10 Signs Your Life is Seriously Fucked Up

1) You've given serious consideration to setting yourself on fire in front of your mechanic's shop as a form of protest over taking your car in four times in five weeks. Okay, maybe you weren't that serious, but if this thought even occurs to you, I'm guessing it's a bad sign.

2) One of your closest friends says that meeting David Tennant was probably the best thing that's ever gong to happen to you. Oh sure, she tried to backpedal and denied that she meant that you had no hope for future happiness, but that's what she said.

3) There is mold growing underneath the linoleum in your bathroom.

4) You've decided to tell people you're divorced because it is so much less stigmatizing than saying you've never been married at your age. Never mind that your longest relationships (9 yrs., 6 yrs.) were actually longer than most marriages. People look at you sideways if you reach a certain age without ever having had the opportunity to blow thousands of dollars on a party celebrating your undying love for someone you eventually can't stand the sight of and engage in a nasty divorce battle (not that you're bitter or anything). Seriously, being divorced once meant you were damaged goods. Now it means you're normal while still single means there must be something really wrong with you.

5) You tried going to therapy, but your therapist yawned throughout the sessions. Apparently, even someone you were paying to listen to you found you boring.

6) Someone gives you a cats & books tote bag as a gift. (see old post: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-as-stereotype.html)

7) Only six people read your blog.

8) Your way of "getting over" on the powers that be at work involves you working late and on the weekends so that you can keep billable hours for yourself now that the head office has been hording them.

9) Your reclusive friend who hates flying is actually game for attending the Toronto International Film Festival. You have mandatory meetings and training sessions you can't get out of.

10) You've come to the point where your only requirement for a potential partner is that he will drag the bins to the curb on trash day. Still no takers.

Are You Kidding Me?

So a few weeks ago I took my car to the mechanic because it was making a funny noise. Needed a new water pump. Sure. No problem. Fixed. Done. A few days after I got it back, my low coolant light came on. It comes on maybe once a year so I happen to have a gallon of coolant. I thought it was odd it came on so soon after the car was in the shop, but I added some and figured that would be the end of it. Only it came on again a few days later. I took it back to the mechanic and told them the car was leaking coolant. I figured there was a problem with the new water pump. They replaced my radiator. Okay. Fixed. Done. A few days after I got my car back, the low coolant light came on. I added some. It came on again a few days later. I took it back to the mechanic. The overflow reservoir is leaking, he told me. Despite the fact that I was forced to rent a car at my own cost, and despite the fact that it seemed to me like maybe I hadn’t needed a new radiator after all, and despite the fact that the frustration triggered a ten-hour crying jag and destroyed my weekend, I had them replace the overflow reservoir. Fixed. Done. Yesterday my low coolant light came on again. Are you kidding me? This is absurd. Part of me would like to cut myself. Part of me would like to cut my mechanic. This is just so beyond ridiculous I actually started laughing when the light came on. So today I’m going to call my mechanic and see what other part of my car he can replace without actually fixing whatever seems to be wrong. FML.

How I Met David Tennant, pt 2: Get in Touch with Your Inner Sydney Bristow

Now, where was I? Oh right, I'd just found out Kate had embraced her inner ninja and was actually inside the ballroom. Well, faster than I've ever moved before I was around to the other side of the room and easing myself inside. A couple of dozen people were milling around, but most had already gone into the party. I scanned the room. There was David Tennant about 20 feet away near the podium. Yellow shirt, red tie. Lovely. Kate was seated looking through one of the press packets that had been left behind. My first reaction was "I want that" because it had Dr. Who pictures. As I was grabbing one from the table behind me, it dawned on me that having these packets made it appear as though we'd been at the panel all along. Kate, already in full Sydney Bristow mode, had already figured that out. We picked up our press packets and made a bee line for David. A few feet away from the goal, Russell T. Davies spoke. Apparently, to us! He said "no. we're all going to meet outside for drinks." Apparently this was his way of saying "back off bitches." The British are so much more civilized. I didn't realize the comment was directed to us & was utterly confused when Kate said "oh sorry. thanks," stopped abruptly, turned around and walked back to the tables. She sat down saying "hold on I just need to take a note." I played along. "No problem. I'll wait with you," I said as casually as possible while trying to look bored and aloof (a move I learned from watching Burn Notice).

In a whisper I asked Kate if she thought we could get into the party. She thought we could as long as we didn't go through the doors near where we'd been loitering the past hour. That meant going through a doorway in which a BBC rep was standing, which seemed even worse. We would be coming out of the ball room and carrying press packets though, so we had a shot. At the moment I was just happy to be in the same room with David. The idea of actually crashing the BBC party made me entirely giddy! Kate suggested I talk about Doctor Who as we walked (having never watched the show she was ill-prepared for pretending to have just attended a panel discussion). I decided acting confident and walking quickly would be easier so, clutching our press packets to our chests to obscure the fact that we had no credentials, we strode out of the ballroom and across to the terrace. No one stopped us! We were officially in the party!

