"Pulling a Lauren."
I'll attempt to define it: One "pulls a Lauren" when he or she does one of the following things, or something similar:
- speaks before thinking and proverbially sticks an entire foot, or perhaps both feet, in mouth
- embarrasses his or herself in public or in front of, say, an attractive member of the opposite sex or celebrity
- make inappropriate comments, or make comments to inappropriate people or at an inappropriate time
- in other words, do something just plain-out awkward with no good reason
There are many examples, but I'll give you the most recent. It involves me, bacon, cream puffs, and Keith Urban.
|No big deal.|
This is the story of why I am boycotted from brunch until further notice.
So my sister, our BFF Bobby, and I were having a casual brunch the other day at Copper Kettle. I say "casual," but it's pseudo-fancy. I was, of course, underdressed and drowsy (it was a rainy Sunday). In other words, not up to par for a celebrity meeting.
Let me tell you about the Copper Kettle brunch... it's a buffet. A fancy buffet. You pay about $17/plate and have your pickings of an endless supply of delicacies like homemade puff pastries, lox, breakfast casserole, cheeses and fruits -- this ain't no Shoney's. As you can imagine, like any good
fatty food-lover, I enjoy a buffet. I take my time with it. You have to scope it out, make sure you don't fill your plate with too much of an eh offering if the big whammy (that you'll want at least a quarter of your plate devoted to) is at the end. Bacon and eggs, I can get at home, but a baked brie stuffed with fruit and jelly? Yes, please. So naturally, I'm a bit annoying to be behind at a buffet. Not inconsiderate, but just slow. And you can imagine that on a drowsy Sunday, I was the worst.
So I'm going through the line, not a thought in my mind except for my portions and plate placement, and I get back to the table where Bobby and Natalie are already eating. And they say to me "Did you not see who was behind you?" She was (understandably) whispering, and I didn't hear her well, so of course I immediately turn around and say, loudly, "BEHIND me?"... right to Keith Urban's face. Strike One. He joins Nikki and their toddler Sunday at the table, and for the next 30 minutes or so, everyone in the restaurant avoids making eye contact and tries their best to pretend like it's no big deal that we're sharing a buffet with two of the biggest celebrities in town. [My friends and I have a point system for celeb sightings, scaled by fame and exclusivity, and they're pretty high up there on the fame scale... Bobby is winning, but that's only because he works at a very fancy restaurant and has waited on both Dolly Parton and Ke$ha, who top the exclusivity scale.]
We sit and eat, and the Kidmans/Urbans sat and ate quietly directly across from us. Didn't they know that they were making us uncomfortable? Inconsiderate people. The restaurant offers these little mini Belgium waffles, so I ordered one. Halfway through it, I decided it'd be better off eaten by hand (I eat mine dry, and they are teeny little things, I swear!), but once Sister and Bobby noticed, I was immediately chastised, the waffle swatted from my hand, and lectured on the propriety of what/how you do/do not eat in front of Nicole Kidman, who sat there oh-so-stoically and didn't seem to eat a thing, let alone a waffle. Strike Two.
|Actual example of the Copper Kettle brunch pastries|
In a move that would seal my fate to never be welcomed at brunch again, I offered to take one for the team and get seconds for the entire table. Bacon and cream puffs were on order, and so I went. I stand there at the basket of miniature cream puffs, which are slightly stuck together, and I carefully count out the predetermined amount and put them on half of my plate. It's a lengthy process and halfway through, I realize that once again Keith Urban is standing directly beside me, waiting on me so he can proceed. You can't really jump the line unnoticed when you're Keith Urban. So what do I do? I look up, giggle, and say "Don't judge me. They're delicious." Yeah. Not my best work.
In my defense, this is something I'd likely say to anyone in an awkward moment... it's kind of my M.O. Don't celebrities just want to be treated like anyone else? He was not amused, however, and had no reaction. No smile or acknowledgement, but just started whistling some tune. Probably a lame one. I think it was quite rude of him, in retrospect. Regardless, what did I do next? What I do best: filled my plate with bacon and nervously hauled ass back to the table, where Natalie and Bobby greeted me with "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO????" Apparently, instead of the hustle I thought I accomplished in getting back to the table, it looked like I was literally running away from Keith Urban. Great. Strike Three.
Such is life, and now I'm out. No more fancy brunches for me. I BLAME KEITH.