Thursday, September 20, 2007

*kick, kick, shuffle, shuffle*

I attended The Nod With Don Hall And Joe Janes (henceforth: TNWDHAJJ, phonetically: TEHN-wuhd-hahzh) last night. There was much Noddage to be had, because all of these people kick ass (sorry, I planned that link-tence poorly). There was also much snacks to be had. There were no puppets to be had, but I place no blame. I had a great time menos puppetos, so all is forgiven.

Other discoveries:

- Pringles: highly appealing. Pringles with words printed on them: unappealing. Pringles with movie trivia printed on them: Better, but only slightly; might be read, will not be eaten.

- Joe Janes and Don Hall stumbled across a Dutch-esque cookie sampler pack that was not only edible but tasty. I stand in awe, but I imagine that Dutch people everywhere are recoiling as their culinary trickery is overthrown.

- I pay an inordinate amount of attention to free snacks. Funny that.

- Don Hall is real.

- The list of people who might possibly be a figment of my imagination is rapidly approaching extinction. Still remaining: Tony Blair, Picabo Street, Rob Lowe, the ticket lady at the Landmark Century Cinema with the really funny-ass accent, Chef Boyardee, and Gregory the 5'8" Invisible Lemur.

- Poop is funny. (Alright, this wasn't a discovery. More of a reinforced fact.)

- Most funny, personable bloggers translate into funny, personable persons.

- Except me.

I kinda sorta had that lingering back of the brain dread that I get in any situation in which I will be all by myself meeting all sorts of new people in a social environment. It's the junior high dance mindset: "Boy, it sure would be great to talk to those people on the other side of the gym. Girls, I believe they're called. I've heard the stories; sugar, spice, other nice things. But how, oh how, am I to begin a conversation with these maidens? Do we even speak the same language? I will have been to France by the time I reach college, and my awesome pubescent powers of foresight tell me that situation will prove that language barriers will be hard to cross. It might be best if I just stay over here in the comforting shade of this brick wall. And after another Fresca, weh-heh-ell, who knows what kind of shenanigans I'll get into? I may even walk over, stand a few feet outside of an already established conversation, smile awkwardly and occasionally nod! Paul Rekk's going nuts tonight! Woohoo!"

God, junior high is a weird place.

And yet, this is how I still act around new groups of people. But it's not just girls anymore. Oh, there were plenty of disarmingly attractive/witty/lots of other good qualities lady bloggers (is bloggerettes un-PC?) at The Nod, to be sure. (ed. note: You see, what I just did there is called the Post-Compliment. Ideally, Charming Lady Blogger will stumble across the Reve by association or linkage and be taken in by the endearing qualities that I am unable to imbue myself with in social settings. Then the Post-Compliment strikes, smiting [in the hearts-in-eyes manner, not the plague-of-boils manner] Charming Lady Blogger and increasing potential for further interaction. [ed. note within note: And what I just accomplished here was a sense of Self-Referential Ease. In the off-chance that the Post-Compliment is seen by Charming Lady Blogger as, for lack of a better word, creepy, a ridiculously lengthy, layered parenthetical will be sufficiently unexpected so as to diffuse the online awkwardness.]) However, in the years since J-High, I have discovered that I am not, it turns out, made of snakes, snails, or dog tails -- puppy or otherwise -- and that there is a slight possibility that other boys, who I've been told are made of such things, may speak in tongues as well. So, really, why chance it?

So congratulations Nodders, on a great event. And don't mind the tall, skinny, blonde kid in the corner. He's just looking for the Fresca.



Anonymous said...

Why is Rob Lowe a figment of your imagination?

Paul Rekk said...

Ah, anonymous, if only I knew how the old brainpan worked, I'd be a much happier man; very possibly a much happier man in a world without Rob Lowe.

But you seem familiar with the name, which gives me pause. Either this Mr. Lowe is real or my imagination is gaining power by the minute and shall soon take over the world. That would be neat.

Anonymous said...

You're silly.

I'm convinced you'd be a much happier man in a world without Rob Lowe because you can't BE him, never WILL be him, and you just can't live with that reality.

So you've talked yourself into the faux world of your imagination and live a life of folly.

Rob Lowe is mercifully real and my own imagination toys with him regularly.

How neat is THAT?!?!?

Claire said...

OMG! This is the creepiest post ever!

- a charming(?) lady blogger

Paul Rekk said...


Hmmm... I likes the cut of your jib. However, Miss(ter?) Smarty-Pants, how do you explain Picabo Street?


Ah, come on, now! I can handle "kinda creepy" or "a modicum of creep", but creepiest ever? That's right for the jugular!

Claire said...

I'm going to warn all of the lady bloggers about you.

This post is truly disturbing.