Comin' into Los Angeleees

This Saturday was Jake's birthday, so like any good friend, I got in my car and drove for six hours to Los Angeles for his birthday party. Which was an LA-style hoot. For example, I met the guy who lived in his Nissan Sentra for a week, as well as many beautiful ladies. I also ran into a friend of my sister's. This is a guy who went on a summer camp program with Emma 9 (count 'em) years ago, and is somehow friends with Jake's friend's younger brother. Nuts. The highlight of random meetings, though, is without a doubt getting to hang out, however briefly, with Danny Leiner, director of such cinematic gems as Dude, Where's My Car? and Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. He was actually very friendly (chalk up another point for booze), and thus represented the first celebrity interaction I have ever had that went well, ending a pretty black streak that, over the years, has included:

• stammering on the phone with James Earl Jones at age 13
  
• kicking Gwyneth Paltrow in the leg (one could argue that this one did, in fact, go "well")
  
• getting snubbed in a bar by Frank Black
• awkwardly avoiding the topic of my obsessive fandom with Patton Oswalt
• being called a baby koala by Harland Williams
• having Jack Black go "ah, fuck!" and walk away when he caught me looking at him
• having the most stilted conversation of my life with Morgan Freeman, who looked at me with eyes filled with soulful pity
• being paid a measly wage to watch Glenn Close's trailer, only to have her finally give me a curt "hi" the ninth time she passed by me
  
• telling Peri Gilpin that yes, it was all right if she used my waste paper basket
• having to tell Jessica Alba that enough was enough, and that four times in one night was all I had in me

All true, folks. All true.