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When I started Naptimethoughts, it was just for me.
I had no expectations that anyone would ever read the thing, and I certainly never expected to form real friendships with people I’d never met— people who live across oceans, across continents, people who live on the other side of the world.
Obviously I was wrong, I have formed friendships as real as any friendships (what do they call it? IRL?) by way of Naptimethoughts, by email, and now, face to face.  I never thought it would happen, but recently I had the great pleasure to meet Pieter, of Ah Dad, in person. He came all the way from South Africa, aaaaaand he came to me. I didn’t even have to go anywhere, which is good because I’m really lazy, and “doing stuff” is not generally on my “Stuff to do” list.

He came to the States (specifically NYC) on a business trip, and wanted to go to Gotham Comedy Club, so my husband and I took him.
I’d never been to Gotham before, so I consulted a friend on it’s specifics.

“You wanna sit in the front”, she said, “the sound at the back tables is ASS, so get there early. Also, the wait staff come over constantly to make sure you’re all drinking enough to make the comics funny.”

I took this sage advice, and we planned to get there an hour early.

We ended up driving in. The Husband and I rolled the dice on the Lincoln Tunnel and won, it was way faster than the train. Then we parked my husbands commuter car (I affectionately call her “Shit Box”. It’s out of love, people, not because she’s got close to 300,000 miles on her.) in a garage, which, since we were downtown was pretty cheap. Parking till midnight was only a bajillion dollars, whereas uptown — in the theater district — you’re looking at 2 bajillion and a kidney, at least, and that only gets you till six PM.

So, with butterflies in my tummy, we walked the three blocks to meet Pieter. By the time we got to Gotham and met him, I was completely breathless (lets say it was excitement, and not extreme lack of exercise). He brought us gifts from South Africa, and since I’m generally an asshole and never think of these things, I had not thought to bring anything for him. He got a dose of Naptimethoughts hospitality nice and early.

Hey, at least he knew what to expect.

We went inside, and Gotham was still in the middle of the show prior to ours (we were an hour early after all) so we stood around and talked.
It must have been a trillion degrees in the foyer at Gotham. I started sweating like a cub scout at Neverland Ranch, and Pieter learned that I do not lie about my abnormal sweating. I take it very seriously. As I took my own personal embarrassment shower, he politely asked if we’d like to go outside.
It was really hot, though. Pinkie swear. Nobody else was sweating like a fucking fat guy at a buffet, but they did, at least, acknowledge that it was warm.

Hey, that's where we were!

Hey, that’s where we were!

Since we were first into the show, we got a table right at the front (I was much less sweaty at this point). Like, right in front of the microphone. We got some drinks.

The lady whose job it is to come out and abuse the audience came out to abuse the audience. She took special exception to me, I don’t know why.
I was laughing.
I was nice; nicer, actually, than is usual for me. The kitty kept her claws retracted.
Here are some of the highlights of her special on Naptimethoughts:
“I see you’ve come out tonight in your best green Washington DC tee shirt” (It’s not the Met, you know.)
“There’s something very off about your vibe. Are you mother Earth?” (I’m Naptimethoughts, so close the fuck enough.)
“What do you do for a living, and don’t try to be funny” (I don’t ever try, that’s generally the problem.)
“Who are these two guys you’re with? They make a really good looking couple”  (Okay, yes they would. We get it, two tall handsome men and a fat lady in an old green Washington DC tee shirt. You’re just jealous.)
“Are you on a weekend pass from a mental hospital? Are you sure they’re not your nurses or something?” (I’m never sure of anything. I was willing to let that one pass as legitimate.)
Then I got the stink eye for ordering a drink while she was talking.
She was funny, though, so no harm no foul.

Okay, that’s a total lie, I was completely annoyed. Both the guys told me I was a baby, and yes, they were quite right, but I thought she was horrible and mean and ugly. No, Fugly. Super fugly with disgusting sauce and a side of cat snot. Not the runny kind, either, the rubber cement kind. (See Today in Haiku)
So there, lady whose name I do not know and will never see again. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, several weeks later, on a blog that you’ll probably never read, in a post you’ll probably never see.
That’s right, I called you fugly.

Naptimethoughts = Vindicated.

The headliner was Mario Cantone, and he was very… He sang some extremely… Show tunes. I don’t have an adjective for what he did. None of us did. We all thought the other two comics were funnier. He kind of looked like he had a blow problem or something.
Oh well, the booze flowed, and Pieter got to check out Gotham Comedy club.
This is us:

Finally, the big reveal.

Finally, the big reveal.

After we saw… Ummm… Show tunes,  we went to East on Eighth for some dinner, and we introduced Pieter to mediocre American meatloaf.
I thought I had a pretty good handle on what to feed a South African, but it turns out… Not so much. So we convinced him to try the meatloaf, in an effort to give him a true blue taste of America.

Yeah, sorry about that.

Yeah, sorry about that.

Inyhoo, it was no matter, what counted was the conversation, and it was good. Actually, it was diarrhea of the mouth. My husband said, later on, that he thought he spoke once during dinner, and it was to the waiter. We were there for hours and neither one of us shut up at all. What was so strange and amazing and exciting about it was that we were talking:
To. Each. Other.
Not on a screen, not by email, not commenting to each other regarding posts we had written, but talking, sometimes gossiping, (no, not about you) about everything that, prior to that moment, we had not known that we needed to talk about. We talked about writing a blog, about how we write, and why we do it, we talked about our kids and families; it was such easy conversation. I felt like I spilled my Naptimethoughts guts for the first time ever, and I suppose in a way I did, because he is the only one of you that I’ve ever met, “IRL”. (Heh. IRL. )
We closed the place down. They had to ask us to leave, in that very desperate we-really-want- to-go-home-now kind of way.
I’d tell you what we did next, but it involved me trying to navigate the streets of lower Manhattan around midnight from the backseat of a car, sorting out detours, and failing miserably. I’d have done better if we’d walked, or gotten on the subway. SO YOU”LL JUST NEVER KNOW… MUAHAHAHA… Ah Dad made it to The Cellar eventually anyhow. Check out his blog, he wrote about it.

We should do that more often.
Well, I mean, South Africa’s kind of far, but after my night out with Pieter, I think we should all make an attempt to meet each other IRL. I know Ireland has award ceremonies for Bloggers, and you guys all get to meet there, but the rest of us schlubs should try to meet up when we travel.
It’s so worth it.
Pieter, it was wonderful to meet you, and if you ever find your way back to NYC, you know where to call.

Has anybody else met a fellow blogger? How was it for you?
That didn’t come out right.
You are all dirty, dirty people.

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