Today’s special question from the Journal in a Jar is brought to you by the makers of Hollywood!  Just kidding.  I’m still in the Midwest.  Here’s the question:  

Have you met or worked with any famous people?  Who, where and when?

Before I answer, I’m just wondering if anyone else saw Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt on the Conan O’Brien show this past Wednesday night?  I couldn’t care one lick about the two of them, but they were booed.  The thing is that they seem to eat it up, which is strange.  They have written what I’m sure is a riveting new book about making yourself famous.  This is what I think about their time on Conan and why I am fascinated enough with their appearance to even bring this up:

1. The crowd booed before they even made an appearance, in the intro when Conan indicated that they were going to be on the show that night.  It was shocking, the level to which they reacted.
2. Spencer encourages people to hate him and to boo at them.  And yet obviously they somehow remain relevant to people, because they’re still here.
3. Heidi didn’t speak but maybe five words.  When she did speak even she didn’t seem to know what she was talking about.
4. Spencer admitted that he specifically sought out Heidi so that he could gain fame from the show she was on.  Sad.
5. Spencer looks like he has ADHD.
6. At the end of the show when the credits roll and the guests usually talk to each other and to Conan and to Andy Richter, Conan talked to one guest closest to his desk, and Andy to another, but no one talked to Heidi and Spencer, so they were forced to sit there in awkward silence, speaking only to each other.  They didn’t even look like they wanted to talk to themselves, to be honest.
7. They actually call themselves Speidi.  

That’s all the space they’re getting on my blog, and I believe even that may have been too much.

On to the Journal question and the relevant story.  I never worked with a famous person that I know of, but I have met a few.  And when I say famous, I mean compared to me, so the bar is not so high. 

In 1995 when my husband and I decided to get married, we planned it out and did it in Vegas.  No, not an elopement.  We got married at Treasure Island in Las Vegas.  No, not on the pirate ship (although that would have been SO COOL!).  They had a very nice little chapel on the fourth floor or so, and it was just like any other wedding with an aisle, and pews, and an officiant, flowers, and a sparkly silver dress.  Oh, and Smashing Pumpkins music.  Duh.  Just a regular old run of the mill 15 minute ceremony, except it was ok to have open alcohol during the ceremony.  Hmmm.  Afterwards we shared a big blue cocktail served in a gigantic glass pirate’s head instead of smashing cake in each other’s faces.  It was very civilized.  

Since we didn’t want to pay for a reception, everyone from the wedding kind of scattered after the ceremony.  My new husband and I went with other 20-somethings dancing at a club, and the parents and aunts and uncles and various other parties dispersed to partake in some serious gambling and fun times.  It just so happened that on the weekend of my wedding was also the grand opening weekend of the newly completed Hard Rock Casino.  I know, it’s old now, but it was 1995!  Anyhow, it was the new big thing in Vegas, so eventually my husband and I, along with our best man, went to check it out.  

It was packed.  It was cool.  There were lots of celebrities everywhere you looked.  They had a pit in the middle with tables, and then kind of a track around it that you could walk around and around to watch what’s going on or play on slots. We went through the pit, but it was really crowded and there weren’t any seats at the tables, so we walked around the track, just watching the action.  As we were walking, we passed Tim Allen who was going in the other direction.  The first time he walked past, my husband said “Tim Allen.” and he looked up because he heard his name.  The second time hubs said “It’s Tim Allen.” and Tim looked up at us again.  The third time he nudged me and said “Look honey, it’s Tim Allen.” and of course Tim looked to see that it was just us again.   The fourth time my husband all but screamed “Tim Allen!!!” as he jumped in Tim’s path, landing in a strange sort of Elvis type pose, pointing with his two fingers like guns aimed at Tim Allen’s gut.  Tim looked up, turned completely ghost white, looked around frantically to see if there were any “handlers” around to save him.  When he found there were none, he put his head down and practically broke into a run to get away from the crazies as fast as possible.  We successfully stalked and frightened Tim Allen on my wedding night.  

And then we went and had a two dollar steak.