4 posts tagged “david sedaris”
I have great taste in Sharpie Pens, apparently. Take, for example, my encounter with David Sedaris. David liked my pen, so I gave it to him. He even drew me a picture of it:
So Saturday night I finally got to go see Eddie! It was a fanastic show, and I got to see it with my good GF, Robin. We had a glass of wine (okay, three) before the show, then enjoyed about 2 hours and 20 minutes of EDDIE. I was over the moon. We then waited outside the theater for the chance to talk to him and were not disappointed. I was surprised he could even talk, as he had done such a thorough job of entertaining me - er, everyone. When he came out, he was the most gracious and generous person I might have ever encountered. There were something like 300 people waiting to see him (including one obnoxious woman who was old enough to know better and kept screeching at him that it was her birthday. Sure lady, and I had a baby this morning, it's my birthday today, and I only have 3 days to live). Eddie was so kind and he said he would get to everyone.
As per usual, I had a specific Sharpie marker with me that would show up on the liner notes I had brought for him to sign. I am always prepared for that sort of thing. Anyway, my exchange with my new boyfriend - er, Eddie went something like this:
As Eddie started to look for a place to sign my DVD liner with his black pen...
nrL: Please. Use this pen. It will show up (and I tried to accidentally make out with him as I passed him the pen).
EI: Is it silver?
nrL: Why, yes it is!
Eddie signs my liner notes while making crazy love-struck eyes at me. Ooops! That was the replay of the event I had when I went to bed that night... sorry. Eddie signs my liner notes and makes a pleasant noise and says:
EI: Oh! That is a nice pen.
nrL: Would you like to have it?
EI: Yes, actually I would.
nrL: Please take it then. Thank you. (and in my mind I said, I love you and I want to adopt your baby)
So, Eddie, I'm not sure how to get this post added to your beloved Wiki, but if you read this I really mean it.
I like David.
These Davids:
Yes, I like David Cassidy. I did then, I still do. In fact... I. Think. I. Love. Him. David Letterman? Love him, too. In fact, my house is just around the corner from the one he grew up in. David Bowie? Come on! You know I love David Bowie. What do you take me for, anyway? David Byrne, some days I love him most of all. He's Fuzzy Freaky Fantastic! David Gilmour? Well, I am a bit of a Syd Barrett Pink Floyd fan, but I do love this David's voice.
As an art student, I should also point out this David (and I'll let the image provide the commentary):
There's also David Sedaris, whom I mentioned the other day as a favorite writer of mine.
And not forgotten is a solitary Dave:
Yes, Dave Grohl. Sexy, sexy Beast!
Most days, though, you just can't beat the original:
As Chuck Barris's daughter used to proclaim on the Gong Show, "That's My Daddy!"
Show us your favorite writer.
It's hard to narrow my favorite writer to just one. I love so many. At the end of the day, though, you can't beat David Sedaris. I can read one of his stories in 10 or 15 minutes and turn my entire day around. The Stadium Pal. LOVE him.
I had a brief email exchange this morning with my dear friend [not really]Gladys. She's had a lot on her plate lately, and our Saturday morning telephone call was cut short this past Saturday so that I could hop on my bicycle to go to the Art Fair.
Our email exchange caused me to remember when Gladys and I worked together and she was once awarded the "Wait! I have one in my purse!" Award at our company beach party/picnic/cookout that turned in to a crazy weekend for all concerned. We ended up going to San Diego the next day in the same clothes we had worn to the company party, and although many crazy things happened, it ended up with me being driven back home by someone I had only met standing in line to get into a bar. I do remember Gladys screeching from the roof of the bar next door, "Hey, I know her, it's LOW-iss!!"
We were lucky to have survived many of our excursions back then, and Gladys knows exactly what I am talking about!!
The email exchange went on to include information about what we might be doing on the upcoming Memorial Day weekend. Now that we no longer live across town from one another, it didn't end with any last-minute decisions to go to Palm Springs, or Mexico, or San Francisco... you get the idea. I mentioned that I might just pedal over to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway to people-watch, even though the crowds tend to include several shirtless men who rip open their empty Bud Light cartons to write "Show Me Your Tits" on the inside and hold it up to anyone within shouting distance - sometimes not even women. Often, The Greatest Spectacle In Racing is going on along the streets as cars wait to get into the Speedway before the 500.
This caused me to ponder (are you keeping up?), how would one of those guys remember to take a Sharpie, anyway? Gladys and I are both Sharpie aficionados and we always have them with us. Always.
When I went to see David Sedaris about two years ago, I had two olive green Sharpie pens with me - one fine point. I had also taken a book for him to sign in the event I could talk to him. As I walked up to him, I could swear he asked, "Are those your fancy pants??" Geesh! Hindsight is 20-20, because I would have ordinarily shot back with, "Honey, ALL my pants are fancy!" As it turns out, he slowed down and repeated part of his question, "Fancy P-E-N-S." Well, yes, those WERE my fancy pens, so David graciously drew me a picture of my fancy pen, signed my book and I insisted he keep my fancy pen for himself. He did. He put it right in his pocket. See? The award for fanciest pants - er, PENS, goes to me! I do love David Sedaris and I would gladly give him any fancy pen he wants! We can all rest assured that none of us would ever use our markers to issue requests to strangers, and certainly not on the inside of a Bud Light carton.
Finally, the award for self-control this weekend goes to...Me again! This is getting embarassing! I managed to only buy beer at the Art Festival. One after, too. A Negro Modelo - yum! I also avoided spending money unnecessarily at the art supply store in anticipation of my supplies list for the Fall semester. I begged the professor to let me know the list early so that we could avoid any cardiac arrest on the first day of class.
Yesterday, I successfully went to my favorite locally-owned music store and purchased only what I had intended to buy, Rufus Wainwright's "Release The Stars." Now for THAT, I really should get an award, as I generally leave with a rather unruly stack of music.
