There are CELEBRITIES IN TOWN, guys!
Like, actual, flesh-and-blood-people-who-are-in-movies-and-get-paid-exorbitant-amounts-of-money-and-can-bring-cities-to-their-knees-bow-down-to-them CELEBRITIES!
The excitement here is palpable! You could cut the tension in Yorkville with a KNIFE!
And, I mean, of course it’s this way….
BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH IS HERE, PEOPLE!!
Much to my delight, my husband had to go to a gentlemen’s shop in Yorkville to purchase a tie and a pocket square for the wedding, which meant my daughter and I had to go with him, because if entering the craziness of that neighbourhood during this time of year meant I could possiblymaybebutprobablynot catch a glimpse of Benedict or any other celebs, then HELLS YEAH, we were going with him!
But what was supposed to be a simple shopping trip had, by sheer geography, turned into an event. We could NOT go down there looking like regular plebs. No, no (or should I say, “non, non”?). This was now a time for gussying. And since I’m only 5’3 (and 5/8ths!!)” and nowhere near the anorexic giraffe that would catch the attention of these superhuman humans, it was time to turn on the cute. The mega-cute. And with my adorable daughter in tow, I knew exactly how to do that.
Oh, yes. I did it. I went there. Twinsies, in our white, Peter Pan collared shirts and dark-wash denim. Hair in top knots. IRRESISTIBLE!! Of course, I would have to make it look like it was done by accident, otherwise people would just think I was CRAZY, dressing myself and my daughter the exact. same. The solution: I would wear GREEN shoes and my daughter would wear PINK socks. BRILLIANT! Just enough different to dodge the crazy!
Oh mah gah. It was too much.
“Isn’t this TOO MUCH?!”, I squealed as I presented ourselves to my husband, who had been waiting patiently on the couch for what I promised would be the best thing about his day. Our daughter, teetering on her socked feet, one finger in my hand and the other in her mouth, looking at her father like she knew what he was about to say.
“…yeah. Too much crazy,” he replied flatly. I was aghast! “No! It’s super cute!! Everyone will see how cute we are, all matchy-matchy! And we’ll get a picture with Benedict and it’ll be just SO CUTE AND AMAZING!! It’s just the best, right??!!”
(I was already imagining the picture: one strong arm around my waist, the other holding my daughter. Us girls beaming at the camera, Benny looking dead in the lens with a look that said, “they’re mine now.”)
My husband was slowly shaking his head – I don’t know for how long because my vision was blurred from my whole body buzzing with excitement.
“Yeeeeeeah. I’m feeling like the crazy is compounding here…..”
“You know what else is going to compound? My fist on your face. Now let’s GO!”
So off we went. I was as giddy as a schoolgirl, almost certain that my plan would work! And if Benedict wasn’t around for us to sweep off his feet (so much CUTE), then surely we’d encounter another celeb who would notice us and fall madly in love.
We didn’t see one celebrity.
Not even a Z-Lister (who would be a Z-Lister? Tara Reid? Ian Zeiring? Anyone from Sharknado?).
I did not see one person that I recognized. Actually, that’s not true. I saw my boss. Which only reminded me that my maternity leave is almost over (*SOB*). So, yeah. Double blow.
We did get one compliment on our matching outfits, however! “Oh, look at you two…dressed the same….” said our waitress at the pub.
Okay, it wasn’t really a compliment, per se. But it was an acknowledgement of what I thought was the ultimate in mommy-daughter cuteness, even if she didn’t appreciate it as much as me! And on a Benedict-less day that saw me faced with the imminent reality of going back to the workplace (*SOB), I’d take what I could get!
The event was officially a success! Although I really much would have preferred that picture over a back-handed sortofbutnot compliment….
Here’s to TIFF 2013!!