Is It Hot In Here, Or Is It Just These Guys?

If you’re anything like me, you like to kick back and relax by turning on the ole boob tube. And that’s what it’s become, too; A place to go to see a bunch of boobs. But lady lumps aren’t really for everyone, are they? I, for one, prefer to see a good-looking gentleman. An upstanding citizen who holds a door open for a lady and knows how to hold down a job. That’s the type of thing I like to see when I turn on my television. So, I’ve compiled a brief list of good-looking, do-gooding, well mannered T.V. men who make me want to turn on the T.V. and lock the door.

Oh, how I dreamt of someday being Mrs. Arnold, uh, Mrs. Arnold… Oh, shit. I’d be Mrs. Nobody! Or maybe I’d be Mrs. Keefer *hyphen* Nobody. Lack of last name aside, Arnold was one cool dude. What, with his crazy ass grandparents, tall-haired-urban-buddy, and his oh so stylish flannel shirt/skirt. Brotha’ has got it goin’ on! I’m not the only one who thinks so either. Remember Helga Pataki? Remember the Arnold shrine in the back of her closet? That thing was time well spent if you ask me. And how about that badass bedroom of Arnold’s?! The guy has an alarm clock that has a little Arnold on it! Damn, that’s cool. The thing about Arnold is that even though he has a football shaped head, and even though I’m pretty sure he’s bald under that tiny hat, his swag is undeniable. If only he could move past the fourth grade.

All I’m saying is give Burt Chance a, um, chance. The patriarch of the Raising Hope family is one half of one of my favorite television couples. He’s not what you might call “book smart,” but sometimes that just doesn’t matter. Sometimes you just want a good looking gentleman who you can play keep-the-balloon-from-touching-the-floor with. Some people might call him ignorant, but I’m a glass half full kind of gal so I’m choosing to say Burt is an optimist. He's also an enterpreneur. After knocking up his girlfriend (and later wife, Virginia) when he was a teenager, he started his own lawn care and pool cleaning business. Twenty-three years later he and Virginia are helping raise their grand daughter, Hope. And as all straight ladies and gay men know, there is nothing sexier than a hot dad. Especially a hot dad with a baby. 

Michael Bluth. I’m not even going to dignify this with an explanation. I mean, you see this face, right?

Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I have had thoughts of an impure nature about a married man. A man with seven children. A man of the cloth. A man by the name of Reverend Eric Camden. That’s right, folks! The patriarch of the Camden clan has me in 7th Heaven! See what I did there? If you don’t, then let me fill you in. The Reverend is the main character on a show from the 90’s called 7th Heaven. (See it now?) It was all about the lives of this understatedly sexy gentleman (The Reverend Eric Camden), his wife (the cool-for-a-few-seasons-and-then-perpetually-crazy Annie), and their seven kids (Matt, Mary, Lucy, Simon, Ruthie, and the extremely unnecessary season three addition of the twins, Sam and David). It sounds pretty tame, but let me tell you these people could make drama out of anyone and anything. They were just a family of butinskis! Has your ex-boyfriend, Jimmy Moon, fallen in with a questionable crowd at school? Never fear! The Reverend’s on the case! He’s the man at the center of it all. The biggest butinski of them all! You know what, though? That good-doer-ness really works for me. But don’t be fooled by his charity work, for the Reverend also has a bit of a wild streak. Remember the episode where his former bandmates rolled into town?! That’s right, the Rev. was in a band! Sure, he gave his buddies the business when he thought they were smoking the marijuana, but that’s just the kind of upstanding citizen he is. Hugs, not drugs.

Gomez Addams is the perfect husband. First, but definitely not foremost, he’s got money. But it’s old money, so he’s always giving it away to charities, which is totally hot. How he and his family came into all this money is up for debate. He has some kind of plantation or something in Nyrobi, or somewhere. Or it might come from his investment in the stock market. Consolidated Lint? International Fuzz? And can we just talk about his swagger for a minute?! Good, because we’re going to. The way he was always strutting around in his pinstripe suit, with his cigar in one hand, and his lady love in the other. And let’s not ignore the guy-liner! He was rocking that look way before Pete Wentz. Mr. Addams is also very health conscious. He practices yoga daily, by standing on his head or swinging from a chandelier. This one time, he had Lurch, the butler, bring an insanely large trampoline into the living room so he could play on it. He’s so cool! But the sexiest thing of all is that he’s freaking out of his mind, crazy in love with his wife, the flawless Morticia (played by Carolyn “To-Perfect-For-Words” Jones). Dancing in the living room, feeding the man eating plant in the conservatory, or doing nothing at all, he just likes her there-ness. Which is cool, because sometimes doing stuff is hard, and I like to know that not doing stuff is always on the table. Well there you have it folks! The five T.V. guys that make me coo-coo for Coco Puffs. Do yourself a favor and catch up with these men. I promise you won’t regret it!


