brush with fame

i met two famous people today. interviewed them actually. this singing and guitar-playing husband and wife team was a dream. i've interviewed a bunch of people in this biz - the snooty diva who refused to answer certain questions, a rude american singer who said he had three grammys and not two (hey! the press kit said two!) and the italian-born singer who stank of cigarettes (which, by the way, i had found strangely erotic) - and i have to say, these two americans were the nicest of the bunch. also, i found the husband kinda sexy, with his corkscrew curls and sincere eyes. which was bad as his wife, an amazing singer, was so sunny and pleasant. well, it wasn't as if i was going to seduce him. i mean, not really. anyway, i liked the wife right off - she came up to me, pointed to my silly necklace and smiled. then as we sat down for the interview, she noticed my camel loafers and said, "girl! you have to tell me where you shop". now, how can you not like a person who loves your style? so the interview begins, blah, blah, blah and before you know it, it's over. as they sign autographs i try to chat them up, be the nice host and crap. we talked about the usual stuff (i.e. weather, travel, music).

husband: do you sing?
me: (pointing to self) me?
husband: yeah.
me: let's put it this way, people pay me not to sing.
husband laughs. (but then, so does wife.)

or something like that. anyway, the wife invited me backstage, and i said, "of course!" little did she know that i'll be working tomorrow night and would be unable to see the front of the stage, much less the back of it. oh well.