Curb my Enthusiasm

After spending a summer interning for the L.A. Times entertainment section, I've always been a little numb to the excitement that typically comes along with celebrity encounters. At the Sundance Film Festival, I spent most of my time on the slopes and in the hot tub rather than trying to party with JT. When I stopped in my tracks to stare at Kate Hudson, who was shopping on the east coast of Australia, I did so because she was an extremely hot girl adjusting her thong -- I was completely oblivious that I was drooling over a star until someone informed me later down the road.

I get more anxious to meet people I respect for what they do rather than who they are. Example: I'd rather chat with the writers of my favorite show Entourage than the cast.

When I saw Larry David -- half of the brains behind Seinfeld and star of HBO's Curb Your Enthusiasm -- at a bar in Edinburgh a couple nights ago, I knew I had to try to chat with the comedic genious. I had attended my first ever soccer match earlier in the night and headed for beers with the boys right after, so I was more than a bit tipsy when I walked by him.

"Hey Larry," I said. "My dad and I watch your show together and both love it. It's a bonding experience."

"Thanks," he said, not seeming to annoyed with the attention although the good-looking 20-something blonde next to him was likely a bit more interesting.

"So what are you doing here?" I asked, as if we were old friends who coincidentally ran into each other in Scotland.

"I'm playing golf. What are you doing here?"

"I'm been traveling around for almost eight months. I'm staying with some friends, checking out the festival."

"That's great. Where ya from?"

"I'm from Iowa."

"Iowa?" he said in the same condescending tone he does on his show.

"Yeah, I went to school at the University of Iowa for journalism. I'm a writer as well, so I just wanted to say I respect your work. Sorry to bother you."

"You're not bothering me. No problem. Take care."

I dialed up my dad on the car ride home to tell him about the encounter, just like a 16-year-old girl calling her friends after meeting Justin Timberlake.

The following day I headed north to St. Andrews to check out where golf was born. Bryan, who along with his wife is taking care of me yet again while in Edinburgh, mentioned I might see some celebrities roaming around. Not more than two minutes after he said this, Larry David and I crossed paths, staring at each other as if to say, "Didn't I chat with you at the bar last night?" The only difference was, I knew I chatted with him at the bar last night.

"How's it goin' Larry?" I asked.

"Good," he said, with a little laugh at the coincidence.

"I bet he thinks I'm stalking him," I said to Bryan as we walked away. "Maybe he's stalking me?"