The whole shack shimmies

Some people would kill for fame. I am not one of those people.

I'm the person who runs from video cameras, who hates when I'm the center of attention, and sobs after public speaking from sheer relief that it's over. The idea of ever being on a reality show makes me physically ill. The fact that the itty bitty bit of fame I have ever gained led to a scary stalker email from a machocist who wanted to be treated like a dog in the bedroom (long story) only confirms my absolute, resolute lack of desire to be famous. Ever.

Then you add five margaritas to the situation, and suddenly I'm Dina Lohan. Around about drink four, I start to fancy myself a Super Special Person. At drink five, I'm well on my way to completely delusional rock stardom. The reason I bring this up is two-fold (I warned you about the lists):

1. At my going away party on Saturday night, I took no less than 10 pictures of myself trying to do a Paris Hilton pose.



(At least I was in good company.) Then, of course, there was the "dead eyes," an ever-present (and surprisingly difficult---there is just too much life in these eyes, dammit!) Saturday night challenge.



And of course, the ever-popular Signature Alice and Jenguin Head Tilt.

(Don't think I'm going to give that one away....that's the one that going to take us TO THE TOP!)

Anyway, the fact that in my attempt to look "so hot right now" I inevitably end up looking, well, drunk is really neither here nor there. I'm a woman on a mission. Fame. Infamy. I'll take it all at that point in the night. Which brings me to my next item...

2. Later on in the night, at the best karaoke bar EVER (well at least on the east side of Baltimore), I joined Diamond Dave in a rousing rendition of "Love Shack," and this time, was determined to MAKE. IT. COUNT. One of the many great things about DD is that he too fancies himself a rock star. Together, we have managed to convince several rooms of inebriated Baltimore locals (not to mention a bunch of co-workers in Miami) that the B-52's got nothing on us. My murky brain tells me we got the job done once again on Saturday night. Tin Flipping Roof, mofos!

So as you can see, despite my everyday attempts to avoid excessive attention, I like to think I went out with a bang from Baltimore...even if just to my spectacular friends, who went above and beyond to make me feel missed. In fact, I think it's safe to say that even without the margs, I still felt like a Super Special Person after this past weekend (cue vomit). I mean, look at this....



I don't know what I did to deserve them, but hopefully I'll do it again (and repeatedly) in London so that I can attract some similar fantastic people in my life.

Only a few days left here now. Stay tuned.