“Fangirling” is a fairly new term, I think. But we get the gist, right? It conjures the image of a young, teenage, girl crying, hyperventilating, screaming and all around losing her mind.  Well… Hi, my name is MJ and I fangirl at non-celebrity celebrities.

I’ll start with low level embarrassment and take you to pinnacle of embarrassment, ok?

LOW LEVEL:
I’m in a hotel in New Orleans, gearing up for a Mardi Gras Ball later that night. I’m in the lobby with my mom and at-the-time-husband. We’re getting something to eat (and drink, DUH) before chaos ensues. We’re sitting there talking until my eyes notice a familiar face. “Who is that?” I think as I try to match a name with a face. Holy shit! It’s the New Orleans mayor! My eyes are locked on him in a super strange way. My mouth is open as if I’ve seen something shocking. My then-husband realizes something is happening with me.

“What… what are you looking at?” He asks me.

“MAYOR LANDRIEU!” I answer probably a little more emphatically than I should have. I guess this magical mayor heard me, or noticed my creepy-ass face. But homeboy made eye contact with me, did a double take and then waived. But he was obviously disturbed. My mom is trying so hard to act normally, but I could tell she was desperately trying not to choke on her drink.

I didn’t even like this dude as mayor, y’all.

MEDIUM LEVEL:
This instance is “medium” because this person is actually a big deal.  Oddly, enough this happened at another Mardi Gras event. This time it was at an actual Mardi Gras Ball. As the pomp and circumstance is happening, I realize “That’s Laura Fucking Bush!” I kept trying to get a picture of her, but it just wasn’t going well. A while later, the King, Queen, and the Court line up to make their walk over to the other hotel (they are honored guests at another Mardi Gras Ball…. Man, maybe I need to make a Mardi Gras post?) and then I see her. RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.  I frantically dig through my bag for my camera to finally get the perfect picture of her beautiful self. As I’m digging, a large man walks in front of me, casting a disturbingly large shadow. I look up… y’all. It was one of her secret service agents. I was even more excited and yet mad all at the same time.

Have you ever fangirled so hard their security blocked you? I have.

HIGH LEVEL:
Picture the chicks from Sex & the City going out to dinner for a fabulous girls night, and then make them more realistic. More affordable, comfortable clothes. Not professionally done hair. And a restaurant they’d never be seen in. There, I think you’ve got it. My sorority friends and I were at a restaurant named Bravo’s! Nothing fancy or even unique, but good food in a good location for all of us.

Lots of chatting and laughing amongst friends. It’s a fairly busy place, so people flow in and out. Where I am seated, I can see everyone coming and going. I see a large crowd entering and being seated at a large table in the center of the restaurant. I’m observing and accidently lock eyes with one of the dudes in the group. He smirks and looks back over his shoulder and immediately starts talking with someone. I feel a little awkward. Did I just do something bad? Was that not ok? I’m still observing, because now I need to figure out if I broke some unspoken rule! Then, I see her. Stassi Shroeder from Vanderpump Rules. Yes, a Brovelebrity at a restaurant named Bravo’s. Fitting. I instantly panic internally. I do the most logical thing and post it all over social media. The rest of my friends are still chatting, completely unaware of the fact I’m about to have a mental breakdown.

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“Don’t everyone look at once, but there’s a Bravolebrity behind you.” I calmly state. OF COURSE they all look at the same time. Luckily, no one at the non-celebrity celebrity’s table noticed. Then, I feel it. My face has become bright red.  I am a pale girl; I touch my skin and it looks like I’ve been scratched by a zombie. Ok? My red face, on this occasion, made it look like I had walked out mid blood facial a la Kim Kardashian. All my friends are saying various forms of “are you ok” and “is she crazy?” The answer to both is an obvious yes. They all laugh at my shenanigans and we move on.

Stassi’s table gets up to leave and my inner turmoil starts all over again. Red face. Panic. Embarrassment of who I am as a person. I don’t remember, but there must have been a commotion or someone must have pointed out to her that I am close to death over her mere presence. After exiting the restaurant, she stands by the window. I AM COVERING MY FACE WITH MY JACKET BECAUSE I CANNOT HANDLE IT. I have no idea what happend, my sweet friend was encouraging me, “MJ, she’s trying to say ‘hi’ to you!” Like a kid too shy to meet someone. Y’all. I couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t move. Then, I was embarrassed that I was so rude. TO A CELEBRITY. I am ashamed.

Celebrities. I can’t handle them. But I worship them.


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-MJ

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