I awoke about 4:30 in the A.M., the earliest I had ever woken up in recorded history. The night beofre I had spent hours coming up with the perfect ensemble. I had settled on an army print halter top with "Keep on Truckin'" written across the chest with faded red iron-on letters, stonewashed bootcute jeans with the waistband cut off and NSync patches all along the backside. On my head was a red and white checkered bandana and sparkly butterfly clips strategicially placed. With a nutritious breakfast of pop-tarts and Yoo-Hoos in me, I bid my parents good bye and left for the bus station. As I boarded, a gust of wind hit me like in the old movies, telling me that this was right. On the bus I set the timer on my watch (the last thing I needed was to oversleep and get off the wrong stop) and with sugar plum Lanstens dancing in my head, dozed off for a short nap. I awoke with a jolt, as I always do when I'm excited and reached down into my Jansport to grab my game plan. Red Xs were drawn as possible hideout locations, along with blue Xs for escape routes. A criminal record for tresspassing and stalking, I hear, does not look good on college applications.
My bus finally arrived at Chris's town around 1 or so. Plenty of time to find a good watchout spot. I headed over to Mickey Dee's and ordered a #7. Just as I was about to bite into my Cripsy Chicken, the door opened and in walked Beverly Eustice, the woman responsible for bringing "the Crazy One" into the world. Needless to say, I dropped my sandwich right there and damn near hyproventilated. Out came my camera and I started taking pictures of her like there was no tomorrow. I straightened my halter top and made my way to her booth. There was no better way to get to a guy than through his momma.
Me: Excuse me, Ms. Eustice? I hate to bother you, but do you think I can get a picture?
Beverly: Can't you see I'm eating??? NO ONE bothers me when I eat.
Me: Um okay. Well maybe later then. Thanks... bitch.
After that enthralling encounter, I decided it would be better to just wait outside and follow her. 6 Big Macs, 3 Large Fries, and a Diet Coke later out she was and I was right on her hot little trail.
A few times, she looked over her shoulder and I thought I was busted right there. I mean, a hotpink moped isn't exactly the most discreet way to follow someone but whatcha gonna do? She stopped at a gated community with a large iron gate. She punched in a 6 digit numerical code and drove into the neighborhood. I jumped up to run through the gate, but the laces on my combat boots were tied up on the pedal. By the time I got them out, it was too late. Crap. How am I gonna get in? Just my luck, a dark blue Ford F150 pulled up and MUCH to my surprise, who was in the driver's seat but... Amy!!!
Amy: Hey hon, lookin for a ride?
Me: Ahhh! Dolla dolla Billz! How...? What...? HUH?
Amy: Shut up and get in! We gotta find us a Chris!
We hauled my rented moped into the back of her truck and I jumped in. Now that my girl was with me, I had all the confidence in the world that my mission would be accomplished. Amy parked in right near the gate and we plotted how to get in. In the end, we decided the only way to get in was to climb the white brick wall. This is not easy in a halter top, y'all. Not at all. But when you are a wall away from Chris Kirkpatrick, you're gonna climb. Ain't nothing about it.
With only a 7 inch scar on my upper thigh and a few small bumps on my forehead, Amy and I were over the wall. As I was dusting off the various insects caught in my hair, a little red Porche drove up to the gate. Amy and I ran to hideout behind a rhododendron. I took out my binoculars to get a better look of the driver and whaddaya know. It was Danielle.
The garage opened and Danielle pulled in and parked. As it was closing, I used my super softball skills and did a headfirst slide to get through. I opened the side door so Amy could get in. We peeked through the window and saw Chris and Danielle in the kitchen in very compromising positions. ::click click:: went my camera until Amy could not contain herself and screamed so loud Busta started barking and scratching the door.
Chris: What the hell? Who's out there?
::made his way to the garage::
Me: Oh my God, Amy they're coming!
::sees me and Amy crouched behind pool table in the fetal position::
Chris: How did you guys get in here? Get out!
Me: Nope, not until you set us up a meeting with your fellow boyband members.
Chris: Ha ha ha. I'm not used to being the only funny one. Get out before I call the cops.
Amy: No way, Sophisto. We got pictures of you and your little blonde hair sweetie doing a little nasty in the kitchen there. You don't cooperate, the pictures get on Variety. Catch my drift?
Chris: Oh no. Don't think so.
Me: Alright. It's your funeral.
Chris: ::sigh:: Alright. One concert for each of you and Meet and Greet Passes. Now hand over that film.
Me: Uh-uh buddy. A Meet and Greet does not count as an intro. We want a private meeting. Hmm what would Mommy dearest say about these?
Chris: Holy shit... okay okay. I'll get it done. Just gimme the film.
::Amy hands Chris our phone numbers::
Amy: Those are our home numbers, Chris. When you can get it setup, give us a call. Until then, no pictures. And if we don't hear from ya in 2 weeks, you can kiss your career goodbye. You have a nice day now, poochie. ::waves to Danielle:: And you two behave yourselves.
A lesson is to be learned in the midst of all this, kids. When you want something, go for it. Oh... and you always get what you want. =) (Right Stever?)
