I Met Gerard. Yes, that one. And it didn't go well.

I am the most starstruck person I know.

You know those people who see a celebrity and jump up and down and cry? That's me. There's a couple things about myself that embarrass me, and this is one of them. It's ridiculous how starstruck I am.

Want to know a secret? It's because I swear I could have been an actress. I seriously think I narrowly missed being discovered and my acting skills are equal to that of some of those Hollywood starlets.

And it's quite possibly because my 8th grade speech team skills were stellar. Because clearly, that's a logical link between speech meet trophy winner and movie star.

Like I said, it's ridiculous.

Have I ever blogged about the year my neighbor was a local newscaster? That I went out to meet him in a BIKINI to get his attention because he was ON TV?

Oh, you read that right. While the weatherman isn't going to make me pee my pants like, say, Ellen DeGeneres would, I still have a bit of starstruckness for him.

Pathetic. Right here.

This starstruckness started early. Once, as a kid, I saw John Goodnman at a church picnic. I stared at him for hours. He waved to me, and lots of people were approaching him, having casual conversations with him. I just stared.

Another time, I met Keanu Reeves. I blogged about what an idiot I was a while back (if you didn't read my post about that, my eloquent one-liner was "Can I hug you?").

I also met Gerard Butler. And that is more embarrassing than my other two encounters put together. He was an extra in my movie. My movie is The Game of Their Lives, which unfortunately went straight to DVD. When I found out a movie was coming to my town when I was 24, looking for ethnic-looking Italian girls and was being filmed in the summer when I had absolutely no responsibilities (I had just gotten divorced), I was first in line.

Literally. I rounded up two of my friends and we got to the casting call that began at 8 am at 5 am. You better believe we were first in line, armed with snacks and bottled water and magazines and snapshots of ourselves and lots of coffee.

After waiting impatiently all day and wondering aloud if there would be a celebrity surprise appearance (a girl can dream), I made my way to the front of the auditorium. I filled out the sheet with my basic information, enthusiastically noting I'd cut or dye my hair if requested.

A couple weeks later, I got a phone call. Although my friends weren't going to be joining me, I! Was! Going! To! Be! A! MOVIE STAR!!!

The first night we filmed a wedding scene. I got hair and makeup done, and in the dress that I had previously scored in the wardrobe department. I thanked my lucky stars that this was set in 1950 and the hair, makeup, and bright red lipstick was beyond adorable. And the strapless, red-flowered a-line dress? I may have asked if I could keep it.

As I type this, I shed a tear over the fact that I only have two photos from that day. At one point, I had a whole album and I would pay to know where it is. Even more sadly, I didn't get a picture of the one person I should have. Sigh. I'm skipping ahead.

I met Louis Mandylor as he was exiting his trailer and I got a picture with him. I hadn't even seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding but the excitement regarding him from the women who were exras was palpable and contagious. He had that movie star way about him, and he told me I was beautiful, so obviously I fell instantly in love with him.

He also blew me kisses during filming. Sigh.

(Yes. I am serious. Like I said. Embarrassing.)

Filming the movie was fun. There was a lot of dancing in heels. I don't wear heels and I can't dance to save my life but I danced my ass off to stay in that scene. And it worked.

During one of the many, many breaks during filming, a man walked up to me. Although he was a good 30 years older than me, it wasn't weird that he just wanted to chat. Hanging out with that group of extras was like an Italian family's wedding reception. Everyone is loud and funny and affectionate. It makes for easy conversations with anyone, regardless of gender or age.

So this man approached me and said, "You havin' fun?"

And I started jabbering on about how amazing this was, and that this was my dream!come!true! And that I was just so, so happy that I got this opportunity.

The Man Who Could Have Been My Uncle chuckled and told me to follow him, where we'd go meet the casting director, who was his good friend. As we walked her way, he explained that they were looking for Sicilian-looking girls for another day of filming and he thought I might fit the bill.

As we walked toward the tall, blonde, sharp-looking director, she was already sizing me up. The man introduced her to me, she looked me up and down, and then said, "What're you doing Wednesday night?" Nothing would have been important enough to even pretend my schedule wasn't open. She invited me back and I giddily accepted.

Wednesday evening, filming was scheduled to be in a local grade school cafe-gym-atorium. I entered, this time, was dressed in a much more plain, albeit cute, gray cotton dress. Still ecstatic, I got my makeup done, begging for gossip from the makeup artists. Conspiratorially, they whispered that Gerard Butler was going to make an appearance tonight.

"Who?" I asked. At the time, his biggest films were Tomb Raider and Phantom of the Opera, neither of which I'd seen, so I hadn't heard of him.

Sure enough, when he walked in the door, I had to ask what all the buzz was about. When he approached MY table, I wasn't in danger of crying, fainting, or wetting myself since I wasn't familiar with him. Yet when he sat down and started a conversation with me, I still managed to make an ass out of myself even though I didn't realize it until years later.

He asked about me, and I asked about Angelina Jolie. (In my defense, this was in the pre-Jennifer era.)

He asked what I did for a living, and I answered that I was a speech-language pathologist, but that he should really tell me about Hollywood. And Angelina.

He insisted that my life was more interesting; that my job was rewarding and his was not; that he wanted to know about me.

And? I BLEW HIM OFF. AGAIN.

And then it was time for the extras to take our sets and I walked away from that beautiful man who now makes my heart beat a little faster, who B refers to as my "boyfriend." I walked away from him, accent and all.

And then? And then??

Months after we got one of the few sneak previews of the movie in the theater, and I waited and waited for it to come to the theaters (it never did), B had a special surprise one night when I came over to his apartment to hang out.

The Miracle Match. Oh, it was the same movie but with a different title. That should have been my first hint that it had some major changes.

You know, like completely cutting out both scenes that I saw myself in in the theater.

Womp, womp, womp.

I think I deserve a second chance at being an extra. I only have room for improvement.