I have an odd relationship with fame, or how I think about people with fame when I see them in person. Not necessarily super-famous people (if I like them my heart starts tripping and if I don't I couldn't care less), but more with people who are very well-respected in their fields, even if they're not household names.

I get a secret little thrill when I find out that someone I know is, in his/her field, considered something of an expert by a wide variety of folks, or is moving up the ranks. I don't know why, but I think it has something to do with pride in knowing this person, and maybe hoping that some of that high regard will rub off on me. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

For instance, I think I've mentioned that Risa's dad is a well-respected ventriloquist/figure maker. I didn't know how respected until years after I found my way into their family, but I still find it very cool that Jerome, I've known since I was a teen, is considered to be one of top figure makers in the world.

Speaking of Risa, she's been rising up the ladder herself in Arizona as a patients' right activist, speaking out about the reaming that so many insurance companies give ill and injured patients. It came about from a serious car accident she had a few years ago, when insurance company after insurance company tried to convince her that the red tape they attempted to stuff up her ass was in her best interest. Being neither stupid nor passive, Risa (with the loving help and support of Joe) proceeded to take that red tape and stuff it right back down the companies' gullets. In the process she's spoken to the governor and sat on several commitees regarding patients' rights. As she once said to me, "I've always been a loud consumer, now I can use that to help others."

It's also interesting when someone you've met and are slowly befriending is not necessarily the ordinary person you think they might be.

Last year I was a guest at the weddings of two women who had been best friends for years, one in mid-April and the other at the end of May. The gal who got married in May, Krystal, is not only a friend of mine, but the daughter of a good friend of mine. Through Krystal I met a very nice and very fun couple, Scott and Ivy, and their two lovely daughters. Ivy is a member of a theatre troupe in Thousand Oaks and Scott, well, I didn't really know what Scott did. Soon I was issued a standing invitation to their Friday game nights and I've gone a couple of times. I would have gone even more, because I had a lot of fun, but paging season started. "When it's over, I'm going back!" I swore.

In the course of my first game night I learned that Scott was a comic book writer and had a website. Cool, I thought, and I asked for the URL. It was a while before I checked it out. Very nice. And, out of curiosity, I plugged Scott's full name into a search engine. Wow, look at all the references!

Turns out that Scott isn't just a comic book writer. He's Scott McCloud, author of Understanding Comics, which has become a must-have reference book for comic book fans and professionals. I've seen his name mentioned in countless sites, including Kim Rollins (who, unfortunately, stopped undating her diary before I came on the scene) and Neil Gaiman.

I gotta tell you, I just think this is way too cool, even though I'm no comic book aficianado.

(BTW, if you want to check out Scott's site, I highly recommend it. He's got some terrific work on there.)

The first review for SWEENEY TODD has been printed. Don Shirley with the L.A. Times loved it.

Validation is always nice.

A side note: John Ritter came to see the show on Sunday, apparently a friend of Amanda's and George's. As usual, I said not a word, but I so wanted to go up to him and say something stupid like, "Jerome Lane says hi!"

(Ok, so it's not funny. I'm not always a laugh riot, ya know. Probably not even as much as I think I am. It's just that Jerome worked with him on Americathon and an episode of Three's Company).

I was almost as thrilled by that as I was running into an old theater crony.

I am so glad I'm not home during the prime-time viewing hours these days. That way I wasn't tempted to watch the (no doubt) nausea-inducing "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire". It's bad enough I get sucked into The Terror That is Regis. (Yes, that's my final fucking answer, Oreos are black and white, now give me the damned money!) I can't imagine watching this kind of garbage while sitting on my loveseat with a bucket in easy reach.

(Here's a fun entry regarding the show. [Link courtesy of Beth.])

And please tell me that everyone is joking when they mention that there was nineteen year-old girl. That's just not right.

*reading over this entry* Well, this sure is a fun-filled, action-packed entry, ain't it? I better stop while I'm behind.

Are you ready for...

Can you play the Mexican Hat dance while drunk? I thought not. Well, step aside and let Rob show you how it's done.