*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.

P.Rekk
2007