I have a good friend visiting in a few days. Now this would be no big deal, except for the fact we have never met in person. Weird, right? Well, not so much in today’s electronically enhanced and shrinking world. Though I have traveled quite a bit, and I have lived abroad, never have I been so blessed with as many amis, freunde, amici, amigos, etc., as I have now. The internet has become for all intent and purpose, the neighborhood bar, a place where everyone knows your name…or at least your avatar. I often pop in after work…”Schmoooootz!”…for a quick glass of red with my regulars, or I just sound the horn as I drive by just to let them know I’m around, but otherwise engaged.
Preparing for such a reveal visit is stressful. I have an image to maintain as the soul behind the “shoe”, so I am hastily planning my wardrobe…and working out. Hey, you can never make a second first impression, so I am doing my best to get rid of the residuals from the previously Tweeted peanut butter fudge brownie cupcakes with Reese’s cup centers. Damn you, Paula Dean. I know, I know, I have to forgo my plan to get Jillian Michaels to move in with me for a week, but this is more important. Did I just say that?
Meeting a friend I have never seen before carries with it an obvious conundrum. Will I recognize her at passenger pick-up, or will I be circling the airport in some kind of indiscriminate holding pattern while continually referring to a printed-out email picture taped to the steering wheel? And I know that picture is at LEAST ten years old! Facial recognition software would come in handy, but there is no app for that.
There are considerations about the house, too. If you are a regular reader, you know I have several DIY projects in the works. I’m trying to finish as many as possible. I went to the hardware after work yesterday, and yep, you guessed it. I went from last week’s male/female coupling to sockets and nuts…I can’t win. Which bedroom for my friend? Downstairs? Upstairs? Upstairs. Smoker. 6,400 feet. Note to self: rent oxygen tank. I wonder if they come in any color other than green.
Now, what to do? It’s Pride weekend, and since the gays are in full bloom, we can take in the mile high parade of homos. Surprise, there is no Chely Wright even though new this year is a country stage. After her pronouncement this week “I’m super, duper gay!”, perhaps there is a special parade for uber-gays that I am not aware. Oh, well, I will just have to free my mind (not a large stretch) to the ladies of En Vogue instead.
So, for those of you bellied up to the world wide watering hole this weekend, I’m sure we will be stopping in for a glass or two. Let’s discuss the World Cup, our newest conquest, did she actually just Tweet that crap?, I do know how to pick a lock, and yes, maybe a hint or two about the soul behind that shoe.