Reality TV Blog Style

A few days ago, a friend made a comment that I should have my own reality TV show after reading a Facebook post describing an unfortunate event in my life. I heartily agree. Not only do random odd things happen to me, but for some reason I tend to encounter strange people. This last week, I unfortunately wasn't wearing my head cam so I will blog the reality for you to enjoy what was missed!

The first is a story that actually won't be shared. Incredibly embarrassing was the event, but left me and a dear friend in tears as I told her what happened. And the only reason she found out is because she called me right after the event happened. Lets just say it involved a bag of carrots and digestion.

Two days later, in preparation for a current show I'm performing in, I sat poolside working on my guitar skills. I had two chairs with me functioning in two different roles: one to support me, and one to support my music. The chair that was supporting my music was also attracting a wasp who didn't seem to have anything else to do. At first the wasp did his thing, and I kept strumming. Then for some reason, a change of events began to happen: when the wasp was ready to take a lap to the other side of the pool, he felt the need for a fly by of my face. It started to annoy me, so I took my script and took a strong swipe at the wasp. The CD that was inside frisbeed out and flew a good distance away. After retrieving my CD, I came back to my seat where the wasp after just a few short minutes once again started his fly-bys. Lets call the wasp Maverick. Maverick was on my last nerve, so I picked up my script again, and with a hearty home run swing, the script found its way out of my hands, into the air and landing with a flop into the pool. (Enter expletive here) My lifeguard instinct travelled me quickly over to the victim, and luckily after triaging the situation realized I didn't have to jump in. I pulled the soaking wet victim from the pool and rushed it into the house where I had to pull apart page by page the almost drowned lines and music, sitting it out over the entirety of my house to dry.

Two days later I was with a friend at the Costco concessions stand, waiting patiently to order my food, when suddenly I find an older woman in my personal face space. With no introductions or everyday pleasantries, she cuts to the chase.

"What kind of bike do you have" she asks.

With a perplexed face I replied, "Excuse me?"

"Bike" she said, "What kind of bike do you have."

"A bike? Like a motorcycle? I don't own one sorry" Then looking down I realized I had a faint graphic of a bike on my t-shirt which naturally made this woman think that I actually own one. I mean--usually when I see people with horses on their shirts, my immediate thought is, oh, they must have a Clydesdale at home.

"Oh, you are talking about my shirt" I said with understanding.

"My son is a champion" she said adorning a smile.

"That's great" I said supporting her joy.

"Next please" the concessions attendant pipes up with great volume. So I stepped up to order my food in internal thanks that this awkward conversation was forced to stop. Thinking I was in the clear, I then hear my elderly friend spout out some foreign motorbike name.

On auto repeat I said, "Excuse me?"

She repeated the name and followed with "If anyone ask you want kind of bike you have you just tell them (fill in the bike brand here)"

I didn't know what to do with that. I collected my food and drink and quietly slipped away. I'm glad she didn't see the rainbow on my flip flops.