March 23, 2007
Mutual Admiration Society
I neglected to tell you that I had a very festive St. Patrick’s Day. I confirmed via caucusing with the parents that I am ¼ Irish prior to heading out in my “Everybody loves an Irish girl” tee shirt, not to mention the gold and green windmill antlers I attached to my head for the entire evening. With the exception of when I forgot they were there and swatted them off, just like six or seven times. It was that kind of night.

Not too long into the evening, I noticed a guy looking at me off and on from the next pool table, but he was wearing a wedding band, or at least it appeared to be, so I was pretty sure the attraction lay with the antlers. After a little while, he approached.

“Is your name Kris? With a K?”

We’re all familiar with reports of near-death experience, when memories of grandpa pushing kids on the big oak tree swing in August and the birth of a first cat flash through the mind of the dying. A similar thing happened to me, only in a split second I thought, “Surely I’d remember if we slept together or made out in the bushes by the Row or if I dressed your college townhouse with smashed pumpkins and Tang and Soft Scrub!” (Which, I might add, is not recommended for writing profanity on houses or front walkways, particularly at those town homes owned by friends’ parents, given the bleaching effect it has on apparently most all external household substances.)

Turns out we didn’t at any point engage in heavy petting; he revealed himself a fellow DC blogger (can I say who you are?) who recognized my antlers ginormous chin from my sidebar photos. After feeling a) relief that I probably do remember most men with whom I make out, and b) 2.4 seconds of I’m a God damn blogging diva, bitches! I for all intents and purposes attacked this wonderful man with paws and questions. Where had he been? What had he been up to? We had essentially known each other for a year prior to this meeting. Friends, in a strange way, who just haven’t seen each other in a long time. It makes perfect sense that most of us who frequent the same blogrolls are of like minds, but it really is something that when you meet these crazy cats in person, the awkwardness of other first meetings simply does not exist. Like minds, I guess.

And then there are the interesting minds. Yesterday, I received the following email (can I say who you are?):

My new To Do List:

Find address of certain DC Blogger.
Amass small collection of Precious Moments figurines.
Ship perfect gift to DC.
Wait outside someone's apartment until package arrives.
Shriek in horror when certain DC Blogger appears unimpressed with and perhaps even frightened of package.
Dye hair blonde; get a razor bob; adopt two cats; move in next door.

And these are the emails that make you wonder, “Are we bloggers really all that like minded after all?”

And you realize that sometimes, no, you aren’t like minded. Instead, you are quite possibly separated at birth.


25 Comments:

Blogger Mel said...

We've been saying this for 2 years. TWINS separated at birth. Who will later go on Oprah to tell our story about how blogging brought us together.

You know what is even more interesting? I think our cats were separated at birth, too.

Blogger Gwen said...

Dude, you have some STRANGE readers.

Don't make me use this bottle of dye .....

Blogger A Unique Alias said...

I never cease to be amazed at how tiny city this city is . . .

You were wearing antlers?????

Blogger kris said...

and again, sorry about all the paws and questions . . . you are fabu!

Anonymous Jorge said...

Ah..
Mama paws and questions are the best kind.

Blogger wallofdenial said...

I bet that felt weird as hell

Blogger Jo said...

That's why I don't post pictures. It's not that I care so much to keep that anonymous, it's that I'd freak out if someone actually recognized me on the street.

The precious moments figurines scare me. A lot. Did you know there's a precious moments chapel/museum?

Blogger Jo said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

Anonymous Alison said...

I think that's really cool.

Blogger TJ said...

I totally agree about the awkwardness not being present when meeting someone in person after having read their blog for some time--in fact, its really not a first meeting at all.

Before you realize it, that shared knowledge fills in, and it's just like spending time with an old friend.

*sigh* I understand why, but it feels a little sad not to be a member of the blogroll anymore. Keep on blogging!

Blogger kris said...

So come on back, TJ!!!

Blogger Lisa said...

I love that story! I think it's great! I got a little twitchy last fall when random men in bars were recognizing me from Match. My friends fret that I shouldn't post my pics on my site, though. I dunno.

Blogger Dave said...

You: blogging super-star. The best I can claim is being recognized five years after the face as 'the kid with the Jimmy leg' in our high school production of Annie Get Your Gun. True story?

In other news, when I navigated here I came across my picture on flickr. (Not the first time.) This time, though, I do have to ask, "What the hell were we talking about?" I don't recall talking about anything remotely serious that night, but it's pretty clear that we were in the middle of Discourse. That's some pretty important shit we're talking about there. Too bad I've forgotten it all.

