I saw Adrian Grenier (star of HBO's "Entourage") Saturday night at a small hole-in-the-wall bar on the Lower East Side. Can I write: HOT? No, actually not. Adrian, I recognized at first, as a Wereman. Yes, he was so hairy I thought he was a guy in werewolf costume. More "fur" than a Monchichi doll. All I could see were the apples of his cheeks and a bit of forehead. I was literally terrified when I glanced over and caught him looking at me, smiling beautifully (that's right, he and I made eye contact. And he had a gorgeous grin. And there was no one behind me except a mirror...so who else could he be looking at? Uh, ok, yeah, maybe he was admiring his hair.).
In any case, as soon as our eyes met, I looked away, unnerved by his facial hair. In fact, it didn't click who he was until I thought about it. Adrian Grenier. He reminded me more of that optical illusion of Jesus that you stare at, then when you shut your eyes, you see the inverse burned into your retinas. Frightening, right?**
I will never look at Adrian the same way again. I can't possibly see him as anything else. My retinas, my mind's eye, have been branded and scarred with how he appeared to me that midnight hour last Saturday: a mutant, hairy, Monchichi WereJesus, in the name of Adrian Grenier.
*Turns out, my reaction was in the minority. The entire population of the bar seemed to shift to his end after he appeared. Even my group's Birthday Girl and her friend bravely chatted him up. And he was nice. Bought them drinks, too! Very sweet. Adorable. Kind, mutant, hairy, Monchichi WereJesus.