Celebrity Sightings Of The Bizarre Kind

I have this weekend ritual now known as Le Exercise Torture with my good friend Beth. This entails that every Saturday or Sunday, I hightail my ass to Royal Oak and attend an exercise class that is slowly trying to kill me while posing under the facade of health.

Seriously. My left leg has suddenly started to go numb while I'm eating pizza in my bed late at night and I just know it's the exercise class gnawing its way into my brain to taunt me. "You will feel this in your lunges later, plus I'm creating mental stigma of torture with phantom pain so you can't even enjoy this moment. Don't you get it, dear girl? YOU CAN'T ESCAPE YOUR CONSCIOUS! PUT THE PIZZA DOOOOWWWNNNN!" and so on and so forth.

However, the best part about this weekend ritual is that one hour of grueling exercise hell is immediately following by the most heavenly hour on Earth at the local Big Boy eating as many eggs and hash browns as I possibly can to undo whatever healthy choices may have just occurred. I mean, we can't have those healthy choices sticking around for very long, can we? I just need a giant Undo Button for life.

"You were going 52 in a 35, ma'am". UNDO.

"You just donated 25 bucks you didn't have to save the Seals in Kuwait, when you KNEW that didn't even sound remotely real". UNDO.

"You just drunkenly caressed an old crush from high school at a chance meeting at the bar". UNDO UNDO UNDO.

Exercise is the same way. F all of you stupid liars who are all "I feel refreshed and invigorated after a good work out" when I feel like the kind of cheese that oozes out of its wax wrapping when first opened. Smelly and disgusting. And gelatinous. After exercising, I feel gelatinous. And it's terrible.

BACK TO BREAKFAST. This past Saturday, Beth and myself went and were accompanied by her sister Kelly and Kelly's boyfriend Jack. And it was adorably quaint! The waitress even remembered that Beth is a giant pain in the ass when she orders (her wheat toast dry and tomatoes instead of hash browns) and we all laughed comically, then shared a tragic tear for poor Sandra Bullock's tumultuous love life and all of Jesse James' mistakes. Like the fact that he banged a tattoo model AND never seems to know where his dog, Cinnabun, is.

And just as Beth is going into elaborate detail about the content in the latest Tiger Wood text messages to hit the internet (gross, gross, GROSS, please do not Google they are naughty) Kelly get's all "SHUSHSHUSHSHUSH" while frantically slapping the air at no one and Beth is all "WHAT? It's not like I sent the damn text messages, I'm just telling her what they said!" and Kelly is all "STOP TALKING I need you to look at who's coming into the restaurant right now" and eight eyes pivot to see a really tall dude with a large nose and a half pony tail come striding in, obviously post-workout (or hangover) himself.

That's right. He was sporting the half pony tail.

It was Dax Shepard. I mean, there was quite a lot of fussing about at our table and craned necks and even though none of us could see any better than anyone else we were sitting with, we got very "It's him! I mean...it looks like him, right? It's totally him. What was he in again? Oh that's right, nothing fantastic...Jackass...it's HIM though, right?" until finally Kelly asks a bus boy who is just totally besides himself with the celebrity sighting and gets all 'YES YES ITS HIM' before scampering off.

So we're trying to eat our breakfast and act nonchalant about the fact that we're in the same restaurant as Dax Shepard, like we live in The Hills and are at the Ivy and are all "Wow, that's Spielberg over there, isn't it? Why would he order the Rosemary Chicken! Obviously Salmon is the better choice. See, there's Cameron Diaz. Now there's a girl who knows how to order" when really, we're all busting on the inside. Who knows why. I mean, if I had a chance to list 50...no, let's roll with 100 celebrities on the face of this planet that I would like to run into at a restaurant, I can't honestly say he would make the list.

What I'm trying to say is that I would pick the guy who played Sloth from the movie The Goonies before I picked Dax because a)he died and dead people are always cool to pick in fantasy meetings and b)I heard rumor he ACTUALLY looked like that and need to know for sure.

The breakfast ended kind of lack-lusterly now that I think about it. I practically had to wrestle Kelly not to take a picture of him during a fake "silverware drop and grab" manuever her and Beth were planning, which Beth tried to justify with "If I were a celebrity, trying to have breakfast with my family in Royal Oak and someone came up to take my picture, of course I would be fine with it. And I'd pose with my omelet!" which I wouldn't accept as a viable excuse. So we settled for texting everyone we knew during our 'wheat toast dry' and calling it a day.

And if, on the weird and odd chance Dax Shepard goes blog cruising and comes across this post, it's nothing against you really dude. I think it's just the half ponytail I had a problem with! I loved Baby Mama! Get a haircut!