. Sadly, he couldn't spill any secrets about the show, but that's fine; it's better to be surprised anyway. We did talk about Seattle, bakeries (and my goals to open a bakery), talk show hosting (S's aspirations) and how he needs to take time to play...by going to Seattle. It was so cool. When I asked him about living in Austin, TX (where FNL is filmed) he told me I looked like an Austin-ite. It's a total compliment. He even asked me about my decision to become a vegetarian. He is not like the cocky football star character he plays on Friday Night Lights. Not that that would be a bad thing. It just shows that he is a good actor. He's a working one as well. Not only did he do this play during his FNL hiatus, he also worked on two indie films. (This is why he needs to take a break and play.)

After some good chitchat and a couple games of bones, Gaius took us to Lickety Split, Williamstown's ice cream parlour. I don't eat much dairy anymore, but for blackberry-flavored ice cream I will deal with a tummy ache. It is just one of the things you do to hang out with Gauis Charles...and Wendell Pierce...and an artist named Powell...and Ricky the jazz musician...and up-and-coming-playwright Nathan Louis Jackson.

(L to R: Gaius, S, Wendell, S's friend--who slyly got Gaius' email address. It helps that she had no idea who he was--yours truly, and Ricky.)

We did have to pay the piper, so to speak, for breaking the Sabbath. We got a parking ticket on the rental car after circling for a very long time to find a place. Although the ticket was $165, it is a small price to pay for the Best Celebrity Experience. Ever.

Big Sigh

Fabian Cancellara of Switzerland, World Time Trial Champion (in cycling, obviously), is hot, fast and fabulous. I think I'm in love.

Best of luck to you in this year's year Tour de France...also known as the Best Sporting Event in the World.

A Tale of Two Oglings

Two weeks ago I spent a lovely Monday exploring the Lower East Side (LES)with one of my friends. As we were eating lunch at Clinton St. Baking Company, my friend mentioned that the LES has a non-fancy lingirie store where a little old lady picks out a perfect bra just by looking at the customer's chest. Intrigued, I said we needed to find it since I desperately needed a new brassiere. Seriously. The one I was wearing on that day was an old one that I purchased from Victoria Secret about four years ago. And I think we all know that Vicky's bras are not made to last that long--epecially since they aren't meant to be worn for more than two hours at a time. This particular one was too big and had no elasticity.

This spontaneous bra-shopping excursion was meant to be because it did not take us long to find the little, unassuming lingirie shop. The store was filled with shelves full of long, thin boxes holding all types of women's underpinnings. I am sure there was some sort of organizational system, but it was unclear to the untrained eye. With all the clutter and the flourescent lighting, it was hard to realize that this was a place to get the perfect bra. I looked for a little old lady, but only saw a middle-aged African-American woman and an older, fat, Orthodox Jew...man. He asked what I needed, and I said that I would like to buy a new bra. I thought he was going to call for some unseen granmotherly-type woman hiding behind the curtain, but instead he asked me to remove my over-the-shoulder-strapped bag and proceeded to stare at my chest and and ask me questions about my cup size. It was very odd. Orthodox Jews are not allowed to even touch members of the opposite sex except the person to whom they are married, but somehow it was perfectly all right for this particular Orthodox Jew to stare at my bosom.

He picked out one bra but it was a little too big. (The middle-aged African-Amercan helped with the fitting, naturally.) The next bra, however, was perfect. Absolutely, 100% perfect. I noticed that the brand he chose was, Wacoal, a brand that costs about $50-$70 at department stores like Lord & Taylor's. Since I don't have that disposable income quite yet, I was concerned about handing over my debit card. But I sucked it up--after all, it fit so well. (I even wore it out of the store.) But when ringing up my total the Orthodox Jew announced that the grand total was $22.00. See, even more perfect. The first garbage can I saw, I ceremoniously threw out that old Victoria Secret bra. (Just so you know...I do have newer bras than that Vicky bra.)

My friend and I left the shop smirking and I stated that the experience was the first time I wasn't creeped out after a guy totally stared at my chest. It happens more than I care to admit, and probably happens more than I am aware of (thankfully). But there are some guys who are just so blatant about their staring problems.

Case in point: About an hour later, my friend and I were hankering for a pickle. It is a little odd to crave a pickle, but we were hanging out in the pickle neighborhood. We found one, but after smelling that strong smell of vinegar neither of us wanted a pickle. (Plus we were probably full from the gelato/sorbet we had eaten.) One of the male workers asked if he could help us, and my friend replied that we were just enjoying the view. Then he quipped that he was also "enjoying the view" as he looked us up and down. Ugh. Creepy. We left post-haste. However, now that I think of it, he probably would not have enjoyed the view nearly as much if I was still wearing that awful Victoria Secret bra.