I joined a Hollywood Bootcamp class. I did not sign up with the main instructor, Barry. Because frankly, I think the guy is a dick. Yeah, I said it. Word to the wise, if you do sign up with Barry you better make sure you are already in excellent shape. He has no sympathy for you if you barf, in fact he will probably make you run even harder. No thanks.

The class is one hour long and it consists of 30 minutes of sprints, intervals, hills and walking backwards on insane inclines and 30 minutes of weight training. If you slow down, everybody has to run longer. Basically, it is intense. Every class I think I might poop my pants, barf, faint or all three.

So this past week I wasn’t surprised when a young Hollywood Star came into the class.

I thought to myself, “A-HA! I knew it, this is how they get in shape!”

Well, the class starts and ”Amanda”, takes off her shirt to expose a thin black laced bra. Not, a sports bra, not even a bikini top. Hell, not even a bra with under-wire or padding. Girl was pretty much wearing lingerie! Then she rolled her tight legging down to pretty much reveal her birth canal. At this point she definitely has everybody’s attention, especially the guys. We start our “warm up” of a 6.5 jog on the treadmill and I can’t stop staring at her because I am mesmerized on how she is going to keep her jugs in her teddy top. Well, she doesn’t run, she doesn’t even jog. She spends the entire class looking in the mirror, flipping her hair and dancing on her treadmill at a 2.5 speed. The only thing the teacher says is.

Teacher: (to class) “If you get a cramp, you still need to jog.”

Cut to: Amanda making pouty faces in the mirror and doing body rolls to Womanizer by Britney Spears.

Teacher: (to class) ” If you get a cramp you are not allowed to get off your treadmill.”

Cut to : Amanda getting off her treadmill and walking over to the mirror in the corner of the room to do more body rolls at a closer angle.

At this point, I can’t sprint, I can’t even jog because I am laughing too hard. I am certain that I will have to sign a release form after class, this has to be a hidden camera show.

Teacher: (to me) ”Hey! No slowing down.”

What?! I get in trouble for actually running while Amanda gets to do the snake in lingerie to a Beyonce song in the corner next to the dumb bells?!

I never had to sign a release form becasue this wasn’t a joke. This was just a typical workout for Amanda..Half weird/half awesome.

So note to self, maybe I should look into doing less sprints and more body rolls. It seems to work for Amanda.

I use to be a waitress, the only job in the world that if worked for too long can make you hate mankind. Since I only worked a couple of days a week I wanted to make as much money as possible while I was there. So I was happy when the manager cut the floor (sending the other servers home) to just me. It was so slow that I would probably walk with fifity bucks. Sandy, the manager, had been a waitress for decades so between the two of us we could handle it….unless we got really busy. Oh, foreshadowing! About thirty minutes after the other servers left, the entire restaurant filled up. It was as if a group of people decided to rent a Double-Decker bus and drive over to the restaurant. There were thirty nine booths in the place and they filled up within ten minutes with a line out the door.

I had a section of 17 tables, since they relatively sat down at the same time, I made one general announcement.

Me: “Attention diners, I am your only server so if everyone can be patient I promise everyone will get drinks and get fed.”

I made a girl scout promise sign with my three fingers and surprisingly enough everyone was cool. They had come to see a game on TV and were mostly consumed with that. I took survey of the room and when I noticed low drinks I sent the busboy to fill them. I had a good flow going. Until one older gentleman came up to me while I was taking a table of four’s order. He interrupted me to speak his two cents.

Oldie: “Excuse me, I own a restaurant and you never came over to check on us.”

Me: “Oh, I am so sorry sir, I ran your food and I made sure that your drinks were always filled.. I am extremely busy…”(as I look around the room )

Guy at my table: “Hey! Dude, look around she is the only server! She even made an announce…”

Oldie: (interrupting) “I own a restaurant!”

Girl at my table: “I wait tables and I wouldn’t be able to do this..she’s doing a great job!”

Oldie: (interrupting) “I don’t care! I own a restaurant and you never checked on us!”

And then it dawned on me…

Me: Sir, if you own a restaurant, why are you standing around?! Can you please help me run some food! Can you take that guy’s drink order? Come on!”

My table of four half way stood up in their booth to give me an ovation. Unfortunately, the man left without helping me. I did make bank that day but I probably took 2 weeks off my life just from the stress.

