The Same Brand of Insane
Just like this...but with more Bill Mueller ass discussion
Usually, people don’t make fun of you the first few times they meet you. There’s often a warming up period, a dance of social niceties wherein you tiptoe around each other and try not to offend the other person. Before you get to know each other’s sensibilities and senses of humor you stay away from off-color jokes and follow up comments with, “Um, you know, no offense or anything.” Even the most socially outgoing people tend to be on their best behavior when faced with new social situations.
Social conventions and courtesy? Meet the Surviving Grady crew.
It’s a bizarre thing, this new-fangled invention called the Internet. No longer simply a dwelling place for pedophiles and inmates (well, not entirely) it’s actually become a place where you can meet some pretty cool, like-minded people. And I don’t mean that in the “frustrating to the point of banging your head against a wall Match.com” way or even the “Oh look, here are other people that share my passion for collecting and stuffing intact road kill!” way. I mean it more in the way that it never ceases to amaze me how similar people tend to find each other across the vast reaches of cyberspace. Even when their shared passion is something as seemingly pedestrian as a baseball team, or, in fact THE baseball team, the Boston Red Sox.
In actuality, I blame
Fast forward to last Thursday. After having spent the past few months on “the board,” meeting a few of the more infamous faces in person and developing actual, real-life friendships with some of them (nearly satisfying my worries that none of them are, in point of fact, axe murderers waiting for the appropriate moment to strike), I thought I’d have all the local kids over for dinner at my new place. Seemingly a great idea considering that I’m not entirely unpacked yet and what I really needed was cooking for a crowd. But you have to understand, I just moved to
“Look how domestic you are!” she said.
“Heh,” I laughed, “Shut up.”
When Sam called a few minutes later, and I ran down the street to rescue her, I forgot to take the apron off.
“You made me walk down the street in my apron!” I said to her. “What will my neighbors think?”
“But,” she said, holding up a grocery bag, “I brought strawberries!”
“Hmph, okay then.”
I forgot to introduce
That’s another thing I’ve learned about this SG crew, their voices, whether on the board, on their respective blogs or in person are highly unique and distinctive. They are very much who they appear to be. No speechless wallflowers among this group.
“What do you think of this color?” I asked them, gesturing to my newly hunter-green bedroom walls. I’d been a bit trepidatious about the color since everyone I told about it kept saying, “Are you sure? That’s awfully dark.”
“Well,” Sam, a University of Michigan student shrugged, “
Steve arrived next, bearing a bottle of wine. “What are we having?” he asked.
“Zucchini with feta, chicken florentine and key lime cheesecake. Oh, and a baby spinach and mushroom salad.” I said.
“Damn,” he said, extracting the bottle of red wine from the paper bag, “I guessed wrong.”
“That’s all right,” I said, stirring the bubbling Florentine sauce, “I like red better than white anyway.”
Steve made his way into my bedroom while I continued to futz around in the kitchen. I figured he could take care of introductions on his own and when I heard a shrieked, “STEVE BRADY!” from the other room, I knew that at least the three of them weren’t standing there, staring at each other, waiting for me to come in with dry macaroni and glitter glue and to suggest an arts and crafts bonding project.
When Caitriona appeared a few moments later, I’d just put the chicken into the oven for the final warming and was shuttling back and forth between my bedroom where, for some reason everyone stationed themselves, and my kitchen.
Annette arrived last, bearing bread from the North End. She’d been to my place before and when I opened the door she greeted me by saying, “That was the longest T ride of my life!” She made her way upstairs and joined the rest of the group in my bedroom.
“Um, you guys,” I said, standing in the doorway, observing everyone spread out in my room, standing against walls, reclining on the bed and sitting on the floor, “You can sit on actual chairs in the living room if you want. I even have a couch!”
I laughed, “I’m glad you all like my bedroom. But I have, like, big people chairs and an actual dining room table to eat on. I think this means I’m a grown up.”
“Is that a hint?”
“Food, kids!” I said, gesturing towards the dining/living room. “Come and get it.”
Just call me the Pied Piper.
We all spread out around the table and Sam said the Ha-Motzi because, well, why the hell not, really?
As Steve pointed out and as
Amy said to me earlier in the day, “So everyone knows each other, right?”
“Well…no,” I said, “Well, sort of. I know them all. And Steve knows Annette and Caitriona. But I don’t know if Caitriona and Annette know each other. And Annette has met Sam, but I don’t think Sam has met Caitriona. And
Poor Steve, having to listen to illicit Bill Mueller talk for hours. But then, if it really did make him uncomfortable, he wouldn’t be the steadfast male posting on the board. The estrogen levels would have risen and flushed him out long ago if he didn’t at least partially enjoy himself.
It still amazes me sometimes, the candid manner in which we were all able to speak. I mean, it’s one thing to say something scandalous about your take on Jason Varitek’s thighs through the animosity of the internet and it’s quite another to, in person, say, as
And later on, when we were all sitting around and Sam insisted on getting a picture of us, we found ourselves laughing uproariously when Annette said, “Brady, your crotch is going to be the focal point of this picture.”
“Yeah,” I said, tears ready to stream down my cheeks, “You want to make sure you don’t end up with a ‘Varitek on the plane’” situation.
Steve, used to my brand of humor at this point, blushed and shook his head. Like I said, he’s a good sport.
You’d think that with a group of people who’d known each other, at least in the beginning, because of a shared interest, nay, obsession with a baseball team, the talk would be mostly baseball. You wouldn’t be entirely wrong in this instance but if we’d stopped ourselves there, we’d have missed out on Sam’s enthusiastic retelling of her find of a large, intact, dead sea lamprey and it’s “Giant! Rasping! Mouth!,” complete with digital pictures. We also would have missed the general discussion of blogging and blogs we love to read as well as theories about the other members of the board who weren’t there to defend themselves. We all decided that we can’t wait until Amy makes her pilgrimage North in a few short weeks and that it would have been an even better time if Marianne were present. In short, we didn’t run out of things to talk about. It’s almost as if we’re *gasp* actual friends.
When everyone left around and