Frustrated in Freemont

Last Edit January 27, 1999

I came home last night to find an e-mail lurking in my in-box among the friendlier messages and the junk e-mail. At least HOT-PUSSY hasn't found my home address yet. They just send messages to the office.

So I opened this message. After all, it was titled "He's Coming Donna!". Like I wouldn't guess who he is. And he's not coming without me! So I read it.

It said: " You must call me as soon as you can! Fabio has been rescheduled for February XXX 1999 and I want to talk to you about your coming for the show...."

Now, what do you think this type of message, received after a long day at the office, a long day in a technical class, and a two-way very long, bumper-car commute replete with rednecks in pairs of white trucks trying to drive through the little gray Toyota pickup with the FABIOFN license plates, would do to a woman of my sedate years?

Hell, yes! Total Chaos! I walked around the house and screamed at the walls - primordial screaming to calm down. So I told my kid. And I paced. And I had trouble sitting. And cooking. And thinking. The man gets to me. He really does.

And Wednesdays are my night to run over to the Boy Scout Troop in full uniform and stand around for 1.5 hours. In the drafty church hall. Couldn't sit still there either.

So I came home and I rounded up some of the e-mail addresses for the fan club and sent an alert on the wire. I'm a fair person. Believe in spreading the insanity around as much as possible. That way they can't lock me up.

My e-mail:

"Fabio will be on Howie Mandell on Feb XXX - AND I WILL BE THERE EVEN IF HELL FREEZES OVER!
My son goes too - with cameras fully loaded!
Holly Sh....!
Notice how my writing slowed down. Only 105 stories.
Notice I needed another fix!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just in Time!!!!
Nina, Janice, Linda, Karen, et al - WHAT DO I WEAR? ALL my clothes are falling off!!!!! Come to think about it......
Excuse me, I need to be sedated now..."

"Keep Breathing", said Cindy.

"Waiting for photos," said some. "Waiting for the story" said others. How well they know me. Can't think why!

They all came down on elegant, black and sexy. I chose my black velvet pantsuit with a tight gold metallic shell and gold sartouche trim on the v-neck jacket - it's actually in my size. My current size.

And I couldn't sleep. Kept drifting out of the arms of a tall blond. Don't know why. I haven't drifted out of anybody's arms in nearly 18 years!

It's finals week - semester before the last one before graduation. Senior-itis. Slow moving whale in the morning. Growls. I actually cook eggs for it during finals week. Under the theory that it will release my sweet son if fed. So I am late to start. And everyone tried their best to become a road spot today. Including one very high speed remnant of what happens when you don't play well with other drivers. Made me later. I sang to the radio. I tried to calm down. I forgot my trancs.

I called NBC studios. We chatted. She has my interview. Knows my site. Wants to ask more questions via e-mail. "Sure", say I. "No problem", I believe. I got two potential taping times. Unconfirmed yet.

Should have listened to that part closer. I sent more e-mail. I netted over to the Automobile club and booked tickets for two - my son the photographer was to come along. And I reserved a car. This was the fourth pass at this exercise. I thought it was a dead issue. And then there was that lurking e-mail. So this time I bit. Hook, line and sinker.

I e-mailed Fabio's office (no - I will not give that out - don't ask) - and confirmed I was coming. I asked if they wanted it on the web - we had played that game before. I asked about THOR pictures - he had said in December that he would get me some. I waited.

I attended class. I got some work done. After all, I teach next week.

I strolled about happy as a mud lark in a rainpuddle.

Until 3PM.

There was another lurking e-mail.

"Hold Everything" "It could only happen to us!" "Hope you can get a refund on your tickets." "Schedule conflict." "Sweeps weeks."

I crashed. Hard. Tired. Betrayed by my own enthusiasm. Now I get to send out more e-mail. "Cancel that last transmission." Revved us all up for nothing. Damn.

"Spank him," said Linda. (That conjures up images!) "Damn!" said others. "Oh, well. We'll try again", said more.

If I can't get a refund on $400 worth of tickets, my son and I will do Universal Studios. It's the other thing in Burbank.

For now, I need to go drive a stake through something.

Maybe I will see those boys with the white trucks. It's not good to fool with Mother!