Topics Discussed: Birthdays, Lying, Breast Implants, Mary Kate Olsen’s ankles, 8lb Weights, Mr. Big, Pink Decorating Sugar, Kmart, Airbrushing, Learning My Lesson.
I take kickboxing. I like to work out my aggression on punching bags.
Apparently, so does Matt Damon.
Three years ago I was having a particularly stressful day and a particularly vicious round of punching and kicking at my old gym in Manhattan. It was the middle of the day and the gym was pretty empty, which is how I like it because I’m uncoordinated and look absurd doing physical activity. Cut to me being instantly frustrated when a guy in a baseball hat and his trainer started using the punching bag hanging right next to mine.
“There are OTHER punching bags,” I thought angrily.
I kept punching. At some point I stopped for some water and looked up, locking eyes with the guy at the next punching bag, and then immediately scrambling to stop my eyes from falling out of my head. Matt Damon! I was boxing next to Matt Damon!
I should note that I am hideously unsmooth in situations that involve celebrities (and lots of other situations as well), especially celebrities with whom I’d love to do naked activities. I didn’t know what to do, so I just kept punching. Punching harder and faster and freaking out in my head, coherent things like “Matt punching Damon boxing trainer gym me Matt!!!” I tired myself out pretty quickly with the furious punching and was eventually too sore and winded to continue. And I probably creeped him the hell out, so he soon moved onto another part of the gym.
Just as I was walking away, I saw that he had left his towel on the floor next to the punching bags. I, of course, picked it up, thinking it would be nice to put it in the used towel bin for him. I do nice things for Matt Damon!! As soon as I picked it up I started thinking “I’m touching Matt Damon’s sweat. I could probably sell this on eBay.”
Don’t worry, I didn’t.
When I gushed about the event (yes, seeing Matt Damon in person is an EVENT) to my mom later that night she was all disappointed, asking why I didn’t say something clever to him like, “wanna go?” while pointing to the boxing ring.
1. Mary Kate Olsen and I have the same birthday (Ashley Olsen too, I know, I know, the twin thing). I think this small fact should be enough for her to do something nice for me, like pay off my student loans or buy me an around the world plane ticket. So far it hasn’t happened. What has happened is her shopping at Williams Sonoma and me being her sales associate. I didn’t even know it was her when I was walking over, because I had spent two and three quarter minutes glancing back and forth from her ridiculously tiny ankles to her 4+ inch leopard print heels thinking, “how does someone with such small ankles manage to walk around in such tall shoes? How has she not fallen over? Is she going to fall over? She’s standing awfully close to a lot of breakable dishes.”
When I finally did go over there with my “Hi! Are you finding everything okay?” I almost peed myself. MICHELLE TANNER! I then helped her pick out thousands of dollars worth of merchandise for some party she was having that involved buying copious amounts of pink decorating sugar.
I was, however, smooth enough not to mention to her that “hun, with ankles that size there’s no way you eat anything that has pink decorating sugar on it.”
2. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has tattoos all over his arms that are either new or airbrushed out of everything I’ve seen him do. Oh, I know this because he’s a member of the gym I currently go to in Southern California. Yeah, that’s right. I used to box with Matt Damon and now I lift weights with The Rock. What? I can’t tell people that? It’s called exaggerating. Okay, fiiiineeee, it’s lying. But no one knows that (except all of you, so shhhh).
Having learned my lesson from gawking at Matt Damon and almost dislocating my shoulder by punching so hard in his presence, I kept surprisingly cool during my encounter with The Rock. I kept lifting my 5 and 8lb weights while he did acrobatic pull-ups and curled weights bigger than my head. I must admit, a tiny part of me wanted to say “hey, can you bench me?” Just to see if he’d be all “sure girl, lay down.” But I’m classier than that (read: too shy and awkward).
3. One time my roommate in college saw Mr. Big from Sex and the City at Kmart. Yes, this isn’t my celebri-tale, but six-degrees-of-blah-blah-you-get-it. Oh, and in case the information interests you, he was buying a mop.
4. I once saw Tara Reid on the street. This was post-breast implants and pre-“I had my plastic surgery re-done because I looked ridiculous.”
Sadly (luckily?), I’ve never seen a celebrity for whom the risk of harassment charges/embarrassment has been worth verbally acknowledging that I know who they are and that I adore them. Like, say, Matthew Perry, or anyone from the cast of The West Wing. Which is why you’ve never flipped through US Weekly and seen “Crazed Blogger Attempts to Get Piggy Back Ride from Martin Sheen” as a headline. Sigh. Someday…
*Nicole Antoinette would like to thank Katelin for inviting her to write her first guest post ever! She’s grateful for the opportunity and will eagerly take on future guest posting requests (from Katelin or anyone else!). She’s not sure why she has switched to writing in the third person, but is chalking it up to the majority of her brain space being occupied by the thought of getting a piggy back ride from Martin Sheen.