Friday night, Tiff and I finally made it to Ruby Skye, after the door bitch wouldn’t let FCM in. We snagged some food from downstairs and managed to get to upstairs just as some other people were vacating a table. Score.
Even more score than we realised at first, because who should be sitting on the couch behind us but Tiff’s (and my) great blogging crush, Amalah.
After a lot of back-and-forward conversations along the lines of …
You go talk to her.
No, you.
No way.
You’re the one that wanted to meet her.
I’m drinking my drink.
I’m eating my food.
We can’t go over, it’ll look like we came here on purpose.* (Which, if you mean our table at Ruby Skye, then no, we didn’t. If you mean to BlogHer, then yeah, we kinda did.)
… and so on and so forth, the decision was made for us.
Amalah had been totally surrounded and protected by her bodyguard every time we had seen her, including right then. But then! She was walking somewhere (to get carbs, as it turned out. And maybe to go to the bathroom), and she was walking there alone.
This was it. I stepped out and was all, “Amalah?” as if there was ANY DOUBT IN THE WORLD that this was Amalah. I babbled a lot of crap – including the fact that I flew to San Francisco from Australia just to meet her – and she was looking a little scared, so I introduced her to Tiff, and they had a great conversation about Noah’s recent haircut.
Yay! Another Internet Rockstar successfully stalked.
But no, wait, it’s not over yet.
At the book-signing at Macy’s, Amalah was banished to a couch at the back, and by the time I got there – I was busy in the lingerie department, remember? – she was all by herself. I got all the other signatures then approached her for hers. I apologised for babbling like an idiot the night before, and she said she remembered me but not the babbling (I might be totally making this shit up to make myself feel better, by the way).
AND THEN, Amalah and I had a huge fucking chat. Mostly about Sephora. And the advantage of sample sizes when travelling on flights that don’t exist. And then I was all, “I bought some of the Bare Minerals from the make-over thing at the conference! You write about Bare Minerals in the Advice Smackdown, right?! I’m just like you!” And she was all, “Actually, idiot, I fucking hate Bare Minerals with a fiery passion. But still, you scored a product from the Advice Smackdown line, so yay, props to you.”
Then she was very sweet and let me take a photo of her and baby Tivo, and one of us, after I promised I would go away after this.
Which I did, but then Tiff wanted to tell Amalah she made her cry, so we had to go back, and Amalah was all (in her head), “Dude! I just got rid of you! What the hell!” and out loud, very sweet and awesome.
Then we all had another chat, this one about my delusion that I might have been likely to run into Amalah at Trader Joe’s the second I got to SF, which she seemed to find funny instead of insane, and then somehow, in the course of talking about internet crazies (hey!), Amalah let out this huge “MAH BABEEEEE!” just like she’s written a thousand times and I almost died right there. It was so freaking awesome.
In conclusion: Amalah = freaking awesome. Missy and Tiff = totally in love with her.
*PS: Tiff was just reading this over my shoulder, and yelled at me for revealing to Amalah and the whole internet that we were not as suave as we may have appeared, what with all the casually approaching internet celebrities and whatnot, and may now appear slightly crazy. Which, Amalah, you're pretty smart, right? You already figured that part out, didn't you? Yeah, I thought so.
dude. you have made our deepest secrets public.
ReplyDeletenot cool, dude. not cool.
yet, super funny. and also, totally true.