Blake Shelton Hiding Down the Street When Divorce Announcement Made, I had no Choice but to Try and Break in

The world learned yesterday that Miranda Lambert and Blake Shelton were getting a divorce. THE SKY IS FALLING. They are so cute! How can this happen? Do I have a chance with Blake? Yes, I am amarried but Jim would leave me for Miranda. I mean, I am NOT a country fan but after “The Voice” many of us girls were swayed to the boots and snap-button-shirts “side.” He is ADORBS. That’s right, he turns married mothers of three into middle school girls that use words like “ADORBS” in all caps.

Then something crazy happened. I found out Blake Shelton was here. Here as in my little town, hiding out from the paparazzi!

Names have been changed to protect those that should have NEVER told me they saw him because they should have known better, but in all fairness, they shouldn’t have told me but I don’t want anyone to know how STUPID they were to tell ME because they should know how my mind works.

Here is my immediate train of thought when this person mentioned he saw Blake Shelton.

• Call Uber (we had had a glass of wine, or two)
• Call Sally, (my usual partner in crime that doesn’t ever ask if my ideas may not be well thought out because those kinds of friends are drags.)
• I need lipstick to meet my new husband. (Yes, I am happily married at this moment)
• Tell Sally to bring lipstick when she comes.
• Why am I wearing this ironic watermelon shirt from JCrew  today of all days.
• OMG, when Sally sees this shirt she will know I bought it at an outlet store and then she will get all yell-y with the “You are married to a doctor! You don’t have to buy two year old ugly clothes, LIKE THAT WATERMELON SHIRT from an outlet mall.”
• My hair. Why do I have golf cart hair and my makeup not done?
• I hope the gate to the house he was at is still open!

I need to give a little history here because I am NOT a fan girl and I do NOT live in LA.

I live in a sleepy North Carolina town. It’s rural. Like, Mayberry rural but we are pretty cosmopolitan with the residents that call this home or a sometimes home.” We have had Chris Paul (the basketball STAR) try and buy a home on our street. We get famous race car drivers because, well, North Carolina. You know that they make a lot of movies here so we have even had well known actors stay in our very own home when they are in town shooting.

If you go into town, Winston-Salem, you might have Burgess Jenkins (Young and the Restless) stop and talk to you while you are having a coffee.

There was a time when Maya Angelou was alive you might see Oprah and Gale downtown as well. Celebrity sightings aren’t that uncommon here. I don’t run out of my house texting friends to keep their phones on and hit the ATM for bail money and wait for my call when someone put son FB George Clooney is shooting scenes on Trade Street.

However, Blake Shelton was here hiding after his and Miranda’s people broke the news that not only were they splitting up, but they had secretly filed months ago and the divorce was final by the time we found out. The plan was no one was supposed to know Blake was here so he could lay low at his buddies house, race car driver Clint Bowyer.

But then I found out.

Here is how that unfolded.

I drove my golf-cart over to my neighbors to tell our youngest son it was time to come home after playing there all day. My friend invited him to spend the night at their house and for me to have a glass of wine while her husband napped on the couch. She was waiting for him to wake up to start grilling dinner. I obliged and we had a glass, or two, of wine.

Her husband woke up and had a glass with us for an hour and we chatted about the usual things.

Two hours into being at their house, don’t I have the best neighbors, my friend went outside to check the food on the grill.

I was standing at the kitchen island when her husband mumbles, “Yeah, I was over my buddies looking at something and Blake Shelton was there just sitting on the deck.”

Me, (half paying attention) “Excuse me? did you just say Blake Shelton is around here or you were watching television and you saw him?”

Him, (just walking around working on cheese slices for the burgers with his back to me) “No, he is here in Davie county at Clint’s house.”

Me, (looking suspicious and wondering if my friends husband is drunk, insane or had a stoke during his nap) “Are you saying that Blake Shelton, the country singer, is sitting on a deck here in Davie County? The Blake Shelton that announced today he is getting a divorce from Miranda Lambert?”

Him, “Oh yeah, they mentioned he needed to get away. Is that why? He is getting a divorce?”

Me, “I call Bull$hit! You lying a$$! Lexie! Get in here!”

His wife walks in. I ask him to repeat what he just told me and I asked her first if she knew this. Then I asked her to tell me if he is lying.

He repeats what he told me to her face growing more annoyed and then to the eventual squinting “pooping face” all wives make when their husbands are being stupid. The same face Botox prohibited me to make and that led to my husband suddenly thinking he was a genius and why I wrote a blog post about why Botox saved my marriage. That story is here [Botox Saved My Marriage] She doesn’t even address him and turns to me and says, “He is NOT lying and that dumba$$ is just now telling me this and WE ARE LOSING DAYLIGHT!”

I pick the best of friends. Like the ones that will drop feeding their kids to go stalk Blake Shelton.

But then Lexie fed her kids, and mine because she is a good mom, a little “stalkie” but I will explain that in a bit. All great friends are a little “stalkie.”

