Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

Buggering Crap Monkies

I took a bold step today and met up for lunch with another blogger whom I had never before met. This is a hard thing for me to do, because, believe it or not, I am shy. People are terrifying, unpredictable freaks. Except for you, of course. You are totally approachable. And do you know who else I do not find terrifying anymore? May-B from Buggering Crap Monkies, that cute person pictured on the left.

I was terrified beforehand, of course, because she was an Unknown Person. I don't know what it is that I think UPs are going to do to me, because I always meet them in well-lit, public venues where there are lots of witnesses, but I worry and breathe funny and break out in pimples like a hormone-imbalanced teenager anyway, which I did, especially the breaking out part. My chin usually has some sort festering pore on it, because I am a bad person, but several previously mostly unnoticeable zits blossomed into these red and purple babboon-butt-looking things this morning. I spackled over them, hoped for the best, and speed-walked to our meeting spot so that I could meet her five minutes late. I blame online Scrabble.

Despite my insecurity and punctuality defecit, we had a lovely lunch at this diner downtown that's been there for fifty years. May-B ordered chicken fingers, fries, gravy, and a coke, and I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, fries, gravy, and a coffee. She didn't eat my head or anything else along that line! In fact, she had such a calm and pleasant personality, that my hands stopped shaking as soon as we sat down in our naugahyde-covered booth. She was so nice that she didn't even get judgmental or try to wrestle the salt shaker from my hands when I began dumping gross amounts of my favourite salty poison into my already salty gravy. Oh, wait. Maybe that is her way of passive murder: failure to intervene in what can only end in death by heart attack. You can never be too sure about an UP. They're sneaky that way.

I am very much kidding. We really got along, and we are going to have lunch together again, which makes me a happer camper. Next to breakfast, lunch is my favourite meal, and May-B is a fine lunch date who is not only not terrifying but is also a damn good conversationalist who has the good manners not to stare at the miniature babboon butts sprouting out of your face.

This Wide, Wild World

November NaBloPoMo 2008