Confession time: when I was younger I was obsessed with the Olsen Twins. I wanted to be their best friend -- I even used to have dreams that I was their step-sister. To a vain 12 year old with no friends, being friends with a celebrity was the ultimate compliment, coveted enough to make me wake up from those dreams a tiny bit mad at my parents for still being married.
And here we are, years later, and not only did I dine "with" Morgan Freeman recently, but I have three other brushes with celebrities with which to impress you.
1. You may have seen this guy on The Voice this season:
Brian and I went to summer camp together in the 90s. Were we friends? The better question may be if we ever spoke. We are the same age (so we were in the same small group), but I guarantee you he doesn't remember me, because he was The Cute Boy and I looked like this:
At least my step-sisters accepted me for who I was.
Anyway, my friend Leila was (and is!) The Cute Girl and had the privilege of calling Brian her boyfriend. I bet they even held hands. But I'm sure she'll tell a better version of that story on her blog soon.
2. The man below in the glasses is Bill Joyce, animator and, as of Sunday, Academy Award winning director of The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore.
We don't know each other. But he does live around the corner from me. I have nearly run into the low-hanging branches of the tree in his front yard on many, many occasions, and Ike has resisted the urge to poop on his lawn on many, many occasions. Congratulations on the Oscar win, and thank you, for helping me discover that I have pride in this city.
3. Perhaps you recognize my friend, fellow book club member, and famous dentist McKenzy?
I know you're all watching Bayou Billionaires (which takes place in the city where we currently live) on CMT. It's a reality show about "a hardworking family of modest means" (some might prefer the term "rednecks") who discover their home sits on a huge natural gas deposit and strike it rich. Naturally, they want new teeth (with diamonds in them!) and there was no better dentist for the job than McKenzy.
I'm still a little bitter that I don't have access to John Stamos and a closet full of oversized old lady afghans (and a billion dollar fortune) but at least I might be able to get a discount on bejeweled dentures. What more could a girl ask for?