Living in Hollywood, I see celebrities all the time. I've ridden in an elevtaor with Sidney Poitier. I've seen William Shatner buying ice. I've gone to the bathroom in the bushes with Dame Judy Dench.

I've even met Fog Horn Leg Horn yesterday. He was a dick.

But the best celebrity sighting has to be when I accidently hit F. Murray Abraham with my car. He was the bad guy in "Amadeus."

I have to say, he was very polite. He only gave me the finger twice. We exchanged phone numbers and have become good friends. Last week, he invited me to his house for some stroodel. And he showed me this little door in his attic that leads to a magic tunnel into John Malkovitch's ball sack. I know. I felt the same way.

I feigned a leg injury, and immediately went home. But when I got there, F. Murray Abraham pulled up in his hover bike and gave me the finger again. Then he spit on my lawn. Then I drove back to his house and spit on his lawn. This went on for several hours. We are currently writing a musical together. It's called "Aw! Fuck This Shit!"

Man, I need sleep.