I walked into my apartment at 7:30 pm fearing the worst. I managed to defer the full-body slam onto my bed in utter despair over missing the opportunity of a lifetime to my grossly over-rated adult façade, sufficiently enough to google “Craig Ferguson.” A couple of swift clicks later ~ after all I’d been down this road before ~ I was at the page where I’d first read that Craig was coming to San Francisco. Ah ha! Not an idiot. The reason I didn’t know the hour at which he would be appearing at Edinburgh Castle was because the pub didn’t know either. I called the pub fully prepared for a long and challenging wait. I was surprised. Though there was noise in the background the bar tender was willing enough to engage. When I repeated the question, his answer gave me an even better surprise ~ “Craig will be on at 8.” Woo-hoo!
Fastest shower make-up change of clothes and up-do you’ve ever seen in your life later I’m out the door. In fact, I am standing, newly purchased book and Corona in hand, a mere twelve feet from the mic at which Craig will appear… any minute now. Which he did. Looking very un-CBS-like… kind of, actually, like a writer. His notoriously unruly hair looking like, shit, like he didn’t even try. The shirt untucked ~ had he spent an afternoon in a café assimilating San Francisco’s unkempt vogue? Or was he possibly hiding something that his usual single-breasted jacket (one button always undone) camouflaged to render him swavey and deboner? Who cares? He is incredibly thoughtful, smart, and insightful, and, heck, let’s not overlook the more important fact… he’s fucking hi-fucking (his word) -larious.
I am so proud of my wee Scots lad… although Craig likes to report that he’s not so wee in certain areas, if you know what I mean. Mmh! I wonder why he feels compelled to mention something like that? Inquiring minds want to know☺