Twelve Shades of Awesome

The Christmas season brought many things into my world: parties and prezzies, friends and family, imbibement and indulgence. Damn, it’s been a great holiday in my world.

Santa also brought me a much-anticipated blogger meet-up — with the headbanging, calculating* Mathdude, who was in town visiting brother Tony Alva**.

I’ve been a fan of Mathdude since before he started blogging. In fact, I pushed him to start*** after he started smart-alecking his way through my comment boxes. We’ve attempted a couple meet-ups, so I was determined to make it to the the face-to-face this time****.

Mathdude and Cup, about to walk into a brick wall.
Little birdies chirped and swirled around our heads
just seconds later as we bounced off the wall.

And so we met for brunch. We noshed and dished. He told great stories of his storied past with the above-mentioned brother or on his own. He even charmed me and avoided whining about my word verification in the comment box. If he hadn’t had to hit the road for that four-hour drive north, I would have squired him around my little corner of the world. He’s a helluva lot of fun.

In summary: Mathdude is cool. Tall and cute. Tells a good tale. Needs to actually listen to those R.E.M. CDs*****.

That's all I got for ya!


* In a math, not an evil, way.
** Bro Alva didn’t make it to brunch. It was raining. And sis broke the chair.
*** Yes, it’s my partially fault. I apologize. Or accept your accolades.
**** Though he didn’t let me know until Tuesday he was headed to town.
***** But he left me with a most excellent CD.

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Cups and Coasters

While my Hillary dream was a fascinating moment to share, it was really a chance to stretch my typing muscles, to tone up, to get back in shape for this bragging post.

I, blogging lads and lasses, spent Tuesday evening with beloved blog vivant Coaster Punchman.


CP was in town on business, and I selfishly didn’t share that news with local bloggers (sorry, cuz). Since hotels were booked all over the downtown and midtown areas, he stayed a hotel in my neighborhood.

Mr. Punchman has posted his memories of the evening. Be sure to read his post; he remembers more about the evening than I do. And his includes more adventure.

In theory, it was going to be a perfect evening to introduce CP to the ATL. A couple of cocktails al fresco, then a two-hour cruise driving around the city, topping the evening with dinner at a neighborhood restaurant James Bearded for its twist on Southern cuisine.

In reality … well, plans are made to be broken, right? Especially when that grapefruit margarita is as tasty as it sounded on the menu. So, yeah, we made it for the cocktail or two … which I think ended up being five. Five divine margaritas. And no driving cruise around my lovely hometown.

Note to self: Always carb up at lunch for cocktailing. An empty stomach does not appreciate tequila.

Tequila is my Kryptonite. I know my limit: four, no more. After that, things get fuzzy, ugly, confusing. Last time I went the full five dive, three summers ago, I ended up kissing my (female) friend in the parking lot. CP was spared that, but he did have one damn drunk dinner date. Whose shoe broke at some point, which added to her drunken, staggering charm.

But the conversation was fantastic. It’s liberating when you meet a blogger. You’ve never seen his face, never heard his voice — but you know his personality, interesting pieces of his life. Ice breakers aren’t needed. Dishing and spilling come easily. So did the cocktails — and thus I've spent the last two days thinking of more questions to ask and stories to tell. I think CP needs to come to Atlanta regularly.

CP is more charming and handsomer than I expected. Funny, smart, interesting, irreverent. We gossiped about the bloggers we love, gossiped about ourselves. I’m sorry he’s moving across the country before I get to NYC. Poor George should be called Lucky George.

In summary:

• Coaster Punchman is adorable.

• Embarrassing hangover has passed, but my big toes are bloodily stubbed.

• Grapefruit margaritas are awesome.

• I plan to go cocktail-free ... until Sunday's bottomless mimosas brunch, that is.

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Life Is a Mix Tape

Sometimes several wonderful moments come together and — like a great mix tape — become something even better.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Let’s get the squeals out of the way first: I chalked up my first liter-hottie moment of ’08. And this may be the best one yet: Rob Sheffield, author of Love Is a Mix Tape, inspiration for Mix Tape Fridays, grooviest man on the East Coast, high on my list of fantasy BFFs. Rob’s a writer for Rolling Stone — and, I found out tonight, he’s on a lot of those VH1 best-of list shows (I may start watching them now that I know that).

Rob did a reading at my friendly neighborhood Wordsmiths Books — the first event in the Baby Got Books Reading Series.

That lucky Baby Got Bookster Tim posted an interview he did with Rob Sheffield. Be sure to read it.

It was the biggest crowd I’ve seen at a Wordsmiths’ gathering. Granted, Rob has family here — but there were lots of fans lining the walls and snaking the shelves.

Rob read two chapters — “Sheena Was a Man” and “Roller Boogie” — adding asides and quips. He was cool, he was funny, he was entertaining. His comments about music made me giggle and swoon — in a music-geek way, of course. To hear Rob Sheffield wax poetic about the J. Geils Band, explain the brilliance of "Funky Cold Medina," sing the Pips' part in "Midnight Train to Georgia" was worth the price of the free ticket.

