Valentine's Day, of course, not the other V.D.
So I get home from school and Bink and I go to
Malo, which is our new restaurant to gush about even though it's been there for quite a while and we only just started going a few months ago because we're lazy and unmotivated.
Really nice evening: carnitas de al pastor, shrimp Diablo, chipotle new roasted potatoes, chips and salsa, and really well-made tequila drinks. Tongues burning and brains buzzing.
The guy next to us has that vaguely handsome-but-battered look that women seem to like (a bit of Vince Vaughn from Swingers era here, the guy who played Nate on Six Feet Under there). He busts out his own mixer to make him and his slender and vaguely exotic date/girlfriend/wife blended margaritas. They're very nice and apologetic about the noise, and laugh loudly and confidently.
They leave afterwards in a dark Suburban, and I shake my head a bit at his shirttail hanging out and his white sneakers. A bit frumpled, even for L.A.
Then we realized: oh. Hey. That was
Johnny Knoxville.
At least I think it was
him.
It's been a while since we've done the "brushed shoulders with celebrities without knowing it" thing.