The trouble with being famous now...9/30/14

I used to be able to walk down the street and no one would notice me.

I was invisible. Lost in the crowd...just another face.

I could hide behind my anonymity.

Since this picture, no matter where I go everyone recognizes me instantly as "Section 1, Row GG, Seat 37, guy with cotton candy".

However, recently especially, I have found myself being noticed when I go out.  Day or night, it doesn't seem to make a difference.  I can wear big J-Lo shades, I can cover myself in a thick layer of treated leather like Snookie, (How's about there is no way that is her actual skin.  Wait, really?).  I could even have all my bones and personality removed via complicated surgery and make a pretty decent looking Paris Hilton...

But no.

Those days are gone.

Here in Bahrain I get noticed the second I leave my house.  The flash of light, the familiar crackle, and I know I have been spotted.  I always wondered what it would be like to have this sort of attention - what it would be like to live the life of a movie star or a recovering Disney channel child actor recovering from my most recent heroin binge.

Who's the leader of the gang that's great for you and me?

Holy shit...

What is that?

Is that Mi-ah-ley?

Maybe you're asking yourself: "Of course you get noticed!  You're a huge internet sensation now and with looks like that it is really no wonder you're so popular!"

Two things:  No one likes sunshine being blown up their ass, and don't you dare stop blowing sunshine up my ass.

A good band mate knows where to stand so sunshine doesn't get ass-blown all over him during a show.

Well even though your intentions were good and true, I have to rebuff them.  I am not famous for being an internet sensation.  I am not famous for having the looks of a Sean Connery that time he accidentally ate a bowl of prunes and chased it with olive oil, extra virgin, and had to spend the better part of January 1996 on the can.

I really only have one fan.

One big fan.

Huge, really.  You could fit over a million of our planet Earth in this stalker of mine.

It has a mass of about 1,989,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 Kg.

My stalker is Latin, I believe, and is sometimes called Sol.

That's right, my stalker, my biggest fan, the one that has the hots for me...is the fucking Sun.  The second I walk outside the Sun punches me in the face with its big fat fusiony flares and makes my skin spark.

I am like aluminum foil in the microwave.  When I step outside there is a bright flash and the taste of metal burning will wash over you.  Honestly I am amazed I am not a pile of ash.  A pale ash, the kind you wouldn't be afraid to run into in a dark alley at night.

Fucking terrifying.

Now before you scream out how crazy I am and slam your laptop, or really aggressively push the "close" button on your mobile device, let me explain.  

What is a stalker?  What does it mean to you?  Go ahead and definWRONG.  I will consult the most reliable source on the internet: Wikipedia.  Let's let wiki-speaks to clear up any confusion:

Don't think I didn't click on Harassment immediately after.  Then an article on Sexual Harrassment, then one on sensitivity training, and then went to PornHub to look up "hot sensitivity training nurses with low self esteem I can harass"

Bingo.

I will copy and paste some highlights here:

- Stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. 

Well shit.  I don't even have to read on.  Now I am not going to try to define what an individual is, other than a single entity.  I can have an individual beer, (hahahahahahahahaha okay okay jkjk) or I can have individual servings of food, (hahahahahahahahahaha okay okay jkjk) or even go to my trophy closet and get my 300 meter sobbing: individual class medal.

The Sun is an individual.  We are not a binary system, and there is only one giant yellow ball of fusion I am aware of revolving at this moment.  And its attention is certainly unwanted to the degree it is being given here.

- Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them. 

Are you reading this!? This is real!  I am not wrong!  The Sun is stalking me!  It is an individual that follows me around all day from the second I go outside to the second I go inside.  It even has the balls to look into my windows while I am inside!  How creepy is that!?

Fact: People that wear backpacks with one strap are asking for it.

The Sun is there when I wake up.  I can feel it watching over me.  The fact that the country of Bahrain where I now reside is somehow cosmically between a wormhole and our star that allows the actual surface of the Sun to smack you in the face when you go outside.  It is if Satan himself gives you a waaaaay inappropriately long hug when you step into the sunlight.

And you can't get away from it.  

Go inside.  It will find you.  

Get into your car.  Nice try.  Now you look almost as creepy as the Sun just sitting in your car.

If you don't believe the Sun is a stalker, then get this:  If the Sun is so "chill" then why does it always stay a mean distance of about 150,000,000 Km away?  What on Earth (high five!) could legally make a forced distance between two things?

Restraining Order

Say it with me: Re.  Strain.  Ing.  Or.  Der.

I mean, I guess this is what one would look like.  I WOULDN'T KNOW, WOULD I, JENNY?  WHY WON'T YOU LET ME SEE OUR TUTRLE?  WE CAN TALK THROUGH THIS I PROMISE, AND I AM REALLY SORRY ABOUT WHAT I DID TO YOUR STUFFED ANIMAL COLLECTION BUT COME ON, NO ONE COLLECTS BEANIE BABIES ANYMORE. 

Doesn't it all make sense now?  The Earth filed a restraining order against the Sun about 4.5 billion years ago!  How blind we have all been.  The Sun was probably all up on the Earth, and making it way too hot for it to have a life.  So bingo-bango, some paperwork and off the Sun goes.  I can't believe I am the first one to think of this!  I will wait for the eventual acclaim and pageantry associated with such a discovery.  I am sure there is an oversized check involved, at any rate.

So here I am, on an island in a gulf that is being rubbed by the pesky plasma that is our burning star.  It gives us life, sure...but it also gives me the creeps.  You think night time can save you?  Oh no.  No, my friend.  Mistaken.  You can feel the Sun, it is still there...waiting...waiting to come up behind you tomorrow and stare down your shirts.  The Sun's effects linger even after it ducks behind the horizon like someone faking their footsteps on the other side of the door.  They linger longer than that crap this Italian guy at the mall tries to spray me with every time I go.  

I AM NOT FALLING FOR IT, MUSSOLINI!

Sure, if you don't live here and you go outside you may feel refreshed by the warm caress of the Sun, on your face and genitals.  Maybe you've even been naughty and let the Sun see you naked?  Maybe you've even tried to make eye contact despite the warnings.  Girls always did like the bad boys.

Here it is more like a open handed hot-slap to the nether regions...letting the Sun see you naked would mean instant blisters on your ass...eye-contact is rewarded with a similar reaction to when someone chooses "poorly" when they try to pick the correct grail.

But I can't be all mad I guess and it could be worse, of course....at least the Sun is kinda hot.