Pictures Courtesy of photobucket.com, fan pop.com, hollywoodandfine.com, expressnightout.com, 7^th-heaven-fan.skyrock.com, balooscartoonblog.blogspot.com

What To Do When You’ve Had Six Cups Of Tazo Awake Tea And Your Internet Hasn’t Been Installed Yet

There are some days that I just can’t find any energy. I can only seem to drag myself along by the grace of God. Usually there’s no real reason for it, I just lack enthusiasm for the day’s responsibilities. These days suck. On the other end of the spectrum, there are the days when I indulge in way too much Tazo Awake tea and can’t find anything to do that could possibly use up my abundance of energy. A few weeks ago Awake lived up to its name and forced me to entertain myself while alone in my apartment. This was extra difficult because the internet hadn’t been installed yet so facebook stalking people wasn’t on the table. If it was I would have never needed to do any of these things. To help others who may also find themselves in need of creative ways to pass the time, I’ve compiled a list of things I did that weekend while running on all cylinders.

1. WATCHED SOMETHING FUNNY: One Saturday night I watched the season finally of SNL, hosted by Mick Jagger (who was blowing my effing mind!). When I’m really hyper, funny things seem to be three times funnier than when I’m not. I was literally laughing out loud! Everything seemed like it was funny enough to do that laugh where you’re laughing so hard that you’re not really laughing, but doing a series of what seem to be Lamaze-like breaths. I know you know what I mean.

2. TOOK A DANCE BREAK: My dance breaks only lasted about five minutes, but I continued to do them sporadically throughout the weekend. While Mick Jagger was performing with Arcade Fire, I was performing with no one. And I will gladly confess that my moves were not like Jagger (see what I did there?). They were the epitome of “dance like no one is watching.” That was partly because, well, no one was watching. But mostly it was because I have no background in dance and instead just wiggle in a way that makes me embarrassed to be my own friend. Actually I do technically have a background in dance. I took ballet when I was five, but all I remember is this slick little move called “pick up the leaves, drop the leaves.” And before you ask, it did make an appearance that night.

3. WATCHED Annie: The original version of Annie is so freaking amazing! I love this movie like a fat kid loves cake. No, like a fat kid loves TWO cakes! Besides, who can’t relate to the story of a scrappy orphan who gets adopted by a bald billionaire while escaping the clutches of the jerk face who runs the orphanage? It’s a tale as old as time. Watching this movie kind of falls under the dancing thing, because for every song I pretend to do whatever moves the people in the movie are doing. I can kind of do them, but that’s just a consequence of watching it all the time. “Hard Knock Life” and “Easy Street” are going to be the songs that really get you pumped! “Hard Knock Life” will get you all fired up about “the man,” and what not, while “Easy Street” is just more fun than you can shake a stick at! On a side note, playing Miss Hannigan is how I will win the “T” in my E.G.O.T.

4. WROTE SOME COOL STUFF: You might think that writing is a fairly docile task, but I only write stuff worth reading when I have enough energy to write it. I didn’t actually finish anything that night, but I started a lot of stuff that I was pretty excited about. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have been so excited, as I have already admitted that when you’re that wired things seem more awesome-r than they actually are. Hmm…

5. TALKED TO MY CAT: This one’s pretty self explanatory. I have a cat. I talked to her. Nothing too heavy, like politics or religion. Just easy stuff, like the weather, and who’s going to be the next Kristen Wiig on SNL. You know, keep it light. This is supposed to be a fun night for both of you.

6. WATCHED Annie: Whoops! It looks like I accidentally wrote that twice. It’s definitely not because I watched it twice. I’m not the kind of person who would watch a time honored classic twice in one night. And further more, I’m not the kind of person who would watch a time honored classic twice in one night and then lie about it in a blog.

7. WATCHED Annie: Okay, okay, I watched Annie three times that weekend! What do want from me?! Do you want me tell you that I don’t know all the words to all the songs?! Because I can’t do that! I do know all the words, and I sing them all the time! It’s a brilliant combination of song and dance, and now that I’ve brought it up, I want to watch it again! But I have plans tonight, so maybe some other time. Maybe… tomorrow. Get it?! Tomorrow?! Anybody?

