The Bestseller at the Bar

I went apartment interviewing in Chelsea on Wednesday, and as I said to the guy, the weirdest shit happens to me. I have STORIES. Well, here's a story.

Amanda & I went out to the Henry St. Ale House even though the crowd was weak, mostly because the crowd at Annie's (our former regular bar) is creepy and we didn't want to walk to Atlantic Avenue.

So we were down there, and I was telling her all about the Todd breakup, and she was talking about what happened with her resident cuntsnatcher, William. (Cuntsnatcher- great word for "guy who sleeps with you and fucks with your emotions and you let him. Use it. It will be in Webster's one day.) A cutie walked in and ordered Guinness and I was talking to the bartender Pete about something and we happened to begin talking.

JOHN was articulate - we were talking about magazines, which thanks to the Pace Publishing program, I can now talk about in words like "spread" and say things like "the editorial content doesn't match its artistic direction." yeah. Okay, so I ask him what he does, and he's an art director for a men's magazine, fairly high profile. I'm suitable impressed, and tell him my lowly position on the book publishing foodchain, which he's impressed with. And he mentions, do you know my sister's book?

Ordinarily, I wouldn't have - or I would have pretended to. But I DID know it, because we used its sales figures to try to buy another blog book that I really, really loved. It's a memoir ala Elizabeth Wurtzel, with appropriate pop culture and Jewish sarcasm. And it happens to be a NY Times bestseller. (I know this because we get sent them at work. And although it wasn't on the normal list, it was on the same extended weird everything-that's-not-normal-nonfiction list as HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.) He suggests I read it because he's in it, since that's his sister's book.

So the bar closes because we're the only two people in there. (Amanda instinctively caught the "this-one-is-mine" hint.) We leave and go for a walk, down the promenade, around Montague St, etc. and end up at his apartment. I want to spend more time with him, so we go upstairs.

But that's not all. At the bar I realize he's 37 - he tells me this and we go through the inappropriate you were 13 when I was born remarks. Outside the bar in the better Bklyn night lighting, I realize that he's graying. Salt-and-pepper graying. But he's still adorable. SO I decide this isn't an altogether bad thing, and I continue to babble. Need I mention, that even though I'm wearing flats, he's definitely not as tall as me? This isn't that important, since the short guys I've slept with (kevin v., clay g. and andy b.) have been the best.

So we go back to the apartment and make out. I stop him at the shirt, although I allowed him to play around with me downstairs because, what the hell? He remarks about it being soft - at which point, I wanted to ask, who have you been with who wasn't (but I wasn't that drunk thank god). I asked for his card, b/c I sort of want to see him again.

He offered to let me stay, but since I don't make my own schedule at work like he does, I knew that it was a bad idea to do so. So I got home and went to bed at 4am, and was suitably tired all day. But I got an idea - I emailed him a cute email about how I googled him - I had told him that I google everyone I meet as to ascertain they're not serial killers - and put the link to this blog at the bottom. So, John, if you're reading this my cell number is also somewhere in that email.

And, being the weird girl that I am regarding souveneirs of my adventures, I bought the book. I was at B&N anyway b/c I wanted to read something that wasn't pub'd by my publisher. It's hilarious and I would have bought it anyway if I hadn't made out with the author's brother the night before.

It also helps that the book is dedicated to him and that his height is explained in the book as a thyroid condition. So I've decided that I must make out with this man again, if for nothing but the story. I don't imagine this would be that hard to do, since we literally live a block away from each other and I do have his cell number (on his card). Plus, he's cute and from what I've seen, it would not be a bad thing to see him naked.

Although I am reconsidering my idea to give him the link here. Oh well.

In other Meg news:
I'm going to see the greenpoint apartment in a few hours and REALLY, REALLY hope it's nice and that I get it. Because that would kick ass. Although I'm dreading taking the L train shuttle bus. I've been avoiding buses for my entire NY life and hoped I would never have to do that. But I'll bite the bullet for this apartment.

I'm really hoping I can go out tonight with Amanda, Autumne and perhaps Jackie. Diallo is supposed to show up at some point as well. Hopefully this time he drinks more than seltzer so I don't feel like an alcoholic.

James is coming tomorrrow(!) which is completely surreal to me. But I'll have plenty of time to think about it while walking around the park.

I got tipsy last night and really, really missed my family and Todd. Guess my cry-of-the-month in that department is satiated. But I didn't call him - which shows an E for effort and a P for progress.