Last night Kiefer and I participated in a zombie bar crawl. Blah, blah, blah. More about this later.
Guess who I met? Hippie Cahier!
Words alone cannot describe how excited I was to meet her, but because I forgot to take a picture, I’ll do my best.
My cell rings, and it’s Hippie.
Jumping off my bar stool, I squeeze Kiefer’s arm and scream, “It’s Hippie!” I’m not entirely sure he understood because I was already half way out the door.
I ditch Kiefer and walk up the street at lightning speed to meet her. (Zombies don’t run.)
On my way up the street, I started to panic slightly because I’d never met a fellow blogger.
- What if she thinks I’m a dork?
- What if she thinks I’m no where near as funny in person as I am on my blog?
- What if I suddenly forget how to speak and string coherent sentences together? Then I’ll have to pass her notes all night.
- What if the zombie make-up I’m wearing gives me some type of high and makes me forget my manners and do embarrassing stuff?
- OH MY GOD, I’m dressed like a zombie! What kind of a first impression does that make?
After introductions, this wonderful, wonderful woman did something to put me entirely at ease.
She passed me some Pop-Tarts.