the voice belonged to pop singer Gwen Stefani.

yeah yeah yeah, i said.

“no, really,” she said. “she even said she wants to marry you.”

spend a weekend in bed with me and you’ll say stupid shit too, Gwen.

“you don’t sound excited. she’s young, fun, and rich, isn’t that of interest to you?”

of course. but it’s probably just a phase she’s going through. in the last year she’s been in love with a guy named Johnny, a guy named Rocko, and now a guy named Tony. Once it sinks in that im not Italian, i’ll be history.

“she says she wants to move to LA.” Gwen cooed, like it was news to me.

she says she wants to move to Irvine. you’re from Orange County, you know that’s not LA.

“ok, well, i thought you’d like to know that this young blonde girl really digs you and instead of talking about my band when she met me, all she could talk about was you.”

well, thanks Gwen. good luck on the new record. i think you’re gonna need it.

“that’s not very nice.” she said.

i know. but i mean it. the songs i heard arent so awesome. do some more covers next time. and learn some new dance moves.

she hung up on me. i went back to sleep. a few minutes later she called back.

“i hope she breaks your heart.”

then she hung up again.

i wouldnt doubt it.

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