A major celebrity comes into the yarn shop where you work. You chat with her like she's your neighbor, answering questions, and suggesting yarns. Even when you ring up her purchase, the last name on her credit card is totally meaningless; you have no clue.
In fact, the only inkling you may have that something's amiss, is the inappropriate amount of not-so-covert attention, that other shoppers are paying to her possible yarn choices ("she's not buying that, is she?"), and the amount she wants to purchase ("wow…").
As she's leaving, you wave, telling her to come back and see you, on the weekends. Folks are now looking at you like, "why should she do that?" "Who the hell are you anyway?" And you're looking back at them, like, well why shouldn't she?
When she's gone, you're suddenly given notice––"do you know who that was?!" "who?" "that's blah blah!" "Really?"
Your memory kicks you in the backside, and you realize that you've seen a number of her movies. She's a damn good actress. Shucks, and I'm yakking to her like she lives down the street from me.
And no, it's not who you think. You'd be surprised, at who knits.