FanGirl Meets Hero: FAIL.

I’ve never been the type of girl to go to a concert and faint from proximity to my favorite band.  Yes, I had a few heart palpitations at Bon Jovi’s 2008 tour, but I had no delusions that I was going to meet THE MAN (or Richie Sambora) and run away with him (or them) into a glorious sunset.  I don’t really do autograph sessions, because they are fabricated meet and greet thingies that end in disappointment.

In college, I went to a book signing for ecological pioneer Eugene Odum, simply because he was a guest speaker in my Ecology 1001 course, and I thought he was awesome.  There were a very few people there, he was incredibly sweet and kind, and I was under the influence of cocktails shared after kicking the pants off of my final exams.  So, I suck as a fangirl.

And yet…When the latest memoir by Jen Lancaster debuted, I decided to brave the weather (sunny and warm), the traffic (sucks NONSTOP in Atlanta), and the crowds (ew…germs and awkward convo), and suck it up and go to her first-stop book signing.

I love me some Jen Lancaster.  Her books are the cotton-candy-wrapped-deep-fried-corndog of my reading diet:  delicious, a little wrong, and special in a once a year way.  (If I could chain her to a word-processor, ala Misery, I probably would.  But I’d feel like a douche, and give her wine and steak.  Cupcakes, too, if I had time to bake.)  So, I wanted to actually shell out my cash and time to meet my favorite author.  This is new for me.

I sent the GBF (like Roald Dahl’s BFG, except that he is my Gay Best Friend.  Since Algebra I:  9th Grade, yo!) to the Buckhead Barnes and Noble in advance, to purchase my copy of My Fair Lazy, Jen’s latest work.

(Sidenote:  It ain’t Barnes and NOBLES, folks.)

Luckily, the GBF is not geographically challenged, because he landed me in the 51-100 signing group.  (Btw, Barnes and Noble:  If someone shows up at 4:40, when books go on sale at 5:00, and there is NO LINE, how the hell am I down 50 people?  Answer me!)

I leave work at 4.  The signing starts at 7.  The plan is to meet for dinner, having secured spot numero 51-100 in line, and then venture to the bookstore.  It’s a 45 minute drive, so this is a good plan, no?

NO.  I am lost until arriving at Barnes and Noble at 6:30.  Many screams were emitted.  Hair was yanked.  Lipstick was chewed off.  I may have been sweating like a linebacker.  And so, I looked like ass when I arrived to meet my hero.  And I was STARVING.

Ms. Lancaster entered and began speaking right on time, looking precious and being funny.  I am pleased with my decision to come, in spite of the ridiculous lost-ness.  GBF and I laughed at the snarky fan who got all sorts of pissed when she was not called on during the Q & A in her preferred time frame.  (FYI:  The author can’t see you if you are hidden behind a shelf of children’s books, pal.  And your question sucked, anyway.)

Then, I got in line.  For a loooong time.  And had awkward conversations.  And waited.  Some more.  And theeeeennnnn…

Oh. Holy. Crap.  I am REALLY excited, suddenly.  I’m going to meet my idol, and SQEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!  (Stolen from my idol.  Copyright:  Jen.)

She is SO nice!  And she knows my name!  Oh shit, it’s on the post-it, so she isn’t psychic, and I looked all impressed, like an idiot!  And she’s so personable and chatty, and WHAT?  Did I just tell her my life’s-fricken-story?  Apparently, I don’t plan to wear pants this summer while planning and executing my wedding during my summer vacation from being a teacher, oh yeah, I’m a teacher of the high-school-english-variety-and-do-you-want-to-sign-my-yearbook-bffl??  SHUT.UP.

And then my camera was set on video.  So, I now have video of me smiling my face off next to Jen Lancaster, and then realizing I am a moron, and switching to photo.

The picture turned out well, given the circumstances…and I give the greatest props to my new bffl for treating me like a champ, in spite of my social ineptitude.  Then, the moment was over, and I was wandering out of Barnes and Noble, clutching my autographed book and wondering what the HELL just happened.

God Bless you, Jen Lancaster.  You made me into a drooling, babbling fangirl in a way that no boy band ever could…and you were an utter lady about it.  Just…Thanks!

If you have no idea who (or what) I am talking about, go to http://www.jennsylvania.com for the deets.

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