Tuesday, June 15, 2004

LOVE YOUR NEIGHBORS...

Love your neighbors as you love yourself.

That's the rabbinic injunction, anyway. But what if your neighbors are famous? Are you still allowed to love them, and proclaim your love openly on the street? Or is that considered a provocation for those restraining orders that I've managed to avoid thus far?

When I see Nathan Lane going to get the paper, am I allowed to tell him that The Birdcage was last night's "Movie That Rocks" on VH1 and that I had to watch it through to the end because I love it so much even though I've seen it forty times?

Should I approach Stanley Tucci when he's walking to the gym or taking his kids to a friend's West End Avenue apartment on Sunday for playdates?

When Ally Sheedy walks her dog, can I tell her how I loved her crazy Allison character from The Breakfast Club?

If I see Tina Fey walking down Broadway past my block, do I take that as a sign to thrust my resume into her Victoria's Secret bag? Is this an acceptable networking opportunity?

What I need is rules for talking to celebrities. Otherwise, I end up making a fool of myself (the Matthew Perry Incident, where I introduce myself by first and last name, as if he needed to know that, and proclaim myself his biggest fan, as if he's never heard that before), or am impossibly clever for a moment, feel a connection, only to have it last for mere seconds before vanishing (The Jon Stewart Incident)...

Do celebrities want to be recognized? Do they want me to acknowledge their successes? Do they enjoy the accolades of neighborly pedestrians?

2 Comments:

At 8:57 AM, June 15, 2004, Blogger Dahl said...

babe,

the only famous people i've ever seen in the neighborhood are al franken back before he was uberfamous and issac mizrahi looking lost.

dang!

 
At 10:03 AM, June 15, 2004, Blogger Stephen said...

The first time I saw "The Birdcage," the guy behind me turned to his wife at the end and said "honey, you didn't tell me this movie was about faggots."

I was reminded of this about a decade later, when I went to see "Hairspray" on Broadway, the Southern tourists behind me surprisingly exclaimed, "wait a minute- that's a MAN!"

 

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My Urban Kvetch: LOVE YOUR NEIGHBORS...

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

LOVE YOUR NEIGHBORS...

Love your neighbors as you love yourself.

That's the rabbinic injunction, anyway. But what if your neighbors are famous? Are you still allowed to love them, and proclaim your love openly on the street? Or is that considered a provocation for those restraining orders that I've managed to avoid thus far?

When I see Nathan Lane going to get the paper, am I allowed to tell him that The Birdcage was last night's "Movie That Rocks" on VH1 and that I had to watch it through to the end because I love it so much even though I've seen it forty times?

Should I approach Stanley Tucci when he's walking to the gym or taking his kids to a friend's West End Avenue apartment on Sunday for playdates?

When Ally Sheedy walks her dog, can I tell her how I loved her crazy Allison character from The Breakfast Club?

If I see Tina Fey walking down Broadway past my block, do I take that as a sign to thrust my resume into her Victoria's Secret bag? Is this an acceptable networking opportunity?

What I need is rules for talking to celebrities. Otherwise, I end up making a fool of myself (the Matthew Perry Incident, where I introduce myself by first and last name, as if he needed to know that, and proclaim myself his biggest fan, as if he's never heard that before), or am impossibly clever for a moment, feel a connection, only to have it last for mere seconds before vanishing (The Jon Stewart Incident)...

Do celebrities want to be recognized? Do they want me to acknowledge their successes? Do they enjoy the accolades of neighborly pedestrians?

2 Comments:

At 8:57 AM, June 15, 2004, Blogger Dahl said...

babe,

the only famous people i've ever seen in the neighborhood are al franken back before he was uberfamous and issac mizrahi looking lost.

dang!

 
At 10:03 AM, June 15, 2004, Blogger Stephen said...

The first time I saw "The Birdcage," the guy behind me turned to his wife at the end and said "honey, you didn't tell me this movie was about faggots."

I was reminded of this about a decade later, when I went to see "Hairspray" on Broadway, the Southern tourists behind me surprisingly exclaimed, "wait a minute- that's a MAN!"

 

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