I Touched 50 Cent – Keep The Change

 

There are only a few celebrities I have touched where I feared for my life.  Rapper Ice-T was one of them (for obvious reasons).  Boy George was another (for even more obvious reasons).  But the one that truly made me wish Marc Jacobs made a brocade Kevlar vest was rapper 50 Cent.

I happened upon Mr. Cent at a Rolling Stone party in Hollywood.  The room was filled with previous touch victims, such as then entire cast of Glee, who apparently still haven’t caught wind that their show is a hit and they shouldn’t show up to a Hollywood party in the first hour (page 56 of the Celebrity Handbook).  Half Dollar showed up fashionably late, as one does when you are a multi-platinum rapper and Vitamin Water spokesperson (I know!  That totally makes sense, because rapping makes you so thirsty). Upon entering the party, 5 Pesos was quickly whisked to a VIP booth (Thankfully not the one that R&B singer Brandy was gyrating on the back of like a Walgreen’s hair extension on a roller coaster).

The first thing you notice about .34 Euros is that he is actually a rather small guy, kinda like a bee-stung Gary Coleman.  Now, we all know that 30 Rubles was shot nine times and lived to tell about it, so even though he was Lilliputian and probably leaked when he drank a 64 ounce root beer Slurpee , I was a little scared to get near him.  His menacing Nell Carter-sized bodyguard made me even more intimidated to go in for a high quality Celebrity Touch™.

Since we all know that I am not one to back away from a challenge or a Hostess Honey Bun, I was willing to risk my life to get that touch.  I quickly (OK, it wasn’t so quick, as I was kinda busy staring at Melissa Rivers’ living PhotoShop face) moved in for the touch.  What I needed to do was get into the booth behind where 30 Pence was seated, currently occupied by Lee Dewyze (yeah, I didn’t know who he was either until someone reminded me that he won the ninth season of American Idol, which has basically given him the same celebrity status as the Progressive Insurance lady and the same Bumpit hair style). 

I waited until the puffy-faced Lee was distracted by a tired looking waitress with a 45-day-old dye job and cracked nail polish carrying sad-looking skewered meat products.  That’s when I backed up and kinda flopped into the other side of the rounded booth – Oops!  Did I just trip over your exceptionally low celebrity status and fall into your booth, Lee???  Sorry!!!

Now that I had pulled Lee’s attention away from his glossy chicken teriyaki stick, he gave me that look typically reserved by my mother during Christmas:  “You’re not wanted here!”  So, I gathered myself and attempted to rise from the splayed position I currently occupied in the plush velvet  booth.  I strategically reached up to grasp the back seat cushion and in doing so, casually touched 38 Yen on his muscle-bound left shoulder.  Celebrity Touch™ secured and I wasn’t riddled by bullets!  I was however riddled as to why a burly security guard resembling a sober Zach Galifianakis was, at that moment, asking me to please remove myself from the VIP section.  No matter, I had my 50 Cent in my pocket and Melissa River’s face needed further exploration.

I Touched Ron Howard - A Child Is Corrupted

Not to say that I have corrupted my son Nate, but let's just say that when it comes to touching celebrities, the apple doesn't fall far from the corn stalk. Nate and I were spending a most delightful Saturday morning in New York City recently, talking politics, astral physics and the utter pointlessness of underwear, when a celebrity touching happened upon us. At the age of six, I was surprised that my son had never touched a celebrity (the Olsen Twins are NOT celebrities), but today was about to be his day.

Joining us in this touching adventure was Nate's mother Jane, a hapless victim to our hyjinks. While we were enjoying our fritatas (that word is never not funny to me) at Sara Beth's on the Upper East Side, in walks Ron Howard. You know Ron: Opie from The Andy Griffith Show, Richie from Happy Days and now and Academy Award-winning director. Well, Ron senses our star power and situates himself right behind Jane.

Now, Jane isn't easily starstruck, so when I mention Ron Howard is behind her, she is nonplussed. Besides, she is wary that I might steal something off her plate if she turns around, which is a family tradition. Jane then decides to go to the bathroom to probably jump out the window. At this point, I execute my touch, which was an "Ooops, I dropped my fork with full arm graze of Mr. Howard on the upward return arch." Text book really.

Touch secured, I returned to my German Pancakes. But then I think, wouldn't it be grand for granny if I got a picture of Nate with Ron Howard? Well, of course it would be, so I ask Ron (I call him Ron) and he agrees. Nate and Ron huddle up and I get a great photo as Jane walks out of the bathroom, with a look of shock on her face... of course, not so shocked that she didn't want a picture too!

We thank Ron and return to our meals. Here is where the old chip off the block starts chipping. About five minutes later... while we are savoring the last of our meals, Nate stands up, says nothing, walks over and taps Ron on the shoulder (ok, this does NOT count as a celebrity touch, because I am pretty sure that Mr. Howard realized he was being touched, by the maple syrup-covered fingerprints now on his shirt, but heck Nate is only six, so we will give it to him).

Nate asks Ron: "Mr. Howard, would you like to hear a joke?" "Sure!" "Why did Tigger stick his head in the toilet?" "I don't know, why?" "He was looking for Pooh!"

Ron exclaimed "That's a winner!" With that, Nate turned around, marched back to our table and polished off his apple pancakes. Nate has officially started his celebrity touching career.

Celebrity Quick Touch - Neve Campbell

 

Celebrity Touch Target: Neve Campbell

 

Why:  Because I thought she was a neo-soul (this really isn’t a thing) bohemian groupie, only to realize she was the star of Party of Five and recently revived her career with House of Cards (I know!  I didn’t realize it was her either… that skin!  Crystalized baby spine.  The only answer.)

 

Where:  The W Hotel Times Square

 

How:  Ok.  Look.  I get it.  I haven’t posted in a while.  I was in a cryonic deep freeze.  Get over it.  Anyway, what is important here is that I was in Times Square and I wasn’t dressed like Spiderman creepily (yes, a word) fondling German tourists for a buck… this time.  I was actually there to attend the after-party of my good friend Alan Cumming, who just wowed the stiffs at Carnegie Hall with a high-steppin’ show surprisingly free of full frontal male nudity.  With Spice Rack on my arm, I reluctantly found myself in a hotel bar.  Like the kind typically reserved for people whose most defined fashion choice is a lanyard and a low-heeled pump.  I was three Aperol Spritzes deep, when The Rack exclaimed there was a celebrity in our midst.  Scanning the room, I saw