Missed opporunity, or was it?

I think (seem to be doing this in high volumes as of late) every blog, whether it be mine or not, should start with a “shout out” to someone else. In my effort to start the shout out trend, I will holla (read this like Dan Majerle says it) at Mark, the geek of everything. (Read his full blog post on the situation at http://netg0d.blogspot.com/ ) Shortly after he had lunch, which I skipped for the fact that I actually had work to be done, he saw Britney Spears shopping at a toy store. I can’t help but notice that you took your sweet time trying to figure out the exact model and cost of the paparazzi’s cameras. This is truly a different approach than what I would have taken. When facing a situation such as this one, I would have done one of a couple of things.

A: Actually go into the store and let the queen of pop (I wonder if she will ever be in the same trouble as the king) know that she is your everything. The reason that you get up and get out of bed in the morning, or afternoon if you are Yarsh on a weekend, the reason that you love life, the reason that you feel like you can truly live life freely… ect. Follow this up by telling her that fate brought us together today and I would just love to get one picture with the woman who means so very very much to me. Of course she agrees to the photo opp (who could turn down such a stalking… I mean adoring fan?) and just as the flash bulbs are breaking you plant a huge kiss on her, then watch for your face to turn up on next weeks PEOPLE magazine with the headline reading something like; Britney’s New Love or Look Who The Real Father Is.

B: You go into the toy store and grab something stupid, like those “toys” that are nothing but twisted wires and plastic airplanes that just go back and forth, and tell her that this toy meant a lot to you as a kid and that you daughter Britney can not stop playing with it at home. She smiles at you to which you respond, “I named my daughter after you.” No doubt Britney responds with a. “That is so sweet.” (You know that every bone in her body is thinking, stalker, but she smiles and calls you sweet.) Ask Brit (By now we are good enough friends that I call her Brit And she calls me babe) if she could do me one small favor, “Would you name your kid after me? I mean I named my daughter after you, it’s only fair that you should do this for me.” This is where I would love to hear her try and nicely tell you no.

C: You finish eating lunch and see a bunch of excrement (my term of endearment for paparazzi) taking pictures of someone who you soon find out is none other than Britney Spears, you drool over the excrement’s cameras and then get in your car and drive to Mesa to help a friend move.

Alright you decide what you would have done.