Item number 3: "Camryn Manheim once played with my nipples in public."
(And the answer is...)
I received quite a few e-mails that thought this was the lie. Well, strangely enough, it isn't, though I did take it out of context for the sheer fun of it.
This happened during a NAAFA Convention several years ago, which had a Million Pound March and rally in Santa Monica. In fact, I wound up being photographed so many times I can be seen in many a back issue tabloid that ran the story with the usual smirking delight such rags possess... but I digress.
Speakers at the rally included both the adorable Ms. Manheim and one pre-WLS Carnie Wilson (boo... hiss...). Afterwards they wandered through the crowd, meeting, greeting, signing autographs and shirts (all the marchers got Million Pound March shirts, sizes up to 8X if I recall aright... in fact, the smallest size they had was 4X. Strangely fitting, in a way).
Carnie signed mine, almost by accident... I was standing fairly close to the stage and was trapped by a gaggle of fans anyway, and the only way I was going to walk out of there alive was to get my shirt signed. Big whoop.
Now, Camryn I was strangely too shy to approach, mostly because she was a lot cuter in person than she is on the tube. Fortunately I has some really GOOD friends who pushed me in her direction and told me not to blow a priceless opportunity.
Now, she was being gregarious and friendly to everyone there, as far as I could tell, but I was totally unprepared for what happened when I finally got the courage to ask for her to sign my shirt. I expected the same quick scribble that everyone else was getting (certainly not much more than the "Regards, Carnie Wilson" I had gotten a few minutes earlier).
First she establishes eye contact and smiles at me, which made me completely lose whatever cool I had (say bye to Yohannon, hello to FAN BOY YO!). Then she leans into me, literally pressing the entire length of her body against mine, producing this weird sense of "Uh, what the heck is happening here?". For the record that woman is BUILT. She had this layer of muscle that made me weak in the knees.
She then started writing something on my chest. At the time I thought it was just a coincidence that she kept brushing against my more sensitive chest bits as she wrote what seemed like a small novel (there was time enough for me to take her pulse... she was pressed that tightly to me), but then she twirled the pen around in a circle and nailed the center... which was my very hard nipple.
After someone applied CPR and I was able to catch my breath, I thanked her and staggered off. It was actually one of the aforementioned forever blessed friends who first read what was written there, and did goggle. I'm doing this from memory, so I may have to edit later to fix it, but this is what was writ:
There is no other chest
I would rather write upon
With much affection,
(signed) Camryn Manheim
( . )"
Just imagine that last bit is the circle around my nipple.
It wasn't until very recently, whilst watching her being interviewed by Carrie Fisher, that I realized she might have been hitting on me. Of course, if she perchance should read this and recall the incident, she should feel free to either drop me an email either telling me I never stood a chance in hell, or to tell me where and when to meet for hot monkey sex.
Well, there's a lot of middle ground there as well... but considering how unlikely it is she'll read this OR respond, I figured I might as well go for the gusto.
Oh, to make it even more bizarre... I met the man I believe she was dating at the time a few months earlier at an Apple Masters event at Apple Computer -- Some guy named Gregory Hines. Dancer, I think. He certainly danced well then. Always liked him, and wish I knew of his excellent taste in women one of the two times I met him. When he passed recently, I thought of two things... watching him tap at a rate so fast I couldn't see his feet while I crouching was three feet away to take pictures for Guy, and that I was certain that Camryn cried when she got the news.