It's Not as Glamorous as It Looks or Is That A Celebrity or Are You Just Ignoring Me?

If working in PR, watching TV, and basically existing on this planet has taught me anything, it's this: everyone wants to know what it's like to be a celebrity, know a celebrity, work with a celebrity, talk to a celebrity, or just see one. There's this crazy, endless fascination with them. Where do they eat? What do they eat? What do they wear? Where do they shop? Who are they dating? Are they nice? Short? Tall? Fat? Ugly? Do they actually talk to you? Do they actually talk to anyone? Hot spots become hotter when celebrities frequent them. It's like the golden seal of approval. If a pharmaceutical company wants to introduce a new drug, forget the FDA, get a celebrity to OD on it. They'd be golden.

One of my friends likes to pick his doctors by how many celebrities go to them. He figures a celebrity can see anyone, so if they pick that doctor, that doctor has to be the best. He might have a point there actually. I know my allergist is the best in the business. He's quoted everywhere. And once when I went there, I sat next to Sean Hayes. At my doctor doctor's office aka general practitioner who isn't so general, I've heard that Renee Zelwegger is a regular and so is director Ivan Reitman and a host of other A list people that I can't remember. Again, also the best. He got me better when no one else could. He also drained my bank account, but again, a small price to pay for your health, right? And to be within 100 feet of a celebrity... that has to be worth something. Even if said celebrity is behind closed doors and I'll never meet them.

My hair colorist? Well, he does Madonna's hair. I went to him first, but I do love to tell people that. I mean how ridiculous is it that me, with $82 in my bank account, $82 to my name, is going to the same hair colorist as Madonna? The thing is, as much as I can't afford it, I've actually had nightmares that Steven wouldn't see me anymore. Other hair colorists have turned my hair green and orange.... and acted like it was perfectly blonde and I was just being difficult. Then I saw a picture of me and three blondes and well, let's just say one of those things was not like the others. Thank God I found Steven. Six hours later, I was a better, blonder version of myself. He's the one thing in my life I don't have to worry about, I tell him. Amen to that. When I was working my retail job, Maria Bello asked me who did my hair. I hooked her up with Steven Tapp (see side link) and she sent me flowers. Now how great is that?

The thing is, you can't live in Los Angeles and not have seen, spoken to or slept with a celebrity. Okay, I exaggerate. Or maybe I've just done all three. And it's not only because I've worked in the entertainment industry. Sure Donald Sutherland bought me coffee when we were working on script changes during "Backdraft" (He offered it to me, had his driver pull over and ran into the coffee place himself and bought it. Not a p.a. in sight-- which I loved) But Dustin Hoffman also bought me a necklace when I was shopping at Fred Segal. And me to him? A perfect stranger. There I was, on break from Improv Traffic School, browsing the jewelry counter (being that I had no money and am not a jewelry girl, it seemed like a safe bet). Dustin (how queer does that sound? Like I know him or something) was shopping with his daughters and killing time while they changed. He noticed me notice him at the end of the counter and then pretend I didn't. He also told me to try the necklace I was looking at on-- which I did even though I didn't want to. Why? Because Dustin Hoffman told me to! Anyway, he commented that he liked it, but not the other ones I tried on after that and that I should buy it. I told him I didn't have the money and he said, every beautiful woman should have a beautiful necklace. And he proceeded to have the salesgirl put it on his tab, then he put it on me, introduced me to his two daughters, gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me to have a wonderful life. I will admit it made my day. And my grandmother's. But it's not like we ever spoke again. Or I started to have a wonderful life. And that didn't happen when I dated a celebrity either.

Well, dated might be an exaggeration. We had an ongoing "thing." And it wasn't even a good thing. And he wasn't even famous at the time, so I don't know if it counts. But he did become famous. Very famous. And starred on a very famous and popular TVshow. And suddenly girls all across America were talking about how cute and funny he was and how much they'd like to date him. And unless he had a personality transplant and learned a few moves in a few important places, I would think to myself, "Uh, no, you wouldn't." He hated it if someone laughed at something I said. He also liked to sleep with a lot of girls and en route, would drink everything in sight.

There's no doubt about it-- an even weirder thing? When someone who dumps you is famous. They're no longer a part of your life, you're no longer exchanging saliva, but still, you see them everywhere. And know everything happening in their lives. And suddenly, when you do physically see them again, they've become a "celebrity" in your eyes and you're a normal person, so you wonder to yourself if they even remember you and if you can talk to them. Forget about whether or not you should yell at them.

I've met celebrities at birthday parties and dinners and baby showers and weddings, I've worked with them, worked out next to them, helped them at stores, they're friends of friends, I've spent time hanging out with them and still it always feels strange to me when I run into them in the real world. I never know if I should acknowledge meeting them, knowing them, or playing spin the bottle with them. Because now we're out of context-- in the real world where people view them as this unreal thing, so it almost seems wrong to approach them (even without the yelling). It even feels stranger to me that it feels that way when it comes to actors I've worked with on movies or tv shows. I'll have spent a lot of time with these people, working late nights on the set or in the writer's room, taking trips, enduring notes sessions, you name it-- but after not having seen them for awhile and being painfully aware they're famous and I'm not, it seems wrong to assume association. It's like there's this thing that makes them out of bounds.

There are a few exceptions. I mean, I saw Ron Howard and his wife at Nordstrom's (in the shoe section). I walked up and talked to him without pause. And thankfully, he remembered me. And Tori Spelling? I reminded her of a dinner we spent together and a mutual friend. Both were gracious. But Dustin Hoffman? Do I really think I'd register with him? Probably not. Even though I sent him a thank you note for the necklace (which I truly doubt he ever got). I'm not an autograph hound (have NEVER asked for one), not starstruck (although I did see Adrien Brody & Zach Braff at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Sunset Blvd and thought both were darling). I don't go to restaurants to see celebrities-- well, I don't go to restaurants period, but still... I think it, like many things is more the idea of-- like having money and paying your bills-- okay, maybe not. But maybe that's just it. Maybe that's why I'm fine in LA. I don't think it's all that glamorous. And still, I like it.