Brushes With Greatness

Las Vegas is quickly becoming the new Hollywood, with celebrities streaming in on weekends and pre-buying luxury condos on the strip. Famous-folk sightings are commonplace for the well-connected, but since I'm rarely on THE LIST, my brushes with greatness are few and far between.

I was having a Thai chicken pizza at CPK when my meal was interrupted by a bright orange orb in my line of vision. I hoped it was the sun crashing into the earth to bring me sweet relief, but it was Carrot Top. My first holiday season in Vegas and this was the city's gift to me, the celebrity sighting equivalent of getting a Chia Pet. It turns out the Top is really buff. I guess when you're the worst comedian ever you get a lot of shit for it, so why not get all muscled up and kick some heckler ass.

I was working at the retail Hindenberg also known as Organized Living when I was approached by Teller of the comic magician duo Penn and Teller. Teller's the little guy who never speaks, and he's become very attached to the persona. All of his requests were relayed to me by his swishy personal assistant, and to top it off the name on his credit card and I.D. read simply "Teller." When I moved I had to wait three hours at the infamous Henderson DMV just to have my address changed, and this guy gets away with having "Teller" on his driver's license. One of the perks of celebrity, I suppose.

Rob Lowe filmed an episode of his ill-fated TV series "Dr. Vegas" at the Green Valley Ranch Casino and guess which disinterested passerby saw him? "Oh, look, it's Rob Lowe. Let's get a Fatburger and some rings."
"Dr. Vegas" didn't last long. Really, would you want a guy who went by "Dr. Vegas" operating on you? I saw part of an episode and the dialogue went something like this:
"I'll be honest with you, Susan. You have cancer, but we did catch it in the early stages."
"What shall I do, Dr. Vegas?"
"I prescribe a limo ride to Mandalay Bay Resort. Begin the evening with dinner at the award-winning Aureole restaurant and then dance the night away at rumjungle."
"Oh, Dr. Vegas, you're too much."
The episode ended with Dr. Vegas placing lilies on her grave.

I waited in line for Jenna Jameson to sign a copy of her book. She was at the Virgin Megastore, of all places. She was quite nice and put up with a lot of porn-guy shit very good-naturedly. She even wrote in my book, completely unsolicited, "Todd, it was way too big for me. Love, Jenna."
Which proves that in addition to penning her autobiography she has a future as a writer of fiction.

I've only been to Rain nightclub twice and both times led to celebrity sightings. The first time Shaquille O'Neal stuck his head out of a private skybox and waved to the crowd. That was the night, I later read in a gossip column, he was denied entrance to the vastly overrated Light at the Bellagio because he didn't meet the dress code. I've been to Light before. I got in wearing my best Casual Male Big and Tall ensemble. Any club that would let me in over Shaq Diesel should be burned to the ground.

My biggest celeb encounter, and most horribly disappointing, came the last time I went to Rain. A group of us were celebrating a friend's birthday when someone said "I think that's Britney Spears." I turned around to see her entourage, led by her bodyguard, who is so large a small moon orbited three feet above his head.
I've never been a fan of complete and utter shit, but I always thought Britney was hot. Wrongamundo, as the Fonz might say. I caught a glimpse of her face just as she walked through a house light. Blessed Mother of Bad Skin did she look like the "before" picture in a zit cream ad. I almost dropped my overpriced, watered down drink. How could she go out in public like that? She's Britney Spears! I'm still mad at her. Thanks, Britney, you non-consealer wearing twat. Way to ruin my middle-aged perversion. I'm afraid to go back to Rain again. I don't want to find out Jessica Alba has a hunchback or Allysa Milano drags her left foot.