Monday, January 25, 2010
There was a hot guy in my undergrad technical writing class. He friended me on myspace (Yeah, remember when THAT used to be a viable website?) then invited me to one of his bands’ shows. I went against my instinct, which was RUN! HIDE! And instead assembled a small group of ladies and went.
It was somewhere TERRIBLE, somewhere like the Dirty Burnie (for you Maryland readers), at a biker-type bar. We walked in, apprehensively. We played pool, badly. We downed some beer, quickly. I remember drinking Heineken, for some inexplicable reason (or substitute some beer your Grandpa liked to drink out of a glass along with a few pretzels, something like Molsen).
Anyway, after the show, my friends were all “you should go say hi.” And at that moment, I wanted to pass out. There he was, packing up his guitar, and I walked up behind him, tapping him on the back (sweet moves, right?).
So he spins around, recognizes me, and shakes my hand. And what do I say? Why, I mumble the worst thing I could say:
“You guys were kind of good.”
WHAT? Who does that? Anyway, nothing else ever happened between me and said guy, not that I’m surprised. Until last night.
I was sitting in a booth with my BFFs at La Tolteca, Jane and Myrick, and I see a guy walking by in skinny jeans, a hoodie, a slouchy hat, and scraggly beard. “Hipster, hipster, HIPSTER,” I chanted in a semi-whisper, so Jane would look. As that last “hipster” was coming out of my mouth, it dawned on me who this guy was.
Yes, that guy. And I died a little inside with that realization. I cringed.
And, he looked awkward. Not me this time, him.
And I smiled.
I’m glad my awkward phase is almost over.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Almost always, when I told someone I was writing a book about "eating animals," they assumed, even without knowing anything about my views, that it was a case for vegetarianism. It's a telling assumption, one that implies not only that a thorough inquiry into animal agriculture would lead one away from eating meat, but that most people already know that to be the case.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Every year in Baltimore since 1949, an unidentified person has come to Edgar Allan Poe's grave on the eve of his birthday, leaving behind cognac and roses. Until this year, that is.
Poe Toaster is 'Nevermore'
A longtime tribute to Edgar Allan Poe may have come to an end with the absence of the "Poe Toaster," who for more than half a century has marked the poet's birthday by laying roses and a bottle of cognac at his original grave site.
This is the first time since Jan. 19, 1949 that the person, whose identity is unknown, failed to arrive, said Jeff Jerome, curator of the Edgar Allan Poe House.
"I was very annoyed," he said.
"I've been doing this since 1977, and there was no indication he wasn't going to show up," Jerome said.
The curator said the toaster usually arrives between midnight and 5:30 a.m. He said he arrived at Westminster Hall at 10:30 p.m., because one year the toaster left his offerings at 11:30 p.m.
He sometimes kneels at the tombstone or puts his hands on it, Jerome said. "There's no elaborate ceremony — it's very short and touching," he said.
A crowd of 30 to 50 people waited on the sidewalks surrounding Westminster Hall and the adjacent cemetery, he said. "They were very happy people, very jovial," Jerome said, even singing "Happy Birthday" to the poet several times through the night.
However, by 5:30 a.m., there was no sign of the shadowy figure from his vantage point within the hall, Jerome said, so he went out to break the news to the spectators.
This is one of those things on "my list" I've been meaning to check out, and undoubtedly, it ends up slipping my mind, or taking a backseat to other responsibilities.
It comes as a reminder to actually DO those things, before they go away forever.
Also – drink more cognac. That's what Jay-Z would do (if only I could find the SNL Robert Goulet version):