Dean Smith came over tonight for dinner, dish, and Silent Film Night at the CocoPlex. We walked down to Molly Stone’s to pick up some pecorino for my fava bean and basil pasta, and turning the corner to pick up some fettucine I bumped into Armistead pushing a cart down the aisle. “Hey Armistead, it’s Chris!” I said, as if we were old friends. Realizing quickly that I had only been introduced to him once about 15 years ago, I quickly added “Bob Glück’s old boyfriend” and stuck out my ice cold hand, chilled through and through by the frigid pecorino. While shaking his hand, and thinking of Bob’s advice on finding something positive to emphasize in a critique, I told him how impressed I was with how efficiently his books had been scrunched into a 2-1/2 hour musical. He was generous and sweet, and just so adorable. Why didn’t I go after HIM when I had the chance instead of Bob? I thought… Back to Dean and the checkout line, I saw Armistead again on the other side of the store and ran across and blurted, “It was the pecorino.” “Huh?” he asked. “My cold hand, I was holding this pecorino, I’m not the walking dead.” It all didn’t come out quite right and through his befuddlement did I see him glance at my crotch?
Tales of Post-Twinkie Ennui
You were supposed to ask him whether the green onions in your hand were scallions.
I wasn’t thinking fast enough. Where is the bunny when I need him?
Usually at home by himself.