5 Things You’ll Learn When Meeting Me In Person
Last Friday, at my birthday party, I had the pleasure of meeting Gossip Guy in person when he made the trek up to Cowtown from Deathbridge (a little joke for us Canucks). Although I offered advanced apologies and warnings he insisted he’d survive the encounter limbs intact. He truly lived up to expectation; he was fun, interesting, and didn’t hit me in the face when I kept insisting that his cap should be turned sideways or backwards (and proceeded to make it so). Drunken haze or not, our meeting made me think about all the things you’d realise should you ever get the chance to meet me in person:
1. I write very much like I talk.
If you ever speak to me, you’d notice quite quickly I talk almost exactly as I write here: with generally-grammatically-correct, run-on convoluted sentences that are my sort-of trademark. I also really enjoy making up hyphenates and words, and run off in random tangents until I forget what we were discussing in the first place. Still, for better or for worse, my actual voice and my written voice are quite similar, so you should probably expect me to sound like I do in your head. Right now. Spooky.
2. I am much bigger in person.
The most stand-out part of meeting Gossip Guy was him telling me (and I remember this through all the alcohol) that, “[I] look a lot bigger than [my] pictures suggest”. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t just mean that I am much larger than a couple-hundred-pixel photograph of me holding a bloody baseball bat, otherwise I’d just be some sort of macabre Thumbelina. But at 6’1”, I’m not exactly a small guy, and I’ve spent years sculpting a body to closely resemble whatever chemical nightmare makes up Marshmallow Peeps. I have a rigorous routine of McDonald’s and sedentary activities, and I’m proud it’s so noticeable.
3. I’m kind of a dork.
For my birthday I wore my favourite stuff out to the club, and that just happens to be my “Good Grammar Costs Nothing” t-shirt, and my “During A Zombie Attack, Please Follow Me” glow-in-the-dark messenger bag. It’s moments like this that I know why, when I get home the morning after and find a condom mysteriously materialized in my back pocket, it mainly amounts to wishful thinking. I have such an odd penchant for wearing an “I’m unfuckable” sign around my neck.
4. I have the attention span of a hyperactive mosquito.
Like a puppy overstimulated by the sheer number of people at a house party, and runs around in circles until it throws up, I succumb to that same ADD-inspired lack of focus. At the club with all the people I know, and the flashing lights, and throbbing music, I can’t do much more than say three sentences before running off to find another crotch to sniff.
5. I’m everything you’d expect me to be.
The long and the short of it is that I’m pretty well exactly the person that you imagine while reading this blog: a bit outrageous, a little crazy, and pretty weird. At least I’m sort of funny, and I’m not orchestrating some elaborate ploy to lure men from the internet into a garage so that I can murder them horribly. Oh wait. Too soon?
Notes