These are just a few possibilities. There aren’t really any hard and fast rules about how to use up excess energy, but at the very least I’ve come clean about my addiction to Annie. Actually, it felt really good to get that out. Out. Out like the Sun! Thhhheeeee sun’ll come OUT, tomorrow!!



Photo Courtesy of www.bowandcrossbones.com  

Weird, But True; Things I’ve Thought Or Said About (Or To a Picture Of) Carolyn Jones

If you don’t know by now how I feel about Carolyn Jones, then you have not been stalking me to the capacity at which I would prefer. Also, you must not be following me on Tumblr (http://www.tumblr.com/blog/carolynmycarolyn). To avoid further embarrassment on your part, please go to my Tumblr page and prepare to have your mind blown by her. Sometimes I just can’t control my love for her and, as someone who can appreciate the humor in most everything, I am fully aware of how crazy these thoughts sound to someone who has never known a love like ours. This is one of those things where it’s funny because it’s true. All too true. This list is funny, but it’s not a joke. It’s my life. So with out further ado, here is a list of just some of the crazy things that Carolyn makes me think/say:

Her nostrils are so perfect.

“I’m so glad you got a nose job.”

“You’re so beautiful! *EEEEK!*”

*Just stared at a picture of her and wept at her beauty*

“I love your choppy bangs.”

“I can’t believe they killed you off in that movie!”

“I don’t get it, but you look so adorable with Aaron Spelling.”

No one should look that sexy smoking a cigarette.

“Oh my God! Look at your eyes! You’re so beautiful!”

“You looked so amazing in that movie.”

“I wish you had stayed married to Aaron Spelling forever.”

“If you had to divorce Aaron Spelling, I wish you had married John Astin.”

I love her.

“I love you.”

“I can’t believe they turned you into a Pod in that movie!”

“You’re so much prettier than her.”

“How were you never on Bonanza? It was on for something like ten years! You were on freaking Frontier Circus and there were only, like, fourteen episodes of that stupid show! By the way, you looked amazing, even with frontier hair.”

“What is with those cheekbones?! Ugh! You’re spectacular!”

“You look good with every hair color.”

“I just love your swag.”

*Wept about her awful marriage to Herb Greene*

“If you could move on from your marriage to Herb Greene, so can I.”

“Why are you like this, you beautiful woman!”

WHAT?! How could Walter Matthau shoot like, a bajillion times, and never hit Elvis, but kills Carolyn in one shot! She was standing BEHIND Elvis!

“You’re just… magical.”

There aren’t enough pictures of Carolyn in this room, yet.

“I think we share a soul.”

“I hate to see you sad.”

“My love…”

“Oh my God, you’re face!”

“WHY DO YOU KEEP DYING IN MOVIES?!”

Look at those hands…

“Your hands are so beautiful.”

I think this smells like Carolyn.

That little fat under her chin is so cute.**

“How are you making even Mickey Rooney look mildly sexy? You’re just radiating sex appeal!”

“You would have made a good victim on Law & Order: SVU.”

*Sigh*

“My love! You were SO PERFECT on Playhouse 90! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!”

WHY CAN’T I FIND PLAYHOUSE 90 ON DVD?!

“Your eyes say everything…”

“I hate that I can’t just look anywhere and see a picture of you.”

“You look so cute when you talk after taking a bite of food.”


… and much, much more!

**Okay, this one almost freaks even me out.

Bevin With A "B" Not Kevin With A "K"

Hello, my name is Bevin. It’s pronounced like Kevin, but with a ‘B,’ instead of a ‘K.’ I only say that because in my twenty three and three quarters years on earth I’ve noticed that people have a really effing hard time pronouncing it. I’ve heard so many bastardizations of my name that I can’t even remember them all. But I do remember a few, so here they are; Bee-vin (the most acceptable mispronunciation), Blevin (close, but you’ve added an ’l’), Devin (“I thought it was just a misprint!”), and Buh-lev-elin (WTF?!)

