This past week has been pretty hectic. Work everyday, playing most every night makes Megan a very lazy girl. I think I may have about 7 weeks of laundry on the floor in my room. That’ll get done sometime in the next two or so weeks in the relatively near future.
Last Wednesday, I did get to go to Heather’s book signing and actually get to meet her. I decided to wear all black (black fitted long sleeve t-shirt; black skinny jeans, tasteful and not to trendy; black pumps, obnoxiously tall ones so that everyone was well aware that I was in fact the youngest woman in the room and have yet to force a large crying naked baby thing out of my cookie; and Katie’s vintage dark camel colored leather jacket, just to punch it up a bit.) I looked good. Anyway, come to find out this signing was not in San Francisco, per-say, but in a small town 45 minutes south of the city, Mountain View.
Not a problem. I like driving and had already called dibs on the car for the evening. Large Diet Coke, pack of smokes, and the iPod – I was set for hours. The signing itself was awesome. Heather was jovial, endearing and big as a fucking house. All seven months preggers… crazy if you ask me, but whatever.
I had been a little nervous all day about the potential of actually speaking with her and what I might say. A few things happen to me and my body when I get nervous. 1. One of my legs will spasm uncontrollably. 2. My lower back will sweat (this also happens when I’m lying about something important). 3. I get gassy.
Usually, I only experience one of these symptoms at a time. Though there have been occasions when all 3 have been combined – not pretty. Wednesday, I was gassy. However, I figured there would be at least a dozen pregnant women there so I’d have plenty of people to blame my crop dusting on, if necessary. Fortunately, my nerves subsided by the time I arrived in Mountain View, thus I didn’t need to utilize my plan.
When the time came for me to walk up and have my book signed I was calm and collected. Until, it hit me – what the fuck was I going to say to this woman, My Hero?! Instant back sweat. It was almost my turn. In my head, I’m repeating, “Don’t say anything stupid, Megan. Just don’t fucking say anything stupid.”
My turn. I stand up there, we are almost eye level even though she’s sitting down – she’s quite a tall woman. Good thing I wore those goddamned heels that were now killing my aching feat. At least now she won’t think I’m a scary circus freak midget. I stand there, smiling. Still trying not to look like I’m retarded. (epic failure, I’m sure) She looks up at me and asks, “So where are you from?” Uh oh. “Oh, I’m from Baton Rouge, well I mean I live in San Francisco now… so I drove here from San Francisco tonight – not Baton Rouge obviously” God damn, Megan. Could you have been more awkward? So then I say, “That was awkward, I’m really sorry.” More awkward, nice job asshat – abort mission. She looks back up smiles and laughs at me.
Oh well, on the up swing I didn’t fall down.