I texted Sally. Sally is my partner in crime that when I tell her one of my brilliant ideas she never replies with, “Are you sure?” or “Have you thought this one through?” because she is F.U.N. She is also Lexie’s sister-in-law which means she can too come over, and with a familial love tell Lexie’s husband he is a complete moron for not calling us while he was looking at Blake Shelton.

My eleven year-old asked where we were going and I told him to meet his new step dad, Blake Shelton. He burst into tears, laughing. I like to think it was because he has my sense of humor and I know he loves Blake Shelton too but I really think he was looking at my watermelon t-shirt thinking, “In that?”

Sally shows up and with her 19 year-old daughter who had not been drinking, like we had been, turns out Sally was folding clothes with a glass of wine to keep her company.

Sally, “Did you get that watermelon shirt at the Goodwill because I know that even THAT is too ugly for the Banana Republic Outlet?”

Me, “It’s IRONIC! AND it is from JCrew!”

Sally, “The JCrew Outlet?”  

Me, (sheepishly) “Yes, but it’s an IRONIC watermelon shirt and I didn’t know I would be meeting my future husband today when I put it on. Where is my lipstick?”

She tells me she made her nineteen year-old daughter put on a dress because SHE was marrying her off to the newly single Blake.

Her daughter is super cute. I am now losing to age, this shirt and Sally never gave me lipstick.

I tell her cute daughter I wish to call her “Uber” for the rest of the night. I also tell her it will come in handy in case were arrested. She is not an accomplice but a paid driver now, but we weren’t paying Uber, the girl.

My son announced he is NOT missing this and he is going too. I tell him I will tell “Step-Daddy-Blake” all about him but this is an adult excursion because things could easily NOT go as planned and he would have to go to foster care until my real husband comes to get him.

I get in the car and find my other friend’s nine year-old daughter smiling in the backseat. My kid is going to be so pi$$ed when he realizes a kid is going with us after I told hm no kids. I announce this but I say, “Elliott Peter is going to be so mad when he sees a kid came.”

Her smart mom announces we need her there to tell this story at our funeral. She also says this is a special memory for her little girl and she wants her to learn the art of stalking from her. After all, my friend is a total stalker of some boy band I am too old to know. Like, she goes on their cruises with them and I promise their security guards have her on a “watch list.” Oh, I just remembered, she is a “Block Head” so it’s “New Kids on the Block.”

We are driving to the race car driver’s home when I remembered Elliott watched “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood” recently and told me he was adopting a Louisiana accent so that when he tells people stories about me when he is old they sound even better, like in the movie.

He also told me he was writing a book about me like the “Ya-Yas” and I pat myself on my back in Sally’s Lexus at my parenting win.

I often tell my kids your best years are ahead of you. Do you think my parents would let me go try and hang out with Garth Brooks if we found out he was just down the road? Of course not! I would also not want to see Garth, but this is Blake. Blake doesn’t even sound country.

I sit in the car and wonder if when we are married I could get Blake to switch to rock?

As we begin pulling down the long country road I announce I will have to slice one of Sally’s tires so we can fake a flat when we walk down the driveway.

Crap, they closed the gate.

I sat for an hour listening to Lexie’s husband fart on the couch in his sleep and another hour talking about tractor trailers with him when he woke up and I bet if he would have told us THEN that BLAKE FREAKIN’ SHELTON was down the road it would have been daylight and the gate would have still been open when we got here. 

New plan. We would have to talk to them via the gate box and trick them into opening the gate.

Sally pulls up and gets out of the front passenger side and says, “We have run out of gas. Could you help us?” into the box.

I yell to Sally, “You should probably turn off the car stupid so it is at least believable.”

Uber turns off the car engine while giggling.

Sally looks at me and then down at my watermelon shirt.

I hop out of the backseat and walk up to the box. I tell them to record me and I will show them how to get the gate open, with confidence.

Then we took selfies in front of the UNOPENED gate.

We posted on Facebook.

We sat and texted friends.

We basically live blogged the whole thing.

I couldn’t sleep when I realized what a missed Persicope moment this way.

I couldn’t sleep when I realized I said my full name in the box.

I saw headlights in my driveway in my bathroom window…at midnight.

They must have filed a report.

It must be the police.

I went and put on lipstick? I practiced my mugshot smile?

I waited at the door for the knock. Instead one of my fifteen year-old twins walked in after running a neighbor kid home in the golf cart who was homesick.

I am NOT going to jail! Tonight anyway.

I wake up and text my friends.

 

I will be at the barn in anyone needs me but don’t tell the poop, I mean police.

Thanks to my friends who aren’t afraid to be my “Ya-Yas’ to my “Ya.”

To Blake I am sorry you didn’t get to hang out with my crew because we are pretty funny.

To my neighbor Clint Bowyer, we need to meet sometime. Your wife Lorra would LOVE us.

Abbie Gale

“All That Makes You…”

allthatmakesyou.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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