While spinning Monkey Man in the office on my big rolling chair tonight, he glanced up above my desk. There hangs three awesomely autographed Rick Springfield album and CD covers.
Cover #1: My very own copy of Working Class Dog that I got when I was about 7 that was signed after a sweaty hug from Rick during one of his forays into the audience a few years ago.
Cover #2: My very own copy of Success Hasn’t Spoiled Me Yet that I got when I was about 8. That one was signed after another breathtakingly sweaty hug from Rick during yet another journey into the audience and fabulous job of landing right smack in front of ME.
Cover #3: The Venus in Overdrive CD that I had signed at Virgin Records in New York City. That was the first official time I “met” him – read: walked up to a table, almost ready to pass out because HOLY FREAKING CRAP. Rick Springfield is smiling at me and waiting for me to say something unbelievably witty. Or smart. Or cute. Or sexy. Nervous vomit is not one of those.
After looking at the 3 covers with pictures of Rick, he turned to me and said, with his sly, sarcastic smile that he uses a little too much, “Do you want to break up with Daddy and get Rick Springfield to marry you?”
Oh, sweet, naïve Monkey Man. If only it were that easy.