Friday, me and the fantabulous twosome (that would be Anna and Tosh) went to Pov's to see the toothsome and talented Keith Anderson. Yes. That's Keith Anderson, not Urban, but the two are no where near each other in the chambers of my devoted heart.
He played and showed himself to be an enchanting entertainer, a crowd pleaser, and an all around fun guy. At the end of his set, he came out to sign our CD's. When it came time for mine, his manager/assistant/really tall handler guy was talking to him, so he sort of signed my CD and moved on to Anna's. The next thing I know, he looks up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes and says, "Hey thanks." How sweet is that?
The bar was packed with people and there wasn't any spare seating, so we ditched it for some dinner at Denny's, who's honey mustard really sucks and looks like monkey snot.
By ten thirty, we were on the road home, so we stopped at Coburns and picked up Wimbledon staring Kirsten Dunst (ick) and Paul Bettany (Those blue eyes are so scrummy!) and some wine coolers. I was home by 1 and tired as hell. I think it may have had something to do with moving mostly out earlier in the day.
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