You Wanna See Me Fall Down?

Before I get into this story, I would like to explain yesterday's bitter post.

If you know me, you know that there are three musicians that I would kill to know. Eddie Vedder being the number one, end all be all, love of my life. I think he is a genius. And he is beautiful. And I have been OBSESSED with Pearl Jam since I was 12. I have more Pearl Jam CDs and magazines and records and, well, you name it. I. LOVE. PEARL JAM. Because I love them this much, I found it really hard to be happy for my friends who were going to be at the show. Mostly, I was minutes away from making a full body costume out of Clifftopher so that everyone would think I was him. Because Clifftopher? Backstage passes. Brother is friends with Matt Cameron. And I? At home. Crying.

I didn't understand how someone who couldn't possibly care as much as I about this band could be standing next to my heros. How could this happen? It should have been me! I was enraged.

So, I was upset yesterday because this was the first time since I was 14 that I haven't been able to see them when they were touring in the state of Florida (or Georgia for that matter). I was not bummed out. I was effing pissed. Naturally, when I left work yesterday, I had a few things on my mind: Cigarettes, wine and ice cream. Once I secured all of those things and made it home and tried to forget about the day. And then, I had gone outside on the porch to smoke (because I deserved it yesterday) and my phone rang and I saw that it was Clifftopher. I instantly remembered a drunken conversation of ours wherein I told him that if at any point he was close enough to Eddie to get his attention, to call me and ask him to say hello. I knew that this wasn't going to happen. But I put my phone on the loudest ringtone I have anyway.

When I answered, Clifftopher was nonchalant. He made regular conversation for a minute while I almost exploded.

"Guess who I am standing next to."

"Who?" I was barely audible because I was busy swallowing my tongue.

"Who do you think?!"

"Eddie Vedder?!" Gulp.

"Yeah!" He clears his throat and pulls the phone away from his mouth, "Hey, Eddie. Would you mind saying hi to my friend Criz?"

Then I fell down.

No, I literally fell down.

"Hi, Criz" (I can't punctuate this, because how the hell do you punctuate Eddie Fucking Vedder.)

"Hi! GOEIHFLSDNLIEHLVNDSAL" I don't really know what came out of my mouth...but then Eddie actually sort of...giggled.

"Hi, Criz"

And then I died. I don't remember anything after that. I actually don't think that there is any moment after this that will matter to me. I fell down. And then I had a seizure. And I screamed for about two hours.

I hope that you all understand the gravity of this situation, Internet. Eddie Vedder is aware of my existence. He knows that, somewhere in the world, there is a girl named Criz who falls down when she is faced with the prospect of talking to him and says words like "JGHEOLHFKLSAJ". He said MY NAME, you guys.

Clearly, this means that we are getting married. We won't have a registry, so just donate to the surfrider foundation on our behalf. Criz Vedder. Beautiful.