starstruck

Happy 4th of July, all you patriotic slackers who are still sleeping while I slave away at my desk. Wait, you're at work? you might ask. Why yes, yes I am. My progressive bosses allotted me a set number of vacation days a year and allowed me to choose when I wanted to take them. Of course, they also assumed I was mature enough to not blow all my vacay days without considering what days all my friends would be sleeping in and barbecueing and maybe I'd want to do that too...they thought wrong, so here I am, and for this, you get a blog.

Life has been crazy with what I'd like to call the Revolving Door of Slinging Poo, so I haven't had quite enough time to devote to this here blog, but I did manage to take a break from paper writing to meet one of my favorite bloggers, Stephanie Klein. She's responsible for Greek Tragedy, which Jackie introduced me to back in 2004 when Steph (that's right) blew up on the radar. I was a religious reader back in the day when she was a real live Carrie Bradshaw, single in NYC, dating around and getting sexual favors in cabs until she found the love of her life. Since then, she's gotten married, moved to Austin (holler!), and had two adorable twins. I have fallen off the bandwagon a little bit lately, but that doesn't mean I didn't lose my shit when I realized she'd be reading from her newest book Moose at a nearby B&N. YES.

I couldn't wait to see her in the flesh...there are pictures of her online and everything, but you can't really get a feel for what someone's like until you meet them in person. What if she was a snob and I hated her and then I hated her blog and had wasted four years of spare time reading it? What if she was cheesy and I hated her for that and then I hated her blog and had wasted four years of spare time reading it? So I'm excited, sitting there among 15-20 other people (seriously? where was everybody?), she walks up and....I fought the urge to cry. I KNOW. I have no idea what's wrong with me. I am all about psychoanalyzing myself and my emotional-ness but I got nowhere with this one.

Anyway, my ridiculous foray of tears is not the point. I pulled it together, loved loved loved her talk and her book, and couldn't wait to have her sign it (plus her first one, which I'd brought). As she's taking questions, I have a million running through my head but am suddenly too embarrassed to ask them in front of other people. Or maybe just in front of her. I thought they were probably stupid and that no one else would care about the answers. Fair enough. So I'm waiting in line, rehearsing what I want to say, and mind you I've been thinking about this for a while. When you meet someone you think is kind of a celebrity, what are you even supposed to say? I feel like it's flattering to comment them, because compliments can't be that annoying. Maybe you should prove what a fan you are by listing the most obscure album/article/book that person produced....and how much you loved it. Or maybe it's important to say what their work has meant to you, because most people intrinsically operate with the hope of making a difference to someone else.

Once I opened my mouth, it was hard to believe I'd thought about any of that stuff. Or that I even contained an entire lineup of chromosomes. I got up to the table and went blank, had no idea what to say, and just kind of was like, "Hi...I really like your blog." Good one. So now I'm officially old enough to know how to read but not advanced enough to understand the components that make up a complex sentence. She asked me a question or two, like, "So have you read Moose yet? Do you have a blog yourself?" and then, I guess my brain got all excited because oh my God, we're having a conversation and I lurched from neutral to overdrive and started blurting my life history and every question I'd ever had since the beginning of time. "My-roommates-and-I-have-been-reading-your-blog-since-2004-and-we-love-it-and-we-think-it's-so-fun-and-I-lived-in-Memphis-when-you-moved-to-Austin-then-I-moved-to-Austin-and-I-was-so-excited-because-I-thought-maybe-possibly-at-some-point-you'd-have-a-book-signing-and-then-I'd-actually-get-to-come-and-here-you-are!-So-what-are-you-working-on-next?-Do-your-prefer-blog-writing-to-book-writing-or-do-you-now-like-script-writing-better?-What-channel-is-your-tv-show-going-to-be-on?-Do-you-think-you'll-continue-writing-memoirs-or-will-you-maybe-write-some-fiction?"

So obviously, instead of asking intelligent questions in front of the group so everyone could benefit from hearing the answers, the smarter option was to go ahead and revert to second grade and have an explosive verbal blowout in front of her table, while everyone else is tapping their feet in line, secretly hoping I get removed from the store.

I have only met one celebrity before, so it's not like I have a lot of experience with this or anything, but it was Jane Seymour, and I had to interview the woman! So you'd think this little book signing would be no problem. But really? "We think your blog is so fun" ????

Shoot me.