There are two sides to all celebrities: The squeaky-clean images forced upon the public by PR reps and their actual personalities. To provide you with a glimpse into the real Hollywood characters are Mollygood’s very own readers, telling tales of celebrity encounters big and small. Up this week: stopthemadness' party with Janice Dickinson and Devon Sawa.

About three years ago I was looking to find some new roommates to share my house. I chose a lawyer friend of mine and a woman who responded to an ad I posted on Craigslist. The woman was a model — an extremely hot model. Spent time at the Playboy mansion. Anyway, we had a Christmas party at our house in 2004, complete with all the shenanigans you can imagine go along with a Christmas party in Hollywood where half the guests were invited by a hot almost-Playboy model. (And of course my friends were there, an assorted array of nerdy lawyers and DJs.)

So it's about 3 a.m., and I'm in the kitchen drunkenly babbling to god only knows who, when hot model roommate rushes in:

Her: "Hey, don't you watch America's Next Top Model?"

Me: "Um, YEAH. I love that friggin' show."

Her: "Janice Dickinson is in our living room."

Me: "Shut. Up."

So I rush into our living room and sure enough Dame Janice is sitting on the floor by my Christmas tree smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke out the window. She apologizes for smoking in the house. I think to myself, "I can't even get my friends to quit smoking in the house." But I say something more like, "Yeah, totally! Wow. Great. I'm drunk. Wakka wakka wakka! Heyooo!" So she's just sitting there, smoking, drinking and talking about her kid and her life and whatnot. And she was NICE. I mean not at all like her TV persona. I chatted with her for a bit. Of course I was thinking, "Holy crap! Janice Dickinson is sitting on my living room floor!" But I played it cool. Or tried to.

At some point I realized I needed another drink, so I head back to the kitchen and who walks in? Devon Sawa. As I passed him on my way to the kitchen I was like, "Hey dude, aren't you the guy from Final Destination?" He's all, "Yeah." I'm all, "I gotta pee. I live here." I think I probably passed out after that.

But I swear on my dog's life, I talked to Janice Dickinson for a good 15 minutes in my own house at 3 in the morning. (My house isn't fancy. I have no idea why these people were in my house. I think the model knew some photographers who were there and invited some other people because our party was still raging at 3 a.m.)

E-mail your own celebrity encounters to whitney@mollygood.com.

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