Me and Russell Brand

So, remember my encounter with Russell Brand?

Go back and read about it, if you haven't yet. I should tell you that shortly after my brush with Russell Brand, he led a walkout of the class, including the teacher who had been there for at least twenty years. I had proudly stopped going to that class after being snubbed, and when I heard about the Great Walk-Out, I could have killed myself for having missed it. Evidently, Demi Moore was there that day and packed up her mat and sheepskin with the rest of them and walked out.

Anywho.

You know how much I love living in Los Angeles, and even though I live right in the middle of "it all," the whole celebrity thing is really not a part of my daily life. Until it is. The other day, I walked around the corner and toward CVS drugstore, but I decided at the last minute to check out the newest addition to the block, a fancy-schmancy juicery right next to a hot yoga studio (that I tried once and decided was too hot for the likes of juicy me). I'm not sure whether this juicing craze has hit your city or prairie town, yet, but if not, it's coming as sure as Starbucks did a decade back.

Now, I'm not a skinny, juicing kind of woman (in fact, when Oliver was quite young he told me that I was too juicy to be pretty!), and I sure as hell don't intend on replacing a meal (or two!) with a juice every day like a fancy decorator does who I think I told you about in another superficial post. But, good lord, those juiceries are popping up all over the place here in the sunshine, and I figured since it was in the neighborhood, I'd give it a try. I turned inside the tiny store and stood behind a tall, extremely sweaty (those hot yoga classes are hot) guy giving his order to the decidedly unjuicy young thing behind the register. Reader, you know where this is going, don't you?

The tall guy was Russell Brand who appears to be frequenting my neighborhood yoga studio and juicery because since the events of this story, I have seen him several times, walking down the street and into and out of the yoga studio and the juicery. Do you believe that I inwardly groaned and then was overcome with madness and actually tapped him on the shoulder and asked him what had happened to our beloved kundalini teacher and that 9:00 am class? The moment the words came out of my mouth, and Russell looked down his long nose at me, pausing for a moment mid-text, I died a thousand deaths. I won't tell you what he said because it's not interesting at all. He turned away from juicy me and took the juice handed to him by the unjuicy girl and walked out of the store. I ordered some juicy concoction of ginger, lime and spinach or kale, paid $1,000 and walked, juicy as ever, out.

Trying to find the joke in it all

Last week I was snubbed by my yoga teacher when she was whisked away in the middle of our brief conversation by Russell Brand. Yes, that Russell Brand. She turned away from me and toward him and walked away, one arm on his tattooed forearm. I wrestled with feeling humiliated and then wondered if there was a message there for my ego. I wrestled with feelings of repulsion -- both for Russell's harem pants, leg warmers, Buddha beads and top-knot and for my yoga teacher's seeming worship of his celebrity -- and then wondered if there was a message there for my ego. Today, at the end of class and after a series of brutal breathing postures, we were instructed to stand up and do a warrior (or was it archer) pose. When I planted my right foot back and twisted my hips, planting my left foot forward, I pulled my right arm back and held my bow taut. I looked up and over the platform where the teacher sat, her white turbaned head looking straight forward (I was to her right) and realized that Russell Brand, his eyes closed, was directly in my sights. If I'd wanted to, I could have let that arrow fly and it would have landed right between his eyes.

Now look what I have to deal with

That there man with the huge camera hanging at his side is a member of the paparazzi, and he was waiting for me to leave my yoga studio this morning. There were a couple of others with him, but they stepped back when I raised my camera. I was able to duck behind Russell Brand, though, and make a quick exit in my white Mazda. Russell's shiny black Range Rover served as a decoy, so I doubt there'll be any photos of me. I thought I had problems before, what with balancing the boys' athletic practices and games, sixth grade Math, Sophie's seizures and other shenanigans, The Husband, The Mistress, intellectual stimulation, and housework, but this Expressing Motherhood show and my resulting fame as an Actor has really thrown me for a loop. I hope I don't have to resort to drugs and alcohol like Russell evidently did before he found our yoga teacher and studio.