Well, all right.  But I am old, and it will take several minutes to remember all of my Brushes With Greatness. In Buffalo, I met Joey Reynolds, who was a fat local DJ with his own local dance show on which I once appeared pretending to be a visiting English exchange student.  It was 1964, and I managed to affect a terrible British accent and dress like my idea of an English schoolgirl.  I was a Big Hit. Until school the next day, when I was laughed out of the cafeteria and didn't get any apple crisp.  I also once saw Stefano Maggadino, who ran the local branch of the Gambino Family.  Or was it the Genovese Family? Whatever.  Fageddaboudit. In San Francisco, I walked by and spoke with Joel Grey, saw Katherine Hepburn at a distance, was bumped into by Richard Burton, saw Karl Malden often enough to exchange familiar waves, almost collided with Linda Carter (TV's "Wonder Woman"), knew Armistead Maupin ("Tales of the City") well enough to have provided some storyline for the Mary Ann Singleton character, and smiled at Gene Wilder.  I don't count all the Famousers I saw from the audience during a performance--- those encounters don't count because I paid for them. In Los Angeles, I saw Bobby Darren (before he died; I think it was 1972), Ed McMahon, and The Amazing Kreskin.  During his featured segment, The Amazing Kreskin would *not* pick me out of the audience to read a date out of my mind and tell everyone what it meant to me. "Watch *this*," I muttered to my companion at this free taping of "The Tonight Show," (Johnny Carson was out sick) and I scowled and focused my Astonishing Thought Ray That Comes Out of the Middle of My Forehead right at The Amazing Kreskin during the commercial break.  He began to fidget in his seat and look from right to left and out into the audience.  I was fierce and relentless.  My ATRTCOotMoMF was boring into his brane.  Finally (true story!) he stood up and strode to the edge of the audience.  "WHO is thinking about July 20th, 1938?!?" he barked in frustration.  I raised my hand.  My companion shrank away from me in terror. "This is a birthday, yes?!" he asked, sweat crowning his wrinkled brow. "Yes."  "A husband? No, but an important man in your life, yes? A brother, no, a...a... boyfriend?!"  "Yes!" I sat back, triumphant.  The Amazing Kreskin looked relieved, and mopped his brow while the floor director counted down the seconds until they were back on the air.  I was annoyed that this didn't happen while I could have been on TV, so that my boyfriend at the time could have seen me thinking of his birthday, but I turned off my ATRTCOotMoMF anyway and let The Amazing Kreskin catch his breath.  My companion was very respectful to me for the rest of the trip, and gave me his packets of salad dressing and peanuts on the plane going home. In Seattle, I saw President Clinton drive by, stood next to David Hyde-White and Kelsey Grammer, saw Gillian Andersen's butt disappearing into The Bon Marche, and had a drink with Louis Nick III. In Halifax, Vlad is the most famous person, and I live with him so all the sightings don't really count.  Except when he's coming out of the shower and he can't make the dog stop licking his wet ankles and he dances around yelling "ICK!, no ankle stuff!" which always makes me laugh. The End.