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"LA Times"
posted March 6, 2006 @10:19p
"Ah... show business. Glamour."

That's what one of the guys working the Academy Awards said to me as he moved a metal blockade to let a horribly loud trash truck full of stinking garbage make its way through.


Earlier, on the day of the Oscars, I had decided I'd walk to the corner of Highland and Hollywood where the Kodak Theatre is, just to see what kind of action was going on. It was a good three hours before the arrivals, so I figured I would miss the big crowd.

I couldn't be more wronger.

There were tons of people everywhere. Police officers were on every corner. Helicopters were monitoring the scene. It was pretty ridiculous.

Outside the theatre was just a huge, non-moving mass of people. And inside the crowd, there was a mix of pure excitement and pure hatred. The excitement came from the fans and the fancy-dressed people working the event. The hatred came from the people that weren't excited, and it was directed towards the excited ones. The non-excited ones just wanted to make it to work or back to their apartments.

But even further away from the crowd, the action was... just messed up. For instance, not even a few blocks from my hotel, a man spotted me from the other side of the road. He ran across in a hurry to ask me a question. It was a question that just about anybody would ask a person that looks like me.

"Sir, are you with the FBI, also?"

I couldn't even think of a funny reply. All I could say was, "no. No, I'm not."

I've always gotten stares when I'm in LA. I've become accustomed to it. In fact, I like to pretend everybody thinks I'm good looking there. But walking through town on the day of the awards just magnified the attention.

I was making my way through that huge mass of people near the event that were celebrity-watching, and some guy yelled at me, "HEY! Hey you look like you're somebody. Are you somebody??"

Again, I couldn't think of a funny reply. All I could muster was, "yeah, David Spade."

People around me are always accusing me of looking like him, so I figured Spade was a good choice...

I couldn't be more wronger.

He didn't believe me, and was still completely convinced I was famous. Maybe he'd heard my music? You never know... He knew I was somebody, just not David Spade.

I can't say the same for another group. I heard somebody scream, "David Spade!! That's David Spade over there!!" They got their cameras out and started taking pictures. As I got closer, I smiled and waved for the photos. "Dave," one of them said sincerely, "I LOVE you're work." I just smiled, thanked them and moved on.

That was actually the first time somebody in Los Angeles thought I looked like David Spade.

Stupid tourists.

For awhile now, I've been trying to figure out the whole attention thing. People in LA often go out of their way to talk to me or introduce themselves. It freaks me out a little, but it's fun. Sometimes I'll even end up hanging out with them for a few hours, so I guess it's a good way to meet people.

I used to try to convince myself that I am magically more attractive in LA, but that can't be it. Attraction shouldn't change by region. I think it's something else.

It's my head.

And even though the extra attention causes my head to go up a size or two while I'm there, I'm not talking about being overconfident. I'm talking about the physical size of my head.

I have a rather large, bulbous head.

I'm like a walking lollipop with limbs.

And deep down, people want to talk to people with really large heads.


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