Let's Kick It Up A Notch!

I was just reading BooMama and she needs some information on how to contact Kate Spade.

Yes, Kate Spade.

I can't help The BooMa, although I would love to oblige. To tell you the truth, BooMama is so popular that I would think we would all be asking her for Kate's cell number so we could text message her. Or maybe Boo is just holding out on us, seeing as how she is so humble and all. That's why we love her.

She's BooMama.

So, if any of you out there reading this happen to know or think you know someone who may know Kate Spade or hey, maybe you are actually Kate Spade (yeah, right) head on over to BooMama's blog and fill her in on all the low down. (And Kate, if you are reading this, "What's up, my homegirl?")

Big Mama's drug post has put me in some sort of tragic gangsta mode...

Anywho.

I have to tell y'all about my most recent celeb encounter. I say most recent because there have been several in my life. One was years ago when my husband and I were in Dulles airport and we saw Prince.

Well, it wasn't actually Prince then. He was The Artist formerly known as Prince. He was really not even an artist; he was a symbol.

So we saw what appeared to be the symbol formerly known as Prince escorted by two very large scary looking bodyguards. (Not Kevin Costner) And our conversation went something like this:

Hubs- "Look! That guy thinks he's The Artist formerly known as Prince."
Me- "It is The Artist formerly known as Prince."
Hubs- "Uh-Uhhh!"
Me- "Yes Huh!"
Hubs- "Nuh-Uhhhh!"
Interrupted by passenger walking by as The Artist leaves our sight, "Yes. It was him. He was on my flight. They let him get off the plane early."

Add the fact that the symbol formerly known as The Artist formerly known as Prince was close enough to hear our entire conversation and you can imagine why it has been one of the funniest moments in our marriage.

Back to my most recent encounter.

I was in Target one afternoon looking SUPER FLY with no make-up, a top knot for a hairdo and sweats. Let me be specific- I was wearing this shirt:

Then I saw him. Emeril Lagasse. Yes, m'am. I did. He pushed his little red cart right next to my little red cart, but I think my little red cart had more stuff in it. By the time I realized it was him, he had vanished into the housewares department and I was standing there like a deer in headlights with a bewildered look on my face.

"Yes. It's him," another shopper said. Apparently she could read my bewildered look.
"I think it is. I heard him talk. He has a distinct voice," I said to her as she pushed her little red cart.

I didn't want to approach him and be all paparazzi or anything. And, let's face it. I was in Target looking fine in my sweatpants and "the shirt." What was I going to do? Run up to him and say, "BAM! Can I have your autograph?" What would the man think?

Who is this deranged woman with that horrible top knot and exactly what kind of novel is she writing?

So I decided to lay low and just stare from afar. Oh, you know you would have stared, too! I went to the check-out lanes with my own little red cart and watched as he unloaded his little red cart. Then he did the most amazing thing! He bought paper towels! IN BULK!

Who knew?

I am in the know when it comes to the paper product purchasing of the rich and famous. It's an untapped tabloid market these days.

The brand? Wouldn't you like to know... I like to keep some things a secret. That's what makes me so mysterious... and weird.

BAM!