Fan Girl Confidential
It's very easy to get jaded about celebrities in LA. You find that sentences like 'I wish Richard Hatch would put pants on when I visit' or 'Rod Stieger locked me out of the store' or 'Eliot Gould tried to steal my roast beef' become almost common if you live in the right part of town. When I worked retail, Ted Danson thought I was his personal shopper. You get over the allure after a while, because more often than not the star is in the way when you need to get something or they are being a big pain in the nether parts during any given encounter.
But there are always those stars that make you a bit weak in the knees. I nearly crippled a co-worker at my bookstore to wait on Patrick Stewart (who likes to give exact change). And I babbled at Clint Eastwood when I had to call his house to check a reference while I temped at an upscale nanny placement service.
And then there is that perfect storm of circumstances when you are faced with the prospect of meeting an actor that makes your heart go pitter patter and have to be completely professional. It's great to make an 'A-list' personal connection, but you can't a: take a camera to prove the meeting happened to family, friends and former employers; b: you can't babble and c: you can't lick, kiss or grab any part of their person as you have oft fantasized.
Jon didn't think I had noticed the hot men in Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring in geek speak that's LOTR. Karl Urban wasn't in that one, so he knew I wasn't looking for him. Besides, it's hard for me to think of Karl as sexy. That makes crawling around adjusting his inseam easier. Every time I think of him, I think of how dead on a Walter Koenig impression he does and how danged hard it is to make him smile while in character. But I digress. It wasn't that I hadn't noticed the hot guys in LOTR. At the time we saw the film, I was thinking of firing the second vampire cast for Demon Under Glass before I'd even hired him. I actually left before the heoric gang enter the mines to interview the actor from the lobby one last time before I went to vamp number three. Even with all that, I noticed the hot men. They wore too many clothes, but were hot nonetheless. And among the brave sword weilding heroes making my heart beat faster was Viggo Mortensen.
Viggo has an interesting pedigree in Los Angeles. In many circles, he's thought of as a poet and a photographer more than as an actor. And it's because of that context that I made initial contact with him. I massaged my relationship with the poetry community through my publishing partner Marie to introduce mayself and get him to read two scripts. He loved the scripts but passed on acting in them for various reasons. Still, bcause he liked the work, I had an connection to him that he always responded to. In December, he kindly agreed to my request and donated some of his books to a charity auction run by may partner and a friend. The auction went very well. Last weekend, we had an opportunity to thank him in person. He was doing a book signing at a Santa Monica art gallery.
So on a rainy, cold Satruday, Marie, our set guy Randy and I set off to give him a gift bag of Sybpress poetry and a lovely hand knitted scarf from the auction. Silly me thought that we're years from the last 'Rings' release, it's rainy and cold and how many people could there be? Thus, we arrived a mere half and hour before the event and found ourselves in at least a two hour long line with people who had flown there or driven all night to be there and were all just a little too desperately elated. We had warned Randy that if he wore any part of his Aragorn suit or asked any question about the Flame of the West, we would kill him in the parking lot. I then resigned myself towaiting ina long line and trying to introduce myself as someone who doesn't carry a hand embroidered Eormer purse while in line with a legion of folks who would and hoping that I don't blend in with the rest of the crowd his eyes glazed over. I know it sounds harsh, especially coming from someone who still wears hand crafted t-shirts of favorite actors and who still keeps a little fan shrine. But I needed this man who is uncomfortable with his icon status to see us as publishers and remember me as a writer/producer.
Fates smiled upon us though. Turns out, the line was queued in the wrong place. And when the gent who ran the gallery led the way to the right door, we were among a scant few who followed. The man had previously given us soft drinks and cookies. Such a kind soul would not lead us to the wrong door. That faith put us near the front of the line. The way the signing was arranged allowed us to appraoch him alone and out of eye or earshot of the crowd.
I was a little nervous as I apporached, but we were all nicely dressed. And there is something about wearing black cashmere and leather that gives me confidence. The recognition on his face after I introduced myself carried us the rest of the way. Marie made her public service-style announcement about the fine take the auction achieved with his help. He accepted the small gift bag himself and even invited us to return for the gallery opeing that evening. For Randy's sake, I wish we had taken photos, but I was very happy with the heartfelt handshake and the smile. I even maanged not to sqeal when we reached the parking lot. Maybe the fangirl in me is finally growing up. Nah, given the chance, I would have went for the grope.
