Sometimes it pays to be off-handedly impertinent…

Oh, it all started innocently enough—I’m watching the local TV news one night, the FBI comes to search HealthSouth, a curvy blonde local reporter is on the scene, I blog about it the next day (just happening to mention the name of said reporter and comment on her comely physical appearance), one of her friends finds the entry and thinks it’s funny and sends her the link, the reporter visits Possumblog, and I get a e-mail! ::blush:: Yikes—people actually READ this crap!

Anyway, as is my way, I got Chet the E-Mail Boy hopping about with a response and over the course of the past months finally managed to weasel a LUNCH INVITATION out of her!!

Now, before any of you out there start thinking naughty stuff and tsk-tsking and getting all huffy—read back over all of the stuff on Possumblog and you will certainly realize that Miss Reba is in no danger of having her husband conduct himself as anything other than a complete gentleman. My system of beliefs tells me it’s wrong to even consider such a thing, much less act on it. Another portion of my system of beliefs tells me that the last thing I want to do is wake up dead in a large, sticky pool of blood with Miss Reba racking another shell into the chamber of the Mossberg.

As it is, I look forward to my upcoming luncheon much in the way I do with My Friend Jeff™ (with whom I will be dining next Thursday), or with fellow Axis of Weevil member Larry Anderson (who is penciled in for the 31st)—it’s just a great way to chat with a friend about a wide variety of topics.

Although, in all fairness I think I must confess that neither Larry nor My Friend Jeff™ would look the least bit fetching in a black leather bustier. (Sorry, guys.)

There IS one odd thing that always trips me up, though, whenever I meet someone I only know through pixels—you think you know everything about someone, and then you figure out, ‘Hey, this is a perfect stranger!’ What do you talk about?

You know, being a news junkie and all, there’s all that local news shop-talk I want to yammer about—who the best reporters are, who are the most pretentious jerks, why can’t the story caption folks spell anything right—all the stuff she would probably like nothing better than to forget for a few minutes. And then there’s the fact that in person, I am not nearly the sparkling conversationalist I appear to be in print. I grunt and roll my eyes, I knock things over, I have spinach on my chin.

You just never know how such things will turn out. But, I figured I would keep my fingers crossed, and hope against hope that I wouldn’t make a complete ass of myself in front of a local television personality, who would then feel compelled to do a terrible story about me and what a twit I was and how I only graduated from the sixth grade and how I smelled like bug poison and that I was wanted in several states and…and then the phone rang. “Hey, this is Nikki!”

Seems she got called in to work early today, so our repast had to be rescheduled for Tuesday. ::sigh::

And then we jabbered for another hour as if we’d known each other forever. Talked about her upcoming nuptialization, the fact that she has just moved out close to where I grew up, David Neal’s new play-toy (and no, I don’t think I have EVER seen a weatherman more…aroused…by a piece of equipment), parents, babies, kids, Pomeranians, mentally ill Pomeranians, teeth, more teevee. What a sweet person!

So, lunch looks like it will be right interesting.
posted by Terry at 2:12:00 PM