I keep having celebrity run ins. Not on purpose, but just because God has bless me in the year where David Bowie has died and people really thinking Donald Trump could be a good president. I feel as if I'm in a recurring role in As The World Turns.
My summer has been very instagram worthy. I met Bonnie McKee. Stayed in a hotel I can't afford with Sacajawea and Rosencrantz. See my Throwback Thursday on that here.
I went to see her with Miss Sara Bellum. I convinced her to go with me. I bought her tickets. We were eight rows back from the stage. She payed for that trip we took to Pride. You can read about that here.
We got all dressed up. I had on my green booties. I'd planned on going full cuntry with my father's boots. But, he took them with him on a company trip, because he was going to a wedding. How rude???????? Didn't he know I need them????????? Aren't I more important??????? Still I looked cute.
You know I was dipping and doing it, although no one hit on me. I had on my gold watch and I would have had a hat on, but I didn't want to block anyone's view.
After the show was over and she'd run through her catalogue, including covering the Miranda Lambert hit “Mama's Broken Heart” she wrote, I got a chance to meet her. I bought her debut album 12 Stories. She signed it, “love Brandy”. Simple and tasteful. I told her I blogged about her and loved her music.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I was not memorable. I did not get a picture with her and she's not going to talk about me when she's on Jimmy Kimmel Live. The art of meeting a celebrity is new to me. You have to straddle the line between innocuous and obsessed fan and meet it somewhere in the middle to be remembered.