I Liz-Lemoned Meeting Liz Lemon! Nerds!

"Nerds. Super-duper snarting, chessy-blasting nerds!" Is all I kept saying to myself as I left the Philadelphia Public Library on a rainy Tuesday Evening.

I, in classic Charli/Lemon fashion, fudged my once in a lifetime opportunity to meet my idol, Liz Lemon, I mean Tina Fey.

I wake everyday like this.

I woke up that morning with all the hopes and dreams of a giddy old gal, waiting for fate, destinies, and worlds to collide. Birds chirped, mice helped me dress.

I even did my hair. Yes, I did. My locks are naturally curly and a recent disaster at a local No-frills discount hair salon left them a little shorter then curly hair should be. So, with the impending forecast of rain I needed to be sure I coiffed my 'fro with precision. On any normal day I wear my hair pulled back Lemon-esque style. Who the hell has the time to get all cute? When you are this chick, there is no time. Sleep is more important than appearances. Wurd. I dressed casual and comfy. As I do everyday. I had on my signature black pumas and a spiffy new spring jacket. Yes I said spiffy and yes I said jacket. I treated today like it was senior prom. Fo' shizzle.

I needed this jawnskie.

The rain made for some annoying phone calls, interrupting daydreams about meeting Lemon, I mean Fey. My daughter's season opening softball game was scheduled for that night. But the Doppler weather reports indicated otherwise. I am not sportically inclined. I was the chubby kid getting picked last to play on every sport. When playing Spring (Freedom some of you may say) I watched the base.  Yeah, I sucked. But I can pop n lock my way out of a paper bag, I got some skills. Anywho, so I am basically the secretary and my hubby the head coach of our daughter's team. He's a guy and hence, answering the phone or calling people to say, "Hey, the game is cancelled" is not something he'd do. He doesn't even call for take-out. So, as I prepare to leave work for my jizztastic dream date with Fey, I get a bazillion phone calls- all from parents, the other coach, and about fifteen teenage girls.

What the what is right! It's not a far walk from work to the Library but in the rain it can cause all kinds of problems, like holding a phone and an umbrella while trying not to wet perfectly coiffed hair. Do you know what precipitation does to curly hair with copious amounts of product in it? Let's just say that after answering calls on a touch screen cell phone (which I suck at) while battling with gale force winds, I ended going from SJP to Afro Annie.

What a Lemony way to start this adventure.

The event was due to start at 7:30. My buddy who works at the library, and hooked me up with the tickets, told me to be there by no later than 5:30 to wait in line at the will call. See, Lemon/Fey was being interviewed in a huge auditorium. The tickets for that sold out before they even went on sale (yeah, another what the what). I had tickets for the lobby to watch the interview on a big screen. Once the interview started the line for the book signing would open. My buddy informed me that these lines tend to be long, like hours long. So, the earlier I get there I can stake my claim on a spot.

Friend who works at the library, you truly rock. Arsenio woo-woo style.

I get the venue, after getting splashed on from cars and the umbrella getting caught in my hair, and decide to put all the softball/'fro drama behind me. I shake off like the wet dog I am and proceed in. I see all the chairs, the holy grail- I mean copies of Bossypants neatly lined up. My insides start gettin' Jizzy with it.... na-na-na-na-na-na-na...gettin' jizzy wit it. Sorry if that song is in your head now. And really sorry if you start singing jizzy instead of jiggy at your next party. I digress...

I pick up two copies of BOSSYPANTS and go wait in line. I am 3rd. WURD TO YA MUTHA! Yes I am! God, this is a sign. I will meet Lemon before she gets all exhausted from the nerds behind me. I will say something funny, smart, and so genius that we will become BFF's. Well, that was the daydream anyway.

The peeps in front of me are cool Lemon lovers like me. We decide that once we get our tickets, sit in or seats (we were forced to) and the interview starts, we will run back over to these exact spots. I love when I good plan forms.

