So Ryan Gosling is sitting next to me at the Dresden, a 1950’s styled piano bar in LA, with a group of friends enjoying some cocktails and famous conversation.

Some chick walks up to his table, mid-adjective, and stands there hovering over he and his friend, who seem fairly engaged in not paying attention to her.

I’m watching with my assistant slash homegirl Leelee and it’s one of those “ooohhhhh nooooo how awkward” moments.

That’s when I knew I had to come to the rescue.

Ryan and I had bantered a bit earlier in the night so it wasn’t totally odd for me to get involved, especially since it was for the greater good.

I tear the tapas menu out from the plastic holder thingy in the middle of the table and scribble my signature on it.

Leelee: “What are you about to do?”

Greg: “Don’t worry, I got this.”

I fold up the paper and slide on down to the edge of our booth and tap Ryan on the shoulder.

In a raspy voice he turns around and says, “Hey”

“Dude. [motioning towards the poor girl getting the icy cold shoulder] is she waiting for my autograph?”

A bit befuddled he looks at me, then her, then me.

[raspy]” Yeah, she is actually.”

I hand him the folded up menu and say,

“Here, I’ll let you give it to her for me.”

And I slide back to my seat.

He takes the paper, hands it to the girl, the girl looks at him, then me (trying to figure out if I’m famous) and gives us both a “Huh? I’ve been swindled typa look”… Funny part is she didn’t even leave! She kept standing there!!! Even after RYAN GOSLING gave her MY autograph!? I didn’t think the night could get any better for her, but apparently she wasn’t satisfied… Women.

And that’s the story of when I gave Ryan Gosling my autograph.

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