someone intervene me

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

I think I'm addicted to the show "Intervention." This is especially concerning because it is a program about addiction. It is maybe the most depressing show on television and I can't figure out why I love it so much. I'd like to believe I'm not someone who gets off on observing the misery of others, someone who feels some sort of excitement (high) from knowing other people are worse off. And seriously... am I any different than the addicts? I'm starting to think no. I just realized today how many things about my relationship with Intervention are unhealthy (and I learned this from watching Intervention).

The television program, "Intervention" has negatively affected my life in the following ways:

1. I get really sad and mopey when I watch Intervention.
2. I can't stop watching Intervention once I start. This is unfortunate because A&E often runs multiple episodes back to back.
3. Sometimes I'd rather watch Intervention than interact with real people.
4. The stories haunt me... and sometimes I'm even tempted to log on to to see if there are follow-ups.
5. I just logged on to to see if there are follow-ups.
6. I have a tiny crush on intervention specialist Jeff VanVonderen. He's just so good.
7. A new season starts on Monday and I'm already craving the high (low).

pieces of me

Sunday, November 25, 2007

I remember the first time someone told me I look like a celebrity. I was 18. Either I didn’t start looking like anyone until I reached adulthood, or people just started feeling comfortable confronting me about it around that time. Whatever the reason, it was my freshman year of college and I was at church. I had sort of noticed a girl staring at me during sacrament meeting. She kept stealing glances at me and then whispering to her pewmate. I thought maybe she knew me from somewhere. Or maybe my skirt had been tucked into the back of my tights when I walked by her to find my seat. It was unnerving. I tried not to let it bother me… until she made a beeline for me after the benediction. Was she going to try to recruit me for her sorority? Was she going to suggest sheer-to-the-waist hosiery?

Her: Okay. I know this is weird, but I just have to tell you. You look EXACTLY like the Sweet Valley High Twins. Do you get that all the time?

Me: No, I’ve never heard that. I don’t know what they look like.

Her: They look like you. (Duh.)

When I made it to the computer lab and looked the Twins up on the internet, I was perplexed. I didn’t see it. They looked tan and glamorous and perfectly coifed. I don’t recall exactly what I was wearing that Sunday in 1996, but I’d be willing to bet I found it in the men’s section of Miller’s Outpost. I didn’t even own a tube of mascara or a straightening iron. The word “bronzer” had never crossed my lips. I don’t know what that girl saw in me to trigger the comparison, but over the last eleven years, I’ve certainly heard worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it.

I’m ashamed to admit how excited I get when someone tells me I look like Angie Harmon. Or Courteney Cox. Or any other number of relatively attractive celebrities. When I was buying my first car, the salesman first insisted I looked like Angelina Jolie… and then he switched to Natalie Portman. I don’t know if you’re familiar with these people, but I’m pretty sure two Caucasian women could not look more different. I’m willing to accept he was just interested in my money. And whatever. It worked. I bought a car.

On the other hand, words can’t express how completely destroyed I was when someone told me I resembled Rosie O’Donnell. I wanted to choke her with a Koosh Ball… but I didn’t. I just went home and bawled my fat lesbian eyes out.

I’ve had a particularly comparison-heavy couple of months. I moved to a new city, started a new job, met a bunch of new people and have frequented new establishments. Last week, a cashier at the Soup Kitchen told me I look like Sophia Bush. My coworker told me I look like Nelly Furtado. So I started thinking about those computer-generated images… you know the ones that show what your love child with Brad Pitt (or Apolo Anton Ohno) would look like? I wondered what my composite celebrity portrait would look like.

So I made one. I’ve gotta say… I’m simultaneously disturbed and impressed. Sometimes I think it kind of looks like me. Other times I think it looks like a computer-generated police sketch. I’m interested to know what you think… and if you can guess who the parts belong to. Go easy on me. My heart can’t take another Rosie.

an open apology

Sunday, November 11, 2007

To all the Apolo Anton Ohno fans who have blowing my page up... Thank you. Seriously, traffic to my blog has been off the charts this week. That said, I feel I should apologize for a couple of things:

1. I spelled his name wrong.
2. I called his facial hair both "ridiculous" and "stupid."

I hope you aren't mad at me. Also, for the record: I don't know if the girl he was with is Julianne Hough from Dancing With The Stars. She was blonde and cute, but I can't say for sure if it was her. It's possible. I don't know what he was eating. I think he was wearing a puffy coat and jeans. I'm sorry I can't be more specific. I must say, though... you are a dedicated bunch. He's a lucky guy.


