I can’t stop talking to celebrities. It's harder than when I gave up cigarettes and that took me two years and twenty pounds.
Most of them start out thinking they know me because I’m very affable, very non stalkerish, like I've known them all my life. Half of them are pleasant and the other half can hardly wait for me to walk away. Okay, probably all of them can hardly wait for that.
I always say the wrong thing when I open my mouth yet it sadly doesn’t stop me from doing it again. I told Kathy Baker that I thought she was a brilliant actress and I watched everything she did and that I missed Picket Fences and seeing her on TV and she said she was on Boston Public.
Dr. Joyce Brothers once honked her horn at me and asked for directions. God knows where she ended up since after I told her what a fan I was and wouldn’t shut up; she stepped on the gas and ran a red light. And for the record, I’m not a fan of Dr. Joyce Brothers, I don't even think she's a celebrity and I'm unclear as to whether or not she's still alive.
I met Mick Jagger when the Stones were on tour in Paris. My sister was dating Ron Wood (the guitarist who replaced Brian Jones) at the time and I was starring in a cabaret show. Every night they were in town, I would head over to their hotel after my show to meet my sister. I was a big Jagger fan and I was dying to meet (have sex with) him. One night I saw him walking towards me. I met him half way and we both stopped. He smiled and I asked him where the ladies room was.
I met Oprah on the set of a movie I was filming here in LA and bored her to distraction with a tale of how male standups never let me watch her show in the condos we had to share on the road. Later on, when we were all on set, I looked at her and she waved at me. I turned around to see who she was waving at but there was no one there. I looked at her again and she waved again and once more I looked behind me. There was no one there. I looked back at Oprah and she waved and pointed to me over and over. Finally I got it and waved back. Lame a Go Go.
Believe me, I don’t start out thinking I’m going to talk to these people but somehow, like a heroin addiction, it overtakes me and suddenly I’m tying off and shooting up inane conversation.
I was down in Malibu one day with a friend and the stalkerazzi were following Pam Anderson. She and her children went into the Cross Creek pet shop and the photogs all huddled outside like piranhas, waiting for her to come out. My friend and I ducked into the book store next door since we wanted to get a look at her. When she finally emerged, the paparazzi went ape shit and I lost it. I ran outside waving my arms and screaming at them to leave her alone, that she was with her kids and to just stay away from her. Pam (like I know her) jumped in her SUV, threw it into reverse and sped off while I was still yelling. After she got away I went back into the book store to retrieve my friend.
“Those assholes, they scared her half to death.”
“Uhhh Suzy? I think she was more afraid of you.”
End of chat.