My Celebrity Story

This past weekend, I went to Athens to see my friend, Tituss Burgess, in concert. Tituss is an amazingly talented singer and actor who has appeared in several Broadway productions and has been featured at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and on the Tonys. That man can perform! If you are asking, "Who is Tituss Burgess?" do yourself a favor -- go look him up on YouTube and listen to some of his songs. Go ahead...we'll wait...

See what I mean?

At one point during the show, he came down into the audience and pulled one of his friends up on her feet and they danced a bit while he sang. Then he went back up on stage and crossed over to the side of the room where I was. Since I was sitting on the aisle on the second row (and since I am just ego-centered enough to think I, too, desreved a part in the show), it occurred to me that he might do the same thing to me. So, being the diva that I am, I immediately tried to decide how I would act if he did, indeed, single me out. It needed to be subtle -- after all, this was his show, not mine -- but I still wanted to do something fun.

Sure enough, Tituss walked down the steps and out into the audience. He stopped right beside my seat and held out his hand to me. I took his hand, stood up, and did a graceful twirl under his arm and then twirled back to him. I lay my head on his shoulder and was swayed to the music.

In my head, this is how it looked.

In real life, not so much.

I stood up too quickly and wobbled on my 3-and-a-half-inch heels, attempted my twirl, stumbled like a drunken co-ed, and somewhat fell into place beside him. As a quick cover, I faked a swoon and fanned myself as if I were just so overcome by his talent that I found it difficult to remain upright.

I guess that's what I get for attempting to be a diva after two glasses of wine while wearing way-too-high heels. Lesson learned.

Afterward, a bunch of us went to a bar and sat around enjoying all of Tituss's celebrity stories -- like the time Bette Midler asked him how her ass looked in her hot pants or the time Julia Roberts climbed over a few rows of theater seats to ask him what he thought of the show "Equs." And it made me realize that I don't have any good celebrity stories. Well, there was the time I was at the same Applebee's as the Joe Izuzu guy. Oh, and last summer, I was at the Brave's game sitting just a few rows over from Kirstie Alley. (Truthfully, we all had to be a few rows over from Kirstie. She takes up a lot of room.)

Oooooohhhh...that was low.

Anyway, I am very proud of Tituss. And actually, thanks to him, I suppose I do have my good celebrity story.

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On a completely unrelated note: I hate when I do stupid things. I hate even more that I feel compelled to tell everyone when I do.

So, I was just filling out a release form for L. to attend a birthday party at a gymnastics center this coming weekend. It’s your standard, “Yes, I acknowledge that my child can break a limb or get a concussion or even die at your facility, but if that happens, I promise not to sue you” kinda form.

Where it asked for “Mother’s Name” I started to write my mother’s name on the line! Then, I realized what I had done and had to cross through her name to write my own. Now the gymnastics place is going to look at this and think, “Well, hell! She doesn’t even know her own freakin’ name!”

Stupid.