But there are always those stars that make you a bit weak in the knees. I nearly crippled a co-worker at my bookstore to wait on Patrick Stewart (who likes to give exact change). And I babbled at Clint Eastwood when I had to call his house to check a reference while I temped at an upscale nanny placement service.
And then there is that perfect storm of circumstances when you are faced with the prospect of meeting an actor that makes your heart go pitter patter and have to be completely professional. It's great to make an 'A-list' personal connection, but you can't a: take a camera to prove the meeting happened to family, friends and former employers; b: you can't babble and c: you can't lick, kiss or grab any part of their person as you have oft fantasized.
Jon didn't think I had noticed the hot men in Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring in geek speak that's LOTR. Karl Urban wasn't in that one, so he knew I wasn't looking for him. Besides, it's hard for me to think of Karl as sexy. That makes crawling around adjusting his inseam easier. Every time I think of him, I think of how dead on a Walter Koenig impression he does and how danged hard it is to make him smile while in character. But I digress. It wasn't that I hadn't noticed the hot guys in LOTR. At the time we saw the film, I was thinking of firing the second vampire cast for Demon Under Glass before I'd even hired him. I actually left before the heoric gang enter the mines to interview the actor from the lobby one last time before I went to vamp number three. Even with all that, I noticed the hot men. They wore too many clothes, but were hot nonetheless. And among the brave sword weilding heroes making my heart beat faster was Viggo Mortensen.
Viggo has an interesting pedigree in Los Angeles. In many circles, he's thought of as a poet and a photographer more than as an actor. And it's because of that context that I made initial contact with him. I massaged my relationship with the poetry community through my publishing partner Marie to introduce mayself and get him to read two scripts. He loved the scripts but passed on acting in them for various reasons. Still, bcause he liked the work, I had an connection to him that he always responded to. In December, he kindly agreed to my request and donated some of his books to a charity auction run by may partner and a friend. The auction went very well. Last weekend, we had an opportunity to thank him in person. He was doing a book signing at a Santa Monica art gallery.
So on a rainy, cold Satruday, Marie, our set guy Randy and I set off to give him a gift bag of Sybpress poetry and a lovely hand knitted scarf from the auction. Silly me thought that we're years from the last 'Rings' release, it's rainy and cold and how many people could there be? Thus, we arrived a mere half and hour before the event and found ourselves in at least a two hour long line with people who had flown there or driven all night to be there and were all just a little too desperately elated. We had warned Randy that if he wore any part of his Aragorn suit or asked any question about the Flame of the West, we would kill him in the parking lot. I then resigned myself towaiting ina long line and trying to introduce myself as someone who doesn't carry a hand embroidered Eormer purse while in line with a legion of folks who would and hoping that I don't blend in with the rest of the crowd his eyes glazed over. I know it sounds harsh, especially coming from someone who still wears hand crafted t-shirts of favorite actors and who still keeps a little fan shrine. But I needed this man who is uncomfortable with his icon status to see us as publishers and remember me as a writer/producer.
Fates smiled upon us though. Turns out, the line was queued in the wrong place. And when the gent who ran the gallery led the way to the right door, we were among a scant few who followed. The man had previously given us soft drinks and cookies. Such a kind soul would not lead us to the wrong door. That faith put us near the front of the line. The way the signing was arranged allowed us to appraoch him alone and out of eye or earshot of the crowd.
I was a little nervous as I apporached, but we were all nicely dressed. And there is something about wearing black cashmere and leather that gives me confidence. The recognition on his face after I introduced myself carried us the rest of the way. Marie made her public service-style announcement about the fine take the auction achieved with his help. He accepted the small gift bag himself and even invited us to return for the gallery opeing that evening. For Randy's sake, I wish we had taken photos, but I was very happy with the heartfelt handshake and the smile. I even maanged not to sqeal when we reached the parking lot. Maybe the fangirl in me is finally growing up. Nah, given the chance, I would have went for the grope.
posted by Sybpress | 5:05 PM
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