"...And then this one time, when I met Jenny Lawson" or "The Night I Nearly Pooped My Pants"

Post #16 in a 26-part series in the “Blogging from A to Z Blog Challenge,” which I signed up for because this is what I do, bitches! Today’s letter is “P” -- Enjoy!

I'm a gusher.

Don't be gross.

What I mean is, I’ve been known to get all flustered in the presence of somebody famous and I love telling (and retelling) the stories of my celebrity brushes...

...Like that time in high school when I smoked weed with two members of the Spin Doctors...

True story.

“I would stop telling that story if I were you,” The Girlfriend reminded me last night.

True.

The thing is, as I get older I realize that most celebrities are shit. I mean, nowadays, people are famous for being talentless. Take JWoww for example... (Shameless foreshadowing for a future, already written, blog post.)

Anywho, there is a distinct difference between a “celebrity” or a “famous” person and a “role model” or a true “hero” and I am certainly proud to say that in my lifetime I have had the honor of meeting four such individuals.

In order, I have met Jane Goodall, Peter Jennings and Sam Phillips (Sun Records, Sam Phillips, for clarification sake)... and last night, I met number four.

Jenny “The Bloggess” Lawson.

The difference between last night’s encounter and the others?

I totally lost. My. Shit.

Ever since she announced that she was going on tour to support her new book, I had it in my head that, no matter what, I was going to make the trek into Manhattan to meet The Bloggess.

This decision alone was a very big deal for me.

I don’t do shit like this. In fact, I shy away from it. I find every excuse imaginable to not just walk out of work on a Tuesday afternoon, hop in my car and drive into Manhattan (or do anything for that matter) for a single selfish reason. I don’t like leaving my comfort zone. It scares me. And maybe, just maybe, knowing all about Jenny’s battle with anxiety and depression... following her, as a fan, as she finally, after a decade, realized her own dream... knowing that I too have been struggling for years (and wanting to give up so many times) to realize a very similar dream...

I recognized that this was something I HAD to do. For me.

The timing couldn’t have been better. I came home after work, grabbed a sweatshirt, my camera and The Girlfriend (who, by the way, is a mighty good sport) and I headed straight for Manhattan with just enough money for gas, a copy of Jenny’s book and some tacos.

We arrived in Manhattan at 6:20 p.m. and we found a parking spot (no small feat) by 6:40. I grabbed a slice of pizza, took a piss, called to say goodnight to the boys and we entered the event room at Barnes & Noble exactly one minute before Jenny took the stage.

And that’s when it happened...

The Girlfriend whispered, “Dude, your face is beet red.”

“Is it?”

“You’re shaking.”

“I know,” I said, clutching my copy of Jenny’s book in one hand and my camera in the other. “My palms are fucking sweating too.”

“Oh my god. You are SUCH a girl.”

When she took the stage, I could tell that SHE was nervous. I mean, who wouldn’t be right? Her book just came out that day. This was her first public reading. Shit, I was nervous FOR her, which is weird...

She introduced herself and then she read a chapter from the book and guess what?

It was a poop story!

I mean, seriously?

Seriously?

How can she NOT be my fucking idol?

It was amazing. It was wonderful. I laughed my ASS off and I nearly cried like four times, especially when she offered up some really inspiring words during the Q & A session... and then it was time for the “sign and greet.”

Thankfully, we ended up with a really GREAT spot in line, because my anxiety (no fucking joke) was really becoming too much to handle and, as we approached the steps to Jenny’s table I seriously thought that I was going to pass out... and I hadn’t even been drinking.

In retrospect, I recognize that what happened next happened for the best or else I would have likely lost my shit and been hauled out by security. The Girlfriend, camera in hand, decided to take control and break the ice.

“Hey Jenny, I have to warn you,” she said. “I think we have a crier on our hands.”

Asshole. I LOVE YOU!

Jenny laughed, looked at me, as the tears started to fill my eyes, and realized that The Girlfriend was NOT joking.

She looked down and saw that the book was to be dedicated to “Six.”

“Is that your real name?” she asked.

“No, that’s for my blog, The Six-Fingered Monkey,” I said, starting to hyperventilate and cry, but still in the right frame of mind to drop the name of my blog. And then I just blurted it out... “I just wanna say thank you. I’ve been following your work for five years, ever since I started my own blog, and you’re such an inspiration and you’re the reason that I find the strength to get up every day and keep doing it. I just... Thank you, so much.”

“Oh my gosh, you just made my night,” she said. “You’re giving me the chills.”

I knew what she meant, I mean... I was totally freaking out... but I wanted so bad to make her laugh the way she has made me laugh so many times before, so I asked, “but not in a stalker kinda way, right?” and then I realized that comment sounded TOTALLY stalkerish and I REALLY started to panic and the rest is a blur but then this happened:

Sigh.

I’m so glad I took the day off today, I totally have a Bloggess hangover!

Oh, and I have an awesome new book to read too!