Ah I could start today's post with a long whiny whine about how my car didn't start yesterday or how the toilet overflowed or how today someone asked me when my baby was due (granted, I had LP's sweatshirt on, but seriously.) But I will not, I will persevere.
Al is at home sick today, so she will miss one of her soccer games tonight. I will stay home with her cuz Rug's got one too, and since it's a blustery day, this would give me great reason to go ahead and make some brownies, but, as I mentioned, someone thinks I look preggers so apparently I need to shed some poundage. That, is a post for another day. I don't think I'm ready to discuss my poor body image with the Internet just yet thanks.
BUT, I am gonna warm you up for tomorrow's post.
I live in the Midwest, the lonely, farm abundant, Wurstmarkt having, trivia night playing, no sense of style Midwest. Therefore, the celebrities I meet aren't of A-list variety, they're more R and S-list. TV anchors, radio Djs and the like. (P.S. I found this litty ditty about my birthplace, sums it up pretty much!)
My celebrity sighting/meeting list is short. So tomorrow's post about my celebrity meetings won't elicit responses as, "Wow, she met him? So cool." No, it will be closer to the, "Heh, that's funny, she almost met him but was too damned shy to say anything. Dork." And I am OK with that. It's my life, and I love it.
Thursday night, I went to help decorate for the girls school's annual Teacher Luncheon. It was held at one of the churches, and we couldn't decorate until after 9 p.m. due to a 'prior function.' I walked in around 9, and there stood this, this GUY. I walked over to the table of my friends and sat down. One of them said, "Hey, do you remember Steve and Betsy from As the World Turns?"
Did I! The summers of 1982 and 1983 were spent at my friend Amy's house, swimming in her pool and ga-ga-ing over Brian Bloom on "As the World Turns." Are you kidding me? I thought Betsy was the most beautiful girl and Steve was sooooooo hot, he sizzled. He was almost my pretend boyfriend, but that spot was already taken by Sir Ricky Schroeder (and later Rick Springfield but that is another matter **inside tangent--I didn't realize I had such a thing for guys named Rick. Hmm**)
"Yeah, I remember him, why?"
"THAT IS HIM RIGHT THERE."
I turned around, and shore nuf, he was standing at the podium, signing autographs. He was there to speak, I guess he is on some tour talking about Hollywood and God and what not. Of COURSE I was too shy to go up to get his autograph, but I did grab a flyer on the way out.
See, some days, being a soccer mom pays off.