crazy crush

Let's state the obvious:
1) I love Third Eye Blind
2) I have a crush on lead singer Stephan Jenkins
3) This post will be dramatic (I couldn't write it any other way) and probably appreciated only by fellow Third Eye Blind fans
"The First Encounter"
Jacksonville, FL 3/28/09
Raining, warm, muggy — the way it can only feel in Florida in the springtime. It was after 11pm. I ran down the sidewalk, clomping along in a dress in cowboy boots like a freak. We lapped the theater... once.... twice... lost count. But the lesson my friends The Redheads taught me is that stalking always pays off. Not only did we score an official Stephan Jenkins guitar pick, we also found out what bar he was headed for and dashed over.

The band arrived shortly after. Then there was an hour of lamenting that I couldn't approach the VIP section because I was so nervous I'd throw up on myself. Thankfully this was followed by one shining glorious moment: Stephan is making his way out of the bar. The crowds part like something biblical. I grab his arm and the only thing my brain produces is, "Hey, great show." He turns and takes my hand, smiles a huge smile: "Thanks. I'll see you soon." The Redheads and I waited around a bit longer, because I was sure he was coming back. Such a dangerous phrase, see you soon. How soon did he mean? Soon, like in an hour? Or soon, like in seven months? Which brings us to...

"The Second Encounter"Indianapolis, IN 10/30/09Another rainy night. Third Eye Blind played a free show under a tent on Pennsylvania Street, as a promo for the Pacer's opening game. The tent was cramped and dark, and sweltering, on an otherwise cold night. Not exactly comfortable, but worth enduring for the music. After the show, Ryan and I grab dinner — and I grab his BlackBerry to scope out Twitter, in search of 3eb updates. Annnd, bingo: Third Eye Blind afterparty will be at Blu.

Hours later, at Blu... we wait. Ryan, patiently. Me, not so patiently. But this time, I'm ready. Ryan has my camera when Stephan Jenkins walks in the door. I don't think, I just go.

Me: "Hey, would you mind taking a picture?"
SJ: "Yea, sure." Grabs my hand. We're walking toward the VIP section. He's trying to keep up with the bouncer ahead of him. I'm floating along behind (probably with an idiotic smile) until this stupid stupid girl jumps in our path and yells "OHMYGOD!" At that point, SJ turns around, gives me a sheepish grin, says "sorry, I gotta go" and scurries up the stairs.

But the story doesn't end with me punching that girl in the face, as you might have been assuming. We hear rumors that SJ (yes, I call him that) will be bartending later in the night.
We wait again... long enough so that by the time SJ is working the bar, what I really want to order is a Shirley Temple. But I'm thinking this is my chance to impress him. So I ended up ordering "the Stephan Jenkins Special," which is a strong martini (ick). I can't drink it, but I swipe the glass. And, as an added bonus, he signed my new t-shirt... if you can call that a signature.























Photos courtesy of Ryan, paparazzi photographer extraordinaire.