An amazing number of you (okay, five) have come to me, clamoring for more information on the Mark Harmon situation. So, for the first time in print media, I would like to divulge my story to the masses. But I have to warn you—it isn’t pretty, and it isn’t nice, and, in order to avoid a potential lawsuit from Mr. Harmon, it may or may not be true, and I could just be a ranting lunatic making up wild stories about Harmon’s personal resolve. But I’m not.

    For those of you who don’t know who Mark Harmon is, he was "People" magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive in 1986, the star of the movie "Summer School," and, at least during my sophomore and junior years of high school, the principal object my undying devotion.

    Up until this point I had focused most of my attention on Eddie, a boy I went to high school with who was like fresh breadsticks in Convo—alluring, but unattainable-- and, oh yeah, my boyfriend John. But in the September of my sophomore year Mark Harmon burst onto the scene in a one page ad in "Entertainment Weekly" for his new show "Charlie Grace," which lasted approximately seventeen seconds before being cancelled for "The Nanny Goes to ER" or something equally scintilating.

    The ad, however, lasted a great deal longer, because I laminated it. Oh, you don’t understand how pathetic and sad I was in high school.

    I laminated it, and I hung it on my closet door, so I could see him every day. I was in love with Mark Harmon, or, rather, my picture of him. I had elaborate plans for him. If it were possible, I would have bore many strapping laminated two-dimensional children with that picture.

    But eventually I got bored with just having the one picture, and I needed more, more, MORE!! I was like a Mark Harmon junkie. So, I did what any logical person would do—I wrote him a fan letter.

    I am not proud of this, and I do not recommend it to anyone as a means of doing anything, because you will only end up feeling like an idiot and being mocked by those in your peer group.

    And it’s even worse if the celebrity in question returns your letters unopened, like Mr. Harmon did.

    Not once, but twice.

    So, undaunted, I wrote him again, stressing that, although I realized he was very busy with his acting career, family, and philanthropic pursuits, I did not think it too much to ask for him to send me one autographed picture. To emphasize this, I sent him an autographed picture of myself. Not only was a dork in high school, but I was a sassy one, at that.

    So, a few months later, I got a reply. The contents of the letter I received were destroyed a long time ago, along with the autographed photo, but I remember what they said. His secretary told me I was "snide" and needed a lot of help adjusting to the socially acceptable world. She included a photocopy of my envelope with a note, presumably from Mr. Harmon himself, saying that "I don’t care if she gets an autograph or not. Rude is rude, and I don’t reward it."

    Now, I showed a copy of the letter I sent to my mom, and she assures me that it was not rude, and who would know better than my mom, who has told me for years that I can’t do much of anything at the dinner table without it being rude?

    And so, in sum, Mark Harmon and I have been mortal enemies ever since. And I highly recommend that, if you see him on the street, you tell him he’s snide and that he dashed a young girl’s hopes and dreams to little teeny pieces. And while you’re at it, see if you can get him to autograph a copy of his ad for "Charlie Grace." Just don’t tell him it’s for me.