Star-Struck
(originally ranted in 2002)

In every woman, there lurks a sinister presence. No, I'm not referring to PMS, nor am I talking about our insistence upon taking nail polish as seriously as foreign policy. I'm talking about the inner 15 year-old girl. She's not our inner child. She's more like our inner idiot.

Let me explain: We girls actually have detailed fantasies of encounters with famous actors, musicians, and other overpaid types. It's not even about sex. I actually have visions of meeting a famous person, and that somehow, merely by gazing into my eyes, this person will realize that I am a beautiful, intelligent, socially active, globally concerned woman who, in reality, is his soul-mate. Yes, we who manage to hold down good jobs, functional relationships and wonderful children become completely irrational and ridiculous with the mere glimpse of our crush's visage.

Example: My 65 year-old grandmother actually gets giddy at the mention of Russell Crowe. She talks about him like they had a date last Tuesday, and she smirks if you mention Meg Ryan.

Another example: I actually thought in my head, more than once, that a certain actor I swoon over was going to ask me to this year's Academy Awards. Now, I know that this would never happen BUT IT MIGHT! Right? As I write this, the Academy Awards will begin in two and a half hours, so I guess not. At least, not unless he hurries, and there's a Concorde that flies from Lubbock. Okay. Maybe not this year. But surely next!

I've had crushes on them all- Gary Oldman, Jean Reno, Kevin Spacey, Anthony Hopkins, Benicio Del Toro, Russell Crowe, Jason Lee, Lenny Kravitz, Steve Buscemi, Tim Roth, William H. Macy. I even had a crush on Ben Stein. Do you hear me? Ben Stein!

And like I said- it's not a sex thing. I had visions of going out for coffee with Ben Stein. Steve Buscemi would get dinner and a movie. Jason Lee and I would go out for a night on the town. Jean Reno and I would lounge around and just talk for hours. Lenny Kravitz and I would definitely go furniture shopping. Benicio? Okay, maybe sometimes it's not so innocent.