Judge Mathis, Judge Joe Brown, Judge Mills Lane, Judge Hatchett, Judge Wapner, Judge Mablean, Judge Alex . . . I watched anything in a robe. I would have even watched Judge Reinhold if he had a show. And that’s saying something.

But eventually, I got tired of it all. The hoaky catch phrases, the forced attempts at being a hard ass, the lapsing into Spanish every ten seconds and talking about notarized tongues and paying for the hot chocolate. It just got old.

Well most of it, anyway. There was one judge who always kept me interested. Judge Judy.

“Interested” is maybe too casual of a word. I love this show like a fat girl loves Twilight. Nothing makes me happier than being out of town for a few days so I can come home to a Tivo full of Judy. I don’t even care that I’ve seen the episodes over and over again; the eBay scammer, the idiot lady who told her 6 year old that her father might be someone else, the woman who sued the cop for giving her a ticket, the woman whose hair fell out after the bad perm, I know them by heart at this point and I could still see them again.

People ask me what it is about her that I like so much, and all I can really say is that I enjoy watching stupid people get punished. There’s just something so satisfying about watching someone with intelligence and authority put the smack down on some idiot who’s really asking for it.

In any case, the unimaginable happened yesterday: I actually got to meet her. Through the tireless efforts of my thoroughly amazing friend Gina, I was able to walk into the studio as thought I had a right to be there. I even got a drive on pass!

I wasn’t expecting a whole lot, to be honest. I thought I might get to watch a case or two and possibly get an autograph, but I actually wound up spending several hours with the judge in her dressing room, talking about politics, mothers, movies, shopping and Gin Rummy. And after seeing my engagement ring and asking if we set a date, she even gave me some advice about pre-nups.

If that wasn’t enough glamor, I was invited to sit in the front row of the audience for two cases, which means you’ll actually be able to see my pale and sweating face when they air that episode in September. Hot damn, it’s like Make A Wish for a middle aged woman in relatively good health.

And to put the icing on the torte*, I even had lunch with her honor. I was invited into the dining room and I had salad, green beans and chicken. They had corn on the cob and ribs too, but I didn’t trust my hand-eye coordination for that one. Plus I thought I’d get food in my teeth and look like an even bigger starstruck hillbilly.

Now, I don’t want to say too much more, because Judge Judy was very candid and relaxed with me. And I thought that was gracious, considering I am nobody and likely to remain that way. So I don’t want to be rude by spilling everything all over my blog.

But I will tell you that she wears a tank top and jeans under her robe, and she’s built like a brick courthouse.

More pictures on Flickr

*Law comedy

We headed over to Mr. Cecil’s on Ventura Boulevard. They make their ribs with a dry rub that tastes amazing. You can add sauce if you want, but I like it just the way it is.

We ordered a huge pile of ribs, as well as cole slaw and grilled corn. And we sat there, gnawing on bones and sucking our fingers and being generally repulsive until we were completely stuffed.

John went to the mens room, while I sat there in a meat and sugar daze. I was hoping he wouldn’t be long, as the kids at the next table were jabbering about how great Get Smart was, and loudly re-enacting all the “funny” parts.

Suddenly, a thin, dark haired man with glasses lurched into the restaurant. He was very, very drunk. he was shortly followed by a blonde actress type and a short guy in a ball cap.

On the way to their table, he saw a man at the bar, who was writing on a script. He stumbled over to him.

“Hey, what are you working on?”

The man looked up at him, confused. They didn’t know each other.

“Uh . . . a thing for ABC”, he answered.
“Cool,” said the drunk, “come and sit with us.”

At this point I realized the drunk was Andy Dick.

The waitress seated them all directly across from me. I had worked with Andy on What’s My Line at the Acme Comedy Theatre a few years ago, but I knew he wouldn’t remember me.

The waitress came to the table. Before she could open her mouth, Andy spoke up.

“I am very, very, very drunk,” he said. “We’re all going to Vegas after this, so I need food right now because I’m very, very drunk.”

“Ok,” said the waitress, “what would you like?”

“Do you have cole slaw? Because I’m very, very drunk and very hungry.”

At this point, Andy and I made eye contact. I realized I hadn’t touched my cole slaw, so I held it up to him. He immediately slid out of his seat and stumbled over to me. He took the cole slaw out of my hand and went back to his table, where he began to eat it with his fingers.

“Thank you”, he said, around a mouthful of cabbage, “I’m very drunk.”

“I know,” I said.

The waitress started to take the order once again, but Andy interrupted.

“Do you have corn? I want corn. We’re going to Vegas and I’m very drunk and I need corn.”

I held out my uneaten corn to Andy, and he came over and grabbed it. He went back to his seat and started gnawing on it. He looked at me.

“Come over here,” he said, and he pulled out a chair.