Kate suggested we grab a drink . I'd already spotted the wine guy--not only because, well, he was the wine guy, but also because he was very near the spot where David was standing. We each grabbed a glass of wine, then found a quiet corner so we could strategize. We agreed we needed to make our move and get out before someone realized we didn't have badges. As we made our way toward David, I felt more terrified than I ever had before. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I could actually hear blood rushing in my ears--who knew this actually happened? Halfway there I stopped. I was about to chicken out. Fortunately I had specifically told Kate she could not to let me chicken out no matter what so when I said "I guess I don't really need to talk to him" she said, "well, I'm going to" and continued in his direction. I followed close behind pretty sure I might black out at any moment. We walked straight up to him and Kate said "sorry to interrupt, but we need to take off..." And that's how we met David Tennant.



What's that? You want to know what we said to him? What he said to us? Ahhh, well, I had originally planned to give a detailed account of the conversation, but having had a while think about it I've decided to keep that for myself. You have been extremely patient though so here are some of the highlights. When Kate started talking to him, David leaned over (he's very tall--Kate not so much) and listened intently. She began with "this is going to sound strange given the circumstances..." A quizzical look--or was that panic?--flickered across David's face. In that moment I'm guessing he was thinking something along the lines of "oh no, she's going to ask to see my sonic screw driver" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her cat David" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her son David." Instead she finished with "but I really enjoyed Blackpool." This elicited a patented "well..." He later pointed out the Blackpool writer who was actually there--something we probably should have known since he was there for one of the other shows on the panel! Oops. Eventually, David turned to me and said hello as only he can. I introduced myself and told him how thoroughly I enjoyed his performance in Hamlet. Both Kate and I were impressed by how gracious and charming he was. He was also quite attentive and I will say that gazing into those amazing brown eyes was pretty spectacular.

Our mission having been accomplished, we got the hell out of there. I had a charity meeting to get to and, honestly, there was no reason to risk getting thrown out by security.

If I need cheering up, I just ask Kate to tell me about the time we met David Tennant. The adrenaline high was fantastic and lasted at least a week. Kate thinks I may take up bungee jumping now, but I have other ideas. Kate is now officially known as The Facilitator and crashing parties is a lot easier than I thought. I see tremendous potential and absolutely no need for bungees.

How I Met David Tennant, pt. 1: Pick the Proper Location

A few weeks ago I read a press release stating that David Tennant would be at Comic-Con, along with Russell T. Davies, to promote Dr. Who. My initial excitement quickly faded when I found out the passes were already sold out. After a few failed attempts at getting passes on eBay, I gave up. At my age I'd rather pay more and have a reserved seat than stand in line with 5000 crazed fans anyway. Besides, I knew David and RTD would also be doing a panel at the TCA Summer Press tour at a hotel in Pasadena. This was definitely more my style! Loitering around around a hotel lounge is an excellent way to spend an afternoon if you ask me. Even if I didn't catch a glimpse of David, I'd be having cocktails in a swell location--no downside there! I was able to find out the date and time of the BBC panel because, frankly, I know people who know people. (Thank you, Ms. X!) The next step was getting out of my job at the Pit of Despair the day of the panel, so I promptly came down with a virus of the 24 hour variety.

I felt alternately excited and, well, nauseous at the prospect of actually seeing David Tennant so I told myself it was probably a long shot as I headed to Pasadena Wednesday afternoon. When I entered the lobby bar I noticed a press conference was taking place on the veranda, but I was trying to act casual so I didn't look too closely. Instead, I found a comfy bar stool and ordered a mojito. I was just a sip or two into my drink when I heard the doors from the veranda opening and people leaving. I looked up just in time to recognize the bony backside of the man in the yellow shirt leaving the lounge, a glance up to confirm...yep, that's his hair. At that moment he turned slightly in conversation and I got a full profile view of David Tennant! Since I hadn't paid for my drink yet, I didn't run after him--having security called on me for dodging out on the tab seemed like it would make a bad (though memorable, I'm sure) first impression. Besides, I hadn't had enough liquid encouragement yet to actually speak to him. So I texted Kate, who was on her way to join me: "OMG. he just walked by me." The afternoon was off to a promising start!

I finished my drink and conducted some recon around the hotel without another sighting. When Kate arrived we decided our best shot was to wait around outside the ballroom before his panel started. After another mojito for courage, we took up our posts outside the ballroom, being sure to cover both entrances of course...and somehow managed to miss him going in! Perhaps we were distracted by the likes of Matt Damon and Paul Walker, both of whom happened to stroll by. Having recently watched four seasons of Alias, I was convinced we could probably get into the panel, but Kate felt it was too risky--and we all know Kate is not one to take risks. Or is she? Once the panel was in full swing and we'd decided against attempting to enter, we knew we'd need to wait until it ended for our chance. This is where our story takes a turn.

BBC America was hosting a cocktail reception immediately following the panel on a terrace adjacent to the ballroom. Guests would basically exit the ballroom directly into the reception. We thought we would catch a glimpse as he entered the party. When the panel ended I became worried he might actually exit from the opposite side and not go into the party so I sent Kate to stake out the other doors. A few minutes later I received the following text: "get over here now. i'm in the room."

TO BE CONTINUED...