Socializin' and... I am covered in ink.

I don’t typically post write-ups about meeting with other tumblrs, largely because I’m afraid of making it look like there’s a club that people might not belong to. When I was a kid I was the victim of one really awful moment of being ostracised that arguably forever changed who as I am as a person. So, y’know, I’m sensitive to that stuff. But you’re in my club, okay? Totally. We have decoder rings and smoking jackets.

But I met up with some people on Friday night and they were lovely, we had a wonderful time, and this all generally made me wish I was better at time management and could have figured out a way to work this all into a long weekend of fun.

Instead I’m covered in ink. Again. Actually, maybe that’s just my skin now. That’s a thing, right?

But here are some really important takeaways:

  • There’s a guy who goes 80’s dancing and paints his face like The Joker. It’s… well… um… It’s not cosplay in a way that I understand. It’s just… All of my “JUDGE THIS PERSON REALLY HARD FROM A VERY SAFE DISTANCE” buttons were pressed.
  • There’s also a guy who goes 80’s dancing and dresses sort of like a vampire, using his trenchcoat as wings, and just kind of popping from one part of the floor to the other, fairly aggressively.
  • They were in the same room at the same time.
  • I was in that room.
  • For a moment they met. And danced. It was like watching the mating ritual of two exotic nudibranchs who had never before encountered another of their kind.
  • And I just kept on quietly doing my best Molly Ringwald to New Wave.

Hey, folks I met up with, it was wonderful to see you. :-)

Hey, crazy dancin’ dudes… keep doin’ what you’re doing. Your sense of self is waaaaay stronger than mine.


Narcissistic Memeing for Fun and Profit!

Thanks for including me in this game, Cranquis—not a day goes by where I’m not better for indulging my narcissistic tendencies.


  • Rule 1:Always post the rules.

  • Rule 2:Answer the questions the person who tagged you asked and write 5 new ones.

  • Rule 3:Tag 5 people and link them to the post.

  • Rule 4:Actually tell them you tagged them.


1. Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met (not SEEN, but actually met)?

This is difficult, as I went to theater school, and I also dance around the very edges of lit circles. So, I’ve met Augusten Burroughs, of Dry and Running With Scissors fame. I’ve also met Amy Sedaris, briefly. I was in acting classes with Rachel Shukert, author of Have You No Shame, Everything is Going to be Great and others, have met and was in class with Matthew Morrisson of Glee, was at a wrap part with Jason Ritter, met Casey Wilson of Happy Endings back when we were in school,had Orlando from Strangers with Candy as my clowning instructor, and have been tied into a human pretzel by Bryan Greenberg of How to Make It In America. If you piece all those together you can figure out my exact age and that I know no current A-listers. Playing the name dropping game is just a fail for me. Sucking up to me is pointless.

2. What are YOU famous for among your friends or family?

The book that shall not be named, also an unfortunate prom dress that showed way too much cleave on a cold day. It was the ’90s. Corset tops were in. I was a victim of the times.

3. 1 day of fame, 1 hour of wealth, or 1 minute of true love — which would you choose, and why?

I don’t have to choose. I’ve got two of them already and am poised for some degree of the other. I’m frightened of potential fame. I don’t think mine will be huge or earth shattering or anything—heck, I may not get any at all—it just makes me fear all sorts of creeps coming out of the woodwork. Like people who email me for the first time in 7 years saying, “Gee, real sorry your mom died, yay for your book deal, let’s have coffee, who’s your agent?” Not that that’s already happened or anything… nope, nooooo.

4. Of all the various technological items you currently own, which one do you think will become universally obsolete the soonest?

My phone. It’s a Note 2. Phones are obsolete pretty much the moment you buy them. My typewriters are less obsolete than my phones.

5. Pick one of your scars (either physical or emotional), and tell me how you got it.

I have a scar on my back that runs across one of my vertebrae. I got it in a modern dance class.  My partner was dragging me across the floor, my shirt slid up, and the hardwood floor took a good piece of skin off my back that never did heal right. I’ve also got a scar that looks like Australia.

Emotional scars: I’ve got more issues than National Geographic, more baggage than Louis Vuitton. Let’s just stick with floor burn and Australia, shall we?


  1. If you were forced to be a drunken beatnik poet (curse you, Obama!), who would you be and why?
  2. You are granted a limitless travel budget for the trip of your dreams. Catch: you may not do an Eat, Pray, Love-style “find yourself in other people’s cultures while simultaneously exploiting them, being entitled, and generally hateable” trip. Where do you go? Why? (Please don’t say to find yourself in the colors and spices of India, please? Please?!)
  3. *Poof* you’re peanut butter.  Who is your jelly?
  4. Your most embarrassing fart story. Give it to me.
  5. The book you’d wish you’d written? (If it’s Eat, Pray, Love,  you may skip this question.)

Inspired by helms-deep I decided to plug my blog into simple tumblr stats again and see where I am. Not surprising that I’m such a reblogger I’m off the charts as a curator, and somewhere down there I probably lean heavily towards the visual end.

And look at the awesome people crowding in the top nine (and ten)! Not surprised one bit.