So I went over and sat down next to him.

“What’s your name?
“April. We actually worked together but you probably don’t remember me.”
“What did we work on? I’m very drunk.”
“I know. We worked on What’s My Line at Acme Comedy Theatre.”

He stared at me, corn kernels dropping off his chin.

“I never did that show.”
“No, you did, we were both on the panel together.”
“No, I’m telling you I did not. I never did that fucking show. Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t do, because I never did that fucking show.”

“Ok,” I said, “maybe it was something else.”

At this point, John came out of the mens room and I went over to him.

“Is that Andy Dick?” He asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “and he’s eating your corn.”

I took my camera out of my purse and held it up to Andy, who nodded. John and I went back to his table.

“I’m glad you asked if you could take my picture. Some people don’t ask and I fuck them up. I go fucking crazy on them. I ruin their fucking cameras.”

He looked John up and down.

“Who is that?”
“That’s my boyfriend, John.”
“Oh,” he said, brightening. “This is my girlfriend.”

He turned around and tapped the blonde on her on the shoulder.

“Honey, this is my friend Emily.”
“April”, I said.

His girlfriend didn’t even look up from her drink.

“And this is Jorge, he’s a comic. And we don’t know this guy but he was at the bar. We’re going to Vegas. Right after this. You should come with us. I’m really drunk.”

I said I just wanted a picture. So we took one.

I thanked him, then I went back to my table and got my things. As we started leaving, Andy called out to us.

“Amy! Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Don’t you want to go to Vegas? We’re going right after this.”
“No, we just want to go home. But thank you.”
“Ok, well . . . have fun!”

As we walked to the car, I said to John, “I wonder if we have the last photo of Andy Dick alive.”

Apparently not.

The first job was as Clarabelle the Cow. That voice tends to be a little hard on my throat sometimes, so I need lots of water when I’m working.

There was a wooden table in the booth, and when I went to set down my water bottle, I noticed someone had written their name on it. It struck me as odd that anyone would be writing on the furniture. I mean, this isn’t junior high school, it’s Disney for God’s sake.

When I saw the name, I immediately whipped out my phone and tried to take a picture of it. Unfortunately, it didn’t come out very well. But if you use your imagination and squint a little, I think you can see it says, WILMER.

I’m guessing that Mr. Valderama was suffering through a long session of Handy Manny, and elected to alleviate his boredom by tagging the furniture.

Pretty stealthy, don’t you think? No one will ever know who was responsible for that one.

Welcome to MENSA, Wilmer.

And the glamour didn’t let up. In fact, it really kicked in to high gear as I was leaving my second job.

I walked out to the parking lot and saw Tom Selleck, waiting for the valet to bring his car around.

Oh, it was too much.

I pretended to check my messages while I engaged him in small talk about cars, and discreetly took this picture with my phone.

Normally, I wouldn’t have taken the chance. I would have just come home and told you about it and drank myself to sleep.

But he was standing next to my Mini.

And unless we get into an accident, I don’t think I’ll ever get this shot again.

Tomorrow morning, I’m doing a table read for King of the Hill. I’m very excited about that. There will probably be baked goods.

I’ll see how lucky I get with my camera phone.

Already the stars were seriously out of alignment, as I detest grapefruit, and I never go shopping that early. And yet, there I was, shuffling through the supermarket, trying to make sense of it all.

Clearly, forces larger than we can understand had led me there, to that place, at that that time.

As I turned the corner, I saw a tall man in dark sunglasses looking at the meat. He wore a black, short sleeved shirt and blue jeans, and his bald head gleamed under the flourescent lights.

There was just something about him that seemed familiar to me. He picked up a package of ribs and sauntered away, and of course, I had to follow.

When I saw him in the BBQ sauce aisle, it hit me. And let me tell you, I nearly soiled myself with excitement.

I followed him at a polite distance, and realized we were both going to check out at the same time. I watched him put his two jars of Stubbs Smokey Mesquite sauce down on the converyer belt, and then I made my move.

“Excuse me,” I began, as doe-eyed as I could get at that hour, “would you mind if I took your picture with my camera phone? My boyfriend and I are such huge fans of your show, and he just won’t believe that I saw you.”

Now this sort of thing is always dicey, because not every celebrity enjoys being interrupted while they’re being human. I still cherish the story of Tyra Banks, in full make up and wardrobe at a deli in New York, turning away a fan with a camera becase she was “just hanging out.”

But today was my lucky day, because he smiled and said, “Well, of course.” And I thought that was amazing, since he was obviously joneseing hard for BBQ. You have to be if you’re buying pork at eight in the morning.

The cashier immediately chimed in. “I can take it of both of you!” Another miracle! A fast thinking cashier, unintimidated by the magic of the moment. I handed him my camera, and the rest is history.

