My Not So Secret Obsession

Anyone that really knows me understands that I have a profound interest in celebrity gossip. It certainly seems more exciting than anything my friends and I could possibly encounter. Yeah right! At least it seems more appropriate to discuss distant celebrity figures in public. Is it so tragic that my reading material consists either of medical journals about disease states and endless blogs (shout out to 'bricksandstones' and 'pinkisthe newblog') consisting of friendly celebrity banter?

I decided to make good use of my time and reflect on my own celebrity encounters. I mean, it's going to be my golden ticket in celebrity trash talk. I'm going to throw it out there that I did meet Muhammed Ali and his daughter when I was in the Denver airport about 15 years ago. I'm positive I had no idea who he was, but my father assured me he was 'kind of a big deal.' He shook my hand, autographed a pamphlet promoting his religous beliefs and we were on our way.

It must have been a good 6 years later when I had my next celebrity sighting. I went to see Smashing Pumpkins on the night the original band members played. I went with three guys and one other girl. We ended up getting taken backstage to meet the band and Billy Corgan referred to me as a "still flower." I am not sure exactly if that was the drugs talking or his creative impression of me. We had everything we had on us autographed and we were on our merry way!

So, 8 more years would go by and I wish I was more elated at the time when I saw the next two hunched on a bench in front of the Bellagio hotel in Vegas. To be honest with you, it took about 5 minutes for me to put it all together that Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie were also getting ready to walk straight to the front of the line (as we did) and into the back VIP area at Light. They sat at the table next to us dancing around, making a scene and successfully becoming the center of attention. This was evidently the same night that Nikki decided she wanted to get married at the Palms at 2am. I certainly didn't piece that together until I got home to Virginia. Would have been a cooler story if they didn't divorce after a month!

So anyway, I thought it was exciting enough that we showed up and were entertained on my first trip to Vegas with Tom Watson's son. Again, had no idea who the hell Tom Watson was until my boyfriend at the time had to explain it to me over the phone. Nice kid and I heard his dad wasn't too shabby in golf. His and his buddies were in town and they brought us up to the VIP room at Studio 54 to enjoy their bubbly. They were all forwarned that we were in stable relationships and they kept on their best behavior that night and the next night. They chauffered us around the Strip in limos and in return we provided them with platonic clubbing company. Good times! I actually have pictures to prove that!
My last encounter has been my favorite. It happened a month later in NYC. It was to be my first trip to the Big Apple for my boyfriend's sister's joint 30th Birthday bash with one of her 'Beauty Editor of a huge magazine' friends on the roof of the Meritime hotel. We had a lovely time there and I was convinced I wanted to move to NYC. On a side note, I'm going to throw out that Moby was there too but I didn't see him so that doesn't quite count for the story.

Anyhow, we headed over to club Marquee to set up camp in the VIP room. We bought a table with a few bottles of goose and danced around with our group of fabulous friends. I waited in the special VIP bathroom line for the girls room. I was next and turned around to see Diddy in his Sean Jean gear. My first thought was: "Diddy, Puffy, Sean Puffy Combs." My second thought was: "Damn, he's short." The guy next to me headed into his private stall and I looked at Diddy and let him cut in front of me in the girls line. Did I have a choice? Maybe I didn't. However, I said "go ahead" and he said "thanks."

Once he was out, I strutted in like I had no idea who this cat was and shut the door and called everyone I knew in VA to brag about what had just happened. Once I returned to our table, I noticed his entourage bought out our prime lcoation table and moved us one over. For the convenience factor, Diddy provided us with some Kristal, extra bottles of Goose and a thirty minute Diddy club mix. His girlfriend, Kim, provided my boyfriend with his sweater back from under the table. I was sold! That's all I've got. This now entitles me at least another year of celebrity bashing and morning gossip sessions. I mean, I've lived and breathed around these fools.