Celebrity Sightings

Last night, I went with my dear friends Jen, Rob and Patrick to see David Lynch's "Inland Empire." I'm a huge Lynch fan, and I love every one of his movies. So it didn't really bother me that this one was almost 4 hours, shot on video, and probably didn't make much sense to most people. However, it also didn't make much sense to ME, which is new for a David Lynch film. "Mulholland Drive," while many people wrote it off, I thought was fantastic, extremely coherent, and I absolutely loved it. This? Not so much.

Anyway, that's not the point. I was sitting alone, with six empty seats to my right, when some guy asked if he could sit near me. I said that my friends were going to sit there. He challenged back, "how many seats?" I said "all of them." I knew at least three people were coming, but didn't know how many people they were bringing with them (they usually bring a few friends too). So I figured I should save them all. There were plenty of seats available in the rows in front of me. But he went further back in the theater. It was then brought to my attention (by everyone around me) that the man I just told to go away, was none other than some villain guy on "Lost." Now, I don't watch "Lost," so I don't really care, and I definitely don't think I should have to let him sit near me just cause he's semi-famous.

I think celebrity, in and of itself, is a silly thing to get excited about. One time, I saw Jeremy Piven and Johnny Knoxville at the 101 Cafe, and they just looked like some people who should've showered that morning. If I ever encounter Cameron Diaz, I won't even blink.

However, when I see someone who's art inspires me, someone I respect...I totally geek out. Nicole totally does it too. This happened the time I saw Jon Brion outside Tribune. The two times she saw Aimee Mann outside Starbucks. When she saw Helena Bonham Carter in Venice. And when she saw Mark Ruffalo at The Coffee Bean. We've had some good ones. And in those moments, we become blathering idiots.

Cut to: 10 minutes later. My friends have arrived. They're all seated, (all three of them -- I felt bad, cause Mr. Lost Villain could plainly see from his seat a few rows back that he could've sat in our row), and I have a little celebrity sighting of my own. The geek-out kind. Across the way, I see one of my favorite actresses working today: Tina Holmes.

I whisper/shriek to everyone, "Tina Holmes! Tina Holmes!"

And they're all like, "Who?!"

I say "Over there! You know, Maggie from Six Feet Under?"

"We don't really watch Six Feet Under."

I prod, "She was amazing in Keane? You know?"

Blank stares.

The guy in front of me says, "She was in Half Nelson."

Everybody goes, "Oh, her."

Anyway, she's totally pregnant, and she looks amazing, and she's with her man. And they're advocating that I go up and talk to her.

Here's where I slam on the brakes. I don't accost celebrities. I'm already totally geeking out, like a blathering idiot, and the last thing this poor pregnant woman and her man, who are just waiting to sit in the dark and watch a weird David Lynch home movie, need to experience.

What would I say anyway? "Hi Tina, you don't know me, but I just love your work...blah blah blah, cliche cliche, I just wanted to waste a little of your time, and make you hate going out in public even more! How'd I do?"