Wednesday, 7 August 2013

You're gonna want my autograph

Just so you guys know, I'm totally famous.

No? You're doubting me?  Well don't.

On Saturday, Hubby, Fraggle and I went on a shopping trip.  We had some time to kill, so we decided to have lunch at a nearby pub.  WITH THE BABY.

Now, you should acknowledge what a monumental accomplishment this is for us - as nervous, pathetic and completely exhausted first-time parents - to leave home for several hours WITH THE BABY.  It's what you call stress.

That's not what made us famous though.  (Although I do think we deserve some international recognition for this achievement.)

While in the pub, I tweeted this:

It was priceless.  They were betting on the game, shouting, cheering, and otherwise raising the roof, all in the name of Tiger wandering around a big green field with a big stick.

What I didn't mention in my tweet was that there was also a young good looking gal sitting in the pub by herself, knitting.  Yes, knitting.

Hubby and I laughed, because only in our friendly, boring city would a pub's patrons include a bunch of old guys all worked up for a golf game and, of course, a knitter.  Not to mention the young couple with the newborn baby.

Still not famous eh?

Well this morning Hubby texts me.  "Call me when you're up, I have a funny story."

Hubby's driving to work listening to the radio.  The morning DJs are taking calls about the weirdest thing people have witnessed in a pub.  The conversation continues, and the one DJ tells her story - how last weekend she was hanging out in a pub, getting a total kick out of the group of old guys watching a game of golf as if it were the Superbowl.  Oh, and how meanwhile, SHE WAS KNITTING.

Too funny.

So I of course place a phone call to the radio station and tell the whole story to the gal, who totally remembers us and fully agrees that this is a perfect example of the perfect pub, in the perfect city, in the perfect small world.

Then she plays our conversation on the radio, and BOOM - famous. So you can totally have my autograph if you want.  Only $5, plus shipping and handling.

[For the purpose of this post, "famous" is loosely defined as "heard my voice on the radio, recorded it on my kickass iPhone, and played it later for my friend LB who said I can totally count this as my productive activity for the day. ]


  1. You're an international superstar!

  2. Awesome, I love taking babies to bars!
    I didn't care for the movie too much, but I use a line from "Sweet Home Alabama" all the time, "You've got a a bar!"
    Glad you got out, first step to your new normal! <3 Devan

  3. Productivity achieved! Task: Get famous! Also, you're a total natural on the radio and they probably want to hire you now! xo LB

  4. Does this make me famous by association? I think so. This day just got better.

    1. We're both better off for knowing each other, I think.

  5. Priceless! Almost as good as the time I got a personal birthday card from the POTUS. And by personal I mean totally addressed to everyone else that shared his birthday... and signed with a stamp. And by birthday card I mean a form letter. And it wasn't one of the cool Presidents, like Clinton or Obama. It was Reagan. And I was 9. Ok, so your story is better. Yay! Also, congratulations on your tiny human! Sorry I'm a little late on that. Don't have a gift for her or you but, um, lemme see... how 'bout a handy tip? Don't leave Fraggle alone with a pack of hungry cats. Especially if she is dressed up as a tuna. Words of wisdom from someone who has absolutely no clue what it is like to have a tiny human but DOES know about cats. *nods*

    1. I love this story. And thank you! And yes, although I don't think my cats would actually eat the baby, they are loud and miserable when they're hungry (which is pretty much all the time, pigs).