This Just In!
By Lake Stevens, Man About Town
June 9, 2004
The other afternoon I stopped by a West Hollywood Walgreens on my way home from
my feng shui macrobiotic cooking class. I was surprised to see none other than screen
legend and Veronica's Closet star, Kirstie Alley! Well of course I
had to put my own shopping needs on immediate hold (the "wife" was complaining that
she wasn't so errr...hmm err... "fresh." She lacked that running-on-the-beach-in-white-pants
sort of feeling. You get the idea.). I followed Ms. Alley down the snack aisle.
Next to the bulging bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and Nutter Butters, she looked
stunning in her subtle purple velour wrap and matching track suit. A wide brimmed hat perched
on her head and dark glasses sat daintily on her nose completing the heavenly starlet
look. She was like a flawless, large, glossy eggplant. She stopped quickly
in front of the assortment of dried meat snacks, glanced left, then right, and --
before I could blink -- she darted back down the aisle in the other direction.
Always game for a chase, I fell in place behind her and found myself face to face
with the hygiene aisle, home to a bevvy of frightening and unfamiliar vinegar based products. It was like
staring down the barrel of a loaded, aromatic, gun. I gulped hard, but I
knew that I had to be strong -- thus are the sacrifices made in the name of journalism! I watched as Ms.
Alley slowly danced down the aisle, absently touching a
box of Kotex here, a package of Depends there. Her graceful hips kept time like
a metronome. I was aghast when she stopped dead center in front of...now, loyal readers,
please remember that I never exaggerate...the prophylactics and prophylactic accessories!
Much to my shock and chagrin, Ms. Alley reached out for a package of - no, not Trojans or
even female condoms - but for a bottle of KY Warming Liquid! Ms. Alley
proceeded to open the bottle and squirt a generous dollop into her hand. She opened
the elasticized waistband of her track suit (was it from the J. Lo line? I couldn't
tell) and shoved the lubed hand down, down, deep between her ample thighs.
It was at this point that Ms. Alley turned and saw me gaping, slack jawed and frozen in my tracks.
Her smile was practiced and instant as she explained, "It sometimes gets a little chaffed down there."
Satisfied, she snapped her waistband back into place and wiped her hand clean on her poncho.
I couldn't help but think that lube never comes out of velour, no matter how you scrub. I hoped she
had club soda at home.
Needless to say, I could no longer be witness to atrocity. I propelled myself down
the fluorescent aisles, past the vitamins, cigarettes and toilet tissues and back out into
the safety of the gleaming West Hollywood sunshine. It was only on the drive home
that I realized my own "wife" would have to endure another unfresh evening. In the
name of fame, she would have to get by for one more day without running aside white horses
on any picturesque beaches.
Next week...You will never guess who I saw carpet shopping!
-Lake Stevens, Man About Town