I'll let her tell her story...
To: TK, STY, JJ, LKW
From: MaBarberElla Subject: Seriously, I Met RPatz
Date: August 1, 2011 5:12:44 PM CDT
Heeeeey youuuuuu guuuuuuuys!!! K, so I SO BADLY wanted to post a comment on your "Comic-Con and the Green-Eyed Monster" post, but I started replying and it got so long, I gave up and decided I didn't want to hijack your blog for my own self-indulgent purposes. I felt I must SHARE because I already squeed over it 1,000 times with my ficwife when it happened, but since I've come home, there's no one to appreciate my experience. My hubs has taken to patting me on the head and telling me to get over it. So, Imma share with YOU ladies (and I use that term loosely) via email, as I don't want to muddle up all your fantastic bloggie goodness like the selfish little TwiH00r that I am. So, here it is — MY Comic-Con story that will forever remain swimming around in my brain and on endless replay loop while daydreaming when I'm really supposed to be working.
COMIC-CON!!! I went this year. I mean, OH MY F'ING GOD I WENT THIS YEAR!!!!!!!!!! And, um, I had the most fantastic time ever fangirling all over the fic authors at the TwiH00r meetup, the cast of Chuck at their panel, my ficwife I finally met in person, My Line Girls (the girls I stood with and and new h00rs I met in line while sleeping out Wednesday night), and...oh...What was that other thing? Oh, yeah, my favorite part. That was when...
I MET RPATZ!!!! IN THE FLESH!!!! MEEEEEEE!!!!
I was one of the 50 out of the line of 5,000+ that drew a winning ticket out of a bucket and got to go stand in a sweaty room and have Taylor, Kstew, Bill Condon, and THE PRECIOUS sign my (free gift) Breaking Dawn poster!! [Note from TK: This is like the big girl version of the Wonka Golden Ticket, but with a muuuuuch better prize.]
Seriously, I never win anything. (That's not true. I won a Cabbage Patch kid in a Girl Scout raffle when I was 8 and almost passed out in delight. That didn't even compare to this. And Cabbage Patch kids were REALLY popular back then!) I just stood and gawked at the Summit Entertainment lady like she was crazy and said, "What do you mean, I won? What does that MEAN??" And then I spent the next hour in line and the next hour watching the panel telling my girls and the random 15-year-old teenage boy sitting next to me, "I'm not freaking out yet. I don't know why, but eventually I'm going to freak out. I’m GOING to freak out."
Finally the time came and because the panel went long, they only had 15 minutes to sign 50 autographs. So, I stood there thinking of witty, fabulous things to say while the security people barked "DO NOT TOUCH the celebrities. DO NOT spend more than a few seconds with each celebrity or someone will lose their turn. There are no pictures allowed, so DO NOT take a camera or ANYTHING out of your bag. If you do, you will be ejected from the room and Comic-Con." It was kinda like being treated like cattle, or traveling through the Atlanta airport during the holidays and being screamed at by security.
I finally got my turn and Taylor was so sweet and Mr. Hollywood and all smiley and trying to be cordial and quick at the same time, and I kept waiting for him to give me the double guns with his thumb and his pointer and wink at me.
Taylor's lost Jersey Shore audition tape
And then he handed my poster to Rob.
And suddenly, all the wonderful, witty, clever, amazing things I was going to say evaporated from my brain, which, in its defense, was completely addled because of the hawtness of The Precious in person, and this is what I said, “Uh, hi. Hi. I’m uh…thanks for…um, this is great, I…thanks for signing my…uh, yeah.”
I am one of the most extroverted, talkative people I know, and I tend to get along with most people. People I just met tend to want to tell me their life stories and most intimate secrets because I’m transparent and wear my heart on my sleeve and talk… a lot. Except the ONE TIME IN MY LIFE it may have been important for me to have control of the link between my mandible, lips, and voicebox and my brain. JESUS. FUCK.
The best part? His response:
“Hi…uh, hi. Yeah…uh, thanks for coming out, uh…yeah.”
Perfect. It was like the awkward perfect storm.
The girl in front of me out-ed herself as a Twi fic author and he asked her her penname. That takes balls the size of Godzilla. Seriously. Me? I just stood there and jabbered like an idiot.
The minute I left the room, I called one of my h00rs who couldn’t make it to CC this year - @DazzledIn2008 – and told her what I’d done. I vaguely remember her screaming at me, but that’s about it. My Line Girls and ficwife, @TheGreenPuma, had one request the whole time: I was to report how he smelled. I found them outside, and had to hang my head and tell them I couldn’t get close enough to smell him…either that or I couldn’t smell him over my I-traveled-8-hours-in-July-heat-and-then-slept-out-all-night light, fresh scent.
Even though I was unable to awe him with my quick wit and captivating conversation skills, I did get to bask in the hawtness that radiated from him as he attempted to have a conversation with me while autographing something, as I hunkered above him. He’s still hawt, even with the hairtastrophie. It was everything you ever thought it would be…minus some conversational skills.
I have to give kudos to MaBarberElla because I would have sputtered sentence fragments and then booted it on the table. I likely would have ruined my free poster and had to do a Comic-Con walk of shame with my puke-covered door prize.
I'm trying to hate my fellow Twitard, but she sounds too much like me. I told her I was going to lead the angry mob of jealous bitches tonight, but I just can't do it. She seems too freaking nice. Ok, maybe we can chase her just a little bit.