There I was, not an hour later--but I was drinking Scotch, not whisky. And I WAS looking at lesbian porn-but I was with my sister.

I met David Sedaris today.
Usually I try to start my posts with something a little more poetic, so as to draw the reader into my world. But I really don't feel much like going to the trouble right now-because, you see, I met David Sedaris today.
And it was awesome.
During my lunch break-so to speak, really I just decided to not work for awhile, from the CMHofF I went to the bank and then over to TPAC.
I'd only been in there once, to buy tickets for "Movin' Out." I remembered the box office was downstairs so I followed the white lights toward the "Will Call" and "Buy Tickets" signs.
"This is the longest of shots-do you ever sell last minute tickets?"
"Are you a student? We have last minute rush for students for the symphony, opera and ballet." This is interesting-I can claim status as a student for at least another few months. I'll spend my off days at the opera-hmmm, yes, very nice.
"What about for David Sedaris? Do you have last minute rush for that?"
"Oh, I see what you mean. Well, it's sold out."
"I know," I said. "It has been for awhile."
"But I can check, sometimes there's accessible seating that we open up on the day of the show." She typed some things, I knew I had the tickets-no logical reason I'd be able to get tickets to a SOLD OUT show on the day of the event but I knew I had. "We've got two tickets together."
Ticket luck.
That's all there is to it.
I called Mik "You wanna go see David Sedaris?"
"Fuck yeah," she said.
I felt bad-I would've loved to have been able to get a ticket for my fellow David Sedaris fan (by whom I mean you Amy-just in cased yr wondering who could she mean?) but there weren't that many tickets and I CAN'T leave the sister out. Since she's, well, family and unintiated into the Sedaris goodness until tonight. (That doesn't even seem okay or even possible-Dad's been into David Sedaris for AGES he introduced me, probably during the NPR indoctrination ceremony Mik also managed to miss and I quote Strangers with Candy almost as often as I eat candy-but she swears it's the truth. Did we really grow up in the same house? A-MA-zing.)
These were the last of the tickets, not even supposed to be available but there you go. Like getting into Neil Young accidentally I got tickets to a long sold out show. This is a secret-or maybe it's my sub-super power. Getting stuff I shouldn't.
We got cleaned up and got into town early enough for a beverage. The queue was vicious and we were not so much directed as swept to our seats.
We had to pay to park because there was a Preds/Red Wings game at the GEC. I amused myself before the reading by playing "hockey or NPR?" a game of factions. Some people were easy to guess, I was clearly not hockey. Some, mostly those in khakis and polos were harder to guess. But I think the NPR crowd are more prone to jeans and t-shirts, possibly a jacket. Weather permitting. Weather barely permitted clothes today. Of course, neither one of us can be the one to break down and turn on the air so it's 9,000 degrees in the apartment. That doesn't help the situation at all. I think it might be a battle of wills.
Today I tried the daring idea of straightening my hair. I usually curl it-my hair is so evil and curling it only makes it more Satanic. Straight hair is an improvement. That was an event.
We got to the show. He read, we laughed very hard. I was so damned amused by the story of the cabbie that loved to "fucky fuck" and felt that men needed "the pussy"-he even claimed to get the pussy everyday- but managed to realize that some men liked "the dick"--I was laughing like a fool at that. And then when he talked about being at his sister's apartment looking at Animal Porn-oh.my.God. It was just hi-LAR-ious. That was the funniest thing, but it was all funny. And new, so I wasn't nodding knowingly throughout saying "yes, this is the story about X, I hope he doesn't leave out the part about Y." That wouldn't have been as fun. But I wouldn't have complained. Since Mik didn't know anything about his writing or his family she experienced it different than I did. I was emic to the group, I had heard a couple of animal stories in my time and knew many of the participants from other stories. It came up in the Q&A about how much he feels comfortable talking about his family...and I feel like it shouldn't be uncomfortable because they're family. Of course, that's the problem, isn't it? That's the issue with people that write about themselves. I assume this is why mum doesn't want me writing about her. Could you imagine if I ever gained even the slightest amount of popularity people would be asking how Mum is doing?
Luckily, by the time I get around to publishing anything memoirs will be so far out of fashion, I'll never have to worry about that. I'm much to lazy to jump onto any writing trends.
The show over and I was kicking myself for having not brought any of my books that I already owned. I own a goodly enough number of books-2 or three anyway. But they were safe on the bookshelf instead of with me at the reading. Stupid-cuz I'm made of money. I bought the book that helped overpriviledged children. They need all the help they can get.
I got into queue, stood there for about ten minutes. A lady came by, "you're in the wrong line, come over here," she said, directing me and a couple of others forward in line.
My turn to say something clever to David Sedaris.
"Thank you for supporting the pitiful children."
"Well, I had a pitiful childhood, but no one supported me. So, I'm doing all I can."
"Do you live here?"
"In Nashville? Yeh, on the East Side."
"What do you do?"
"I'm 3 weeks away from getting my master's degree in folklore."
He laughed, "The commencement speech I gave away--we have a family friend that got into Harvard. My dad was so proud, his Godson going to Harvard-Ivy League something to brag about-he majored in folklore. $46,000 a year and he majored in folklore. That was such a great way to stick it to everyone."
"Well, the money's in folklore. But my sister went to Yale, graduated last May. She has a degree in theatre. We share a one bedroom apartment in East Nashville. Trust me, that says it all."
He was quite charming. He had a folklore anecdote! I love that. I am a gushing fangirl--a gushing nerdy folky fangirl. He signed my book "To m-------, thank you for helping miserable children-David Sedaris."
He probably signs all copies of this book that way-but I don't care-because I only have one copy of the book. The one signed to me.
This afternoon, after getting the tickets I called my parents.
"I just wanted to tell you-I got tickets to see David Sedaris tonight," I said.
"Ohh, how much did that run you?" Dad asked.
"$25 apiece," I admitted.
"Costly. Did you buy yr sister one?"
"No, I thought I'd just go home and rub in that I got a ticket to the show and she can't go. Yes-I bought her a ticket."
"You are so very generous," Dad said.
"I know I am, but it doesn't seem right to not buy a ticket for her."
"It should be hilarious."
"I think, even if he falls over unconscious halfway through at least I'll be able to say 'I was at the show where he keeled over halfway thru.'"