I had callback yesterday for a Jaime Fox sketch show for Fox. I have always wanted to be on a sketch show and I even tested for SNL a year ago (which is a whole other blog) Anyways, my Fox audition went well and I left feeling good about my characters and impressions. People always ask me, “how did you know you could do impressions?” Well, weird story….

While I was a sophomore at the University of Kansas Paul Pierce was in his last semester before going to the NBA. KU Basketball is a religion in Lawrence so if you become friends with a guy from the team your popularity star-meter automatically goes up 100%. Well, one day while walking to class Paul Pierce passes me in a hallway and gives me a head nod and says.

“Mariah”

I looked to both sides to see if that comment was actually directed at me but no one else answered but when I turned back around he was gone.

That night I tell my roommate Lindsay.

Me: “Hey, I think Paul Pierce has me mistaken for someone else.”

Lindsay: “What?”

Me: “Yeah, he called me Mariah today.”

Lindsay: “That’s weird.”

The next week is filled with Paul mistaking me for Mariah about three more times, then one night while I was cocktailing at a bar called the Yacht Club, Paul came in with Raef LaFrentz and Paul calls me Mariah again. I finally say,

“Hey, I think you have me mistaken for someone else. My name is not Mariah.”

Paul and Raef laugh. I’m thinking what is so funny?

Paul: You look like Mariah Carey.

Me: Oh! Yeah, well, uh, I get that all the time.

In reality, no I don’t. I’m a white girl with reddish hair. The other girls at the bar see that the big guys on campus are talking to me and the rest of my shift is filled with questions on how do I know them etc. I get home that night and turn on MTV and Mariah is doing her silly open mouthed, doe eyed, mugging dance in one of her videos. I tell my roommate Lindsay.

Me: Dude, Paul Pierce thinks I look like Mariah Carey.

Lindsay: Hmmm, (looking at the TV) Yeah, I guess I can see that.

I get off the couch and start to mimic Mariah’s dance moves. I must admit, it did make me laugh how ridiculous she can be. The next day I see Paul and he says

“What’s up Mariah?”

I start dancing and he loses it, he starts cracking up. The next week him and Raef come in to the bar and this time Paul had memorized the ODB rap part to Mariah’s song Fantasy. He starts rapping and I start dancing and soon it became our little inside joke. Let me tell you, I became instantly cooler. I had the power to make the coolest guy on campus laugh. But something bigger happened. Ever since I was in elementary school I dreamed of being on SNL, then In Living Color but I knew it was a pipe dream because I couldn’t do impersonations..or so I thought. This whole experience made me realize, hey maybe it’s not so hard.

Would Paul Peirce remember this story today? Probably not. He didn’t even know my real name back then. Would I have learned to do impressions later down the road? Yeah, probably but who knows maybe it would have taken me longer to figure it out. Either way, it’s sort of weird to think that someone who doesn’t even know my name could make an impact on my life. Gawd, that sounded SO cheesy, but it is weird to think about. I’ll keep you posted on if I book the Jaime Fox show. But I must admit, my Mariah impression did kill. Go Celtics!

I need an editor to edit my blog posts. How sad is that sentence? Well, very sad being I have a degree from the William Allen White School of Journalism from the University of Kansas. In my defense my spelling, vocab and grammar have not been up to par ever since a terrible party hook-up I experienced in college.

I had a massive crush on a football player at KU named Joe Smith. Real name. Granted, the KU football team had the worst record on campus I honestly don’t think we won one game that year. My friends would have teased me less if I developed a crush on Richard Simmons.  Despite Joe’s lack of talent,(not only was Joe on the worst team but he also sat the bench) I found it intriguing that Joe never gave me the time of day.

One night I ended up at a football player’s house party and when I walked out of the bathroom I ran smack into Joe. After months of the cold shoulder I had the courage, and a six Jager shot buzz, to tell him how I felt.

“Hey, if it isn’t fuckin’ Joe everybody, The guy that won’t give me the time of day!” I shout to an imaginary crowd.

“What are you talking about?” Joe seemed honestly confused.

“Oh, shut up! You know, assmunch. I always try to talk to you but you brush me off. Whatever it’s cool.”

“You have never tried to talk to me.”

Then I remembered that he was right, I thought me saying hi to him once was enough to qualify as a conversation.

“Touche” Did I really just say that? Touche?