And once they’ve figured out how to say my name, there seems to be a series of questions I’m subjected to. First, there’s the classic “Is that your first name?” But they usually say it all judgey, with a furrowed brow and a tilted head. Like it couldn’t possibly be my first name unless my parents were playing some cruel joke on me. Another thing people like to ask is “Do you like it?” I don’t like this question. It’s kind of less a question for me, and more of an implication of their feelings towards my name. People also tend to ask where it came from, which is fine, but I feel like most people are named by their parents, no? Unless my parents had, like, sixteen kids before me and by the time they got to the seventeenth they were spent. Like, maybe they let all the other kids put their favorite name in a hat and then just picked one. Or maybe they picked two out and let everyone vote on it. “Well, it’s between ‘Bevin’ and ‘Wasn’tSixteenEnough.’ Eh, I guess Bevin will do.”

There is one thing, though, that people say that they assume I will find most interesting. People love to tell me that they know someone whose name rhymes with mine.

“Bevin? I know a Devin!”

“Shut up! Shut up! That is so crazy! Caroline, did you hear that?! This woman knows a Devin! Joni, come hear so this stranger can tell you the most amazing news you’ve ever heard! Devin, huh? Wow, I’m calling my parents right now! They‘ll never believe this!”

I’m not trying to sound like a jerk, I just wonder what these people are thinking sometimes when they let words out of their mouths.



Don’t get me wrong, having a different name is awesome. Just ask Apple. I wouldn’t want to have the kind of name where when someone yells it out in a crowd a half a million people turn around, thinking you’re talking to them. It actually happens that I went to college with another Bevin, who hung out with some of the same people I hung out with. Every time they would mention her I was like, “What?! Oh. They’re talking about the other Bevin.” (I didn’t mean for that to come off sounding like she’s my nemesis, but it did anyway.)

The real bitch about having a different name is that you can never get a novelty item with your name on it. One Christmas someone in my department at work gave everyone else in the department a little ornament with their name on it. Mine said “You’re Special.” Which, don’t get me wrong, I totally am, but it was a little bit of a bummer. I really love my name, but I’ll never be able to find a pen, or a pack of stickers, or a bike license plate with “Bevin” on it. I dream of a day when I walk into a novelty shop and find a mug that has my wonderful moniker on it. “Bevin,” it’ll call to me. “Bevin, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Until that day, I will continue to wear my Greetings and Readings name tag around my house. Even though I am no longer employed there.

Broken Funny Bone

Oh, how I long to make you laugh,

Split your sides right in half.

Just tell me what I need to do.

Pick my nose? Step in poo?

Should I tell a “Knock-Knock” joke?

Drink a cup that’s full of yoke?

Blow some milk out through my nose?

I’ll try some more. Okay, here goes!

Roll in paint and call it art?

Sit on a whoopee and let out a fart?

What happens if I slip and fall?

Would that make you laugh at all?

Perhaps I’ll snort, like a pig.

No? How about a rainbow wig?

Bump my head on a ceiling tile?!

What’s with you?! Why won’t you smile?!

I’ll never give up! Don’t you forget!

I’ll tickle your funny! You’ll chuckle yet!

We may be done, but just for today.

I’m off to get pointers, from my boo, Tina Fey.

　

Guilty Pleasure

Park the car and step outside.

All of this joy is too hard to hide.

A growl in my stomach and a smile on my face,

I knew when we got here we came to the right place.

We bare the sweat, and heat from the sun.

It’s the number one sign that Summer’s begun.

We’re next in the line, next to chose.

With all these great flavors, how can we lose?

Raspberry? Mango? What flavor of ice?

Chocolate? Vanilla? A custard could be nice.

Step up to the window. Quick! What will it be?!

Shawn goes with a classic, “Chocolate for me!”

Spooning gelati from a small paper cup,

That’s one guilty pleasure we’ll never give up!

Now snack time is over, our trash thrown away.

We’ll do as they ask. We’ll “have an ice day!”

5 Things I Say I Hate, But Actually Kind of Like. A Little. Sometimes.

1. Peanut Butter

I always tell people that I hate peanut butter, but then I make all kind of exceptions for the only way I will ever eat it. “Well, I mean, I like it on peanut and jelly sandwiches. But it has to have more jelly than peanut butter! And I guess it’s okay on a banana, or an apple. And I kind of like peanut butter M&Ms, but definitely never Reese’s Pieces! And oh my God! How about peanut butter on celery?! Woah! But basically, I never eat peanut butter. Ever.” Actually, I really would never eat a spoonful of peanut butter. Seriously. That’s really is gross.

