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2003-05-05 - 9:01 a.m.

Phil laughs at me when I say I am a Karaoke Superstar, but it's true! I AM! We went out again this weekend, and we all vowed to sing new songs. I think my Superstar Status became evident when I finished the night with "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." Although the truth of the matter is that Phil blew us all away with his insane rendition of "Dinah Moe Hum." But then is it even possible to do a sane rendition of any Zappa song? Vickie kicked karaoke rump with "Gypsy," which though it's still Stevie Nicks, was the best Stevie Nicks she's done yet.

My nose is about to fall off due to frostbite. It is 60 degrees in my office, and nothing I do to the thermostat is making a difference. Seriously, I need a parka. And some snowboots.

Ahhh, new obsessions. Nothing like the thrill of totally getting into a new band. My new obsession, you ask? The Dandy Warhols. It was only a matter of time really. I saw them a couple of years ago, and liked them a lot. But as some wise people have said, there's some bands you have to keep at arm's length, because you know if you let yourself like them, you have to be willing to give up a year or more (plus the large sums of money) to fully indulge the obsession. Whoops. Too late now.

Speaking of obsessions, I ran into an old one this weekend. Back when I was a wee lassie of 16, I was severely smitten with a grocery cashier/art student named Sam. I think he was about 20. Every weekend, sometimes 2 or 3 times, I would scrounge up loose change to buy gummy bears just so I could have an excuse to go through his check-out line. I was constantly asking my mom if she needed anything from the store so I could go. Somehow, his brother and my best friend Aimee hooked up, so I often had the opportunity to go to their house. I don't think either of them drove, so I was their chauffer. I would go in Sam's room and just lie on his bed and wish he was there. Yes, I was a teenage stalker. On my way to school, I would often have to pass his car, so sometimes, I would leave him notes. Once or twice, my art class would have reason to be in the art department area of his university, and I saw him on campus a few times. I can't even begin to imagine what he must have thought.

Well he got married and broke my heart, and that was the end of that. I hadn't seen him for 15 years until this weekend. Turns out, Vickie has been friends all these years with the same brother that Aimee dated. He lives out of town, but was in this weekend for Jazz Fest, and it just so happens Sam was having an art opening Saturday night. I was mortified, but she insisted I go with her. She swore he wouldn't have the faintest clue who I was, and he probably wouldn't even remember her. So we went. It was so sparsely attended and quiet, which of course made me even more nervous. I was hoping he'd gotten fat or bald or something, but no, he was just as gorgeous as ever. Naturally, Vickie ran right up to him to say hi, so I wandered along pretending to be fascinated with the paintings on the wall (that weren't his, lol!) I tried to avoid eye contact with him, but it happened twice, and from the look on his face, I swear to god he knew exactly who I was. It was this sly half-smile with a very knowing twinkle in his eye. That's the same look I used to get whenever I bought gummy bears with a handful of pennies and nickels. Vickie said I was imagining, but I say: you don't ever forget what your stalker looks like. Then when I told her the extent of my stalking, she started cracking up because she had no idea it was ME who used to leave the notes on his car. Apparently, she and his brother used to make fun of him about that, but this whole time, she had no idea that was me. Upon that realization, she agreed that maybe he *did* recognize me after all. How humiliating.

And then I had to go dream about him last night. That is just wrong.

Why, when I was younger, I would bend over backwards to make a complete ass out of myself, I'll never understand.

song of the day: Shakin' - the Dandy Warhols

penelope fact: Her hobby is tending her Kleenex Garden under my vanity table. When I leave, that's where she goes to ease her mind.

something queer: the movie Bubble Boy

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