Tomorrow morning I’ll be getting up early to drive to lovely, lovely San Francisco. Won’t you please come join me at Borders?
400 Post Street
San Francisco, CA
Phone:415.399.1633
7pm
In Topeka over the weekend, I signed a pair of work boots. The man took off his shoes and had me sign the tops of them. Meghan, my awesome Topeka librarian and new friend (who was very disappointed I hadn’t brought Cal along for the trip), took a picture that I’ll post when she sends it, but I’m telling you… the man walked in while I was talking, dropped to a chair, started the Q&A with “What do you think about co-dependency and how do you get out of it?,” interrupted my “astute” answer to ask me my name, and then had me sign his workboots.
What I’m saying is, I really appreciate it when people take the time to visit me in person, so I promise not to waste your time. It’ll be like a mini-pamie.com reunion.
Also you get to see just how awkward I can be in person. While I’m on the subject, I should make a public apology here, to murphy59’s special-lady Theryn. You have a couple of options while posing for pictures with people you haven’t met before. You can stand near them without touching, which I think seems stand-offish and like when Lloyd Dobler runs past Diane Cort and points at her for a picture. When I took a picture with LN James, she suggested I do the one-finger point at the person I’m posing with, the “See? I get to meet her!” photo. I can’t do that one, as I’ve seen Ned do it six thousand times, and I associate it as a signature Mencia move. Usually I stand near, arms somehow touching, wondering why anybody would want a picture with me. So what ends up happening is that I’m flattered, and that person and I have usually bonded over some bizarre things that have happened in my life, most likely by emailing a few times, and I’m finally putting a face to a name that’s as robotic as GirlNewark872_# (yes, murphy59, I recognized you once I found your online handle), so it all gets swirly and there’s no time because someone’s saying, “Ready?” and the next thing I know I’m…
I don’t know. I leaned in, and then my hands went up to my chin, probably because my sweater was falling off again, and he was the first one there so we’d bonded over the hour there and he wasn’t having me sign his workboots and…
Really. Come see me in public. Spectacle doesn’t even begin to describe it.
See you tomorrow, San Francisco!