While waiting I read me some Bossypants. Oh, I am snorting out loud. Fey, you know my soul. The gems inside these pages are too much for this post, so they shall be in another.

My buddy meets me there, one who decided to keep me company. A facetious red-head. Not AJ, another one. We chat and all the while I cannot wait to see Lemon. I'm like a kid in line for Santa, going over and over in my head what I will say when my turn comes.

See, there she is. Only pic I managed.

And thus it began. I sit a while, listen. The interviewer was so out of her league. She asked questions that were not clever or funny enough. I mean, did she even know who she sat  next to? It's like she opened the book, read a couple of lines, and then asked some questions. Whatever to that. I should've been the one asking questions.

I would have asked her if the word snart (sneeze fart) could also be used for snort fart. I mean, can it? I wonder. Those cheezy blasters, have you ever eaten one? What did it taste like? What was it like having Aaron Sorkin on the show and rubbing Studio 60 in his face? Did Tracy Morgan really say "What the what?" The actor who plays Kenny, does he have a deep voice in real life, like some kind of twisted irony or something? After you met Sarah Palin did it feel kind of weird, like meeting the bizarro version of you? Does Alec Baldwin ever have a bad hair day? Is Adam Sandburg your love child with Adam Sandler? I mean, look at him.

See, those are the questions to ask. Suck this nerds. Time to wait in line.

The wait was cool, I still got to see the interview, the view from that photo. Like a dork I waved to my friend across the lobby every now and then. Then it happens. Another glitch. My phone starts to die. I will not be able to snap a photo of Fey. Fudge. I sneak over, whisper to friend, she's got my back and will take one for me with her phone.

Minutes tick on by. Fey tells a funny story about how 30 Rock came to be. Sigh, I can listen to her for hours...

Then it ends.

More peeps line up behind us. Ha-ha nerds, look where I am.

She finally arrives.

Oh.
My.
God.

Tina Fey/Liz Lemon is like twenty feet away from me.

I get my book ready for her to sign like the Library 5-O guys instructed me to, like 20 times. Earlier in the day I printed out a funny picture of Liz Lemon with a note underneath from my hubby. See, he's not a big fan of reading but he loves Fey almost as much as I do. So, I figure I'll sneak this bad boy in there, she'll roll on the floor laughing, thus beginning our official BFF status. What's the worst that can happen, I think to myself. I didn't think hard enough about that scenario.

I had this pic:

And it said,

 "My husband loves Liz Lemon so much

he wants to take her behind a middle school and get her pregnant."

You know that's funny as all heck. So, with books and photo in hand I await my turn.

Liz Lemon sits on her throne of awesome and it starts. I only have two peeps in front of me.

Then this dude appears out of nowhere. You have to pass his inspection before you approach Lemon/Fey. He hands her the book, you don't get to. Gulp. He's a cross between Garfunkel and Napolean Dynamite. But he acts like the Soup Nazi. He snatches up my copies of Bossypants before I get to remove my contraband.

                       

He opens my book and my pic falls on the floor. He swipes it up and looks at it like it's child porn or something. The disdain in his beatty little eyes throws me off my game. "No Lemon for you!"

WHAT THE WHAT!!!!!!!!!!

But he didn't say that, it was all in my head.

He hands me back the paper and scoffs. Like a real scoff. (Not a word I use often so you know this was serious.) I stuff the pic in my bag and then look up.

It's my turn. And.....and.....

I Ralph'ed it. Frozen like Ralphie from a Christmas Story waiting for Santa.


My brain will not work as I stare at her. A god like glow is all around her. She's an apparition, she's not really here. Where am I, who am I?

Then some sounds emits from this hole in my face.

"I.. think... you're... awesome." What the what. Who the hell said that? Some nerd trying to butt in line? What a weird voice that person has. Sounds like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert.

Lemon/Fey looks at me and says, "Thank you."

Holy Shozz Bots did I just say that like some giddy tweener waiting to meet Beiber?

Lemon looks at the other book, "These are both yours?"

