note: apologies for any and all spelling errors. spellcheck and i are at blogwar. xo.

when you work at a store owned by a famous stylist celebrity clientele are pretty much a given.  but i don’t freak out around celebrities, and haven’t since i was 18 and had to buck up in order to get paid to work at record labels.  there is nothing professional about whipping out a tittie and a sharpie in front of [insert famous and/or attractive rock/hip hop star here] during a business meeting… most of the time.

but the other day i almost lost my shit when ice-t, coco, and COCO’S ASS (deserving of both capital letters and it’s own shout out) came through. my boy took care of them and i just stood there behind the register breathing deeply and twittering my ass off.  ice-t was walking around with some of coco’s new merch when i told him i could hold the shit while he looked around some more and he responded with “nah. we’re done.” in a way that was so frightening i thought done was his code for kerin’s-life-is-over and actually checked his side for a piece. real talk.

coco came shortly and i started to ring them up. ever so nonchallantaly i told coco that i loved her for being so true to herself and putting it all out there, and we bonded over not wearing pants (i was rocking the garter+thigh highs at the time) and then i turned to ice-t and thanked him for telling souldja boy how it really was, citing it as the most touching moment of 2008.

and then he laughed. a jolly, good natured, laugh.

that’s right: i made ice-t laugh.

and we chatted it up a bit, we said our goodbyes, and they left. and i thought: i fucking love those two. so fucking nice. really lovely people.

until 90 seconds later, when ice-t rambles back into the store with a signed picture of his almost naked wife that he throws on the desk and proclaims “bam! there you go!” and leaves just as swiftly as he came. i didn’t know what to do so i yelled “fuck yeah!” and applauded. all by my lonesome.

and now this is hanging in my bathroom. thank you, and good night.