Smog and Mirrors was never intended to be a celeb obsessed smut blog in the vein of Perez Hilton's creation. But living and partying in
Case in point. Friday night. I arranged a meet up with a friend of mine in WeHo (
This particular night was all girls night. Girls who like girls. Girls who were boys but like girls. And a few boys who like boys. Anywho.
We got there around 11:30pm and made a beeline for the bathroom for some routine maintenance. On the way to the bathroom, I noticed a lot of girls just standing by the wall. "Lonely girls," I thought. No-- turns out that was the line for the bathroom!
Now, genetically, I lack anything resembling patience. What patience I have, I fake. So, we gave up on the line without trying and instead opted for a drink at the bar to wait out the bathroom line. But considering how long it took to get the bartender's attention, we would've been better off just waiting in the bathroom line.
I know what you're thinking at this point. You're probably wanting me to shut up and get to the "celeb" stuff, right? Alright, I'll fast forward-- Fergalicious.exotic dancing.mystery drink.back in line.
So, we eventually make it to the front of the bathroom line on our second attempt. I guess the scantily clad bartenders doing a provocative dance on the bar made everyone in line forget they had to pee. Now, here's where the famous-ish person makes her appearance. Now, because the person involved is a public figure in a public place and what I'm writing is true, legally I can name names without fear of a defamation or libel or privacy lawsuit. So here it goes:
Jackie Warner. If you're a lesbian or watched an ounce of Bravo TV last summer you'd know her as the "power lesbian" personal trainer to the stars. She owns her own gym right here in
Anyway, we were at the front of the line, which was growing longer with every breath, when Ms. Warner and her girlfriend, who could pass as a younger Jackie Warner, enter through the opposite entrance, which also had a line extended out onto the dance floor. The two of them bypass the line and wait near the sinks for a stall. Judging from Jackie's appearance, she'd had a couple drinks and spilled a couple (or was spilled on), as well. Beside the point.
The bathroom attendant, a seemingly misplaced average built man, told the couple to wait in line. So Jackie and her girlfriend stand in front of my friend and me. Who didn't see that coming? The bathroom attendant then tells them again to wait at the end of the line.
Now, I'm not saying I'm clairvoyant or anything, but ... I'll just say there was something in the air. Maybe it was the dizzying amount of air freshener the bathroom attendant had just sprayed, maybe it was all the fierce girl energy from all the estrogen cramped into such a small space, but I started feel a sort of synapse in the air. The same one I seem to feel whenever a celebrity, or in this case a niche celebrity, is near. I don't always feel it but when I do, I know something is about to happen.
Before I could finish that thought, I snapped back to reality to witness Jackie and her girlfriend rushing into a bathroom stall while the bathroom attendant rushed in after them trying to get them out, verbally. Jackie and "young Jackie" (I don't know her girlfriend's name) refused to get out of the stall and went about their "business" (I use the word "business" loosely) despite the bathroom attendant's presence. Someone should have told that guy not to mess with two lesbians in a bathroom stall.
Somehow, the bathroom attendant ended up losing that battle (surprise, surprise!), ultimately finding himself on the other side of the door! And the (porcelain) trophy goes to Ms. and Ms. Warner. Well done, ladies!
Off the record (but really on the record since I'm posting this online), Ms. Warner & Co. were still in the stall when we left the bathroom.
I feel like I should take a moment to thank them for the spectacle. It provided some much needed hilariousness to my otherwise stressful week and soon to be stressful weekend!
Only in L.A.
