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Not content to have his brain melted by Heather Graham's comments at ABC's pres tour event, LAT critic-blogger Paul Brownfield seeks out Graham at the network's "All Star" party, and in the process, seems to have discovered what blogging's really about: the stalking of hot actresses under the guise of "working":

You are standing at the bar, next to Heather Graham. Continue to be indifferent; it is your indifference, after all, that has brought her and her coterie of publicist-girlfriend-protectors drifting into your orbit. In observing this coterie for the last hour you have noticed that Heather is mostly approached by women with tape recorders, while the men of the press leer but keep a fearful distance from her circle. Probably every TV reporter/critic guy here is afraid of Heather Graham, afraid of her beauty, but you, you are not. As you have made clear, in both body language and general mien, you are indifferent. You've had your back to her all this time - brilliant! And now here she is to your right, practically at your elbow. She is in your space. The space you have established at this bar, the space you have created. You could talk to her, of course, talk to her about her comedy pilot - but talking, and pilots, aren't they so not the point right now?

Alas, not even the literary pyrotechnics of shifting into the second person score Brownfield some Graham face-time, as the beauty—and you knew this was coming, didn't you?—slips away, depriving him of snippets of actual, strained conversation (may we be so bold as to imagine Graham revealing, "I'm very Method, y'know? My character's name is Emily, so I had everyone I know call me Emily for like, two weeks, just to get a feel for her"? ) to the fantasy.