I am so determined that we will see celebrities this weekend in The Hamptons that I've been telling people at work that we will. In my work yesterday, I came across a restaurant that Renee Zellweger visited recently, so we're going there. I don't have any particular desire to stalk Renee Zellweger, but if it's good enough for her, it's probably good enough for others.

I'm so bad at seeing celebrities in big, giant New York City (while just about everyone else who's ever spent time away from Times Square, Macy's and the Empire State Building basically falls over them every time they step outside) that I think I need the smaller confines of a slightly less hectic seaside community. I mean, I'm 1-for-1 out there, what with the Howard Stern encounter in December.

To be truthful, I don't know why I'm so hung up on this. I'm not really that stalker-like. I certainly don't read the entertainment rags or watch the drivel on NBC from 7-8 p.m. Eastern, and I shy away from most things that call themselves on-air "news magazines."

Yet, I am interested in celebrity encounters in everyday life. To spot someone behind you in the grocery line or perusing the videos at Blockbuster reminds you that, although they're on TV and have limos and four homes and Jimmy Choos (just a little fashion name-drop to throw you all for a loop), you still have some basic needs, some common interests, that bring celebrities down closer to your level � or, better yet, bring you up a little closer to theirs.

When I do run into people � when I recognize them, because sometimes I don't � I generally keep my cool. I once saw Bon Jovi at a small camera store in Red Bank and while I had to step back and pretend to look at albums on a shelf while I really looked past them to confirm my suspicions that the man I had just rubbed elbows with while looking at the cameras in the display case was New Jersey's second-most popular rocker, I was content in knowing it was, and that I had noticed him. I always feel cooler knowing for myself who they are rather than having the urge to point out to others � or the stars themselves � that I know who they are.

Now, if it were in a bar, it might be different. For a while, I had a dream of buying Sandra Bullock a drink, but my trips to Austin never provided an opportunity. My intentions when I finally do meet Bruce Springsteen are to simply say hello, tell him I like his work, and thank him. But I'll probably choke. I'd like to do the same for Mike Piazza, because he's done some good things for the city of New York, not to mention selflessly staying with the Mets because he wanted to, not because of the money.

So who knows if we'll see anyone worth noting this weekend. It is supposed to rain and be cold � 50s during the day, 30s and 40s at night � and that may force Hollywoodus celebritus back into its cozy, electrically gated habitat. But if the stars do come out this weekend, you can be sure you'll hear about it here.