Vicariously Through Me

A few weeks ago I posted about my lack of cojones when it comes to getting my picture taken with a certain Mr. Rollins. Henry Rollins. I promised all my 30 or so readers that I would work up the nerve this time and do it. I would wait with all the other starstruck groupies and get my five second photo op.

Did it happen? Why of course. I would not let my 20 (including my Mom) loyal readers down.

What couldn't have been better was a large part of Hank's set was how awestruck and dumb he gets when he's around certain people he admires. He gets all nerdy and "remember when" on them and basically can't speak. So we just let ourselves get pelted by peanuts and 11 years later still remember it fondly. I laughed pretty hard at this point since I knew I may get my photo but I was going to clam up with nothing witty to say and probably not get pelted with food this time.

So there I was hanging out back with H feeling like an even bigger dork because my hair isn't purple, I'm not from back in the day, and I don't have any tats (even though in a recent polling on my block most of the Moms think I must have at least one and a few piercings. Seriously? My blog's name is The Mummy Chronicles and there are pearls involved.) I digress.

We walk around. We wait. H makes jokes about how I'm not allowed to grab his butt. Ha Ha. Sadly, he doesn't have one. Then there he is whizzing past me so fast that I didn't even see him and H is pushing me in his general direction. EEK! I put myself towards the back of the line. I watch and wait. I don't feel cool enough. I don't wear cat-eye glasses or Herman Munster style boots. I'm wearing wedge sandals and designer jeans. I have highlights that are not a primary color. I'm also wearing a shirt I will never wear again because it adds about 50 lbs to me. I'm not hitting the gym five days a week for that. Suddenly there is a weird lull. No one is moving forward. The guy next in line turns to me and says, "You? Next?" Oh! Really? I'm not sure.... H pushes me forward. Oh. OK. Now. Hm...

I move to the front of the line. I just barrel up to Hank and offer my hand to shake. "Hi! Good show!" I lamely say. I want to say, oh so much. Like remember UMCP in 1996 (full dork mode going) when you played a tiny ballroom and I was like drooling, laughing and looking all together nutty in the front row? No? Ok, well after? In the press room? You threw peanuts at me because I was struck too dumb to speak to you." Yeah. That was me.... Instead I just said, after his stunted "Hi." "OK! PICTURES!" I smiled lamely and H snapped a shot and then shook his hand and I got the hell out of there.

So here you go. I did it.



Does he not look like I might be holding a gun to his back? Or that he is thinking, "How is this woman with all her highlights and lipgloss possibly a fan of mine? She's scary."



***UPDATE***OVERHEARDS AT ROLLINS***

1. "I've been in love with you since I was 13!" Get in line honey, I was 15. Rollins may state that he has no game, but EARTH TO HANK! You don't need it. I can almost guarantee at least half the women who stand in line backstage have more than an autograph in mind.

2. "I found him compelling and well...he makes you think." Great. That was the point.

3. "I drove up here from North Carolina!" See I'm telling you, doesn't just want you to sign her book.