Screech Powers is a boob man

I fondled Samuel Screech Powers last night.

I am proud to announce that I have officially crossed one of my new years resolutions off my list of things to do this year. I am even prouder to announce that every single one of my childhood dreams came true in a single evening.

In a post a wrote last week, I created a list of things I wanted to accomplish before May 1, 2012. The first goal on the list reads as follows:

1.) have some type of correspondence with a famous person. "Fame" will be defined at my digression. If Barack Obama and Tiger Woods are unavailable, I will settle for a smaller scale celebrity such as the owner of Rivermont Pizza Company or Bolton Valley Ski Resort's Instructor of the Year, who happens to be my own father.

Check.

I have had sort of a rough week. The boy that I previously mentioned that I was dating, moved to Florida on Thursday and I took it a little harder than I would have expected. Feelings suck. I grieved with my good friends Ben and Jerry for several days and I needed a distraction. Something to make me feel better without recruiting a colony of cellulite dimples to my butt. Fortunetley for me and for my waistline, in the height of my depression, an old friend of mine informed me that Dustin Diamond (Samuel Screech Powers from Saved By The Bell) was going to do a stand up comedy show a few miles from my home. With this information my entire world turned around.

Screech Powers played a signicant role in my childhood. Not only was I was a huge fan of Saved by the Bell, but I also had a pair of insect printed short-overalls that I wore well through the seventh grade. I was thrilled that I would have the chance to hear his show but I didn't expect to have such an intimate connection with him.

My friends and I showed up to the performance lounge at 6:30 eastern standard time, right when the doors opened. I almost peed my khaki shorts when the usher lead us to a table directly in front of the stage. My expectations for the evening quickly escalated. I knew that would no longer be satisfied with a peaceful night of quiet giggles in a dark room and admiring my childhood kindred spirit from afar. My front and center seating assignment provided me not only with a clear view of Dustin Diamond but he would also be granted a clear view of my freakshow shenanigans. I had the perfect opportunity to draw attention to myself and cross the first new years resolution off my list as a success.

Screech entered the stage and after a few jokes, he looked directly at me and said the very sentence that I have been day dreaming about since I was about eight years old.

"You have great boobs."

As a woman, I probably should have been offended. Maybe I should have given him a feminist inspired speech about respecting me for my brains and personality. It would have been a lie, I was beaming with joy. I was way to proud that he was impressed with the two "personalities" underneath my halter top to pretend to be offended. In the heat of the moment I did what any self respecting attention seeker would do: I did a little shimmy boob dance. A tasteful boob dance. No reason for alarm, dad.

My little jiggle ( that my friends have now informed me looked more like a seizure than a dance) was all it took to hook Screech into conversation.

" Do you have a man?"

Oh my god.. I am going to marry Samuel Powers and have curly haired, childhood star babies who would undoubtedly come out of the womb snorting and wearing multi colored parachute pants. YES!

" No..I don't" I replied with a louder-than-necessary sigh. I needed my audience to hear me.

" Your a nice looking girl. You should have a man. Why don't you have one? Are you mean? How old are you?"

Oh my God.. Screech Powers has a hairy chest. Think of something to say other than " May I pet you?" Maybe we will have monkey babies. I touched a monkey once at the zoo. It was soft.

" I'm 24"

" oh. I would destroy you...but I bet I could make you screech in under five minutes" he said casually before changing the subject. I am sure he has never used that line before.

When the show was over I boldly stated to my friends that I would not leave the building without a wedding proposal from Double D. I ended up settling for a picture and a hug.

As a approached him for the picture, I wrapped my hand around his waist and dropped it onto his back pocket. I gave it a little tap before bringing my palm back to an appropriate place on his back.

As he turned to look at me, my mouth filled with honesty.

" I'm sorry. I just touched your butt and I tried really hard to make it look like an accident... But in reality... it was very intentional"

He chose not to acknowledge this comment but made a quizzical Sreech like expression.

At some point after this, we had a brief conversation in british accents, but I can't seem to remember the details.

I don't think that anyone will argue that this counts as " some sort of correspondence with a famous person".





- professional freakshow

Blood, Sweat, and Wet Pants

My spring travel season started last week and I am pleased that my level of awkward encounters is rivaling the extreme episodes that took place last fall. I began my spring journey with my traditional struggle though the revolving doors at the airport and I managed to successfully make it all the way to Charlotte, NC without being an embarrassment to my family. Unfortunately I had a three hour layover and I should have known that my cell phone and my good luck would both eventually run out of battery life. I always plan my trips in a fashion that forces me to eat dinner in airports. I pretend to be upset about having to eat fast food or a “lunchable” from the magazine stand, but secretly, it is my favorite part about traveling. Maybe because my parents always insisted on packing mushed up peanut butter sandwiches and stale crackers for family trips. If I ever have children, I will be a little more considerate of their stomachs. Lunch is one of the top 3 more important meals of the day. As I got off the airplane, I went on a search for the perfect dinner time snack and eventually I settled with a BBQ sandwich and a huge bottle of water. I celebrated adulthood and the fact that mom had not picked my meal . I knew that BBQ was a bad idea considering my history of elegance and grace and that mom would have been correct by picking a cleaner option. I was feeling particularly courageous though, and to my surprise, I survived the entire sandwich without smudging any sauce onto my cleanish white shirt. The water bottle however put up an unexpected battle. I was sitting at my terminal and directly next to middle aged man with incredibly thick glasses. I removed the plastic wrap from the tip of the water bottle and I was eager to lift the nozzle and enjoy the watery greatness inside. When I gripped my fingers around the pullup nozzle though, I couldn’t seem to pull it open. Determined not to let the water bottle to get the better of me and ruin my good spirits, I placed the bottle under my right armpit to free both of my hands, allowing them to work as a team to pull the nozzle of the wretched bottle. Just then, in the peak of my struggle, I noticed the arrows on the top of the water bottle, signaling me to twist the cap up instead of the vertical pull I have been failing at for the last five minutes. Excited that I had finally cracked the code, I twisted the nozzle open quickly, forgetting that I was still squeezing the bottle with my armpit. I watched as my water squirted out of the bottle and covered the nearly blind man next to me. I think everyone has been a victim of a bad case of the giggles in an inappropriate time, but it happens to me a lot. Uncomfortable in silence, I often break into laughter in churches and hospital waiting rooms. This is one of the reasons I make a reasonable effort to avoid both of those locations. Anyways, as the blind man looked at me in fury, in search for a non-bladder related explanation for why his khakis and graph paper gridded shirt were suddenly wet, I broke into uncontrollable laughter. I tried to give a heartfelt and sincere apology for spraying him, but the harder I concentrated of holding a straight face, the more theatrical my giggles grew. As tears were rolling down my cheeks and snorts were escaping my nose, I decided it best to just leave the situation. I gathered my belongings and moved to the other side of the terminal and prayed that that man would sit next to me on the plane. Welcome back travel season, I have missed you!