If I have learned anything in my life, it is that the most unfortunate and tragic of cases get the farthest during celebrity interactions. Last week included.
Cut to me at Davis-Kidd booksellers, waiting patiently for my turn to meet Paula Dean. Moments in I realize how screwed I am. The child in front of me has a broken arm and, well, happens to have cancer. When it is my turn, let's just say I was brushed aside and pushed along to my exist. I am glad that child got her butter necklace, truly, no hard feelings girlfriend. But when is it my turn to get a decent picture and a butter necklace?
Do I have to chop off a limb to get any attention. Some direct eye contact would be a great success any more. I am moderatley attractive and look like I have my shit together so I get shit on instead. Well, I do not have my shit together and I am just as needy as the next red head with braces. Sigh.
I might only be crazy in my head, but my fanaticism should still count. I have feelings too celebrity world.
Just venting. Idina was as nice as she could be. Let's be honest, I look pretty sane. How was she supposed to know that I infiltrated security with a posse and tried to deliver her some her-themed cupcakes? She'll never know. Oh, I did harass her stage manager on facebook though. That's pretty crazy, right? That restraining order just might be coming my way after all.
The things I do for my blog. You are welcome my six loyal readers. Adieu.
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