In the checkout line at Follow Your Heart. The cashier says to the guy in front of me, "So do you get recognized often?" The guy in front of me says, "All the time." The cashier says, "Yeah, I was going to go up to you when you were in the store, but then I figured I'd just wait until you came up here."
Myself, I restrained the urge to say, "Who the fuck are you? I have no earthly idea."
I did ask the cashier after he left. Apparently he's some Fear Factor guy (his name already escapes me). I suspect I am turning into my dad, who had a studied ignorance about pop culture ("The Beatles...who are they" kind of thing). I was better at recognizing politicians when I was in DC than I am at recognizing stars in LA. I only ever know I've had a star sighting because someone else tells me so. On the other hand, when I ran into Russ Feingold in DC National Airport, I had to go up to him and tell him how much I admired him. Pretty funny.
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