I nod my head real slow. God this isn't happening. I go to take them both. I want to touch her. Smell her hair. Breath in her carbon dioxide. Bear her Feybies (Fey-babies). But I only smile, which felt like one of those weird ones I used to force when I wore braces.  Gawd I must've looked like a stage 5 stalker. Or the strange kid from first grade who used to drool all the time.

I can feel Napolofunkel Nazi eyes on me. I step to the side and say something that resembled Ralphie's last minute of clarity.

"My 13 year old daughter thinks your funny."

For a second she seemed to think about my comment, then she gave me a real nice smile and said, "Thank you."

I waved bye and slowy walked away, staring at her.

What in the what just happened.  I mentioned my kid? She doesn't even watch the show. Fartknockers this sucks! My friend didn't even get a snapshot. The scene before me comes into focus. Guards are all over stopping peeps from taking pictures. I swore I saw the National Guard there. This is some serious book signing.

It can't be over. I can't have fudged me and Fey becoming BFF's! I want to wait there and stare at her all night. I want to pet her. I search my bag, for what I don't know. I am freaking out rummaging through it. I must have been looking for my balls or what little cool points I may have had left. I'm trying to buy some time but there is nothing time can do but laugh its ass off at me!

No balls, no cool points are to be found. No time left either. Red-headed buddy is looking at me like I'm nuts. Only the insane feel any less about Liz Lemon.

Motherchicken, what in the hell happened? I repeated the same question over and over again this past week. It took me this long to remember and figure it out. See, Tina Fey is made up of so much awesome sauce that you are rendered speechless in her presence. I can't even remember if she wore glasses or what color her pants were. The glow from all that awesome reeked havoc on my memory. Her smile did something to my brain. But I DID breathe in her carbon dioxide. Sweet! I inhaled some of her DNA. Jizztastic.

So, I pulled a Charli. What else is new? Bottom line, I met Tina Friggin' Fey! I got her book and it's FRAWESOME! I snort everyday on the el train reading it and did once so hard it was a snart. TMI but true.

BTW, I think that deep down, Tina Fey thought I was the coolest person there.

And I do my Lemon Dance everytime I think about it.



Tina Fey and Me Have A Date

Okay, so it's not some personal one on one date. But you know how I feel about the woman.

Jizztastic.

Tina Fey is coming to the Philadelphia Public Library tonight for a book signing of her smashing how to rule the Universe guide book Bossypants. I haven't read it yet, only an excerpt, and I am saying it's awesome.

TINA FEY wrote it, erm, hullo?

In the first few pages she recalls the first time some kid tore her coloring book page in half, out of spite of her awesomeness I'm sure, and she said her thoughts mirrored something to the adult version of this:

"Oh, it's like that, motherfucker? Got it."

Tina drops a mother-chicken in the first few pages. That's how awesome people get shit done. That's why I love this woman. SOLD.

She is a comedic genius, a snort happy scribe, and the hottest nerd on the planet-according to the Hubby. And yeah, I'll say it. I think she's pretty hot too. She is the creator of 30 Rock, the heartbeat behind Liz Lemon.

Oh. My. God. I am going to see Tina Fey, aka Liz Lemon, live and in the flesh tonight.

Will I breathe in her carbon dioxide and then share her DNA? Hell, I'll take her germs. They're prolly the funniest damn germs the CDC will ever see, they're prolly an antidote for depression.

Oh. My. God. Tina Friggin' Fey.

Should I wear a T-shirt that says, "I love Liz Lemon so much I wanna take her behind a middle school and get her pregnant?"



or "What the what?"



or "Night cheese?"



or should I dress up like Princess Leia?



Cause seriously, who wants to be all boring and normal and walk up to the desk, hand over the book, smile, and be utterly forgettable?

Not this friggin' clown.

BTW, I am missing my 13 year old's season opening softball game today. I'm the assistant coach too. She is totally cool with it and kind of jealous. She said, "I want to go to there." Dang, I love that snarky minnie-me I'm raising.



Here's a little sneak peek at how I am feeling today.