Without a word Joe grabbed my face and we started making out. We were wasted so there was nothing romantic about our exchange, people walking by probably mistaken our embrace as wrestling. We made our way into a nearby bedroom and Joe went to pick me up to throw me on the bed, but either I was heavier then he anticipated or he lost his footing because mid-air Joe tripped and rammed my head right into a dresser, knocking me out cold. When I gained consciousness the bedroom lights were on and five other people were staring down at me while Joe was gently slapping my face.

“Katie, Katie, wake up!”

“My name is Melissa, you fucker!” I moan.

I had a huge bump forming on my head and a massive headache. Chad, the captain of the football team was on the phone calling me a cab.

“Dude, you gotta go to the hospital, you have a concussion. If you fall asleep you will die.” Chad shouts at me as he is hanging up the phone.

“No, I’m fine.” I mumbled.

“No! Katie, I called you a cab.”

“Fine.”

I thought about telling them my name was not Katie but my head was throbbing. Who the fuck was Katie anyways? When the cab came to get me I saw Joe through the window give me the peace sign then go back to playing ping pong. I spent the entire night at the hospital and Chad was right, I did have a concussion. Joe later hit on me two years later not realizing we had met before.

Sure, maybe my decline in grammar is due to my own lazy bad habits…or maybe it is from my concussion, who knows. I suspect Joe being on KU’s losing football team probably caused him a few concussions as well or maybe he’s just a dumb-ass. 

In elementary school the smallest uncool incident can turn anyone into a dweeb. Some might reach their ill fated nerdum by contracting head lice, or getting beat up on the playground. I became queen of the dweebs because my mother had epilepsy. That sounds harsh, right? Well, kids can be mean especially if they don’t realize that your mother’s weird behavior is due to a neurological disorder. My mother just didn’t have convulsions when she had a seizure. No, my mom would come out of her convulsions and strip off her clothes and walk around the neighborhood, naked. Granted, she didn’t know what she was doing or where she was but try explaining that to the kids at Kelly Elemetary school. To them my mom was a naked zombie. So me having a drooling mom that would walk around the streets barely clothed trumped Christie Gomez’s head lice or Tim Hanson’s cat pee smell in the dork category.  

Just when I thought my nerdum star couldn’t shine any brighter, one day in the fourth grade my mom came to pick me up from school on the drive home my mom had a seizure and we got into a car crash…with a house. I wish I could at least say a mobile home. Not, just a ranch style house that was minding it’s own business. The house was a half block away from the school so every kid that walked by saw it and every news station arrived to report on the accident. The crash ended up on the front page of the newspaper.

After the accident the kids at school became even more vicious with their teasing that the cops had to be called…on me. Oh yeah, Steve Hammer called my mom a retard. I broke his nose with one punch. When Tabatha and Chrissy called my mom a stripper, I half climbed a fence and kicked them both in the face. I became the Chuck Norris of Kelly Elementary School. Kids stopped picking on me but the other kids parents complained so much about my behavior that I got transferred to Ingalls elementary school across town. Where being white made you a minority. I think it was these experiences that shaped me as a comedian today. But looking back maybe I should have gotten into martial arts instead.

My birthday is right around the corner, it is official. I am in my thirties. I am no longer just thirty. I will be in my thirties. After 28, the day after your birthday is equivalent to coming off a coke high. Granted, I have never tried coke but I did try Adderall for four days straight after convincing myself that I had ADD and borrowing my friend’s prescription. I took it to pull all niters writing for the Groundlings. Terrible. I just ended up crying in my car in the parking lot of Rite Aid, convinced that my boyfriend was cheating on me and unable to sleep for days.

Anyways, the night of your birthday party, your friends are there, you’re the star, you’re drunk and happy. The next day you are left with a stained party dress, rug burns, a hangover and another year older, depressing. Birthdays have always depressed me, well ever since the 7^th grade. That was the year that something so traumatic happened to me that it would not only scar me but change the course of my life.

I was a big nerd in junior high and had low self esteem to boot. I thought about reading my junior high diary at Mortified* but my entries are as follow.

            “God, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. P.S. I hate you.” I was no Anne Frank.

If my diary entries weren’t making sure I knew how much I hated myself then they were about Sunny Ridpath. I wanted to be Sunny Ridpath, not in a lesbo way but more she was the definition of popular at Truesdell Middle school. Sunny had long blonde hair to her butt, blue eyes, more than one pair of Guess jeans and wore a bra. Not a training bra but a full blown bra.

