This is my week for spotting obscure female comedians, it seems, because today I was delighted to find myself face-to-face with the charming and razor-witted Cathy Ladman.

Cathy was often seen on TV stand-up shows; I remember, Mtv showcased her frequently. I also had the LP she shared with Paula Poundstone. She was one of my favorites and I was always excited when she showed up on billing.

Working in Hollywood, one is always running into celebrities. It's a relief when those you like end up being cool in person, as Ms. Ladman was.

I tried to find some of her stand-up on YouTube to share with y'all (I'm always looking out for you, sugar), but the few things that featured her also included many others, so I leave it to you to discover her yourself. But only, y'know, if you like laughing and stuff.

Last Thursday, as I was casually filing away recordings of stand-up comedians, both famous and obscure, I was approached by a sparkling, blond woman with glimmering, gold eyeshadow, who, in a squeaky voice asked me for help with some classical music.

It was Victoria Jackson.

She and I briefly discussed our preferences in both romanticism and choral compositions over a few recordings of Fauré.

I am almost never star-struck, and even less inclined to vocalize awareness-of-identity to a celebrity. You could call it respect, but a more accurate term would be pride. However, after she thanked me and turned to go, I said:

"Before you leave, I have to tell you that I'm a fan."

She smiled and said, in that trademark voice, "Oh, thank you. You have really pretty eyeballs."

Last Sunday, I was in the car with Corey and his parents. We stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank before our drive to Santa Barbara to eat tacos.

Corey knows where the cheapest gas is; unfortunately, so does everyone else, so the place was packed. There was one unused pump, but a woman had parked her car so that it took up two places. After waiting a bit and allowing her to notice that a car full of people were staring at her and sending her "vibes", I got out.

I approached. She was sitting in her front seat, rummaging through her ample purse.

"Pardon me, ma'am," I said in my least intimidating voice, "Would you please back up so we can reach the other pump?"

"I'm handicapped!" she yelled. And I mean she YELLED this, and started digging though her purse more frantically.

"Uh, if you could just move your car back, please, we could..."

"I'm too poor to pay for gas!" she cried.

"Okay, well, if you could just move your car back..."

"LEAVE ME ALONE IT'S AN EMERGENCY!!!" she screamed, and ran away from me.

Folks, she ran away from me.

By that time, another pump had opened up, so we pulled in there. The woman had run inside the mini-mart where she stayed.

It was an omen. While we did make it to Santa Barbara, we never made it to the tacos.

So, just now, I was returning from a walk to the grocery store, when this musclebound dude walks past me and barks at me, saying:

"If you keep wearing those flip-flops, by the time you get to be my age your ankles aren't gonna be worth sh*t!"

...and then, if a huff, dashes on ahead, allowing me to notice the cigarette he was smoking.

Uh, thanks for the health tip, yo.