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Fame Isn't All That

I've said it time and time again: famous people don't get me all a flutter. They're just normal people and I'm going to wet myself to go see Cher or Angelina Jolie or, God forbid, the Backstreet Boys. So naturally I wasn't even the tiniest bit impressed that I got to see Harvey Fierstein Saturday night. Nope, not excited about that fact at all. Not even excited that he was reprising his role of Edna in the musical Hairspray, nor that I had front row seats to this production, nor that I flew to Vegas (my first time there) for the show, nor that all this was a monumentally amazing weekend surprise from Curt to celebrate my birthday. The musical was outrageously wonderful, Harvey was hysterical and the Asian fusion restaurant was excellent. But, come one, that's no reason to be all like "woo, woo, look at me in my big birthday-palooza of fun." Even the fact that my spa suite at the hotel got upgraded to something bigger than any apartment I've ever lived in didn't impress me. No "look at me living large like I'm a movie star." Nope, not for me. Cuz, you know, I'm more grounded than that. Yep. Not impressed with glitz, glam, fame... And I'm never one to name-drop. Man, I *hate* people who do that. Just because Dick Latessa and Susan Anton were mere feet away from my twitching right hand doesn't mean I'm going to be all like "I'm now so important you must keep ten paces behind me at all times." Of course, I'm pretty sure that if I had leaned forward far enough I could licked Harvey's left high heel...