2. Chocolate

Now, chocolate does come with certain terms. I mostly only want it if I’m anticipating a menses. Or if I’m at the movies and I already have some popcorn. Then I, of course, have to have something sweet to complement the saltiness of the popcorn. When I was, like, maybe 12 or so (not that the age matters, because I’ve done it a couple of times since), my friend and I would sometimes lay on her living room floor watching Jerry Springer and eating popcorn drizzled with Hershey’s syrup. It actually kind of makes the popcorn soggy after a while, so I advise eating quickly or drizzle as you go. Another exception is if the chocolate has nuts or fruit in it. Do your self a solid and find a quality chocolate covered orange peel. You can thank me later.

3. Sleeping Until Noon

When I wake up and see that my alarm clock says 12:00, and the little “a.m.” light isn’t lit, I spend the whole day complaining to everyone about how I can’t believe I slept that late. I rarely ever have a reason that can justify sleeping into the afternoon. Unless loving to sleep is a good enough reason. I didn’t ever really enjoy sleep until the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I would stay up until 4am watching On the Town, and other various MGM musicals, and then I would sleep until 2 or 3 in the afternoon. It was the second most glorious summer of my life. (The most glorious summer was spent watching Hello, Dolly! and Funny Girl in heavy rotation. I was ten.) Never before had sleep felt so amazing. Since then I’ve had a couple nights that were spent the same way, and even though they truly upset the balance of my everyday life, it feels amazing to wake up and know that while everyone lese has already been at work for, oh, say, 5 hours, I’m only just waking up.

4. The Word ‘Poop’

I truly find this word disgusting. Unless it is used appropriately. Like, don’t just tell me you have to go do it, or that you just did it, or that you like doing, or that you just stepped in some. Actually, you can tell me if you stepped in some, as long as you don’t mind me laughing at you. The only time I have honest and truly enjoyed the word is on an episode of “Parks and Recreation” when Rob Lowe’s character has the flu. He looks right at himself in the mirror and says “Stop… pooping.” It was so funny that I watched it on youtube.com a million times and then posted it to my facebook wall. Oh, ‘poop’ is kind of funny when my dad says it because he pronounces it ‘poo-pay’ and he kind of sounds like Richard Pryor. He kind of looks like him, too. A white Richard Pryor.

5. Anne Hathaway

I don’t know why, but I really can’t warm up to her. I don’t need to really. It’s not like we’re going to be college roommates and we need to be in each other’s space all the time. I just feel like there are some people who you can’t stand and you know it’s for no apparent reason. The times I liked her she was doing an impression of Mary Poppins on “Saturday Night Live,” and hosting the Oscars. I’m pretty sure I’m alone on that last one, but I thought she was moderately adorable. Oh, wait! There was another time I liked her! When she was being interviewed by Chelsea Handler she said that her family had denounced the Catholic church because they disapproved of her gay brother. That was pretty cool of her. Hmm. Now that I’ve remembered that, I kind of like her a little bit more. I might have to rethink putting her on this list.

Tina Fey Is My Easter Bunny

For the past four years I have had the pleasure of playing the Easter Bunny at a local mall. While others complain about the hot suit and the whiney children, all I can think to do is feel lucky. I remember going to the mall to visit Santa and the Easter Bunny and being excited by it all day. I got to dress up, have my picture taken, and spend a few minutes with someone that I only ever get to hear about. The few days before Easter are my favorite. There are more children than ever before and their parents have them dressed to the nines for pictures that will be sent to grandparents, godparents, and people who you call “aunt” and “uncle” but aren’t really your aunt and uncle. The line of people extends down the ramp and around the indoor fountain and the voices of the children are audible before I can even see a single one of them. Finally someone spots me and my escort and before you know it the kids are jumping up and down, tugging on their parents and singing my good praises. “There he his! There he is!” As I make my way up to the stage I wave to everyone, blow them kisses, and make a heart with my hands. I stole that last bit from Taylor Swift. The kids never get much time to spend with the Easter Bunny so I try to make sure they all get a hug or a high five before their time is up, and the next kid is on my lap. Even though I am always touched by the excitement and awe of the children, this year I found myself getting a little choked up inside my big fury head. They all waited there just to see me. Well, me as the Easter Bunny. This is what it must feel like to be famous, to be adored by the masses. It reminded me of when I met Tina Fey. Tina Fey is my Easter Bunny.

