The other day, I saw Matt Damon when I was walking past Denny's. I was looking pretty good, if I do say so myself, so I wasn't surprised when he asked me to lunch. I accepted, naturally, despite the fact that I hate Denny's. (It's impossible to order anything that doesn't instantly clog an artery.) But hey, it was Matt Damon. I don't find him overly attractive, but come on. If Matt Damon asked you to lunch, you'd go. You would!

There was a huge line to get in, but because he's Matt Damon, we were seated almost immediately. I fell in love with him just a little bit when I saw the waitresses slobbering all over themselves to serve him. It was "Mr. Damon, what can I get for you" this and "right away, Mr. Damon" that. It was kind of disgusting, but thrilling.

He ordered Moons over My Hammy with a totally straight face. I was impressed. Who orders "Moons over My Hammy" with a straight face? I know I can't. I stuck with the Eggs Benedict.

They brought our food right away. Here's when things started to go awry. See, the waitresses were in such a hurry to get our food to us, they slammed the plates down on the table. I saw the Eggs Benedict slide toward me as if in slow motion. Unfortunately I couldn't react fast enough, and before I knew it I was covered in hollandaise sauce. I tried to play it cool, but it's tough to remain dignified with Canadian bacon in your lap.

Matt, to his credit, smiled sweetly at me. "Tough break," he said, grinning the way he grins. "Better get cleaned up."

I made my way through the throngs of people to the bathroom. The bathroom was packed with cheerleaders practicing for some kind of competition. They were doing cartwheels and roundhouses and that thing where you jump up and do the splits in mid air.

It was irritating.

I waited a very long time to get to the sink, and while I was waiting, I guess I must have started to blend in. "We're on in 5 minutes!" one of the cheerleaders shrieked at me. "Where are your poms?? Here. You can use mine." She thrust them at me, and I took them. I started to freak out, because how the hell was I supposed to learn the routine in 5 minutes? I hadn't been to any of the practices, after all.

"Wait a minute," I said, handing the pom-poms back to the girl. "I'm not a cheerleader."

Dream or no dream, if there's one thing I know, it's that I'm not a cheerleader.

I made my way back to Matt, where the competition was about to begin.

"What took you so long?" he asked, clearly irritated.

"See all these cheerleaders?" I said. "About 10 seconds ago they were all in the bathroom with me. The line was really long."

"Oh," he said. "OK then."

As the competition started, I could only think of one thing: How the hell does one dump Matt Damon?