There's not really any reason to go to Jerry's Famous Deli (come now, have YOU heard of it? Exactly. Famous our ass.); the food's not so hot and the prices are silly. But it's one of the very few places open after most of LA shuts down (and LA shuts down early). Because of that, not only do we plebes occasionally eat there, so do the STARS!

So we're sitting there refusing to order more than a hot tea, when we look up and there's Freddie Prinze, Jr. Nice boy, we're sure, but since we actively remember his father, he's too young for us. So we thinks to ourselves, "Selves, isn't he dating ...?" Sho nuff, there's little Sarah Michelle Gellar on his arm. Actually, holding hands. And behind them is Lindsay Sloane, formerly of "Sabrina, The Teenage Witch" and currently of "Grosse Pointe." She had some guy with her but he didn't appear to be famous, so really, whatever.

They were all very snugly and warm and appeared to be normal people. Freddie kissed Sarah on the head at one point. They weren't calling attention to themselves. Basically nice folk. And it warms our hearts that unattractive girls can become stars. Don't get us wrong, they looked scrumptious, but hey now, let's call mieskeit mieskeit when we see it.

Now continuing in the Buffy vein (and has it not become apparent that we're fond of that vessel?) Guess who we flirted with? Xander! Or his identical twin brother, which is equally as cool because we were flirting for the sake of cute boy, not cute star. Okay, maybe that, too. Hey, his brother's an actor, so it all equals out. Nicholas Brendon (or Kelly Donovan, whatever, in real life they're the Schultz brothers) was at the club Scream at The Playroom (Does this happen in other cities? There's a venue and on certain nights there is a "club" there? There's a lot of that going on here in LA. We're not sure if that's the norm.). Now we were there to see Peal (and if we haven't told you that they are our current favorite band, then it's important that we tell you over and over again) and the sound was abysmal, but the band was still cute. Then Radford comes on. Nice boys, met some of them before. And a good band; no wonder they're doing well.

We'd spotted Xander earlier, but had lost track of him in the fog. The faux fog had grown so thick, in fact, that at one point we became convinced we would die in some freak clubbing accident. It wasn't easy ID-ing Xander without gaping, and we don't like to be seen to be gaping. So we sidled up to him and it worked out that we kept getting jostled together. Ah jostling. Sigh.

We made a little small talk, but then our ride insisted it was time to go! Too much fog. Our conversation had been initiated by the fact that, in order to pass by us politely, strangers kept touching the small of our backs. So as we left (and here, suddenly the inclusive "we" must obviously turn momentarily into the royal "we") we pressed our front to his back and whispered meaningfully, "Well, since we're leaving, we'll just nonchalantly rub up against you." In a perfect world we would have slipped him a MASH magazine card so we could begin building our star readership, but in a perfect world we would have gotten off our asses to make said business cards.

Yeah, well, all in good time, because damnit, there are celebrity backs out there that need our breasts up agin 'em. We must never rest ...