raging out at... john mayer

Okay, so yes, living in Hollywood, you're bound to have a celebrity neighbor or two. And living anywhere, you're bound to run into your neighbors fairly often. But sometimes, it goes above and beyond the call of neighborly duty and becomes borderline stalker creepy. Welcome to the case of The Gingers Vs. John Mayer. Leave us alone or give us a heads up that we are getting together for the 12th time this week. Two redheads in the foreground of every stalkerazzi picture of John Mayer? Probably us because he haunts our grounds. And we have had enough. Or not nearly enough.

It started for this Ginger years ago when I was a phone operator at a New York radio station. I was 19 years old and passed out asleep at 5 AM on a desk waiting for my shift to start. I could feel a body hovering over me. I fought to stay asleep until this gigantic body began strumming his guitar in an obvious attempt to annoy the piss out of me (or maybe he was warming up for a performance on the country's biggest pop station, but this blog is about me so shut your mouth.) Strike one, John. Don't bother me at 5 AM.

Fast forward to a few years later. I'm working at Mayer's label. Fine, he was there before me but still. My boss at the label sought out my number and called me. John's homebase was New York so without fail, there was a bi-weekly elevator encounter, including one time where the lights went out and we were stuck for about 45 seconds. (Did I pray to be trapped there forever? Mind your business, I will not answer such questions.) Strike 2, John. (Yeah fine, strike 1 Stars for that. But I'm still winning according to golf rules.)

So not too long after leaving that job, I moved out to California. Guess who else decided to change time zones? Out here on the left coast is where things began to get absurd. I managed to avoid Mayer for nearly a year until shortly after the boy I was dating decided he was over it. So in faux celebration, 2 of my girlfriends and I decided to hit up a hotel bar which is no more than 1200 feet from my apartment.

We went in and ordered a round of drinks and I noticed a familiar looking man. I went up to him and tried to place how it was that I knew him. Turns out he was a member of Mayer's band and was in town with John to perform a special holiday show. Of course he was. And here's where it becomes excessive.

JJ invites us to the show and we of course agree. Mayer's stalkerish tendencies aside, he puts on a great show and I love all free things anyway. The next night we decide to hit up Chateau Marmont. Guess who rolls in? Shocking. My body remains a wonderland all over Los Angeles County. Next day we hit up the premiere of Walk Hard, which despite living in LA for a year is the first movie premiere I bother attending. Guess who's on the red carpet promoting his surprise cameo in the film? Yeah, my old buddy J Mizzle. Of course he was. Where else would he be? And is my invisible assistant tipping off the Mayer camp to my every move? Because honestly, I have friends and family I see far less than I see John. I'm actually hard-pressed to think of friends, family, or boyfriends I see more frequently than John. I'm coming up blank.

So as we know, I headed home to New York for the holidays. I hit up a restaurant in Gramercy for dinner with an old boyfriend. We enjoy a nice meal and a few laughs and exit the premises as John is entering. Is there a coast I where I can live in peace? No, Stars, there's only 2 and they're both tainted.

This morning was the final straw, however. Last week, I had a "date" (my god, I hate that word) and went over to Ginger's house to get myself together. A friend of ours decided she would be my angel and straightened my hair for me. This morning I get an IM from Ginger that reads, "YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME. CHECK TMZ RIGHT THIS SECOND." I log in and there's my hair straightening friend smiling up at me, sitting at Katsuya with John. Now he has not only infiltrated both my homes, my Christmas vacation, all the bars I love, but my circle of friends too?

That's enough, John Mayer.

-stars