It's official!

I can die now because I won a Kern Press Club Award.

It happened last Friday. The "Ironic Fate Gods" decided that I would not win for a feature story (Congrats, Steve!) or one of my humor columns (Congrats, Leo!) No, chickerinos. I won for this.

(It's archived and costs money to read, but the opening Sound Off entry snippet is like a teaser to the beginning of the story which is listed on the search a little further down, so just scroll, my tragic hipsters.)

Yes. That. I won for my review of the now defunct David Zent's Candlelight Dinner Theatre's "The Pajama Game" from 2004. I entered it under the logic of, "well, out of all my reviews I know for a FACT that people actually read that one." That, and in a weird way, it was the one I was most proud of. It was my first official, "theatrical trainwreck" bad review. And although it was criticized for it's harshness ... well, it's my opinion and that's only worth as much stock as you put into it. If you think I'm on crack you can just write my editor and say, "Danielle Belton is on crack (in so many words)." David did (in so many words) and it was cool. I'm like EPMD, folks. Business, never personal.

[Side note: Man, I feel like rapping the entire song "Crossover" all of a sudden. I love EPMD. I had a "40 Ounces of Power" tour bootleg T-shirt my moms bought for me at a Jennings, Mo. swamp meet. (Whoo! Hoo! Jennings!) Of course, it's gone now. Long gone.]

But that said, I was surprised that out of my three years here that was what I won a Press Club award for.

We don't have speeches at these awards. It's food, drinks and awards all in the name of college scholarship money, which many journalists were more than happy enough to drink to as most journalists -- broadcast or print -- will drink to pretty much anything.

Hey! The story got in on time! Let's go to Riley's! Or the Cigar Bar! (If you're an editor) Or the Casablanca! (If you're under 25.) Or Fishlips! (If you don't feel like walking far. They're literally across the street.)

If I could have gave a speech I would have thanked Bakersfield theater for always giving me something to write about. Just like I said in my review of "Rocky Horror" — no one's ever going to mistake these folks for boring.

As for the rest of the she-bang, I got to catch up with some homies. Meet some homies I hadn't met before. It was sweet. Drank some of that Coppola wine. Did the chit chat. Staved off an anxiety attack. Withstood the annual razzing of my legendary bad date with another media person that happened, like, nearly four freakin' years ago! But then CERTAIN people just love bringing it up whenever possible. It's all Olivia's fault! Razz her! Razz her!

I swear, they're going to put that in my obituary.

"And then she moved to California where her friend Olivia fixed her up with a man who she'd go on a very odd date with and be offended by. Then she had too many margaritas at a party and told everyone about said date causing more trouble. Then she mentioned it in a column and because of this she would have to hear about this date as punishment for the rest of her days."

I'd tell you who it was, but no. I'm never telling you who it was. Discuss my trainwreck bad date possibilities at your own leisure.