A List of Highly Specific Things I Would Do With Celebrities If Given the Chance

*Note: This list is inspired by this article.

Brad Pitt: Dim Sum Brunch

Brad’s in town for TIFF. We go to Rol San on a Tuesday morning, his last day in the city. We order too much food for two people.

I try the Cha Siu Bao before I remember I don’t really like pork. When I tell Brad, his eyes light up and he says Oh, I’ll finish those! and enthusiastically empties the basket. I take the remaining seaweed shrimp rolls as compensation.

We lick our fingers and wipe our faces all through the 90 minute brunch and end up in a food coma. We have a few minutes of silence before heading our separate ways.

Oprah: Two-Person Book Club

We curl up in the garden of the Oprah estate for an afternoon of reading inspirational books. Finally we pause for four o’clock CBD-infused tea, which we sip while quoting our favourite passages to one another.

You know, I’m really into coming-of-age memoirs these days, I say.

It’s hard to resist a story about transformation, she responds.

Why is Oprah so wise? Why am I surprised that she understands? She is, after all, Oprah.

A few days later, Oprah endorses a book that regurgitates offensive stereotypes. Maybe she isn’t so wise after all.

Keanu Reeves: Fold Origami Together

We sit in a walled garden, both of us silently folding neon sheets next to a fountain. In the morning, the warmth of the sun is welcome on our faces.

By afternoon, the glare off the water is too much for us to continue. We go into the house and he gives me a tour of his motorcycle collection. I touch one reverently and he watches warily.

Gorgeous, I say and lift my hand. He breathes out in relief.

I leave with a basket of bright origami flora and fauna to turn into mobiles for my toddler twins.

Amy Winehouse: Get An Autograph At The Airport While In Transit

I stand behind a crew of people, one of whom is a white brunette with too much hair, makeup and tattoos. My body freezes in recognition.

This flawed goddess wrote Frank (Back to Black is a year into the future). I can’t let this go by, not like the Jude Law fiasco. I care too much.

My armpits turn into prickly cacti. She’s looking at me! My body thaws. I smile back. May I get an autograph? Frank got me through second year of university.

I wear that shirt all the way to my destination and never wash it again. A vodka spray gets the yellow armpit stains out.

Drake: Thanksgiving In Toronto

I leave the house to buy groceries in the evening. It’s Thanksgiving 2013 — between Nothing Was the Same and Would You Like a Tour? The regular shop is closed — duh! — but there’s at least two Korean ones open. East or West? West is closer to home, so I walk along Bloor Street, empty for once.

Three gorgeous motorcycles are parked outside Bloor Cinema, a perfect off-white and chrome trio. I slow down to admire them, and only when someone says Happy Thanksgiving do I realize that the middle one is occupied.

It’s an Indian-looking guy with thick eyebrows. Two black guys stand behind the other two bikes. They all wear similar leather jackets and look too young for such elegant bikes.

Happy Thanksgiving, I respond. What are you thankful for? he asks. I’m caught off guard. My health, I finally manage. What are you thankful for? I counter.

His response is unclear, but his friends look at me expectantly. I ask him to repeat. I’m thankful to be out here on the street talking to you. He gives me puppy eyes.

I chuckle involuntarily and his two friends laugh like it’s the funniest reaction they’ve ever seen. I hold my breath. Well, have a good night, middle bike guys says. I’m relieved. You too. I continue west to the Korean grocery.

Those motorcycles were really nice. I’d expect guys in their mid-20s to be on flashy racing bikes. Those eyebrows remind me of someone… I stop.

One St. Thomas is only two and a half blocks away. It’s Thanksgiving. Of course he’s in town.

After that, I think of raspberries and kale every time I hear Started From the Bottom.

Jennifer Aniston: Vandalize Property

It’s Friday night, so we put on Korean sheet masks, drive downtown, break into a department store and spray paint graffiti all over the perfume section.

Why the perfume section, you ask. Why not? We spray our paint cans as a response to the unwanted scent assault of capitalist corporate overlords. This is how the 1% rebels.

Jude Law: Party Together

It’s not partying together exactly — more like I scam my way into a TIFF rooftop party somehow and get introduced to a group of guys standing by the bar.

There’s Tony, Andrew, and some dude that some of the crowd outside thought was Jude Law. It doesn’t look like him at all. Plus this guy is clearly wasted.

I ask the dude what his name is as we shake hands. Jude, he says, looking confused.

Oh, I say eloquently, and I flee to the balcony to call my roommate and tell her that I’m at a party with Jude Law.

Beyoncé: Some Historic Project

Of course it’s historic, it’s Beyoncé. A member of her team reaches out to me. She’d like to use some of my work for a project.

I give the go ahead and try not to explode into a shower of excitement. As per the NDA, I say nothing about it.

Ten months later, the project is released. My contribution didn’t make the cut. I still watch Homecoming once a month.

Brad Pitt: Tapas

Months after the dim sum brunch, I hear from Brad again. He’s in Barcelona alone and looking for someone to share dinner with. Are you free?

I’m also in Barcelona for some reason. Of course I’ll have tapas with you Brad.

He’s in a car close by so he’ll pick me up on his way there. I agree and when the car arrives, we say hello and sit in awkward silence. What is there to talk about when we’re not eating?

What’s the name of the place we’re going to again, I ask and he pulls it up on his phone and hands it to me. I read through the menu aloud and Brad and I are talking again, rhapsodizing over which dishes we’re going to order.