The Waiting Game
The second time I saw her on “Saturday Night Live” I was hooked on Tina Fey. The first time I saw her I despised her because she was cute, witty, and everyone laughed at the things she said. That was supposed to be me. But once I considered that our blatant similarities may actually be something that affirms how talented I am, I quickly embraced her. When she left SNL I was afraid that forcing me to quit her cold turkey would send me into a deep downward spiral and I would get hooked on some street comedienne like Kathy Griffith (no disrespect to my favorite D-Lister). Thank God for “30 Rock,” the little T.V. show that could. When it won the Emmy for best comedy in its first season I was part of the “tens of viewers” that Tina thanked in her acceptance speech. Five seasons later I still can’t get enough of 30 Rock or its mastermind creator. When Tina’s book, Bossypants, was published I thanked sweet little baby Jesus that I worked at a bookstore and was able to grab it exactly as it hit the shelves. I read the first half the night I got it and read the second on a spontaneous bus ride to New York in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the honorable Miss Fey at a live interview at a Barnes & Noble. When I got into the city I met up a couple of friends and we eventually made our way to the bookstore.

We asked a woman at the front door what the procedure was for seeing my lady love, and were quickly told that we would not be able to see her. Apparently, there was some sort of little red ticket system that I was unaware of and had I been there much earlier I might have had a chance. My friends all turned and looked at me like they expected me to either pass out or all Dog Day Afternoon on this lady’s ass. While I will admit, I was momentarily devastated, my attention turned to some people going upstairs who were carrying Bossypants. I had my Bossypants, could I go upstairs? I don’t really know what came over me, but I suddenly felt very sleuth like and crept away from my friends and up the stairs. One of my friends saw me and gave me that squinty eyed What are you doing? kind of look. Well obviously I was ascending a staircase that I was not permitted to be on. When I got to the second floor, I saw about four people in some sort of segregated, non ticket holder kind of line. This was the group who would only be allowed upstairs if time permitted. I was standing there for about fifteen minutes before I saw my friends come up.

Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t call one of them and tell them they could come up to. It must have been Fey Fever, it’s much more severe than Beiber Fever. By this time the line had grown a little and my friends were about twenty people behind me. A little bit of time went by, maybe half an hour, and these two women in front of me started complaining about how long the wait was. Even though I wanted to scream at them about how it had only been maybe an hour, and how any length of time is worth waiting for Tina Fey, I instead tried to encourage them to leave. This line was for the optimists. For the people who always clapped their hands for Tinkerbell to come back to life. If these chicks were too good to wait, I would help them leave.

I finally chimed in. “Yeah, I’m thinking about leaving, too. I mean, and hour?! Come on! Geez!” I was really hamming it up for these idiots. “This is ridiculous! It’s not even worth it!” These bitches were about as stupid as they come. They needed to go, and go they eventually did. I was finally the third person in the line! Well, the third person in the second line. A couple of hours later all hell broke loose as our barricade was finally dismantled and we were allowed upstairs. Sure, there was still more waiting to be done upstairs, but I was stoked. Time moved slowly, and so did the line, until I was finally close enough to see Her. There was a perfect storm of freakish excitement and the freakishly close proximity of strangers that was making start to sweat pretty profusely.

A Lyrical Genius Is Born
A short time later I was up on the stage where Tina was signing books. She was so
close! I could see her fingernails! My first thought was that she has very clean hands. I
didn’t expect them to be dirty, but I also didn’t expect to want to be staring at them so
much. I had to give it to those hands, though. They probably spent weeks writing scripts
for “30 Rock” and there they were, writing still. There I was, thinking about her clean
hands, and WAM! I’m now the one in front and she’s signing my book! I was going to
beat myself up about it forever if I didn’t say anything to her. I thought back to earlier in
the week when I had joked with my friends about getting Tina to name her child after me,
because at the time she was pregnant with her second child. Here’s the dialogue:

Me: “I love you. Name your daughter Bevin.”
Tina: “What is it?
Me: “Bevin.”
Tina: “I’ll put it on the list.”
Me: “Okay.”

I know what you’re thinking; I am a goddamn lyrical genius and no one can touch
me when it comes to spoken word. Oh, well. Meeting celebrities was never something I
handled with grace. Once I met Shirley Jones and all I could say was Hi, before I wept
uncontrollably for the two hours that followed. What can I say, I’m blinded by shining
stars and Tina was no different.

The whole thing was over before I even knew what happened and the next person was already in my place. The same was true of the line of kids at the mall. They all stand waiting patiently in line and their visit is over before they know it. The nice part though, is that even with just a quick visit, they’re elated. And even though I didn’t have the luxury of sitting on Tina’s lap, bragging to her about how good I’ve been all year, and what kind of candy I like, I was elated too.

And for the record, I have been good all year, and I like snickers.