Were you afraid that I didn't get a Slurpee on my birthday? Rest assured, I did.
Hawaiian Punch and Pina Colada. Delish.
All day long friends were letting me know via text or Facebook that they got one. Stephanie even wrote about it on her blog. And way down in New Zealand Angela made the most of her winter surroundings and put red food coloring (or should I say colouring) on some snow and played along. I kept thinking of you all happily slurping away and it ended up being the best present. So thanks. I hope it made you as happy as it made me.
And now on to some other news, like how I met Michelle Phillips from the Mamas and the Papas.
The back story: Years ago, well, maybe 7 or 8, a group of us used to throw hootenannies. Not with guitars and folk tunes, but with the piano and show tunes and classics from the early 90s. We'd all pull out some song books and gather round the piano for hours of belting. Our favorites were Wilson Phillips songs*. We would get the thumb mics out and do the harmonies and cheer for ourselves when we finished - usually with jazz hands. So naturally when we heard that Wilson Phillips was coming to town we had to get tickets. Not that I'm particularly a fan, I don't think I owned any of their albums, but I have such great associations with those songs because of our hoots that I knew it would be a blast.
And it was. I couldn't stop giggling the entire first half. It helped that it felt like they were throwing their own hootenanny. They were flubbing the set list and roaming all over the stage and telling stories about growing up with rock legend parents. And then Carnie Wilson listed off all the over the counter drugs she had on her music stand - specifically Gas X because she gets a little bloated when she sings. The whole thing felt like it should have been at the fair grounds or San Manuel Indian Casino. But they still sounded pretty decent after all these years.
At the opening of the second set they did a whole section of The Mamas and the Papas and Beach Boy covers and they brought up Michelle Phillips, who was in the audience. Which is how I recognized her in the lobby as we were leaving. And I said out loud, "I should get a picture with her. But no..." Because it is my rule to not disturb celebrities. I've lived here my whole life so I've accumulated my fair share of celebrity sightings (just last week Stacy and I were 96% sure we saw Jay Mohr jogging at the Santa Monica beach). And I've never once approached one for an autograph or picture. Because I feel sheepish. And weird. And socially awkward. But Camille heard me saying it and then she said, "You have to," and I said, "No, I'm fine." And then she said, "Think about the blog," and that sold me. Plus, you know my love for old musicians (ie, Wayne Newton) So I asked and she was gracious and blew me a kiss as I was walking away. I refrained from singing California Dreamin' to her with the choreography I had to do when we sang it in my junior high choir. That's a victory for Team Not Looking Like a Doofus.
*We were also really great at Martika's Toy Soldiers and Madonna's This Used to Be My Playground