I was sitting at the kiddie table at Alehouse--- the one low table with short stools surrounded by raised bars and high stools--- eating my free buffalo wings and chicken nachos, when a buddy asked if I had heard the song, "Slow Your Roll." The title didn't ring a bell, and neither did the lyrics of the pop/r&b chorus my friend half-assedly performed. I was quickly losing interest in the conversation, until he said, "Well, the girl who sings it is right over there."

And suddenly I'm intrigued. He says she's way hot. And suddenly I'm more intrigued. He says we should go over and get a picture with her. And suddenly I'm leaving my friends at the kiddie table, asking a guy I barely know for his camera, and walking over to Susie. On the way there, I'm asking my friend to spit out the essential facts--- her name, her song, etc.--- as though I'm doing some last minute cramming for a big test. And I am. I don't want to walk over to this quasi-local-celebrity and not know a thing about her. If she thinks I'm a fan, the conversation must start somewhere.

The fact that she was smoking hot gorgeous beautiful made it easy to want to talk to her, but the truth is, she could have looked like Biz Markie and sang like--- well, Biz Markie--- and I'd have still gone over to meet her. Fame and celebrity, no matter how minor, fascinates me. With celebrity, you can meet someone for the first time, and you're the only one making a first impression. Your view of her is not naked. She doesn't know you, but you know her: her name, where's she's from, what she does for a living. Imagine walking over to a complete stranger at a party and having this conversation:

Hi, what's your name?
Clara.
Hi, Clara. I'm---
--- Joe Guy, I know!
Right, Joe Guy. Nice to meet you. So, where are you from?
I lived in Boca, about an hour from where you're from. So how's your foot?
Oh, my foot, yeah. It's getting much bett---
--- because I heard about what happened, and I was like, oh man! And how's the studying at UNC going? You know, I almost went into computer sciences too...

It's happened to me one time, because of this blog. Soon after taking my seat on the bus, a guy asked me if my name was Anthony. I didn't lie, and he further asked if I had an online journal. He looked past my puzzled grimace and asked me one or two questions I'd only expect to come from friends, people that know me. I had forgotten the powerful reach this internet has. This guy knew much about me (or perceived to, at least), and I had nothing of his. But now, I had his praise.

With celebrity, you're placed on a higher platform based on the fact that you've done something significant (or petty) enough to gain outside recognition. Strangers know you and what you've done, and they compliment you. You're praised by someone whom you know nothing about, and you're helpless to return the favor. You can only smile and accept the admiration.

Oh, Susie was very nice. Great smile. Did I metion she was smoking hot gorgeous beautiful too?

Oh yeah, and when I put my arm around her, my hand bumped her boob.