No, I didn’t win American Idol, or the lottery, or a free supersize option at McDonald’s, but something pretty goddamn cool happened yesterday that made me say, “Well I’ll be – Jiminy Crickett was right.�
You may or may not remember that prior to my 30th birthday I posted this. It was one of those bullshit posts that bloggers do when they don’t know what the hell to write about, but they know they have to write something, so what the hell – how about a list? On it I included some attainable things that I wanted for my birthday, like breakfast at Quality (we’re on, Michael), and some unattainable things, like an artifact from my television obsession – yes, you all have permission to roll your eyes at the mention of Nip/Tuck again - signed by the show’s creator. I laughed when I wrote it, because I was just fucking around trying to imagine the most ridiculous thing I could ask for, never expecting that it was even within the realm of possibility.
Well smack my ass and call me Susan, because I bloody well got it.
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At first glance, this would appear to be a regular breast implant.
But if you look closer, you’ll see my name…
…and an “xxoo,� which is translation for, “What kind of salutation would fit in this space?�
And then, the magic happens.
While it appears to read “Fjor Nuply,� I assure you that it really is the authentic John Hancock of one Ryan Murphy.
Full frontal:
And now, some artistic shots that happened accidentally when I tried to stifle my digi cam’s flash mechanism:
Dramatically, from far away:
So here’s the story about how this all happened. One of my readers from way back in the day – T (I don’t want to out him just in case) – read that list and decided I’d issued him a challenge. I won’t go into the full details of how he was able to pull this off, but let’s just say this: he’s both a magician and a genius, and as a result he yesterday found himself on the Paramount Pictures lot with a boob in one hand and a pen in the other meeting my hero to get him to sign said boob.
The comical part of all this – aside from the fact that Ryan was actually about to autograph a tit – is that the pen wouldn’t stick, so T had to drive around Hollywood looking for a Home Depot to find a spray that would make the pen stick to the implant. So T goes to a Home Depot and wanders up to a sales girl with this boobage in his hand and says, “You’re never going to believe what I’m going to ask you for.�
“I bet I will – I’ve heard everything,� she said.
He bet she hadn’t. She bet he couldn’t shock her. He explained the whole situation.
“You’re right, you win,� she said, and helped him find the spray he was looking for.
Back to the Paramount lot T went, and met up with Ryan again and one of Ryan’s fellow writers, who disclosed that they just finished shooting the last episode of the season last week and they’re editing everything now. Ryan, recalling it was my birthday, told T to pass along his best wishes, and that was that. Apparently he’s signed maybe three autographs ever, and the breast implant thing caught his attention enough that he was willing to do a fourth.
T did offer me the opportunity to go with him to Paramount, but in addition to already having a business appointment set up, I actually didn’t feel comfortable. Not that I’d flip out and cause security to come escort me out – I’m not that type. But when this all started becoming a reality I worried that I might come off as some psychotic fan type. While I admire and analyze his work in order to help teach myself how to further my own abilities in the genre, I’m hardly building a shrine in my bedroom closet. Although now that I have an autographed saline implant, now might be the time to get that going.
Just kidding.
I met T later in the afternoon for coffee and to hear him retell the story of how he pulled this all together in full, all while gently poking my newly inked tit, making sure the coating didn’t flake off and take Ryan’s signature with it. I walked home carrying the boob on that Office Depot pad – garnering many an odd look from pedestrians and motorists as I did – and plunked it down on the coffee table, where it still sits now.
So thank you, T, for going out of your way to pull this off – I owe you huge. And thanks to Ryan for honoring such an outlandish request. You have no idea how honored I am that you didn’t call the authorities on me.
Truth be told, my 30th was kind of shitty. This more than makes up for all of it.
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