We loving lemmings then lined up to get our copies signed.

I stand in the presence of greatness.

Rob Sheffield was very cool as he signed our books. He took the time to chat, seemed genuinely flattered as we gushed over him — and actually seemed interested as I wildly explained how he had inspired the weekly mix tape posts. He even thanked me. How cute is that?

Why can’t I act my age and leave my hair alone?

But the thrills didn’t stop with the autograph, kids. I notched another blogger on the meet-up post: Paul from The Yellow Stereo (great music blog, if you haven’t clicked my link), who drove over from Auburn for the reading. We got to hang out, obsess, and share a beer post-reading. I never got around to our back-of-the-bloggerhead shot, so I’m running the photo I took of Paul with Rob Sheffield.


I nearly forgot! Look at the groovy USB stick I got tonight — it’s a stick with a mix-tape case! Rob Sheffield got one, too.



For more news coverage on the social event of the season, click over to BGB's post.

To summarize:
• Rob Sheffield: Cool
• Yellow Stereo's Paul: Cool
• Baby Got Books’ first event: Smashing success
• Cup: Geeky and ready to buy any unnecessary thing that looks groovy

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I've Got Moxie!

Chalk up another one on my blogger meet-up board: I recently cocktailed with the adorable and adorably talented Moxie. She had a two-hour layover at the Atlanta airport (the busiest airport in the world, you know), so I put on my Blogger USO skirt and welcomed her in the food court of our fine airport.

A blogger meet-up can be an awkward thing. You’ve read each other’s thoughts and successes and failures and dreams — but you’ve never seen the face or heard the voice. There’s a hint of anxiety as you wait: What if we don’t click? What if she thinks I’m a fake or a tool?

None of those concerns were an issue with Moxie. She’s a smart, fascinating woman with interests all over the map. Very multidimensional, that one. She’s funny and inquisitive, and I hated how quickly the time slipped away.

The obligatory back o’ the bloggerhead photo.

There are two things that charmed me about Moxie’s stop:

1. She called before her flight to Atlanta left, leaving a message about how excited she was to meet me — that she felt like she was on her way to meet a celebrity. I milked that line among the beloveds to the point where it’s now banned until July.

2. She dressed to impress: a CBGB’s T-shirt and fabulously funky earrings. I love a woman who knows how to dress for the occasion.

To quote Scrivener: I’m so vain, I bet I think this blog is about me, don’t I?

It was a lot of fun discovering our commonalities. Our livelihoods revolve around writing, our lovelihoods are focused on music. Boys and beaux were discussed and dissed, friendships and fascinations were shared. I enjoyed the company much more than the cabernet.

And so I began the year with one less invisible friend, one more pal on the other coast. I’m one lucky girl.

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Saving the Best for First

Part One of My Annual San Francisco Travelogue

Last week’s trip to San Francisco was wonderful. Of course it was. I was, after all, in my favorite U.S. city. I know the city pretty well, having been there seven or eight times and having read Maupin’s entire Tales of the City series. I discovered new spots and revisited favorite haunts. But I’ll tell you about those adventures later in the week. Let’s get to the good stuff first.

I cocktailed with Write Procrastinator.

Write Procrastinator posted a great retelling of our blogger summit. He’s a writer. He’s good at that. And he didn’t procrastinate over writing his post as I did.

The Grand Gentleman of The City knows me well, or at the very least has read my blog profile. He picked the perfect spot for a noir fan like me — former hangout of Dashiell Hammett, Sam Spade’s joint of choice in The Maltese Falcon. Sadly, said falcon was swiped last February.

John’s Grill

The dirty martinis were good, the appetizers okay, the service surly. Isn’t that what we want in a nearly hundred-year-old haunt?

Let’s dish about WP. That’s why we’re all reading this post, right?

First of all, he’s just damn cute. The only reason WP doesn’t get the full-on hawt rating is he’s a happily married man, and I don’t want Mrs. WP getting the wrong idea. He looks younger than he is (damn him).

WP, we forgot to compare eye freckles! A strong reason for me to book a return trip in 2008.

WP’s mama raised him right. The boy oozes manners and class. He knows how to open a door, how to hold a chair for a lass, how to make meet-up arrangements for hard-to-contact travelers. I was charmed before we even got to the talktalktalk.

And talktalktalk we did. We didn’t start off trying to think of something to say; we dove right in. I was so excited about finally meeting my blog buddy — someone with whom I’ve e-mailed since last summer — I probably jumped on 312 of his sentences. He told me all about growing up and living in The City. We talked books and bloggers, movies and music, lives and loves. It's always fascinating to talk to a writer since he knows how to use words.

The obligatory back o’ the bloggers’ head photo

The only downer: We had just a couple of hours. Had I blown off some work hours pre-vacation and planned my trip, we could have spent more time together. Met families. Seen sites.

Now, if I could only get the WP clan to visit Atlanta ...

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