Gawker Stalker

I've lived in Santa Barbara for more than five years. But yesterday I had my first legitimately exciting celebrity sighting. Sure, sure, I've been at the movies with Dennis Franz (3x). I've gone to a concert with Perry Ferrell. (Does he count as a celebrity any more?)

But this is the first time I cared enough to call someone to say, "Oh my God, you will absolutely not believe who I just saw."

Let me give you a hint. If you saw this cruising down the 101 in front of you, what would you think?

Well, what I thought was, "What kind of lame bastard would actually pay to have his car rip off Kill Bill like that?" I rolled my eyes and pulled up beside him, because I wanted to see who would have the gall to ride around in that truck. Well, you wanna know who would do that? Quentin freakin' Tarantino, that's who.

Just after I figured out it was him, he pulled off the highway. I thought about doubling back to chase him down — after all, how hard could it be to spot The Pussywagon — but I had places to be, so I didn't.

Of course, I've got nothing on this girl. [Note, this is not the original posting, but the original is gone and this is the only reprint I could find.]