You can read all about my celeb filled Sunday night when it goes up HERE at noon PST, but in the meantime, get a load of what happened to me last night.
Mom got us tickets for In the Heights, and afterwards, had some gay cabaret bar she wanted to go to, called Don't Tell Mamma. Last night's headliner was "Leah Dubie and her Wild Tribe of Homos", which we missed, not strolling in until 11. We headed down the steps from the sidewalk into this tiny, little, gay cabaret bar as a man held open the door for us.
I looked up at him and thought he kinda resembled a grey haired Abraham Lincoln. Mom brushed right past him as I followed and slowly realized it.
I looked right into his face. "Richard Belzer!"
He grunted at me.
"I'm a really big fan!"
He looked away, twisting his head as far from mine as humanly possible and in a digusted, over-it tone, uttered, "Yeah. Thanks."
Dude. Munch. Lighten up.
As we grab seats as the bar, I grab my mother.
"Mom, did you see! It's fuckin' Belzer!"
"Who?" She deadpanned. "The doorman?"
So I've decided that Munch was pissy because either, he's still mourning the tragic loss of George Carlin, he had also missed Leah Dubie and her Wild Tribe of Homos or my mom tried to slip him a five to check her coat.
We may never be sure...