I tell you that I went to that tiny pizza place the other day.

You know, the one we used to go to every...

Right. Well, I didn't expect it would still be open. It was always so quiet in there.

Remember we used to joke about being its only customers? But I guess we can't have been,

unless you've been going without me all these years.

So I suppose they must have other customers. Or perhaps they just like making desperately mediocre pizza for their own entertainment.

And who am I to judge?

My main contribution to society is amusing myself, to be fair.

Oh, of course I also managed to amuse plenty of other people at the same time, so I get away with it.

Well, I'm not saying they're not amusing other people.

Well, I suppose that is what I was saying.

But really, that's only based on the fact there was no one else there the other day.

Not when I was there.

The owner didn't recognize me. Probably you'll think it was

vain of me to expect her to, but after all we did go there once a week for at least a year,

too, even. And, well, I know it's not considered classy to recognize the reality of one's fame,

but I would think that if a regular customer went on to become quite a recognizable public figure,

you might be more likely to remember who she is.

Of course, that might just be me.

But honestly, it was refreshing. I've heard it said that the best thing about fame is always getting a good table at the best restaurants. And it's certainly a

perk. However, I will say there is a lot to be said for being treated with a degree of anonymity in a small local dive.

You know, I even enjoyed the food.

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