Brush With Fame: Sarah Silverman

Los Angeles Narrative
by Megan Wood Jan 28, 2011

Photo: Mark Coggins

My friend Annie has an extraordinary radar for spotting celebrities — probably because she aspires to be one.

ANNIE ALSO HAS two Brussels Griffon lap dogs that she brings everywhere California state law allows. Again, I’m pretty sure this goes along with her dream of being on the cover of US Weekly.

It was winter of 2007, and she and I were waiting for an outdoor table at Toast in Los Angeles when she whispered in my ear, “If you look now I will kill you, but Jimmy Kimmel and Sarah Silverman are sitting at a table in the corner.” In Los Angeles, it is decidedly not cool to gawk at celebrities. I had only been in Hollywood a few months and I was definitely not cool. I gawked.

To be fair, Sarah was making a bit of a spectacle. Dressed in cargo pants and an oversized sweatshirt, she was doing everything possible to get Jimmy’s attention. She got up from her chair, and threw her arms around him, laughing loudly. He ignored her. She licked his face. He sent a text. She nibbled on his ear. He took a phone call. She sat back down, defeated, with a pouty look on her pretty face.

“Stop staring at her!” Annie hissed, handing me one of her dogs in an attempt to distract me.

Suddenly, Sarah was the one staring at me. We locked eyes and she jumped up from her table and half ran to where I was standing on the patio.

“Hi puppy!” she cooed, lowering her face until it was level with the tiny dog I held in my arms. “What’s your name?” She asked the dog in a baby voice.

“Um, her name is Dirty Girl.” I responded, speaking for the animal.

“Dirty Girl! That is hysterical! Can I pet her?” Before I could say yes, Sarah began aggressively petting Dirty Girl’s face and body, and incidentally rubbing my breast. I took a small step back, adjusting Dirty Girl a bit lower, but Sarah seemed to have no concept of personal space.

Photo: Ant Megin and I can haz pats frum Silbermun?
Photo: elgin.jessica

She continued stroking the dog and my chest as she rattled off questions to Annie. “How old are they? I want a dog! Where did you get them? Dirty Girl! You are a dirty girl.” Now I was confused and a little embarrassed. Was Sarah Silverman feeling me up and calling me names? Because that’s what it felt like.

The hostess appeared and rescued me. “Annie, table for two?” Sarah looked longingly at the dogs as we said our quick goodbyes. She seemed disappointed as she walked back to her boyfriend and table, paid the bill and left.

A few weeks later, Annie and I were having coffee at Urth Café in Beverly Hills. She leaned across the table towards me, “Weird Al Yankovic is sitting directly behind you.”

I stirred my coffee. “I’m not even going to turn around.” And I didn’t.

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