So, last night I dreamed that I was going to meet Beyonce. The Beyonce. And I was super nervous because
(1) I’m always nervous when I meet new people
(2) It’s Beyonce
and (3) I don’t really know any of her songs and so what the flip was I going to talk to her about? Maybe how the conspiracy theorists had serious nerdgasms after her Super Bowl performance? Yeah, that’d make us fast and immediate friends, to be sure. *enter Illumanti symbol here*
Anyway, I was sitting in a limo trying to calm myself as I was waiting for my turn to walk out on the red carpet (of course there was red carpet, because BEYONCE), and I was repeating to myself,
“Beyonce poops, just like you. Beyonce poops, just like you. Beyonce poops, just like you.”
(Which IRL is actually my mantra when meeting new people, and now you officially know way too much about me.)
Someone opens the limo door and I step out and there she is in all her glory. I can’t remember what she was wearing but there were flashes of light everywhere and she was smiling and striking poses and I shuffled up to her and she was crazy gracious and knew my name and I said,
“You know, you and I have something in common.”
And she said, “Is that so?”
I nodded eagerly. “I pooped today, too!”
The conversation sort of died after that.
True Story: Everybody poops, but that fact isn’t a great lead in conversation.
Myndi Shafer 
*snort*