            I wanted to like myself but it was nearly impossible with acne, reddish frizzy hair, and oversized red Sally Jesse Raphael glasses. If I wasn’t nerdy enough in the 6^th grade I got braces for my birthday. Not just any braces. I got the ones with rubber bands (which I would color coordinate with the holidays. Orange and black for Halloween, red, white and blue for Presidents day AND 4^th of July, brown and yellow for Thanksgiving. etc.) I HATED my braces but I couldn’t even complain to my mom about them. Every time I would complain my mother would get overly emotional and start crying hysterically how my grandfather had to die so I could have straight teeth. When in reality my grandfather had a heart attack and died, leaving my mother an inheritance which a small portion was used for my orthodontist appointments. My mother was great at twisting facts to seem as if my grandfather was captured at gunpoint by orthodontist rebels whom gave my grandfather the option of life or straight teeth for his granddaughter.

            So when my 12^th birthday came around, in the 7^th grade, I made a vow to become popular. By the 7^th grade I was half way there because of my cousin Jackie. My cousin Jackie was sort of popular by default. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl, or richest, or a star athlete it was because her mother, my aunt was 13 years older than her. That is right, my aunt Juanita got pregnant at 12. I did mention I’m from Kansas right?  Jackie and Juanita were like sisters instead of mother and daughter. They shared clothes, make-up, fought like sisters and everyone knew that Juanita would buy Jackie and her friend’s wine coolers. Combine wine coolers, someone who had given a hand job, and frosted hair and you’ve got one popular seventh grader.

            For my 12^th birthday party my dad agreed to let me have a slumber party at the house. My dad knew I was a big nerd so I think he was expecting my only two friends, Holly and a Vietnamese girl named Tram to show up. I also invited Jackie and she had invited Sunny Ridpath. Sunny Ridpath was coming to my party! I spent the whole day cleaning my house because tonight was the night that I was going to become BFF with Sunny. I could just picture it. We would sit by each other at lunch, she would french braid my hair and we would buy matching friendship necklaces, and sip wine coolers talking about which guys were getting boners in Mr. Enders social studies class.

            That night ten girls showed up to my slumber party and my dad was stressed. All ten girls had to sleep in the basement. Well, the fake wood paneling that covered the basement walls made for terrible acoustics and my dad would stomp his foot at seven minute intervals for us to,

“Keep it down!”

No matter how I tried to explain to my dad how cool kids parents were deaf and didn’t yell at them he wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry but no one tells Sunny to whisper. That’s like asking Hitler for time off so I could celebrate Hanukah. You just don’t do it! After the 8^th awkward appearance by my dad with the supersonic hearing Sunny Ridpath had a plan. Sunny knew that Aaron Bishop, whom was an 8^th grader, had a party line phone number so we decided to call him. After a quick phone call, Sunny hung up the phone and turned to us.

            “Aaron is driving over here.”

Aaron had flunked the 3^rd grade so he was actually 15 years old and had a learners permit. All the girls squealed with delight, to which my dad stomped on the floor.  I think I was squealing more because my dad would not let a fifteen year old BOY join my slumber party and I knew it was going to be disastrous. After coming up with a plan that we thought could rival an escape from Alcatraz. Ten girls hoisted themselves out the basement window and into the street to meet Sunny’s prince of popularity Aaron Bishop.  Aaron showed up as promised in a yellow, short bed truck sitting on a phonebook to see over the dashboard with his creepy older brother who was leering at all the girls even though he was well over 25, which was old to me in those days.  After Aaron pulls up he pulls out a cigarette and takes a puff. “Wow, he didn’t even cough.” I thought to myself. Sunny leaned her upper body into the cab of the truck to also take a puff of the cigarette and show off her full A-cup boobs. As the other nine of us are standing around trying desperately to be cool the porch light comes on. My stomach turns.

            “Melissa!” It is my dad’s voice coming from the well lit porch and he is pissed.

I freeze.

            “Melissa, get over here! Now!”

I run over to my dad trying to act as if everything was totally normal. I get to the porch.

            “Hey, sorry, Aaron is Sunny’s Friend…”

 I don’t even get to finish my sentence before my dad grabs me by the arm and spanks me.

            “Dad!” I plead loudly.

I can now see Sunny has turned around and we have made eye contact. She clenches her own butt cheeks as my dad swats me again.

            “What did I say about keeping it down?! Then you sneak out?!”

