(The Actually Possible "See Him Out In Public" Scenario)
So let's say I'm out with friends one night and LO AND BEHOLD!
That's Mr. Vin Diesel over there!
OHMYGAAAWWWDDD!
What WOULD I do?
Honestly, I am not the type to interrupt another person's evening out just because I find myself in the unique position of being in the presence of fame. That's just not MY style.
AND REMEMBER THAT THIS IS ME I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!
I am CERTAIN that fame expects, accepts and sometimes even enjoys those kinds of interruptions!
It's all part of that game -- and he willingly signed himself up for it.
HOWEVER -- as I was a cat in my last life, curiosity would most absolutely get the better of me. I would HAVE to know what he was eating, drinking, what he SMELLED like -- all that useless information that is such fun!
So I would excuse myself from my table, do a walk-by (fifteen times) and proceed to the bathroom.
(And for all anyone OUT THERE knows, I have.)
Scenario #2
(The "I Have Nice Angels And They're Doing Me A HUGE Favor" Scenario)
So let's say that I'm at a party/club that OHMYGAAAWWWDDD!!! Mr. Vin Diesel is at and the person I'm with KNOWS HIM and OHMYGAAAWWWDDD!!! introduces me to him.
What WOULD I do?
I would very politely shake the man's hand, and tell him that it is an honor to meet him.
Then I would get an itch in my nose.
So I would scratch my nose.
Then I would wonder if the scratching of my nose loosened some mongo-snot-wad.
Then I would wonder if Mr. Diesel could SEE the possibly loosened mongo-snot-wad.
So I would excuse myself from his presence and proceed to the bathroom.
(And for all anyone OUT THERE knows, I have.)
Scenario #3
(The "There's Been A Subsequent BIG BANG! In The Universe" Scenario.)
So let's say that I found myself to be in an intimate situation with OHMYGAAAWWWDDD!!! Mr. Vin Diesel.
What WOULD I do?
First I would curse myself for having added extra garlic to that lasagna.
Second, as I have yet to muster the courage to take on waxing, I would panic over the state of my legs.
Then I would panic over him seeing my feet. I hate my feet.
Then I would panic over him seeing my breasts. I hate my breasts.
Then I would panic over him seeing my butt. I hate my butt.
Then I would THANKGOD! I stopped taking the pill because plastics can be FUNFUNFUN!!!
Then I would PANIC! over having stopped taking the pill even though plastics can be FUNFUNFUN!!!
Then I would panic over WHATINPANICGOD'SNAMEPANICISPANICHEPANICTHINKINGPANICABOUTPANICMEPANICRIGHTPANICNOW OHMYGAAAWWWDDDPANICOHMYGAAAWWWDDDPANICOHMYGAAAWWWDDDPANICOHMYGAAAWWWDDDPANIC!!!!!!OHMYGAAAWWWDDDOHMYGAAAWWWDDDOHMYGAAAWWWDDDNONONONONONOPANICPANICPANICPANICPANIC!!!DAMNITALLTOHELLSTOPSTOPSTOPI'MINTHEMIDDLEOFAFULLBLOWNF'ING(LITERALLY)PANICATTACK!!!
So I would excuse myself from his presence and proceed to the bathroom.
(And for all anyone OUT THERE knows, I --- wellllll, I PROBABLY HAVEN'T done this one. Yet.)
Pretty much, what it comes down to is that no matter which scenario you put me in where I might actually be in the presence of OHMYGAAAWWWDDD!!! Mr. Vin Diesel,
I WOULD END UP IN THE F'ING BATHROOM!!!
What the HELL do you think THAT is all about?
Some Freudian thing, maybe?
Y'know -- WHAT-EVER!
I don't care.
It doesn't matter.
I don't buy into Freud anyway.
I mean, the only thing about the penis that I envy is his ability to pee standing up.
WELLALLRIGHTYTHEN!!!
THAT said, how 'bout we move on to a safer and less volatile subject?!
