The first thing I have to confess to you all is that I spent a fair amount of hours this weekend catching up with tivo’d episodes of that Scott Baio reality show. Stop judging me. I can feel it through the screen. I couldn’t help it though. Chachi! Charles in Charge! Dr. Jack Stewart! Bob Loblaw! I needed to see it, I just did. Never mind that after seeing it I may have crabs just from looking at him. Never mind that I actually paused my tivo just to see all the different charms he had hanging off of his neck-chain. Never mind! I, like Joanie, love Chachi. Or maybe I don’t love him, but at least I am oddly interested in the fact that he is 45 and single and needs a life coach named Dark Alley. Hey! I said STOP JUDGING.
So one of the things that Mr. Baio struggles with in his life (yes, I said struggles. He has pain, he has hurt. He also has a koi pond) is that everyone still calls him Chachi. Wherever he goes, it’s all “Hey Chachi!” and “Oh my god, it’s Chachi!” and “Wah wah wah!” and you can just FEEL how uncomfortable he is, as uncomfortable as Fonzie was with saying he was sorry. (Remember that? “I’m sssss–sssss…” Ah. Good times.) It’s got to be weird having people come up to you all the time like that, especially when you’re just sort of famous, instead of super famous. I mean, if you’re Posh and/or Becks, you’re not really among regular people ever, you know what I mean? It’s not like Angelina Jolie is shopping for spaghetti sauce in Aisle 5 of the Safeway and a random person is going to come and be all “hey remember that time you kept making out with Billy Bob on the red carpet of the mtv awards?” and she has to try and be gracious. The super famous are kind of protected from that. But not Scott. He’s only partially famous, so he actually does things like go to the grocery store and walk his own dog down a regular street and such, hence the random approaches from strangers. And really, what is he supposed to do with these encounters? Someone comes up to him as he walks through a restaurant and says “hey, aren’t you Chachi?” and he sort of stops and says “um, yeah, I was.” The other person then says “wow.” What is the correct response to this? “Thanks”? “I know, wow. I’m the shit”? “Ok, bye”? What does Scott do? He looks uncomfortable, and keeps walking, that’s what he does.
So, if Posh and Becks and Brangelina are 100% famous, then Scott Baio is like, what, 10% famous? What happens if you’re like .0001% famous?
This is the part where I relate my life to Scott Baio’s. Really, watch this. I’m going to do it!
So like I said a couple of posts ago, I am in denial that anyone is really reading this blog except for the people whose blogs I read and I think that they are reading mine out of nice, polite, reciprocity. I am starting to get over this assumption. Mainly because of instances like the following. I was sitting at the reference desk the other day, and a young woman came up to me, smiling and nice as could be.
Her: Are you the Pop Culture Librarian?
Her: Do you have a blog? The Pop Culture Librarian?
Me: umm…I…uh… yeah? I do?
Her: Cool. Thought it was you.
Ok, so this is not the same thing as getting “where’s the FONZ?” yelled after you as you check your mail. I understand this. I am in no way putting myself on the same level as Scott Baio. (Oh my god. How depressing is that? I am not any where NEAR the LEVEL of Scott BAIO.) I’m just saying. When this happens, it’s jarring. I feel wildly inarticulate. Then that makes me feel like a doofus. This is a much higher-resolution sort of inarticulate doofiness than I normally feel. I then think to myself: that nice woman. Asking me a simple question. And walking away with the impression that I may be mildly touched. Wonderful. Next time, I’ll just quote Chachi and see how that goes: “wah wah wah.” That works, right?