Now everyone is staring at me. I can’t believe that my dad is spanking me on my 12^th birthday in front of the most popular girls and guy in school! My dad never hit me and I hadn’t been spanked since I was six years old. Why the fuck was I getting spanked after a six year hiatus?!

            “Now everyone get inside!” Before I call your parents. Boys! You better go home!” my dad shouts pointing to Aaron and his brother.

The rest of the girls run inside and the rest of the night is awkward. I try to play it off as if my dad was playing around.

“You know when you get spankings on your birthday because you are a year older?” I said forcing a fake chuckle.

  But no one was buying it. The other girls whispered amongst themselves. I didn’t know if they were talking about me or just whispering in fear of also receiving spankings. Then Sunny asked to use the basement phone and called her mother to pick her up. When Sunny’s mother arrives she also takes April Jones and Sarah Quinn with her.  

            That Monday at school it had gotten around that my dad still spanked me. An embarrassing story that would take at least 2 years to live down. This incident shook me to my psyche core. I wanted desperately to fit in but just ended up making jokes over my embarrassment, something I would get paid for a decade later when I became a comedian.

 I went to my friend Ellen’s wedding in Estes Park, Colorado and it was beautiful. Just stunning. Well after the wedding and reception everyone decided to call it a night. I wanted to check out my old stomping grounds ( I worked one summer in Estes Park at Cheley Colorado Camp) so two bridesmaids and I decide to call a cab and check out the night life in downtown Estes. We stumbled upon a karaoke bar and no sooner had we grabbed a couple of beers and sat down a woman singing karaoke exits the stage and bites me on the neck. No warning, we didn’t even exchange words, super random….to my two new friends. But not that random to me, this shit happens to me all the time. 

Maria the bridesmaid: Did that woman just bite you on the neck?

Me: Yeah, that was weird right?

Maria: Do you know her?

Me: I’ve never seen her in my life.

We turn around and the woman is just chillin’ at the bar drinking a beer as if nothing ever happened.

Sure this entry isn’t the best but it’s the perfect example of my weirdo attraction factor. Like the time Andy Dick put me in a headlock twice in one week, or the time when two unprovoked Asian dudes challenged me to a dance off in a West Hollywood Pizzeria …I was just minding my business eating pizza! And of course I had to battle them!  Or the time a Pasadena cop decided to fuck with me and write me a “joke” ticket. Why is my life turning into a bad episode of Punk’d?

As a comedian I have had amazing shows, (went on the road and featured for famous comedians like Pablo Francisco, Jim Gaffigan, and Jim Florentine. I’ve also performed everywhere from Hawaii, to New York)  I have also had some horrific shows.  

10) I performed in a laundromat. Enough said.

9)I bombed a corporate gig at Zanies in St. Charles, afterwards I overheard two women talking in the bathroom about how much they hated female comics. I yelled “Me too!” 

 8) While at Stanford and Sons in Westport, MO. The local headliner got stage fright before going on and locked himself in the bathroom and I had to stretch out my material for an extra 15 minutes. I had ended my 30 minute set on a high note and then had to do extra crowd work. After asking the crowd if they were celebrating anything or where they were from a guy shouted out. ” We are all from here! And no one is celebrating anything!” * doubly weird about this story is I heard that David Letterman has a very similar story…wonder if it was the same heckler.

7) Had too many drinks in between shows at the Funny Bone in Boise and repeated my jokes twice in the same set.  This gig made me stop drinkingbefore shows.

6) Featured for Tom Rhodes in Northern California and as soon as I stepped on stage, I could tell the audience didn’t like me. After a week of killer shows I wasn’t in the mood to try to change their minds so after 15 minutes I just stared at them for the remainder of my set. Real mature, Melissa.

5) While at Zanies in Chicago, a gay man shouted out, “you need a make-over!” Truer words have never been spoken.

4) In Omaha, a domestic violence dispute erupted in the middle of my set when a couple got in a fist fight over a Husker Football game. I hate being upstaged!

3) I showcased for all the exec’s at E! to be on Chelsea Lately. Chelsea Handler was at my showcase and I was super excited to see her because we had done shows together and I thought she was super funny.  When I arrived I said hi to Chelsea and she didn’t respond but looked me up and down, gave me a dirty look and walked away. OK, weird.  She was seated in the second row and during my set she decided to use her outdoor voice to have a full on conversation with her friend that was seated two seats over. After doing the road for years I would always go after hecklers BUT I was showcasing to be on her show. So like a punk, I said nothing. Bad move, because I BOMBED a terrible death, I mean I ate a SHIT sandwich. Afterwards someone at E! told me “Chelsea just hates redheads” and that I shouldn’t take it personally. I hate to admit this, but I’m a pussy and this gig was the only gig that ever made me cry afterwards.

