Because I'm clearly a huge star.

OK, so let me begin this post by saying that I am NOT complaining. This is not a rant. I am not a brat. You don't even know what I am writing about yet. Nevertheless. Calm down.

Every once in a while, I get a request via my website asking for an autographed headshot. For a brief moment, I get really excited because (1) someone not related to me knows about my acting career (the kids are calling them "fans," I hear), and (2) I get to use a Sharpie. (I mean, how can you not feel cool when signing your name all fancy with a delicious marker?)

But this excitement only lasts for a moment or two before I simmer down and think, 'Wait, why would I have a fan?' (This is not a fishing for compliments situation so shut. up.) Seriously, my longest on-screen moment in any given film is probably two minutes max. And while I give it a genuine effort, there is just not a whole lot of range to be seen in a five minute scene. Even if I am dying/being killed. Which happens. A lot.

Once my prudence (Dear Prudence) kicks in, I am overcome with creeped-outness. How did this person find me? How many times have they looked at my site/picture/reel? Are they wearing pants when they do so? Ok, ew. But for real.

I understand that this is part of the deal when you enter into a career as a "public figure," whatever the H that means. I'm not like those celebrities who complain about being followed by paparazzi. I mean, for starters, I don't parade around with my uber-famous best friends right in front of the hottest nightclub in L.A. while gorked out of my mind on illegal drugs and sans underpants. Lock. It. Up. (By the way, I hate paparazzi and the assumption that privacy is a luxury in the entertainment business to which no one is ever guaranteed. I jest because I enjoy making fun of hot messes. We're amused by our own.) But it is a little unnerving to be a no-name, fledgling actress in Dallas and to be contacted by someone claiming to be "a huge fan." Um...of what? My expansive body of work? Wrong.

Here's a letter I would actually appreciate (and probably reward with an autographed headshot)...

Dear Ms. Cottrell,

I don't know you. You don't know me. We'll probably never meet.

I haven't really seen any of your films. (Except for that video on imdb. Was that a commercial for a real film or something? It's short. And I got confused. But that's probably my
fault.) But I think you're pretty. You kinda remind of that girl in that princess movie or whatever. But she's kinda slutty. You don't seem slutty. But I don't know, I guess.

It may sound weird, and you may just ignore this email anyway, but I was wondering if you would send me an autographed photo or something. You're not famous or anything. (Sorry if
that makes you mad. I always say the wrong thing.) But if you get famous someday and move to L.A., I could probably get $50 on eBay for an autographed photo of you before you were famous. That's probably not very much money to a big actress or whatever, but that's enough to reserve my copy of the new Bioshock coming out
next month. (That's just an example.)

You don't have to if you don't want to. But I still think you're pretty.

Hope you get famous and send me a picture,

Marv

P.S. I heard you dressed up as Lara Croft for Halloween one year. Is that true? If yes, maybe you could send a picture of that. You could autograph that picture. I would probably save
that for myself. Unless I need the money. Or you get famous.

Call a spade a spade. For the love.