I met JT (we're on a nickname basis) a few years back while I was vacationing with friends in Los Angeles. Well, it wasn't "vacationing" as much as it was driving to California in my shitty car and crashing on my friends' sofa for five days. And, I didn't really meet him. I was outside of a club in Hollywood when one of my buddy's pointed out that the dude in the Trilby hat a few feet from us was in fact Justin Timberlake. We were apprehensive about talking to him, fearing that he would kick all of our asses and write a hit R&B dance song about it. I did however yell out "Justin!"
I actually talked to Steve-O, and unlike Justin, he didn't run away from me like a bitch. While perusing around the city, I stumbled upon the Jackass alum, who was wearing a lab coat for some wacky reason. He was accompanied by a chick I had never heard of, but resembled a Rock of Love contestant. When my buddies and I approached him, he was very friendly. This could have been due to his severe inebriation, but he was a good sport. He inquired if I "had any coke," and I kindly acknowledged that I was more of a Pepsi guy. I did offer him some of my Seagrams whiskey that I was carrying in my back pocket, though. Before I could even remove the cap, he grabbed the flask and gulped down three swigs of the lukewarm liquor. I took a pull as well and immediately regretted my decision to swap fluids with a guy that probably has an alphabet of Hepatitises.
When I was eleven, my parents signed me up for Danny Manning's basketball camp as a way to get me out of the house for several hours a day. If you don't know who Danny Manning is, I don't blame you. He played for the Suns in the mid-90's and won the Sixth Man of the Year award. That's it. He was the sixth best player on a mediocre team. But, at the time he was godlike to adolescent white kids who had delusions of grandeur about making it to the pros. During the three-week experience, Danny would occasionally show up to camp, shoot a couple jump shots, then collect his check and go back to his gaggle of hoes. I didn't get to meet him until the last day of camp, where the other three hundred
Employee of the Month. In hindsight, I didn't really care to hang out with him again.
Wayne Gretzky's Son
Alright, maybe he's not a celebrity, but his dad is "The Great One," so that should count for something. I was at one of my friend's parties and needed a beer pong partner since my cohort at the time was busy performing cunnilingus on the toilet after five too many shots. A spry young chap came up to me and offered his pong skills. I accepted, and we went on to win twelve games in a row (fine, it was four). He was considerably skilled at the art of pong and seemed like an overall cool dude. After we finished the game I made him a beer bong filled with jungle juice, which he chugged in record time. He ended up having to leave around midnight and I went on doing my own thing for the remainder of the night. The next morning, I awoke from the kitchen floor and participated in the routine morning-after "what the fuck happened last night" conference with my friends that had stayed overnight. It was then explained to me that I had gotten my new sixteen year-old friend so drunk that he barfed all over the front porch and had to be carried into his buddy's car. Oh, and he was Wayne Gretzky's son. Whoops.
Those are just a few of the celebrities I've met throughout the course of my life. I'm sure that plenty of my friends have met and/or fucked much more famous people than I. Hopefully one day I will meet an A-lister and become their best friend. That way I won't have to hold a job and can reside in their pool house while fornicating with the leftover models scattered across the property. Until then, I'm perfectly content running into random pseudo-celebrities while I'm visiting the City of Angels, crashing on my buddy's couch.