I saw Danny Pintauro again. The boy and I (I still need a better name for him) went dancing at a random '80s brit pop club last Saturday to meet up with one of his former roommates, and there he was, leaning against the wall near the bathroom.
The first time I saw him was at another dance club, about two years ago, I suppose. He was my very first celebrity-sighting in the city, so it was very exciting. All of my friends were busily spotting Uma Thurman, and Steve Buscemi, and Susan Sarandon, but really, at nine months and counting without a single sighting, I was glad to take what I could get.
In the two years since that first Pintauro-sighting, I have seen Mario Batali, Bill Nye the Science Guy, and once, Woody Allen. Now I have seen Danny Pintauro again. My boy smacked himself on the forehead later on, when he realized how gigantically funny it would have been if he and I had gone up and sandwiched Danny Pintauro while we danced -- you know, made him the Danny-filling in our dancing Boy-and-Fulminous bread. I agreed that it would have, in fact, been a tremendous idea, but allowed that given my track record, it is incresingly likely that I will be seeing Mr. Pintauro again soon.
Also, today I am wearing my brand new sassypants. My glass-coated pants*. They are cut somewhat slimmer than I am used to -- not to say that they do not fit, but, well...certain...bits and pieces? They are a slightly more accentuated than one might normally observe with my usual pants. In fact, one might be tempted to say something along the lines of, "Spring is bustin' out all over," or something. But I would heartily advise one not to.
I am doing my best to de-emphasize the situation. I mean, come on, I am at work for heaven's sake. I have even taken to carrying around a notepad that can conveniently be placed for coverage, walking purposefully through the office as if I were on my way to a meeting that is liable to start at any moment, so as not to give anyone too long a look. It will be worth it when I get to go to another fabulous Shivshow after work, though.
It sure makes for an interesting day, though, when one is constantly, perpetually aware of the situation and placement of one's genitals.
* photo courtesy of Taydo. Top. Bottom. Underneath. It's Taydo!