Might have to take the B.

Missing a horticulture class Monday; I will be working a gala event for a friend of mine. "Why?" you ask? Well, because, broke as I am and unable to afford a ticket, I will happily don cocktail attire and help set up and work the event if it means I get to meet Olympia Dukakis. And hopefully get her to relay to her cousin Michael that I'm so sorry for making a fool of myself when I met him several years ago at a Dorchester fundraiser. Yes, when the Edge signed my denim jacket, I took it in stride; when I met Patrick Stewart at a fundraiser at the Boston Park Plaza, I merely smiled and hyperventilated while he signed my program (p.s., he's just as hot in person. And very nice.) But when I met my political hero, I became a gibbering idiot. GIBBERING.