Marie Osmond threw up in an elevator we were riding in together.

Marie Osmond and I have the same birthday (and Cash and Matt).

I nearly ran James Carville and his King Charles Spaniels down on my bike once.

Accidentally, or did he just move too fast? (I know you weren't aiming for the spaniel, of course.)

I remember, when we were kids in the UK, we drove past Lenny Henry. I pointed him out, and my father asked if we wanted his autograph.

Of course! So he parks the car and walks over and they chat animatedly for ten minutes. He comes back, and I don't even remember if he had an autograph.

"You know Lenny Henry?" I asked.

"No."

Since then, I've been very, fuck it, I'm walking up to whoever and starting a conversation. Served me well.

Marie Osmond and I have the same birthday (and Cash and Matt).

And my father, and the aforementioned British Prime Minister.

That's awesome. I saw a former soap actor (he was a spectator) at a play one night; he had performed himself in the previous play put on, and he was GREAT. But I was too shy to say that to him. Oh, well. Now, I probably would. Who doesn't like to hear, "Hey, you were great in/at_________________!"

Most of my celebrity encounters, aside from fan conventions, have been at the strip club. Most notably, I met Lou Diamond Phillips. He was touring with his band at the time, and invited me and my friend Mickey backstage. He and his guys were all perfect gentlemen. I still have a Polaroid somewhere of me standing next to him, wearing a green teddy and lots of lipstick.

I met Billie Jean King when I was going through a tennis phase. Everyone else I can think of is baseball related of varying levels of fame. I've danced with Vida Blue, hung out with Dontrelle Willis (and his mom), and chatted with David Stewart about his sister who cared for my mom (I forget the exact capacity now - want to say phlebotomist).

Heh, I asnwered the phone once and spoke to Jerry Bruckheimer, he called to yell at my ex-boss. It was not fun in the least.

I served Joe DiMaggio popcorn at a movie theater. He'd brought a couple of young relatives to see The Jungle Book, if memory serves.

Who doesn't like to hear, "Hey, you were great in/at_________________!"

My issue was that I'd go up to people and say "Nice ______ but your _______ was a bit weak."

My mother had a tendency of going "You know who you should date?" And then she'd name some dreadfully eligible black English guy of Jamaican extract, and I'd die of mortification, and then five years later I'd kick myself. She knew the oddest parents.

But then she'd often randomly pipe up with guys she'd dated, like Gil Scott Heron band members. My mother is such a prude, you don't even know. What she was doing hanging around the forefather of American rap I can't imagine.