The Fan Grope and Meat

Sometimes as a Blogger, you have to pull yourself away from your laptop kicking and screaming and get out there and meet your fans. It's a higher duty that I encourage all bloggers to do no matter how traumatic it is to be away from your precious.  I can assure you that the umbilical chord will eventually be reattached.

I met a fan of my blog yesterday. We had been exchanging emails and Facebooking for quite some time. (Facebooking is like being sassy with your schoolmates on the playground.) We agreed to meet outside the Bourbon Pub in New Orleans at 5pm yesterday.

As soon as I look up and see the Fan, he promptly pats me on the head and says, "Aww... you a widdle man!" I cringe and say, "Yeah, I am a short fucker."  Why wasn't he warned by my publicist that I am only 5'7"? Hmpfh! Now I am panicking that all the poor boy's dreams are crushed. 

We spent the first hour watching Florida beat Alabama in the SEC Championship Game. The Fan was an Aubie that was all giddy when Florida began pulling away in the fourth quarter. I was personally rooting for Alabama.

In the next couple of hours, we watched music videos and SNL clips being played on the screens at the Bourbon Pub. It can be quite mesmerizing. I don't know if I am similar to other Bloggers in this respect, but sometimes I zone out and fantasize I am that Hoochie Mama on the screen shaking my thing. The Fan had to interrupt my fantasies a few times and forced me to engage in conversation utilizing my mouth and ear as opposed to my fingers and eyes. The Fan is so old fashioned!

I swear I only lustfully fingered my iPhone a few times. Just having it on the table nearby and directly in front of me gave me a certain comfort. It was like a security blanket while I was not plugged in to my addiction. 

Of course, it wasn't until we get to the restaurant Mona Lisa that the Fan blurted out, "OH MY GAWD! YOU CAN TALK!" I winced. What was I, a mute at the Bourbon Pub? Lordy. Why don't others tell me these things? Twilight Zone music suddenly begins to stream in my head. Maybe I AM crazy and totally dysfunctional?

So I am a complete mess at this point. The Fan has looked into the depths of my soul and quickly deemed me to be batshit crazy. My hand is shaking for my iPhone. I made up some excuse that I wanted to show him how fat a Facebook friend was, but I really was just getting my iTina hit.

Before he escaped, I tried to save face by forcing the Fan to meet my furry children, Boudreaux and Pierre. Surely if he saw how much they loved me, he would walk back to his car instead of running away screaming from the insanity. I crossed my fingers that my Dachshunds wouldn't ferociously attack his ankles. Thankfully, they were well behaved and sweet. 

The moral of this story is that bloggers should really meet their fans. Don't be afraid of letting them see how twisted and fucked up in the head you are. It is great theatre for the fan and will only build up your legend well into the twilight years!