Thursday, August 23, 2012

A Mostly-Awesome Night! Alternate Title: “Hi Bloggess, I Love You, You Make Me Pee.”

Or maybe I should title this one: "What NOT To Say When One Meets One Of One’s Favorite Bloggers. (Or DO You?)"

NOTE: Sorry, this ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, so you might want to read it in bits. Or while in the loo. Which I recommend because that would actually kinda tie in to this post. But then you'll have to read it to find out why. A-HA! See what I did there?? Go me.

Heya Pageviewers! Miss me? 

So, because I promised I would post deets and pics (I'm SO hip, ducka-ducka) of my adventures when attending Jenny "The Bloggess" Lawson's book signing of Let's Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir), here is the thrilling tale of “When Leslie Met The Bloggess…And Then Wished She Could Find A Table Under Which To Crawl. Preferably Not The One At Which The Bloggess Was Already Sitting.

Um, minus the thrills, really. Maybe just kinda sad? I dunno, you be the judge. And, because it's long—and I got to meet her twice!—I'll post this in two parts. You're welcome.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Leslie: Hmm. I bet tons of people are going to be giving her gifts. I should probably bring something too, because that’s just polite, right? Also, as I already purchased the book, finances dictate that I not buy another copy at the bookstore* where she is doing the signing, so I will need her to be on my side when the employees figure that out and try to give me the boot. 
(P.S. That totally did not happen. The good people there were just as nice to me as if I were a paying customer. Props to you Elliott Bay Book Company! You is classy.) 

*SO sorry, Elliott Bay Book Company! You are a mighty fine bookstore that even The Limey, who is more a computer/electronics store kinda guy, wants to come back to explore. So I promise I’ll be back soon to actually purchase something! In the meantime, please enjoy this marketing blurb of your fine establishment to my ones of avid readers for free! Because I support you. Also, I don’t want you to spit in my latte when I do finally come back. Thanks.

Leslie: But what should I bring? I have zero crafty skills. Best go to Michaels.

Three hours later...

Leslie: I really should get to Michaels before they close.

Another three hours later...

Leslie: [on phone] Hi, what time do you close tonight...?
(You should probably never ask me to go to Michaels for you, especially if you need something ASAP.)

Yet another three hours later…

** I totally could not.

After losing my schnit and picking up about 48 projects that, let’s be honest, I would need to hire a classroom full of 3rd graders to complete—and learn to do in the first place—I finally settled on one thing and put back (most of) the rest of the stuff.

(What? I so can make handmade 3-D greeting cards! I won't need to use the really sharp scissors, right? And I mean, yeah, I forgot to buy glue, but I can use squashed cooked rice. It’s what we used when I was a kid and we ran out of glue. Plus, it's a good excuse to make sticky rice for dinner. With furukake. Yum. Anyway.)

This is what I decided on:

Because nothing says "Fun!" or "You must pay the rent!" like a spiffy candy 'stache.

Yeah, you should probably not let me run wild in Michaels. 

But also, my little niece's birthday party was that weekend so I rationalized, Seriously? What's cuter than a bunch of little kids wearing mustaches?

You should probably not let me plan your kids' birthday parties, either.

Thursday, August 16, 2012
Of course it’s 90-bloody-degrees the day I’m making candy mustaches! Argh.

After calling the Elliott Bay Book Company, um, maybe once or twice...or verify the process for that night (I'd heard that other signings required either wristbands or tickets or both) and to check the status of the line...and parking...and the line...again (you really are espectaularrrr, Elliott Bay Book Company!), I finally showered and carefully packed up the mustaches in a cooler with a card and some twine (but of course!) and a pair of scissors and some sticky notes and my insulin and some tape—you know, I really don't know what I was worried was going to happen. Like maybe a crafting emergency at the bookstore?!? Anyway, it was a fairly roomy cooler and I like to be prepared. But only for crafting emergencies, apparently.

As is my style, we got there but only justintime. We ended up being in the way back. Like so:

That's me at the bottom, taking video. And that's Jenny The (Tiny) Bloggess waaaaay up front. Hello Bloggess!

She read from her book—her last reading, sayeth she—the chapter "The Psychopath on the Other Side of the Bathroom Door" and she read it so that for the first time ever, I actually wanted to buy an audio book because it was that fucking funny. (I don't like audio books because, strangely, I become car sick whenever I listen to them, even when not in a car. Not joking. And no, I have no idea why.) Bonus: even The Limey laughed out loud in public. So yeah, I am totally getting the audio book, if nothing else, for him to enjoy.

After her reading, she did a short Q&A that I greatly enjoyed because 1) She willingly answered everything asked and B) SHE SAID I WAS SO PRETTY!!!!11!!omg!ponies!!

Here's how that happened:

(After answering a few other questions.)
Bloggess: Next question?
Me: [Raising hand and jumping because everyone is taller than me, including the couple of tweens ahead and to the right of me.]
Bloggess: Yes, in the waaaay back.
Me: So how much weight did you lose?

