This was originally posted on the LA Moms Blog which will be closing later this month. I'll be republishing my posts from the site over the next few weeks.
A couple of times on those walks I ran into a neighbor, David, who had recently moved into a house around the corner from us. He mentioned that he was an actor but I didn’t give it much thought until one day when my nieces, who were tweens then, were at my house watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer and while changing a diaper I happened to glance up at the TV and saw my neighbor on the screen. “Hey, that guy lives two houses away,” I pointed out, gesturing towards the TV with a poop-smeared wipe in my hand. Obviously I had never watched the show and had no idea who this Angel
That wasn’t the first, or the last time I didn’t recognize a celebrity. You see, I’m celebrity-blind. While most people imagine they see George Clooney in every gas station and Thai restaurant in town, I wouldn’t recognize a celebrity if he was living next door to me.
I once stood for fifteen minutes in front of an outdoor table at the Grove waiting for my husband, and had no idea my ass was blocking the view of Heidi Klum and her husband Seal. I didn’t realize I was sitting next to Teri Hatcher during breakfast at a local deli until my friend pointed her out, and on another occasion waited for ten minutes for the valet at that same deli while standing next to Danny DeVito. (Who on earth could not recognize Danny DeVito?) Then there was the time, despite being a huge Friends fan, I sat across from Lisa Kudrow in my ob/gyn’s office and I thought she was just another pregnant woman hoarding all the good magazines. My husband recognized her, though, and he didn't even watch the show - although he did manage to come up with some crude, but clever jokes involving a specimen mix-up being turned into valuable celebrity memorabilia
It’s a definite handicap, living in the land of the famous and not being able to recognize the celebrities among us. It renders me useless to out of town visitors who are eager for a glimpse of their favorite actors or actresses – according to me no famous person has been spotted in Los Angeles, ever. Who knows how many times I may have shared an elevator with Hugh Jackman and didn’t know it? Sure it saved him from a rabid fan, but I may never get to show him my ‘love dance’ and give him that crumpled, tear-stained letter I’ve been carrying in my pocket for the past six months.
Last summer I took my two daughters ice skating at a local rink, and as we were leaving a guy entering with his son held the door open for us. He looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn’t place his face. Just as I thought I had figured out who it was, my sister in law leaned over and whispered to me, “Don’t look, but that was the dude from Bones.” Sure enough, it was my old neighbor David Boreanaz, and while I have to admit I was hurt when there wasn’t even the slightest glimmer of recognition in his eyes, I guess I can’t blame him – I thought he was my dentist.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .