leprechauns

i like grapes. angry, wrathful ones. it is a common misconception that fruits and vegetables do not have feelings. these people are horribly mistaken.

there was an enormous three-layer leprechaun cake backstage today. confusion ensues. is it st. patricks day? is st patricks day actually the 17th? is today actually the 17th? am i wearing green? turns out somebody merely made a cake and had an excess of green icing. im not one to complain.

that deliciousness provided a mediocre sugar buzz. good thing. cause ten in the morning, immature high schoolers and a breast feeding / baby birth scene turns out not to be a pleasant combo. i must admit, however, that seeing some of the "jock" figures watch with horror as rosasharn had contractions 6ft in front of them was nothing short of hysterical. dont have sex, kids.

i must have perfect timing. how else could it be that the exact milisecond i walk out of the stage door is the same milisecond those very schoolchildren were loading their bus? the irony was overwhelming. i considered my options.
1. turn around and run back in the stage door, looking quite the fool.
2. pop on my sunglasses and rush hurriedly through the crowd, incognito.
or 3. seize the day. carpe diem, as we say in latin.
of course, i seized the day.
i smiled. i waved. i would have even been willing to sign autographs if the situation had presented itself.
it didnt.

i did all of that in good fun, because i knew i would probably never see these hoodlums again, and if i did, they would most certainly not remember me.

back to my perfect timing claim. the kids in the school bus happened to be travelling the same direction as i. we ended up side by side at a stoplight. or two. or five. and i was wrong. they did remember me.

not only did they remember me, but they were intent on contacting me again. these hooligans were leaning out of the bus windows, flailing their arms like a mentally unstable duck, and screaming bloody murder trying to obtain my attention, which i was not willingly giving. my poor mother was the recipient of all of this, for she rode in the passenger seat.

it shook her up a tad. weak heart. but i learned a lesson today. dont pretend youre famous unless youre SURE you'll never see those people again. SURE.

three blog posts. im beginning to like this.