I am a star dork. I get struck extremely easily. If I have even seen someone's name in print I think they are more important than I and I yield the floor openly with rose pedals and back-stepping, geisha bows. It is never a mental choice, always a gut instinct.
Because I hate watching myself do this, I am usually completely terrified of being in the presence of a star. Especially alone.
I was recently left in a room with Terry Richardson. My colleagues had no idea who he was and couldn't understand why I suddenly turned into Horshack. Many of my friends consider him a kiddie porn peddler (ah, the mentors we breed...), I happen to like some of his work.
I did relatively well in front of the celeb this time. Unlike when I walked by Paul McCartney on 54th Street and stood in his way so I could say:
(Gulp. Pause. Gulp. Pause. Pause.)
"Hi."
I did this in such a deer-in-headlights-forced-and-tortured-eyes-like-saucers way he burst out laughing at me.
Terry is not even close to Paul stature but I still felt myself turning slowly inside out. I couldn't help but mention to Terry that I liked his work and when he asked my name and held out his hand I mumbled who I was while looking at the floor. Then I went and hid in the bathroom. Then I came out and sat at the other end of the room and pretended there was something extremely important deep inside my purse all while eating my tongue. After he left I took a picture of his shoes.
After I put them next to mine.
I know I am not normal.
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