The Day Ghetto Barbie Met The Pioneer Woman

April 24, 2012. A day that will live in infamy.

For that was the day a barbie from the ghetto collided with a pioneer woman. THE Pioneer Woman. 

That was the day I waited 6 hours for forty-five seconds of one-on-one time with the blogger of all bloggers. The Colossus of Clout. The Great Bambino.

It was the day I should have packed extra deodorant and an extra pair of leggings.

Nervous pee feeling. ALL. DAY.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

I was born a poor black child.

What movie?! What movie?!

Sorry. I'm suffering from "Post-Ree Blues". I can't be held responsible for anything I've said or typed in the past 48 hours.

So, the beginning. My gal-pal, Leslie, and I jetted out of our place of employment at exactly 3:13. Our ride and other two crazy train counterparts were waiting for us across the street. We were half way to Bellingham before the buses even left the campus.

I was unusually quiet on the ride down south. I was consumed with first impression thoughts. What am I going to say?! What if my voice cracks?! My voice goes into "puberty mode" by about 11:00 in the evening. What if she can see her reflection in the sweat pouring down my face?! Gasp! It was like a horror movie unfolding before my very eyes. And about the time the serial killer jumps out to whack the oblivious single girl making macaroni and cheese, we were there. Third Place Books in Lake Forest Park. That's Seattle, folks.

*Fast forward 18.35 minutes*

We've gotten our tickets to see "HER". We're in Group J. J for "Just be happy you got a ticket".

We found ourselves some pretty good seats near the stage and I spent the next 40 minutes fanning my underarms.

And then...

Oh, sit down Mr. Bookstore Employee #24! Nobody is here to listen to you trip over your words. And her basset hound's name is CHARLIE. Not Charles. Everybody knows that. Sheesh. I bet he hasn't left his house in 3 days. How embarrassing.

Horrible picture quality due to horrible lighting, but I. DON'T. CARE. There she is!

She sang "Endless Love" to Charlie. Not Charles. Nobody knows who Charles is.

She finished her presentation at 6:50 at which point she began signing books for Group A. They said it takes about 30-45 minutes per group, and since we're Group J, we thought we were pretty safe leaving to go eat. At the Black Forest in Everson. Then come back. We had time.

But that would be foolish, and nothing about this trip was foolish. So, we headed over to Northgate Mall and ate at The Ram. I had the steak sandwich. It changed my life.

*Fast forward*

We're back at the bookstore. The parking lot has thinned. This had to be good news. They must be on letter H already! Let's get our books out of the back!

We brought just a few. And yes, they're all ours. Except for one. I must really love someone.

They weren't on letter H. They were just starting letter E. Holy balls. Why, oh WHY, didn't I pack my sleeping bag!

No worries. It's a bookstore. We can kill time in a bookstore. Hmmmm....what to do....what to do...

*Fast forward 2.25 hours*

The time is now 10:43 p.m.

We're allowed to line up! Yay!

And then, the silliness kicked in. Let's read about cupcakes and beer.

And then turn 180 degrees to the other side of the aisle and read this...

Hmmmm......coincidence? I think not.

Time out from silliness to take a group photo.

Back to silliness. I have no idea what she's doing in this picture. We had succumed to absolute deliriousness at this point.

I love my Auntie in this picture. That's her "Cousin Kris" face.

And then, finally, we rounded the last corner. And with that last corner, a certain someone, who shall remain nameless, got a SEVERE case of the giggles. The irreparable case of the giggles was further fueled when she came across a book titled, "Haikus for the Single Woman".

Lord. Have. Mercy.

There I was. 30 feet from The Pioneer Woman herself and I couldn't stop snorting. Or keep the tears from streaming down my face. I blame exhaustion. And the author of that blasted book. It was so bad, at one point, when we were two people away, we could hear The Pioneer Woman giggling and inquiring about the snorting occurring in line. My friend, Kristi, about died. "She's talking about you!" I'm OK with that. Between my snorting and PW's excessive sweating, we make a perfect pair.

And then, there she was. One person away from me. And I was blindsided with an overwhelming nervous pee feeling. My thoughts were untamed; running rampant through my mind. What am I going to say?! I'm next!!!!! What if she decides she's had enough and she wants to quit?! It was 11:44, after all.

My thoughts were interrupted by Bookstore Employee #17 waving me over. It was my turn. Lord have mercy on my nervous bladder. I took a step towards HER. She looked up at me. Our eyes met. She smiled. I smiled back. And then I said, "Oh my gosh, I have the nervous pee feeling."

Wait. WHAT?! DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD?!?

My world was spinning. This was it. This was going to be how it all ends for me. I'm going to pass out at the feet of The Pioneer Woman. At least I'll make her blog. Though, not for reasons I'd choose. I'd rather be mentioned as the spinster matchmaker who set one of her bestest gal-pals up with Cowboy Josh. Not the hot mess who passed out at PW's feet while simultaneously peeing in her pants.

My thoughts were again interrupted. This time by PW's laugh and soothing southern drawl. Plus, I had to get with the program. My 75 seconds were almost up and I hadn't gotten a picture yet.

Let me tell you. The woman is well trained. She can sign a book, pose for a picture, and ask where you're from and what you do for a living all at the same time. I can hardly walk and talk at the same time. A fact that was proven seconds before when I told THE PIONEER WOMAN that I had the nervous pee feeling.

At least I got a framer.

She was an absolute doll. It was worth the wait, sweat, and tears from laughter. Delirious laughter. I'd do it again tomorrow. Or maybe this weekend in Phoenix. Marlboro Man is meeting her there. Sigh. I can't even imagine. I fear I would say far worse than "nervous pee feeling" if that silver fox was around.

And now, I'll leave you with a haiku for the single woman:

Walking down the street
Cheetos falling from my bag
I should feel depressed

And we're back to delirious laughter...