I've only been starstruck once. It was the year after Run Lola Run came out and I ran into Franka Potente in a Tabac in Paris. We both were buying the same Gauloise cigarettes and even without that fire red hair, I was smitten. I followed her out of the Tabac and through the third arrondissement like some kind of spy, scarf around head, big sunglasses, Canadian flag on my American backpack. (Sneaky, no?)
I spent my entire day stalking her, but then again I was in Paris and she was German and it all seemed so exotic, so romantic, and at the time Run Lola Run was like the holy grail.
Since then I have ran into many a celeb. They're everywhere. Friends of friends and neighbors and bar-goers and club-hoppers and runyan canyon hikers. Shit, they literally speed up our street in their Maseratis every morning en route to Paramount.
But starstruck I am not. Star-fascinated I very much am. It's kind of like living with aliens except they're human (kinda) and they drive around Hybrid Lexus' instead of spaceships (except for Tomkat who cruise Sunset in their Ferrari SpaceJet ZX.)
My issue is that sometimes when I see an actor in my natural habitat I get very confused, like for instance a few years back when shopping at the Beverly Center, I had a panic attack when I saw Keifer Sutherland step out of Hugo Boss, nervously talking on his cell-phone and wearing his token Ball-gina (think camel-toe for men) jeans and leather jacket.
I was in the middle of Season Two of 24 on DVD and thought for several moments that Kiefer was actually Jack Bauer and that any minute Centox Gas would be leaked into the mall and I would die. I ran for the door until I realized that I had temporarily gone insane. Jack Bauer became Kiefer Sutherland again and I casually turned back toward Betsey Johnson and smacked myself in the head. (Duh!)
And that wasn't the only time...
This dude works out at my gym. We have the same schedule apparently because we're always on the bike, side by side during the afternoon and every time he sits down next to me I get a little bit scared. Not because dude is scary but because I just recently saw Capote, where said man played the pathetic killer who was eventually hanged. I feel like I'm riding bikes with a ghost. Weird. Kind of like how I was sitting next to this dead LOST character at The Wiltern the day after she died on the show. (In my perfect afterlife, I'd be rocking to Belle & Sebastian, too.)
A few years ago, at a gallery opening, I spent 20 minutes trying to explain to my friend's friend, Justine that indeed we had met before. I couldn't for the life of me remember where but I was POSITIVE.
"You're just so familiar!" I explained.
"No! Trust me, we have not met before," she finally said before storming off.
I realized later that she was the chick from Family Ties and felt like a complete asshole for thinking we were friends. It's just that, Mallory was like an older sister to me, you know?
But yesterday, at the park, the opposite happened. As I passed Debi Mazar pushing her stroller by I thought, "Cool! Debi's taking her baby for a walk."
I didn't notice the camera and small crew and the fact she was actually pushing a plastic doll and not a real baby.
It wasn't until she started fake-waving at me and the other moms in the sandbox that I realized they were shooting some B-ROLL for Enterouge. I guess I just thought she had a lot of nannies. And a hairguy. And another hairguy for her baby. It wouldn't be the first time.
One of the Moms, who like me, had not noticed the crew at first, reached over the carriage to peek at the baby.
"How old is your baby?" She asked.
"Six months. But this isn't my baby. My baby's at home. This is just a doll."
The woman turned white and then red and finally blue (shock is patriotic!) before Debi M explained that they were shooting.
I'm pretty sure there are very few cities in the world where grown women in full-makeup are pushing around dolls in neighborhood parks while they're real baby is home with the nanny.
Can you really blame me for being a little bit on the confused side sometimes?