Star Struck

I cannot dance. Actually, that's not entirely true. I can do the club dance, the bump and grind and whatnot. I used to go dancing all the time in college. But I can't actually dance.

For a year I had a roommate who was a dance major - tiny little thing who bounded around like she was on springs. One time while imitating her I fell and busted my ass, because that's what I do. My mom always told me that once I grew into my limbs I'd stop bumping into things but that did not happen. I am not coordinated. In eighth grade it took me two days to learn how to click my heels to play an orphan in our school production of Oliver! Two days. On the upside, I can still do it.

I can move to the music, but I cannot do anything with any kind of rules, is my point.

So when I watch So You Think You Can Dance it is with nothing but admiration. I am baffled by what those people can do, often moved, and ever since a friend showed me years ago that routine with the ping pong table I've never missed an episode.

My very favorite dancer on that show is Mark. Oddly enough, this is my favorite of his routines on the show:



He's ethereal and masculine, sexy and quirky all at the same time. I am always thrilled when he makes an appearance on the show.

So today at Trader Joe's I made eye contact with this really good looking, tall guy in the aisle next to me and suddenly realized it was Mark shopping for groceries with a woman I assume is his mom.

Now I have had conversations with celebrities before. Sometimes brief, sometimes longer. I was not nervous even a little bit when I met Amber Benson, Danny Strong or Katee Sakhoff, and I carried on lengthy conversations with Jane Espenson on two occasions. There have been others - when I talked to them I was always fine because I know exactly what to say to those people. I know what to ask them or what kind of clever stories to tell. I have no idea what one says to a dancer other than OMG YOU'RE AWESOME. Plus I looked terrible. No makeup. I threw on sweat pants and a work-out T-shirt, thinking "Who am I going to see at Trader Joe's on a Sunday afternoon?" Who indeed.

Yes I know he's gay. That's completely irrelevant. And for the record he's so cute and very tall. It always surprises me how much taller celebrities are in person. Except Danny Strong and Katte Sakhoff - They're really short.

In LA it is an unspoken rule that you don't bother the celebrities. You can say you like them, but don't pester them, particularly when they're out buying bread with mom. I'm not one to break the rules.

So after pondering for like five minutes my plan of action, I waited until he turned in my direction, then said in my cute little girl voice the following statement:

"You're my favorite."

He smiled all huge and thanked me, and I immediately turned around and put all my attention into bagging my groceries to hide my nervous red face and shaking hands.

Celebrity writers' night at the Arclight

Last night I met some writer friends at the Arclight to see The Wackness. Except The Wackness wasn't playing because it had been bumped for the launch party for the DVD boxed set of the series Spaced.

Oh, but Meet Dave and Sex and the City were still available. Wooohooo. Sony has been notified of this travesty.

We saw Wanted instead. As I said as soon as that film was over, it had an awesome quotient of like a billion. That movie was way better than Shoot 'Em Up, and I really liked Shoot 'Em Up. I was a bit perturbed by Angelina Jolie's spaghetti arms, but all in all that movie was rock 'em sock 'em, and I will definitely be purchasing the DVD.

But while we were waiting for the rest of our group to arrive we watched all the celebrities arrive for the Spaced thing. Diablo Cody was there looking exactly as you expect Diablo Cody to look - kind of retro in a little black dress. When Quentin Tarantino lumbered in and bought his tickets the theater staff looked bored and Cody didn't even acknowledge his presence, which I thought was odd. Maybe they hate each other. Maybe she thinks he's a dork. Maybe he banged her. Maybe she didn't realize it was him.

We also saw Clive Barker and Edgar Wright. And Simon Pegg wandered into the bar with a posse of Turtles, looking very unamused and a little short, but still kind of cute. He's more muscular than I had thought.

Then Kevin Smith came in at the last minute and rushed into the theater surrounded by his groupies. Rumor has it he was supposed to speak after the screening.

The great Bill Martell was there too. Everybody was star struck.

The screening was followed by a party at the upstairs bar. I was sad that I had worn my Sporty Spice outfit and therefore did not look slutty enough to seduce my way into a fancy nerd party.

And then after celebrating the fact that my bike didn't get stolen, I rode it home at 11 pm without getting mugged. And now I am tired.

My celebrity fit club

Ron Glass works out at my gym.

Ron Glass played Shepherd Book on Firefly. I love Firefly. I have seen it on DVD many many times. I have a poster of the follow-up film Serenity framed on the wall in my bedroom. I know all the words to "The Hero of Canton" and have participated in a group singalong at the commencement of a promotional event for Serenity at Universal before the film came out. I have two T-Shirts.

So you see, I'm kind of awesome for not shrieking with delight every time I see Ron Glass. Kind of like the two times I met Amber Benson and had a full conversation with her and then met and Adam Busch and the one time I met Danny Strong but I did not scream OMG I love Buffy! at the top of my lungs. It's the reason my dates can't figure out whether or not I like them. I'm very good at pretending I'm not into you.

Oh, and just in case there's ever any doubt, unless you can beat people up and fix things, I'm probably not into you.

Anyway, I don't see Ron Glass at the gym much, especially now that I live in a neighborhood where I can run around in the beautiful weather and not be cooped up in a smelly old gym full of long-haired, greasy dudes who stare at you and drool a little while flexing their muscles in the mirror.

Anyway, Ron Glass is tall. And in excellent shape. And kind of hot for an old man.

When I spotted him I smiled because Hey! It's Shepherd Book! and I think he took that to mean I was hot for his bones because after that he kept checking me out.

That always makes me freak out a little so every time after that when he looked at me I'm pretty sure I put up my usual Go away glare.

Because that's how I handle that kind of situation.

So Ron Glass, if you occasionally Google your own name just to see who's blogging about you these days, know that I wasn't staring at you because I was hot for your body, although your body is looking pretty hot these days. I was staring at you because I'm hot for your talent. And I wasn't glaring at you because I was annoyed that you were checking me out, it was just a defensive gym reflex.