No. 125 "Celebrities I've Met."

Throughout the twenty four years of my life I've met a handful of celebrities. I'm not one to scout clubs for reality TV stars, and don't live in Los Angeles; where running into celebrities is commonplace. Also, I am not a female. So using my pussy or surgically-enhanced breasts as bait to accost C-listers is out of the question. However, I have had a few run-ins with famous people. I don't start convulsing or wail out guttural screams when I meet someone whom I've seen in television or movies. Nevertheless, it is always a cool story to brag about to friends. And, of course exaggeration and straight-up lies help elicit unbridled jealousy from said friends. If I met Leonardo DiCaprio it would be a pretty big deal. But, if I amended my story to include him inviting me to private party where we railed lines of coke and Eiffel-towered a bunch of Swedish models, it would be grandiose. So, without further ado, here is a list of celebrities I have met and how it went down.

JT being cooler than everyone on earth.

Justin Timberlake
I met JT (we're on a nickname basis) a few years back while I was vacationing with friends in Los Angeles. Well, it wasn't "vacationing" as much as it was driving to California in my shitty car and crashing on my friends' sofa for five days. And, I didn't really meet him. I was outside of a club in Hollywood when one of my buddy's pointed out that the dude in the Trilby hat a few feet from us was in fact Justin Timberlake. We were apprehensive about talking to him, fearing that he would kick all of our asses and write a hit R&B dance song about it. I did however yell out "Justin!" to at him, to which he shot me a brusque look and escaped into a limousine that I was positive appeared out of thin air. My friends and I licked our wounds of persona non grata by exchanging disparaging remarks about his sexuality and stupid fucking hat. Either way, it was pretty cool being twelve feet away from the guy that popped Britney's cherry.

I'm 36!

Steve-O
I actually talked to Steve-O, and unlike Justin, he didn't run away from me like a bitch. While perusing around the city, I stumbled upon the Jackass alum, who was wearing a lab coat for some wacky reason. He was accompanied by a chick I had never heard of, but resembled a Rock of Love contestant. When my buddies and I approached him, he was very friendly. This could have been due to his severe inebriation, but he was a good sport. He inquired if I "had any coke," and I kindly acknowledged that I was more of a Pepsi guy. I did offer him some of my Seagrams whiskey that I was carrying in my back pocket, though. Before I could even remove the cap, he grabbed the flask and gulped down three swigs of the lukewarm liquor. I took a pull as well and immediately regretted my decision to swap fluids with a guy that probably has an alphabet of Hepatitises.

Manning about to turn the ball over.

Danny Manning
When I was eleven, my parents signed me up for Danny Manning's basketball camp as a way to get me out of the house for several hours a day. If you don't know who Danny Manning is, I don't blame you. He played for the Suns in the mid-90's and won the Sixth Man of the Year award. That's it. He was the sixth best player on a mediocre team. But, at the time he was godlike to adolescent white kids who had delusions of grandeur about making it to the pros. During the three-week experience, Danny would occasionally show up to camp, shoot a couple jump shots, then collect his check and go back to his gaggle of hoes. I didn't get to meet him until the last day of camp, where the other three hundred rich white kids campers and I waited in line to get our memorabilia signed and perhaps take a picture with the man. When I finally got to the front of the line, Mr. Manning promptly ran into a back area and started throwing up. I'm not sure if this was due to a bug that was going around or his contempt for my sweet bowl cut. Eventually, he returned and signed my ball, but refused to shake my hand. I tried to take a picture, but one of his cronies escorted me out before I could. I then forgot my signed ball at the camp and cried for the remainder of summer '97.

Dane Cook acting CRAAAZY!

Dane Cook

I met Dane Cook in 2005, right before he got all famous and douchey. I was a very big fan at the time and went to one of his stand-up shows. It was at a smaller venue, and a cocktail waitress notified me that he always met fans after his show. Once the show was over, I walked down the stairs and saw Dane greeting every guest as they shuffled down the hallway. I tried to think of something funny or memorable to say to him, but as soon as I came up to him my reflexive response was "Uh, you're awesome, dude." He was really nice and said in his over-the-top verbosity "No, YOU'RE awesome!" He then invited everyone to an after party across the street. It was at a bar, and being nineteen at the time I had to find a way to get in without being mocked by security. I covertly snuck into the bar while the bouncers were being distracted by scantily-clad hoochie mamas. While I was switching between standing around awkwardly and looking like a lost child, I saw Dane on the phone, but didn't approach him and decided to leave. At the time, I regretted this move. I didn't see him again until I rented a film entitled: Employee of the Month. In hindsight, I didn't really care to hang out with him again.

I bet you could fit a ton of jungle juice in that cup.

Wayne Gretzky's Son
Alright, maybe he's not a celebrity, but his dad is "The Great One," so that should count for something. I was at one of my friend's parties and needed a beer pong partner since my cohort at the time was busy performing cunnilingus on the toilet after five too many shots. A spry young chap came up to me and offered his pong skills. I accepted, and we went on to win twelve games in a row (fine, it was four). He was considerably skilled at the art of pong and seemed like an overall cool dude. After we finished the game I made him a beer bong filled with jungle juice, which he chugged in record time. He ended up having to leave around midnight and I went on doing my own thing for the remainder of the night. The next morning, I awoke from the kitchen floor and participated in the routine morning-after "what the fuck happened last night" conference with my friends that had stayed overnight. It was then explained to me that I had gotten my new sixteen year-old friend so drunk that he barfed all over the front porch and had to be carried into his buddy's car. Oh, and he was Wayne Gretzky's son. Whoops.


Those are just a few of the celebrities I've met throughout the course of my life. I'm sure that plenty of my friends have met and/or fucked much more famous people than I. Hopefully one day I will meet an A-lister and become their best friend. That way I won't have to hold a job and can reside in their pool house while fornicating with the leftover models scattered across the property. Until then, I'm perfectly content running into random pseudo-celebrities while I'm visiting the City of Angels, crashing on my buddy's couch.