Read my latest at Aiming Low – "If You’re Not Watching St. Elmo’s Fire While Drinking Coffee In The Bath, Then You’re Doing It Wrong":
I met [Judd Nelson] once, if ever so briefly. In fact, it was so brief and without the actual exchange of names that I doubt you can call it "meeting" him. He was shooting a movie nearby, and he took to hanging out in the pub I frequented. He spent most of his time there playing this arcade game of golf while these two depressing, bottle-blonde hangers-on in bad brassieres watched. One evening, I had to use the bathroom, but he was blocking my way, so I said "Ahem, excuse me," and he shimmied his butt a little further away, but there still wasn't much room and he wasn't going to make any more for me, so I slid along behind him, and my pelvis rubbed along Judd Nelson's ass really slowly.