Alas, the tickets purchased with glee months and months ago have left the building without me tonight. Eddie Izzard in SF…I sent Courtland and the other 5 tickets into the world where C, R&D, EV and some lucky street ticket purchaser will by now be sitting in velvet chairs laughing their asses off to the rhymes and reasoning of Mr. Eddie Izzard. And so I write…But don’t feel sorry for me (unless your feeling sorry for me makes Eddie stop by apres show for a drink or something) because I am going to share the story behind the infamous Shelby and Eddie boob grab picture. And even if I have already shared this (which I know I probably have)…I don’t care! Leave me be. I’m on opiates, not at the show, so reliving the good old days.
Here’s how the story begins: I’d just been dumped. REALLY DUMPED. Like right on my ass and found out I didn’t bounce dumped. And it sucked. One of the first phone calls I made was to C who, as it turns out, was probably the best person I could have called. The next day, she called back and said, “I was thinking. If I had just been dumped and had crawled under my bed to sulk, I might want someone to take me to see Eddie Izzard.” To which I replied (read: wailed), “I CAN’T! My eyes are PUFFY!!!!!” Banter banter, babble whine, hang up. Called back maybe 20 seconds later and said “Um. Can I still go?”
Eddie had just gotten his new boobs. The ones I hear were modeled after Uma Thurman’s… and his show “Sexie” spent a large amount of time talking about said breasts, executive transvestitism, and airplane cabin pressure. I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed. I gufawed more than a few times. I may have peed in my pants a little. It was awesome. And to make things AWESOMER, turns out our buddy Warren had procured BACKSTAGE PASSES, and I had talked and walked someone into buying a disposable camera at the corner Walgreeens. So there we were with Eddie and my friends who are loud mouth smart asses were SILENT. Like little kids looking at their first TRex. It was stunning. There we were, in Eddie Izzard’s dressing room…and he was all tired post show and my friends were all wired and star-struck post-show and I was all I-could-give-a-flying flock-of-sheep post-dumping so I said, “Aren’t we going to take a picture?”
We stood together and *snap* it was done. I felt less than exhilerated. I thought it would look like our 3rd grade picture with Mrs. Izzard.
So I said, “can we do another? But with more action?” And everyone kind of looked at me blankly…and it occurs to me they were possibly mortified I’d been invited. I said, “Since a lot of the show was about breasts, let’s all hold our breasts for the picture…and I’ll hold Eddie’s.” To which Eddie replied, “You can try.” “Pardon?” “You can try.” I accepted the challenge. 1-2 grab boob-3 click.
Then Eddie turned to me and said, “Well…? How was it?”
I turned blond. “How was what?” he motioned towards his ample busoms and I exclaimed “Oh! Right! Well, actually I wasn’t paying attention. Do you mind?” I reached forward and he offered breast.
I compared…with what I had on hand (my own). Squeeze, jiggle…heft… “Pretty good!”
“Really?” he says, and I say “Yes. Here..” and offer my breast (as a lady should).
He compared. Squeeze, jiggle, heft…”They’re perky!.”
“Mine?” (oops, blond moment again)
“AND mine…” he says. Right we were talking about his…so then I cannot help it. I must…and I did…and here you are.
My dad was so proud.
memories….light the corners of my mind…(sung a al Tom Hanks in Big)
