Good Grief/Good God/OMG/Oy! It's Monday morning and I feel like taking myself to The Woodshed for a little Self-Flogging action because I spent most of yesterday NOT taking care of personal biz (as well as the planned housework touch-ups), and, instead, found myself on the phone with a close friend wherein we talked for – get this – Almost All Afternoon until my phone battery began beeping, alerting me to its potential death if I didn't get off the Talking Machine STAT!
What am I now, a teenager again? Talking on the phone no longer than a few minutes (unless it's Biz-Related) has become The Preferred Norm of my use of vocal cords via Electronic Devices. To spend almost an entire day chatting-away with another Chatterer was fun, but brought out a bit of the Party Gurl Within as I decided to begin The Cocktail Hour Early to be in-sync with my friend who was nursing wine on the other end to cheer-up her day. Couldn't let her have all of the Alcoholic Fun, could I?
And then, when our call was over, as is often the way when one is Feeling All Sparkly-Buzzy from too many libations, I just Had to check-in at Facebook to make sure I could potentially make a Complete Arse Of Myself by writing absurd comments on a few pages of both Real Life Friends and FB-Only Friends just to ensure my standing as a Loose Canon! Wow! What a clever way to build a Foolish Reputation! I do it so well…and loathe myself in the morning, of course, rushing to my FB "Activity Log" to see if I actually allowed myself to follow-through on posting several slightly inappropriate responses.
To my surprise, I discovered that I didn't create much damage. A saner side of me must have stepped-in to stop myself from hitting "Post" – with perhaps one exception. I know I commented on an entertainment agent's status wherein she posted a lovely piece of music from Jackson Browne collaborating with another artist. All my more-than-slightly altered state could deduct from her post was the mention of Jackson Browne, which sent me into the caves of My Past when Browne was beginning his career, and the radio station for which I was working as a DJ held a Live On-Air Concert to debut his first LP – not a CD, as we are talking about The Old Days here.
The reason why I felt compelled to write more than a few words about Browne is due to how odd my experience with him was at the time, as I was the MC of the event, sitting on a stool a few feet away from him as he played his guitar, sang a few tunes, all while staring at my cleavage.
Now, to a few of you, such attention from Jackson Browne – then or now – could be a thrill. To me, it was more of a detached observation mingled with increasing discomfort that I obviously haven't forgotten. Yes I was wearing a low-cut top which didn't leave a great deal to the imagination, but, I was always surrounded by guys in those days – colleagues, friends, and other noted musicians – none of whom were so obvious in a Leering Way.
Jackson was not yet JACKSON BROWNE, Music Star, and so I had no idea what to expect. However, I didn't expect having a form of a serenade aimed at my breasts for over an hour by a scrawny-looking guy while a crowd of people lined the studio and watched our slightly awkward interplay between songs. All of my trained Acting Skills were called-forth to not react in a Visibly Embarrassed fashion...and keep on with the show.
The last impression I have of him is when the concert was over and everything was wrapping-up. I thanked him and his manager for his participation in the station's First Multi-Cast Concert, shook hands to say goodbye, and, without more than a second from moving my mouth with the Thank You Words, his eyes once again spent time replying to my chest. I was glad it was over. It's not as if he had been a Physical Letch, or had Assaulted Me, but the Obvious Focus on my breasts really left a negative impression, as well as producing Way Too Many Boobie Jokes by my co-horts in the aftermath.
For some reason last night I felt a need to mention all of the above in my Comment. I know I continued to edit what I was writing; aware that I could be saying too much, but unlike all of the other posts on which I commented, I don't remember if I chose to delete my out-of-context put-down of him or not. All I know is that, thankfully, it's not there this morning.
Perhaps the FB Friend was wise enough to delete it. I won't ask. In fact, I'm slinking around FB this morning with nary a word or even a "Like" to any post/status I would normally publically recognize. I can be Too Sensitive that way if I feel I have made a fool of myself. Or, perhaps I'm being smart by not leaping into action with anything which would call attention to my presence. For the moment, I've sent myself into Facebook Exile.
Maybe all I really wanted to convey was that Jackson Browne found my breasts interesting when I was 20 years old and that I didn't find his attention exciting at all. Why I feel a need to write about it on my blog today is indicative of some kind of Unclear To Me Need to "share" that one experience when I have so many other stories to tell that have fun, positive beginnings, middles, and ends with musicians/artists I do admire.
Maybe I just don't like him as a person ever since he reportedly beat the Bee-Haye-Suse out of his then girlfriend Daryl Hannah years ago. Maybe I don't like people who beat up other people – particularly men who hit women.
Maybe he was just being a guy looking at breasts that were noticeable.
Whatever my motivation is for continuing the non-story on TDFB, what I have learned from this seemingly minor, possible faux-pas on FB, is that I should probably attach a Breathalyzer-Button to my computer to avoid embarrassing myself in the future.
There is nothing like waking-up The Morning After and freaking-out about "Did I call anyone?" "If I did, what did I say?" "Oh No! I went on Facebook and Wrote Something Inappropriate. Have I shown myself to be as Out Of Control as I've been feeling of late"?
It's always rough when we discover that we too can be as jerky as we think Others Can Be/Have Been when they think they are being clever on Social Media.
And so I chose, instead, in the Sober Light Of Day, to embarrass myself on my Home Turf Here.
With that form of a Mea Culpa, I bid you a temporary farewell for the day in writing…at least here. I doubt that I can control my FB Addiction longer than abstaining for a few more hours. And so it goes…
Have a great Day/Evening/Night/Dawn! And thanks for stopping by!
Image via: http://laurabwriter.blogspot.com
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