I've had the good fortune of meeting a handful of bloggers over the last year, all of whom have turned out to be
normal fun people in real life. You can tell by the way they write and the things they talk about whether they're someone you could split a six-pack of cold ones with, or whether they store body parts in their freezer.
So when Laid-Off Dad suggested that some of the New York bloggers get together for drinks last night I jumped at the opportunity. Not just because we all share the same
tolerance love for this congested, over-priced, gem of a city, or because I secretly hoped I could score some babysitter phone numbers from them, but because they are also some of my favorite writers.
Admittedly, I felt a little like Aquaman sitting around in the Hall of Justice, hanging out with real super-heroes and hoping my power to summon manatees would come in handy. Aside from LOD, who seems to have emerged from The Eliminator that was NaBloPoMo a lean, mean fighting machine, there was also Mom-101, who it turns out literally lives in the building next door to me (no joke...I've probably been spying on her for months). And no party is complete without tall Asian Springsteen fans (I think you can rent them now), so MetroDad came as well.
It's fun to share a good laugh and a cold pint with people you like and respect. The fact that they're all much more talented and considerably less dependent on fart jokes and movie references than me barely came up, much like John, Paul, and George having dinner with Ringo. We discussed The Good Shephard (thumbs down), Amy Sedaris' cupcakes, Christmas in Florida, and the game that's sweeping the nation, "What's That Next to Your Head?" I challenge you to find such quality entertainment at a table with Huffington and Godin...
I'm not a blogger who secretly aspires to be a writer, or a writer who pretends to be a blogger but desperately hopes that some publisher will notice them. I'm not a journalist who thinks that telling the world that Cheeky ate half a chicken finger and a pint of ketchup for dinner is even remotely interesting, and god help me if I ever bore you with those details. I just like to occasionally spew out some crap that gets lodged in my brain like driftwood under a bridge, and if I can make up an excuse to link to something funny or weird or so horrifying you want to gouge your eyes out with a melon-baller then I'll do it. It's a treat knowing that doing so has given me the opportunity to meet such bright, funny, and interesting people.