2) While performing in Scotland an entire Rugby team became obsessed with my show. They happened to be at a bar I did a drop by set on before my actual show later that night. Well, they were drunk and rowdy. (I secretly love a rowdy crowd, unless I’m showcasing for a show) I started going for them, and they were eating it up. Well, after my set the MC told them about my other show that started in an hour across town. These drunk bastards hailed two cabs and showed up at my next show. They got so out of control one of the guys stood up in the middle of my show to moon me, two other guys started wrestling, and one small guy started crying and spilling his drink on other people. Mind you, this show was in a theater, a theater that didn’t have a bouncer. Afterwards they proceeded to tell me and the other comic how awesome we were with headlocks and hugs.

1) The time I had a spot in the Belly Room at the Comedy Store. I was brand new to comedy and was given the last spot of the night. Well, the entire audience left right before my set, except one guy. I didn’t want to go on but the MC brought me up and left the room. The customer begged me to stay and moved up to the front table right in front of the stage. I decide to tell a couple of jokes when the guy had projectile vomit and barfed all over my shoes and pant legs. If that wasn’t bad enough the manager blamed me for making him stay so I had to clean it up. Brutal.

So my good friend Joe  introduced me to his friend, lets call him Frank. Frank and I hit it off, he was a commercial director with a cool style. When I told my sister Wendy about Frank, this was her response.

Wendy: What does this guy do?

Me: Uh, I guess he’s a director.

Wendy: Finally! Gee, you had to turn 30 before you stopped dating hotel valets with handlebar mustaches!

Me: You win.

Frank was pretty cool, he wore hip glasses and he could envision any idea you threw at him. I gathered all of this on our first meeting/date. Then one misunderstanding changed everything.

Joe was having a BBQ at his house and I invited Frank. My other friend Claudia was also going to the BBQ, but Claudia is a vegetarian. (Who invited the vegetarian to the BBQ?!)

Before the BBQ, Joe called and asked if I minded bringing Portabello mushrooms for Claudia and a case of Coca-Cola. No problem. Then Frank calls.

Frank: Hey, do you need me to bring anything to the BBQ?

Me: Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m going to stop and get some mushrooms and coke. 

Frank: (Silence) I’m in recovery.

Me: Oh! How funny! I meant Portobello mushrooms and soda, not drugs.

We had a laugh then he preceded to tell me about his Oxycontin addiction and how he lost everything and lives with his parents. Hmm. tough break. I get it, he was sweet. So I ended up dating my not quite fabulous boyfriend for a month just to prove I wasn’t freaked out that he was almost 40 and lived in his parents basement. I hope he is still on the wagon!

Living in Los Angeles I spot a celebrity about once a week. I could give two shits, UNLESS they are someone totally cheesy, then I LOVE it! One night someone pointed out to me that a singer from a popular boy band was at the karaoke night I host,  I suggested to the “celeb” that he should sing karaoke and I got reprimanded by his “bodyguard”, talk about upping the cheese factor! (I’m secretly loving it by the way)

Me: “Hey, you should sing karaoke, this place would go nuts!”

Bodyguard: shoves forearm across my chest so I can’t go any further. “Hey! You can’t talk to directly to Chris!”

Me: “Oh,really? Ok, well I run the karaoke night and I think it would be cool if he sang one of his songs.”

The bodyguard whispered in Chris’s ear and Chris shook his head no.

Bodyguard: “He is going to pass.” whispering in my ear  ” Maybe I can ask him to give you an autograph.”

Me: “Uh, or I can give him my autograph?”

One, I didn’t know at the time if he was a Backstreet Boy or from Nsync and Two, really this guy has a bodyguard?! This guy was the least famous after Justin, JC, the gay one and the fat one. No really, the Joey Fatone.  I was the only one that vaguely recognized him and the ONLY one that approached him. Three, this guy would  of gained mucho points for singing his own song as a joke. But I guess he takes himself too seriously.. Oh and BTW, Tone Loc came in the next week and sang his own song, tore the roof off the place!