Now, before you e-slap me for being rude, you need to know that the chapter she read is about an attempted home colon-cleanse to make her meds work better and to also lose three pounds quickly but instead ends up about explosive diarrhea and an imaginary home invasion/predator who passes her notes before imaginary-assaulting her. Seriously, read her book. It’s some funny shit, literally. Now where were we? Oh yes:

Me: (Jumping like a cricket in line for the port-a-potties at a concert) So how much weight did you lose?
Bloggess: I'm sorry, I couldn’t hear you, but you're so pretty! [<-- My italics, not hers.]

I don’t remember much what happened during the next four minutes.

Y'all, I got called "so pretty!" In public. As in, in front of a lot of people who could physically turn around and look down and verify said statement. Made by this. woman.


I guess I should be honest and tell you that before she started her reading, she did mention that she took a lot of anti-anxiety meds prior to this appearance. Plus I really was pretty...far back. Which makes sense, because this is what I looked like that night:

Hey Baby, want a piece of this cheesecake? That's right, I’m talkin' to you, HUGH JACKMAN. Hugh? Hey! Come back!!

Yeah, she was probably on a LOT of meds that night.

Still, it was super-de-dupity unexpected and made me feel a bit giddy. A stranger publicly said that I was "so pretty" even though I was really looking kind of a schlump. And she didn’t want anything. And we aren’t even married.

All too soon, it was time to stand in line. A very long line that, because of the way the crowd was managed, didn’t start moving for us at the back until well after 40 minutes. As I neared, I opened up my cooler to ready my gift and immediately dropped the contents of the abbreviated craft store contained therein.

Of course.

As the nice people in front of me helped me pick up the string and scissors and tape, all I could do was sputter, "I swear, I’m not a freaky weirdo!" to which they kindly replied, "Look who we all are, this fits in perfectly." Which is a clear indication of the types of lovely people who get The Bloggess.

The Limey, however, although also helping, just giggled at me. Which is a clear indication that he is clearly not of the Race Who Knows Joseph. Bad Limey.

Finally, it was my turn to meet The Bloggess! So what did Leslie do?

She ran straight for the stuffed toy capuchin, shrieking, "I LOVE YOU, COPERNICUS! I LOVE MONKEYS!!"

Oy vey.

I am a mess. But a happy mess because I love monkeys. Even homicidal ones, like Copernicus. Really, just read her blog already. You'll be glad if you do. Even more so than if you fed the birds. Now go watch "Mary Poppins" too.

I want to believe that I did that because I was nervous. How nervous? Well, the first thing I said to The Bloggess was, "Your blog makes me pee."

Oy fuck.

Then, while I tried to back-pedal, I handed her my book and while she was busy signing it, I also handed her my gift, which made her have to triple-task. She probably should have clocked me with my book at this point, but she didn't. Instead, she did this:

Yes, I touched her monkey—twice! Jenny, you're a goddamned goddess. (Wait, what...?)

She is incredibly nice to her fans. And also very understanding of her peeps.

She took some normal pics with me and as I left her table, I asked her,"Would you think I'm a freaky-stalker if I also showed up at tomorrow's signing?" As soon as I heard myself saying that and realized how creepy it sounded when said out loud, I internally smacked myself. She just smiled and said, "No, please do come! You may be the only one there!" She sounded sincere and not creeped-out. Well, not very creeped-out.

After that, The Limey and I got some Mexican food at a slightly questionable establishment next to the lot where our car was parked. The quesadilla was not so good and they didn’t seem to know what champurrado was even though they claimed to sell something called "Mexican Hot Chocolate" (I'm guessing it was really Yoohoo with a dash of Tapatio) but their tamales were pretty tasty. The Limey even ate one, which is amazing because ever since The Great Burnt Tortilla Food Poisoning Event That Affected Only The British GI Tract of 2006, he generally avoids Mexican food.

Wow. That was a lot longer than I anticipated. Probably because I can’t seem to write a straightforward narrative. But that’s the joy of keeping my own blog, I can do crap like that. Teehee.

Stay tuned for Part II of "Leslie Meets The Bloggess Who Surprisingly Did Not Run Away" to be posted, um, later. Until then, please to enjoy this picture of Copernicus…because I also forgot to post a pic of my mustache gift earlier and this is probably the best one I have.

The Bloggess seemed to like it and appreciated that it was presented in a ball of twine. I don't know for sure, but I'd like to believe she went back to her hotel room and staged a Victorian conversation on literature and the weather and did NOT just throw them away, although that's probably what happened, realistically, as it was so. damn. hot. and they likely all just melted before she even got to her car.

Also, I hope a stranger calls you "so pretty" in public too, Pageviewers! Especially if, like me, it doesn't happen that often. And by "that often" I mean "never." 

And maybe then I won’t sound like such a freaktard.

Ciao for niao! (<-- Great googly-moogly...) //

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