I thanked him for his graciousness and he patted me on the shoulder. “You tell your boyfriend thanks for watching.”

And I said, “We have no choice. It’s on all the time.”

This was the best day ever.

- Rex Linn 3/27/08

I will be on the radio this evening with the delectable Mr. KABC, talking about all manner of very, very important things. And we’ll be discussing them seriously, in somber tones. And we may be smoking pipes while we’re doing that, in tweedy jackets with suede elbow patches. Hard to say.

I do know that I will be talking about the astonishing star sighting I had over at Barney’s yesterday. That’s for sure. And there will be bad music. There will always be bad music.

I was also asked to sign an autograph this week! It was thrilling, even though the person asking for it called me “Rachel from KABC”. But its the little things that add up over time, and rob you of your self-esteem.

Tune to AM 790 from 10:0 PM to 1:00 AM, or listen to live streaming here.

EBAY ALERT

Special thanks to longtime ex-listener bill for bringing my attention to this fabulous eBay item.

Dont even think of outbidding me, or it will be ON.

Pictures

WARNING: NSFW

It all started this morning when longtime ex-listener Dennis directed my attention to a web site called Bedazzled TV.

I don't mind telling you that I was immediately smitten. Who wouldn't love vintage TV show clips of duets by Robert Blake and Gavin Macleod? Or shots on the set of Jerry Lewis' holocaust comedy, "The Day The Clown Cried"? And I squealed when I scrolled down and saw the Orson Wells clips I posted on this site a few days ago. Truly, we are sympatico.

But the whole thing just rocketed into the stratosphere when I saw a clip of Telly Savalas singing "If" on The Dinah Shore show. Holy Jesus.Now, some of you may know that his rendition is about my favorite piece of "music" in the world. I proudly feature it on this site in the Multimedia section, and have played it on the radio many, many times. So you can imagine my delight at finally getting to see him perform it. On Dinah, no less.

It is horrible. I mean, really, really horrible. First of all, there's her stupid set, which is all white wicker and fake plants, and she's looking over at him lovingly while he talk sings – wait, I mean, LIP SYNCHS the damn thing. He actually lip synchs, can you believe it? It's talking and he can't do it live.

But wait

Here's the excellent part. The part that almost made me pee a little.

He's smoking.

Oh man, that is some high quality shit right there. And the most wonderful thing happens – he smokes at the wrong time, when he's supposed to be talking. It's just glorious.

So after I recovered from that, I scrolled down some more and came upon a link to a site called Plan 59.

I cannot really put into words what this site did to me. I was just filled with joy and wonder for hours. This is the most wonderful collection of images I've seen in a long time, and thankfully, they make many of them available as prints. The little thumbnail up there of the sodas was stolen from them, which I'm not supposed to do, but I'm giving them a big plug here, so whatever. Plus I bought a pantload of prints from them. Ask me if I feel guilty.

Speaking of fabulous images, here are some shots of Paris Hilton giving a guy a blow job.

It's wonderful, isn't it? I wonder if this was taken on the same day. Maybe the girl in front is thinking about how she hopes to grow up and conquer her gag reflex. too.

Isn't she great? What a role model. Look how happy those kids are just to be in the same room as a walking vagina with a trust fund. Macy's should be really proud for setting this one up. Maybe they can come out with Paris Hilton jewelry for little girls. "My First Pearl Necklace."

Speaking of pictures of whores, here's a shot of Lindsay Lohan's tit hanging out at a press event.

This was sent to me by longtime ex-listener Kevin, who seemed less interested in her cans than the condition of her skin. True, she does look like a 78 year old woman in Boca Raton, but who knows what the fashion is these days. Kevin suggests the leather seats in his 30 year old car are in better condition, but then, they probably don't do as much coke.

New Advertiser!

Take a look over there to the left and you'll see a new ad from a great company called Cerebral Itch. They make fantastically funny greeting cards and T-shirts, and they've decided to advertise right here! I guess they knew my readers would be starved for comedy.

I'm crazy about their Intervention line, but the Retro Crap line is pretty funny too.

Go take a look, and if you buy something, tell them I sent you. I don't think he believes anyone reads my site.

Sound

Tomorrow night, 10:00 to 1:00, I'll be on with Mr. KABC on AM 790 Talk Radio. Note the time change; he's on an hour later now, for reasons that are not abundantly clear to anyone.

Tomorrow we'll be talking about my three latest celebrity sightings – all within 48 hours and 3 blocks of my apartment! We'll be talking about a new diet that Mr. KABC and I are about to go on together. I'll do my imitation of Heidi Klum. And I'll speculate that Deborah Messing was on the season finale of Project Runway because not enough gay men were watching.

Tune to AM 790, or listen to live streaming here.