“Can I tell you something?” A voice says from behind my right shoulder as I wait in line at Baja Fresh on Sunset Boulevard.
The rule in Los Angeles is if someone voluntarily talks to you and you have yet to make eye contact, it is a-okay to 100% ignore them.
Maybe I can pretend that I’m deaf?
But then I would have to produce pretty convincing sign language once I get to the counter. Which I have no idea how to do. Unless I want to tell the cashier that I love him over and over I probably won’t be able to get away with it.
Man, this guy has something really important to say to me. Chances are it’s going to be a.) someone claiming to be a “producer from “The Valley” who would “love it if I can stop by “his office” sometime and audition for the role of the “love interest” in a “feature film” he wrote/directed/starring in or b.) something about how God is going to kill everyone in Los Angeles because The Devil created Hollywood c.) a
Stepford looking woman Scientologist offering to give me a “stress test”.
Those are the only people that stop you on Sunset Boulevard.
I turn around and smile.
“I can’t believe how much you look like Courtney Love,” he says. “It’s uncanny really. Oh, and I’m friends with her so I should know!”
My smile slowly fades and I turn back to face the register.
Realizing that the line did not go over well, he begins back-pedaling.
“No, I mean, like when she isn’t cracked out of her mind. When she was dating Edward Norton.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” I mumble.
“You know, right after she got the plastic surgery.”
I shoot daggers through him.
“I get it, man. Thanks a lot. You’ve ruined my day!”
The cashier motions that I am next.
“Do I look like Courtney Love to you?” I stammer out as I walk up to the cashier.
He thinks about it for a moment.
“No. But you know who you do look like? Sarah Jessica Parker.”
I collect my purse.
“You know who you look like? Someone who is surprised that I’m about to tell them to shut the hell up and walk out of this joint.”
I get told I look like famous people a lot. I’m told that I look like Scarlett Johansson all the time.
By my mother.
Once, in high school, I was told that I look like Elizabeth Hurely. I’m not sure why. If there was any time in my life that I DID not look like Elizabeth Hurley (and more like Anne Ramsey), it was high school.
I once was told I could look like Zooey Deschanel if I changed everything about my face.
But I get told I look like butt ass ugly aesthetically questionable celebrities the most.
For example, the person I most hear? Sarah Jessica Parker.
Fingers, toes, and leg hairs can’t count how many times I’ve been told I look like her. I’ve been told by actors, friends, strangers, doctors, you name it! If you really want to put me in a bad mood, tell me I look like SJP. TELL ME!
Of all people on this God forsaken planet.
Maybe is she had a somewhat interesting filmography, I could get behind it. Maybe if she wasn’t married to a man more bloated than Alec Baldwin and a dead fish combined. Maybe if she didn’t play one of the most obnoxious television personas in contemporary television that made me regret ever being born with a vagina, I could say, “Hey, yeah, SJP, she seems like an interesting chick, that’s cool that I look like her.” I’ve heard she’s really nice and she seems very hard-working, I’m just not a fan.
I’m pretty sure if you gave me a time machine at five years of age, told me to go into the future and pick THE ONE person I’d least likely want to be told I look like, it would be Sarah Jessica Parker.
I’d take Courtney Love over SJP any day. At least you know she’s got some street cred. You wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley.
I think I’m going to go call my mother.