Thursday, November 8, 2007

Last week, I was eating dinner at Red Iguana when I saw a guy who looked just like Apolo Anton Ohno. This guy had longish wavy hair, vaguely Asian characteristics and that ridiculous “Soul Patch.” Now, it’s not uncommon for me to think I have spotted a celebrity. On a typical day I might spot… oh, seven to ten famous people. An older gentleman with white hair and a beard is always Kenny Rogers. Another man, fifteen years younger and with darker hair might be Kenny Loggins. Red hair and cowboy boots = Reba. Sundress and cowboy boots = Britney. My life isn’t particularly glamorous, so I choose to create glamorous surroundings. The fact that I find Kenny Loggins glamorous is far more troubling than my vivid imagination. I know this.

If you’re thinking…

“You get that excited about a fake celebrity? I bet you get positively insane when you spot someone who is actually famous.”

…you are so right. Just ask my dinner companion at Red Iguana. Because guess WHAT. It was Apolo Anton Ohno. He of the gold medals and the bulging quadriceps and the Dancing With The Stars fame. Right there. Eating dinner… like a normal person. I walked by his table on my way to the bathroom and I was SO tempted to say something like, “Hey, Ohno. I barely recognized you without the Spandex” or “Fancy a foxtrot, AAO?” But I resisted. I just went to the bathroom, my heart racing, and then quickly shuffled back to my table where I frantically whispered (which means it was audible to everyone in the restaurant),

Me: “Remember that guy I saw outside with the stupid facial hair? Yeah, it’s APOLO ANTON OHNO!”
Him: “I don’t know who that is.”

That’s when I started thinking about my affinity – and knack – for celebrity spotting. Real and imagined. I started making a mental list of all the real celebrities I’ve spotted over the years and tried to remember the circumstances surrounding our encounters. Like that time Parker Posey and I found ourselves in the bathroom at the same time during Austin City Limits. She complained about the automatic soap dispensers and before I knew it, we were quoting Guffman and dissecting her relationship with Ryan Adams. That never happened. There aren’t even bathrooms at Austin City Limits.

Anyway, I was saying… I decided to go beyond a mental list and make an actual list… yea, even a chart detailing my run-ins with famous folks. And that’s really the meat of this post. I’m publishing it.

A few notes on the Celebrity Grid:
I had to make some tough decisions when it came to deciding WHO I should include in the chart. For example, I couldn’t possibly include all the musicians I’ve seen… because those are performances. While musicians are some of my most favorite sightings, I don’t think performances should count as a “sighting.” And let’s be honest, I don’t have the time or space or energy to add all one million bands or performers I’ve seen in concert. Okay, I have the time. But still. Another decision (not as tough) was to exclude reality television stars. Also based on time, energy and space, but also because… well, I’m more ashamed to admit I recognized Kendall from Road Rules than I am to admit I recognized Reese Witherspoon. P.S. Kendall is darling in person. I almost decided to eliminate anyone whose name I didn’t immediately know, but I decided it was okay in a couple of circumstances. So, no reality stars and no performances. Just poor unsuspecting celebrities who happened upon me, Celebrity Spotter Extraordinaire.
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I also feel I should include a few close calls. Celebrities I almost saw, but missed for one reason or another. I’ll call this Nearsightings.

Britney Spears the night she shaved her head: Emily and I had dinner in LA at the very place Britney was spotted the night she took it all off. I estimate we missed her by about an hour.

Derek Jeter: He was shopping in the mall and I worked in the mall… but I had the night off.

Jennifer Lopez: Same as above.

Martika: She was (probably still is) cousins with a girl named Melanie in Junior High. Melanie indicated Martika might make an appearance at some point… but she never did. You don’t even know who Martika is, do you?

I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish by publishing this information. Part of me wants just wants to brag about my mad celeb-spotting skills. Another part of me just wants to get this down on paper/screen while I still remember it. Another part (I have many, many parts) is hoping you’ll read this and be like, “Eddie Vedder?! Lucky!” But probably the biggest, and most shameful part of me is hoping that somewhere, somehow Eddie Vedder is reading this, chuckling and stroking his beard and thinking, “Ha! Reno! I remember her! We made eye contact! She was a delight!” Call me, Eddie. You have my card.