Thursday, October 25, 2007

Call Me Tinsley

It's a big week, gang. I got my first byline. Normally I don't get bylines; they're sort of contrary to the point of ghostwriting. So while technically I've been published many times before, you wouldn't recognize me in the headshot of the chubby balding man. Now, however, the agribusiness world will know my name. Except that the publication misspelled it. Minor detail.

In social news, I've got four (4) very promising events on the calendar for the next two weeks. Tomorrow is the Frida Kahlo Walker After Hours, at which Emily and I will get lost in the parking garage, spend approximately 10 minutes craning our necks to actually see the paintings from the back of the crowd, and take the remainder of the evening to get our money's worth in Wolfgang Puck catering. These events have been the highlight of my membership at the Walker; I'll be forced to renew for the discounted tickets alone. Oh, and art appreciation... blar blar blar... "I find the work interesting, but derivative."

Saturday, I'll be attending a Halloween party at which I'll know one person (Emily again). Meeting new people on Halloween is actually pretty efficient; you can instantly gauge someone's intelligence, creativity, or knowledge of current events based on their costume, rather than wasting time in conversation before you realize you've just been introduced to a Neanderthal. Take the party I went to last year: Girl in the Playboy bunny costume- don't want to meet her. Guy dressed as Steve Irwin with stingray attached- now that's someone I'd like to get to know. For the record, I'll be going as a Robert Palmer band member. I struggled with this decision, as I have an intense hatred of Halloween Hoochies. I decided, though, that the costume is not overly hoochie-esque (I'm allowing some extra length in the skirt), and redeems itself anyway because anything related to the 80s is kosher in my book.

Next Friday, another Halloween party at which I'll know next to no one (same costume), and yet another one on Saturday. (Different costume, as apparently someone in this circle has already done the Robert Palmer thing. I'll be recycling Rosie the Riveter from '05 and '06. It's the antidote to hoochie-ism.)

AND, I just realized that the weekend after that is my boss's wedding, and after that it's practically Thanksgiving, then my mom's birthday, and then obviously it's Festivus, and I'ma be broke broke broke and busy busy busy for the next three to six months.

I'm tired. Maybe I should skip one of these parties.

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