Josh Groban was in the building today and I didn’t get to shake his hand.
And I’m pissed.
Not that you can shake hands now in this Swine Flu era. Not that shaking his hand and meeting him is really a life-altering thing.
But yet, I’m pissed.
People who didn’t even know who he is got to meet him. Take their picture with him. Talk to him. Laugh with him. Stare at him and then ask the guy next to him, “Who’s this kid?”
So pissed.
It doesn’t matter that people are dying of some flu named after Porky, that people are out of a job and can’t put food on their table, or that some guy just changed senate parties. No, none of that matters, because I didn’t get to meet Josh Groban.
Boo-fricking-hoo. Waaaahhh, waaahhh, waaahhh.
And the worst part was I knew that he was coming. But I didn’t think I was invited to meet him. I had hijacked a celeb interview before, and have gotten dirty looks since…
But I’m still pissed.
People are surprised when I say I am a fan. Most times I am met with glazed eyes and a “who?” look of boredom. I am not quite a Grobanite. (does knowing he has a dog named Sweeney and that he dated Mad Men’s January Jones make me a Grobanite?) But I’m not a fair-weather fan either. I like his music. I like his evolution. I like him as an artist.
And yes, I’m still pissed that I didn’t get to meet him.
I’m pissed, pissed, pissed.
And then, being me, I decided to analyze why I am pissed (anyone who knows me knows that a therapist exists inside my head when it really should exist outside it). I can’t figure out if I’m pissed because other people I know got to meet him, or pissed at myself for not going down there and making someone take a picture. Or am I pissed because I didn’t get a picture so I could plaster it on Facebook to all my neigh-sayers in high school and say, “See, I get to meet with important people and you don’t…nah-nah-nah”. Oh geez. I’ve reverted back to high school…Again. Someone please stop me.
What is it about celebrities that makes them so…well, worth the bad moods if you missed your chance to meet them? They are normal people, just like us. They just have cooler jobs and a better bank account. Every time I meet someone famous (which is not a lot, I might add), I’m always amazed at how down-to-earth they seem. How they don’t have that “larger-than-life” persona they exhibit on the screen. And how normal and accessible they feel. Maybe I just haven’t met those REALLY BIG celebrities that have entourages and people telling you whether you’re allowed to shake their hand or not. But seriously, meeting Josh Groban wouldn’t have changed my life. Unless we were to fall madly in love with each other from love at first sight (hey, it could happen), there is no way meeting him would have been anything other than a bragging right on Facebook.
But yet, I’m still pissed.
And, let’s be honest, Josh Groban is not the President. If I missed shaking the President’s hand, I’d be crying instead of being pissed. But there is something about meeting a celebrity, something about meeting someone whose career you either wish you had or who you just enjoy listening to, it’s that initial meeting and handshake that sets up such optimism for your own failed attempts. Like meeting Josh Groban would have put me in a good mood all day for no apparent reason. Although, isn’t it apparent? The only reason I wanted to meet Josh Groban was to tell him I liked his music and get a picture to post on Facebook with the caption, “Me and Josh Groban, hanging out”. Geez. I need help.
Ugh. I’m just so pissed I blew it with Josh Groban.
Malcolm Gladwell has this great book out there called, “Outliers”, that tells us people are successful because they practice a hella lot. I’d love to read this book, but my local library is out of it…yet again…(why does the library only carry 1 book per branch of popular books?! It’s so annoying…) And since I vowed not to buy any more books this year, I have to resort to people’s blogs telling me what the book says. Ultimately, it tells us that the successful people in life have practiced twelve million times more than you have to be successful. And that most people fail because they don’t want to practice. So I’m thinking that by the next time Josh comes around to the station, not only will the library have a copy of “Outliers” in stock, but I will have practiced my stalking skills twelve billion times over, and maybe, just maybe, I will be able to snap a picture.
And not be so pissed.
(No, this isn’t Josh Groban. But it is Tim Gunn. Nah-nah-nah.)
This is my Aunt’s take on what the picture would’ve looked like!
