It's disgusting how embarrassingly pedestrian (i.e. predictably groupie-ish) I can get when a famous celeb walks on the same street where I'm walking while being hounded by the paparazzi (the celeb, not me). Yesterday, I was possessed by a star-struck demon and almost groveled on Alex Rodriguez's gigantic feet (encased in expensive, black leather shoes, no less) in Park Ave. in Manhattan. Eeww! I'm not even a Yankees fan, ergo, not an A-Rod fan. But one look at his towering height, massive shoulders, and green eyes and I was ready to take out the pom-poms and do some death-defying cartwheels.
I was aghast when I caught myself shamelessly asking him (okay, begging was more like it) if I could please have a photo with him. Ugh! Embarrassing! Was that me saying those words? The poor guy (yeah right, he's impoverished with his $250M paycheck as opposed to me being nearly broke, hah!) was trying to get away from the paparazzi and there I was trailing after him like a homeless puppy without a leash. He apologized to me by saying, "I'm so sorry, I can't stop right now" and looked at me with his penetrating eyes. Huh?! My brains turned to mush and I almost keeled over on the sidewalk. I looked at him with glassy eyes and sputtered incoherently. I swear I probably looked like I was mentally handicapped and I was quite positive that my brain was literally melting like an ice cream under the sun during a Yankees vs. Mets game. If my skimpy black shorts were a tad loose, they would have fallen off my waist right then and there at the corner of Park Ave. and 60th St. My worry now is, will I be TMZd?
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