As some of you may know, Home Alone and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York are two of my favorite holiday movies. Side: In the first Home Alone, young Fuller drinks too much Pepsi, in the second one he is slam dunking some Coke. I noticed this for the first time last night, and I don’t know how I feel about that product placement trade. It makes me feel like my childhood was a lie. End side. In fact, I could probably re-enact both movies as a one woman show. So when the opportunity arose to meet Kevin McCallister himself over Thanksgiving, I couldn’t let it pass.
Now I’m not one to get star struck or freak out. The exception to this rule would be Dave Grohl, but that’s a story of a restraining order on me for a different time. A friend of ours happened to be playing a show over the Thanksgiving weekend. The opening band playing with our friend happened to include Kevin McCallister (yes, I know his real name is not K-McC, SIMMER DOWN NOW!). Being the VIP that I am (lolz for dayz), I got to hang out backstage.
I pretty much stayed front of house throughout the show, and at one point lost my husband. Which, I feel like I lose him all the time. I’m going to have to get one of those child leashes for his wandering ass. When my husband reappeared he was all butt-hurt. Apparently, his friend Sean aka Har Mar Superstar, had asked K-McC to introduce my husband’s podcast and he politely declined. Ohhh snap!
For the rest of the night, my husband was a huge hater of all things K-McC, to the point that he was taunting me about getting a picture with him backstage, saying how he bet K-McC wouldn’t do it because he’s a dick and blah blah blah (I stopped paying attention at this point because I noticed some boozy Lucky Charm cupcakes – complete with booze soaked “marshmallows” on top – that I needed to put in my mouth).
So, I put said cupcake in said mouth (delicious), and then proceeded to make my move like a tiger stalking their prey. Just kidding – I seriously just trolled up asked for a picture. I asked K-McC if it could be weird. Naturally, he was all in, so I asked if I could french braid his hair, obviously. He thought that was super dope and funny, and let the blonde locks unfold from his man bun. I sat there on the arm of a chair totally “Pratting” (a new word I made up, YOU’RE WELCOME. Pratt-ing; verb: the act of french braiding someone’s hair whilst speaking to them a la Chris Pratt) his hair. We talked about Zubaz (the most ridiculous but probably comfiest pants ever). He brought up being married and divorced, how a woman should dress nice for their man and vice versa, and some other shit too. We ended by clinking our beer cans in ‘cheers’ and proceeded on our drunk ways.
And that, kids, is how I french braided Macaulay Culkin’s hair.
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Kacie Baum is a professional partier, mother of two pugs, and the wife of Matt Baum. She tolerates the constant presence of the Two-Headed Nerd in her home each week. She did not write this bio. Pre-THN entries of Girl Meets Nerd can be found here.
