I've had this rule for myself for the past few years called "David's Law." David's Law was signed into law in 2003, just after an unfortunate "I was that drunk girl" incident at the Tinkle Booze Cruise. David's Law makes it illegal for me, Lindsay Robertson, to speak to David Cross or any other public figure whom I admire (usually comedians, because I generally only admire funny people) unless introduced by someone else, directly spoken to, or if I already know them, or if it's for work.
Since David's Law was passed in 2003, it has helped many talented comedians unknowingly dodge the bullet that is meeting me, including but not limited to Sarah Silverman, Patton Oswalt, Demetri Martin, Zack Galifianakis, Paul Rudd, Amy Poehler, Janeane Garofalo, Thomas Lennon, and David Cross like three more times (though I was introduced to him without time to run away in February by a mutual friend, so that doesn't count, and all I said was "I've been a fan for a long time" and then escaped as fast as I could.)
Anyway, imagine my delight when I opened my copy of New York Magazine (it was $5/year for the subscription, okay?) last night and found a sidebar by David Cross himself entitled "Where Do I Know You From? How not to alienate That Guy From TV."
It really made me feel like the last three years of not annoying my heros has all been worth it. Also, it's really funny. David's first rule:
"If you don't know who he is, ask your friend. Or a stranger. Don't ask him. And certainly don't ask him to keep listing his resume until you realize he's the guy from Blade of Innocence 2 who lost his shoe and got killed by the vampire with outer-space AIDS."
Anyway, I've never really spoken publically (ha) about the incident that sparked David's Law, but I will say with a very red face that it may have included the sentence:
"I was definitely the only cute girl who was obsessed with Mr. Show in 1996."
Which, besides being horrifying in other ways, is sort of an insult. So, um, that's how a personal bill becomes a personal law.