STEWART COPELAND WROTE ON MY HAND.

Tonight was the Stewart Copeland book signing at Amoeba in Hollywood. I had to do some work stuff in the morning and then took the afternoon off (good ol' "P" time). I was there for a Wellness meeting, which I organized. It went well (lame pun, um, intended), and after that I drove up the street to pick up Patrick, and changed out of my work clothes. We had lunch at El Taco (I highly recommend El Taco!): I had the best chile relleno burrito you're likely to find in Downey.

After that we cruised up to Hollywood. We got there around 3, about 3 hours too early for the book signing, so we poked around and bought some CDs. Patrick got some Derek Bailey, I got some 80s stuff (Siouxsie & the Banshees, Divinyls). We ran into an old friend of Patrick's, and the two of them caught up on stuff. We still had some time to kill (they were going to start letting people line up at 5) so we went for a walk down Sunset. We saw the "Psychiatry: An Industry of Death Museum" (which is a crazy name), and I was going to link to it but it's an offshoot of Scientology so if you're really interested, go ahead and Google it yourself. Then we went to Groundwork for coffee, and to people-watch. I love Hollywood hipster-types. The coolest person we saw was this African-American guy walking down the street: he had on a black short sleeve collared shirt, a skinny black leather tie, a black belt, dark blue jeans, black shoes, and the raddest Afro I've seen all year. We were somewhat confused by all the young dudes dressed as old men: what that look is meant to convey other than... Old Man is beyond me. There were a lot of skinny young white kids in fedoras and plaid pants. It's not a good look. Patrick and I felt very plain and inconscpicuous, and that works for me.

Finally we headed back and got in line at Amoeba. It was about 4:45, and there were maybe six people in line ahead of us. Patrick was a little bored, so I let him play with my phone, and I started reading Stewart's book.

By 6 the line was longer, and they let us in the store. The line snaked around a ways but since we were close to the front - it was exciting. They weren't allowing photos with him, but we were able to take pictures from the line, which I did.

OK, so I had been thinking all day about how I was going to give him the envelope with the City Garage passport, but as we stood there, I started getting cold feet. Then I was looking at the photos on my phone, and I finally got what seemed like a good idea.

When it was finally our turn in line (and by "finally" I mean, about 6:15... we weren't waiting very long), Patrick went first with a copy of the book I'd picked up for a friend, and then it was my turn. My nerves make me stupid, and so I went up to him, and I put my book down, and then I showed him the photo of us taken in San Diego. I said, "I wanted to thank you for this," and he said something like, "Hey, that's pretty cool!" And then he pretended to sign my iPhone, which I subtly moved out of his reach. Then I said, "So I brought you these tickets to the theater I work in," and placed the envelope on the table.

At this point, it got a little funny - he said something like, "I will sign anything in this area!" and indicated about a 2 foot area on the table in front of him. And I said, "Oh, no, don't do that!" And he grabbed my right hand, and pretended to sign that. And I said, "Hey, you can sign that if you want!" And he did. My recollection of the actual words we said is fuzzy, if you're thinking this sounds like the silliest conversation, ever. I mean, it was silly, but it was also very, very exciting (well. for me). While all this was going on, there were about three photographers behind me, taking a lot of pictures. He signed my book (just his name: I was too delirious to request a personal message), and I think I said thank you and walked away. Patrick was standing a few feet away with his buddy, and I walked up to them and said the words you're all already thinking:

"I am such a dork."

I turned around and looked back, and of course he'd moved on to the next person (a young lady of about 15, there with her dad), and one of his assistants picked up the envelope with the tickets on it (and my business card, with my personal info on it, including the URL of this blog) and was, I hope, keeping it safe.

We stood there for awhile, with me shaking a little, and laughing at myself with Patrick and his friend, and then we left. It was very exciting, did I mention that?

And now, if he shows up to a show, well. No doubt I will be very surprised. But happy.

Oh, so dude, if you're reading this (or your assistant? your assistant's assistant?), first of all, let me just say, hi. And, I love you.

Come to the theater! And wave at me in the booth! No, better: come talk to me in the booth!

(This picture is at an awkward angle because he signed my hand facing him, obviously, and to take the photo, I had to hold my phone upside down... Those are my feet in the flip flops, and Patrick's in the Vans. My pocket is all bulbuous because I had some lip gloss in there. Jesus Christ. I am still totally psyched.)