Today I have been filling in for my boss in the office at work and I've had very little to keep me occupied. I've been trying not to be a total slacker, and actually do work related things...but there's only so much that I can do. So anyway, as I'm sure you can all understand, I eventually turned to blog surfing.
As I was surfing through the new posts on my blogroll, I came across this post by McMommy and was inspired to finally tell my own story. I have mentioned the experience a few times in past posts, but I've never actually told the whole story of what happened. (Huh, come to think of it, I'm not sure that I've ever told the whole story to ANYONE up until now)
So here it is... the story of how Joe McIntyre had to get his posse to tell me bug off...in all it's humiliating glory.
If you are one of my 3 regular readers, you obviously already know that I was a big fan of New Kids in my youth. I went to several concerts in my teens, and continued to be a fan right up until the end (Ok, well obviously not the end since they have now reunited, but whatever).
I was a freshman in college when Face The Music came out. I probably wouldn't have gone out to purchase the CD myself, but my Mom sent it to me in a care package and I did listen to it a couple of times. I still thought Joe was the hottest guy on the planet.
I was a freshman in college when Face The Music came out. I probably wouldn't have gone out to purchase the CD myself, but my Mom sent it to me in a care package and I did listen to it a couple of times. I still thought Joe was the hottest guy on the planet.
Then in 1999 I discovered that Joe was releasing Stay the Same. Again, I am pretty sure that my Mom sent me the video or something along those lines. However it was that I found out, I was instantly sucked right back into lusting after him with everything I had in me (much to poor Kevin's dismay).
I found a bbs dedicated to all of the other maniacs like me out there through his website, and was soon spending hours and hours chatting about all things Joe with them. That is where I met my accomplice.
In May 0f 2001 Meet Joe Mac was released. When I learned that Joe was coming to the area for an in store appearance, my "friend" and I decided that we absolutely had to be there. She lived a few hours away in downstate Illinois, but was more than willing to make the drive up here to have the opportunity to actually "Meet Joe Mac". We had never even met each other. Our only contact had been online, and maybe we had a phone conversation or two.
We assured each other that neither one of us was a psycho (except in regards to Mr. McIntyre of course), and made the plans for her to come stay the night at our apartment so that we could go to the CD signing together.
The day of the signing arrived, and we were both giddy with anticipation. We arrived at the mall where the record store was located several hours early and got in line to receive our official numbers. We spent the next few hours wandering aimlessly through the mall, and chatting with fellow fans until the store told us that we were allowed to begin lining up.
The line was huge. It snaked all through the store and out into the hallway. We were somewhere in the middle. Everyone was given a yellow sticky note and told to write their first name on it, and have the CD insert opened to the page we wanted him to sign in order to help speed the process along. (Not that it really worked)
The wait seemed to last forever. Of course, all of the waiting left me with way too much time to think about what I wanted to say to him when we finally came face to face. Such a terrible idea!
I've never really been one to become starstruck. As far as I am concerned, people are people no matter how famous they may be. Why should I feel all nervous and goofy just because a lot of people happen to know who this one particular person is? Really, I'm totally calm and collected, and normal... unless of course that person happens to be Joey McIntyre.
I really thought that I was going to be fine. I mean, he's just a man, right? Just because I spent years of my life fantasizing about how fabulous our lives were going to be once our paths crossed and he fell hopelessly in love with me...that's no reason to think that I would behave in anything but the most dignified manner...right?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
The reality of this little tale is that I finally made it to the front of the line, and saw this...
(look at that freaking arm...seriously, I could just melt right here and now just looking at that bicep)and then he looked at me kinda like this...
(alright, he may look a bit daft in this picture, but I'm sure he was just trying to be polite and pay attention to what this girl was saying to him)
and my brain turned to complete mush. He signed my CD liner
and my friend took this picture...
(my only proof that I was ever this close to him...and I'm totally cut off)Then as I was walking away I realized that this was probably my one and only chance to actually speak to this man. I knew that I needed to say something fairly normal. I didn't want to scream or cry, or gush on and on about how much I love him...he gets that garbage all of the time, and come on, I am just way better than that.
So this was it, my one chance for him to see how cool and brilliant I am and it was slipping away. I was down to mere seconds before someone would come and push me along to keep the line moving and I knew I had to come up with something amazing to say.
So this was it, my one chance for him to see how cool and brilliant I am and it was slipping away. I was down to mere seconds before someone would come and push me along to keep the line moving and I knew I had to come up with something amazing to say.
So what did my brilliant mind come up with?
"Thanks for keeping it real Joe"
Seriously. That's what I said to him.
Brilliant right? Totally normal and not at all dorky.
(Please stop snickering)
Everything after that is sort of hazy.
I'm sure that we must have waited around for a bit, because I know that we were there to hear that he was going to be leaving. I remember walking out into the parking lot and seeing that his limo was right there...VERY close to where my car was parked. I remember seeing several other girls run to their cars to start following and thinking that it seemed like a good idea. I'd heard so many stories from other people on the bbs about how they met up with him and he was so cool and would just hang out and talk. So why not me?
I really wasn't trying to behave like a psycho...I just thought that we would follow the limo and see where he went. I wasn't going to harm anyone or drive dangerously or anything like that. I swear!
Anyway, I ended up being the first or second car in line behind his as we were waiting at a traffic light to get out of the mall. It is possible that I cut a car or two off slightly in order to make a light and not lose him...but I swear, it wasn't anything terrible. I wasn't even really speeding.
Shortly after leaving the mall, the limo pulled into a parking lot and brilliant girl that I am, I pulled in after it. I parked in a parking spot and my friend and I just sat there. Then the door to the limo opened, and a stocky gentleman got out and walked over to my window...and very calmly and politely (though very sternly) asked me to please give his client some space.
I apologized profusely for my behavior and promised to leave him alone. Then I put my car back in drive and got the heck out of dodge.
My friend and I made the mutual decision to keep the story of this little adventure to ourselves. I really didn't think that I was ever going to figure out how to stop blushing with shame.
I have never felt more like an idiot in my life. Well, except for maybe the time not that long after this story happened that my sister and I got in a fist fight in front of my entire family and I called her some very rude words right in front of my Grandmom. That may have been worse.
Not by much though.
I hope that I haven't lost whatever respect I may have had before telling this sordid tale...or any of the few faithful readers I may have had.
You still like me, right?