Blogger Kelly said...

Mama IS a God damn blogging diva, bitches!

Has she told anyone about chatting on BLOG TALK RADIO with Wombat? how effing cool is that they've tracked down the coolest of the cool? SUPER COOL, that's how cool!

Work it, diva!

Blogger Bill said...

So if I were to move to DC might I have a bar moment where someone might say something like, "Damn! You don't look anything like Orson Welles. But my God, you sound like him!"

Anonymous gorillabuns said...

i'm usually the stalker not the stalkee.

by the way, i have a case of decapitated precious moments figurines in my attic to add to the collection. they were a gift from my needle toting ex-fiance' (think, i'm joking? sadly, i'm not.)

needless to say, i don't like 'em but feel too guilty to throw anything out.

Anonymous Maya said...

Precious moments figurines scare me, just slightly. Have been 'sighted' only once and it was...disconcerting. I don't think I'd mind if it was another blogger, but this was a lurker. At a post-funeral gathering.

Blogger Lord Fondleberries said...

i am usually not recognized by my own family. yay me!

my mother owned the guiness record for having the largest (creepiest) precious moments collection, until my brother popped over one day, took all the frightening little ceramic bastards, and sold them on ebay. he was later found to be attempting to purchase star wars action figures (the original 1978 figures), but he wouldn't tell us if he intended to replace the stolen goods with said star wars figures posed to represent the karma sutra (i like to believe that was his intention; if not, i'll never speak to him again).

it must be two, maybe three nights ago now---alcoholism, i find, clouds quite a few memories, if not forgets me how to spell---i sampled a very nice margaux. again and again, until said cloud formed and i was reacquainted with the kitchen floor. that reminds me, i must wash the kitchen floor. while on the floor, allegedly dreaming and/or speaking to the congress, i sussed out a reasonable answer to the country's collapsed foreign policy: cracker jacks. with prizes translated into every known language. i hope that i'll get the turkish magnifying glass (there are some antsy lil buggers in my neighborhood that i'd like to fry in the condenced rays of the mighty sun).

last night found me in the pinkest of pink rooms, randomly (or because of the pattern of the carpet) referred to as the zebra room. the scene was harvard square in what used to be upstairs at the pudding, but now is upstairs on the square. a spicy 1999 rioja saddled up next to me and found it best to soak the innards of the glass in front of me and subsequently my innards. it may have been moments or it may simply have been later that i was immersed in the heavy fire of a to die for prix fixe: goat cheese and asparagus ravioli, brioche and chive encrusted filet of salmon (pronounced sal-mon), and buttermilk panna cotta (who said fatties (i mean foodies) can't have fun).

after losing a button from my shirt and nearly removing the table cloth a la a failed vaudevillian magic trick, i found myself in coy round of russian roulette with a 20 year-old tawny and, oddly enough, his friend the beaumont rose. needless to say, pappa ate both bullets and shouted for more.

it might be saturday, it might be the middle of summer, nonetheless, i am here in the anonymity of the blogosphere.

huggin the kittens lickin brioche,

lord f

Blogger Itinerant Agonist said...

I know that if I saw you on one of my trips to DC, I'd be giggling like a little school girl, and that is not a good look for me... It would be like that time I ran into Magic Johnson at the Peabody hotel in Memphis - You are that much of a super star!

Blogger Paperback Writer said...

I don't think I've ever been recognized via my blog. But when the day happens I might start screaming and decide to run away.

Anonymous zandria said...

I've always wondered what it would be like to be recognized. I think I would (initially) freak out a little bit, too, if I randomly came across a blogger I knew while I was out somewhere. :)

Anonymous dionna said...

I have this feeling that we'll never randomly meet another blogger in Las Cruces, NM. Yep, I'm pretty sure about that one.

Blogger t2ed said...

I've been told never meet your heroes because they'll never be as swell in real life as they are in the fantasy world you've made up for them.

That being said, Michael Palin was very nice when I ran toward him in the parking lot screaming his name like a little girl. And I did call him Mister Palin.

I don't know why he tasered me....

Anonymous Angie T said...

That is very cool indeed. I hope you get to reveal his identity!

Blogger Bones said...

I just happen to know a DC blogger who hates precious moments. I'm not sure it's the same guy, though. Did he just move out of his apartment in Kalormama?

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