twinkle twinkle

Saturday, mar. 15, 2008   |   0 comments

eing a NoCal girl at heart, I'm not yet jaded by Los Angeles' own breed of astronomy. Sad but true, I still get a little rush when I encounter the likes of Adam Rich, Christopher Guest, Mindy Cohn, Rutger Hauer, Marion Ross, Scott Baio, or Tori Spelling.

I have also encountered a fascinating hybrid of the star-sighting: seeing "people" from The Real World. This genre is particularly unsettling, since your initial reaction to these specimens is to think that they're someone you know. A friend of a friend. The receptionist at your gynecologist's. You walk towards them, tentative smile in place. You begin to sense you don't like them, yet you fear they might be important. Could this be an integral link in your job-seeking network? Finally you realize just who the fuck they are. This realization is followed closely by other thoughts: "My life must be really sad if I actually watch the comings and goings of this null set" and "I must smash my television and enroll in grad school." You feel nothing but scorn. But by that time it's too late, your stares have already pegged you as an adoring fan. You leave the encounter depressed. They leave with a stoked ego.

Similar, but different, was the time I served the C&R Clothiers guy buttered popcorn. Since I just couldn't place him (actor? no. politician? no. high school counselor? no.), I gave him the one-eyebrow quiz look as I "buttered his kernals." And then he just said it: "I guarantee it." His face was as still as a wax sculpture, nothing moving but his lower jaw, and he bored into me with his hypno eyes -- just like on TV! I shot him with my finger, right from my polyestered hip, and gave him that popcorn gratis.

But my very bestest star sighting was the one and only Fonz.

No, this is NOT one of those county faire "use the magic of computers to insert YOUR head on cindy crawford's body and then make it look like you're on the cover of vogue" dealies. And no, Fonzie 'n' me aren't having an affair (how you flatter me!). I hate to burst your "evany vs. pinkie" bitch-fight fantasies, but Mr. Winkler was merely a guest director on Clueless (the so-cheesy-I-can't-believe-it's-still-on-the-air TV show that's based on the people-say-it's-based-on-austin's(jane not powers)-emma-but-I-can't-see-it feature film), where my fine friend Sophia works in the costuming department.

And then I once had the pleasure of sitting next to Diamond David Lee Roth at Crazy Girls (in Los Angeles), the strip club. But, unlike the Fonz, Dave was too busy getting a free lap dance to pose with me for a picture. Dick.