I don't know anybody

So Linzie asked Dorajar and I to Broder's for din din the other night before he heads out to Seattle for a 10 day spinning gig (btw? The food? Not bad and pretty inexpensive) I've determined that I know no one. That's right. I'm not as famous as I've made myself out to be in my own mind. Here's how it went down.

Our fetching and expeditious server Joe and Dorajar recognized each other from when they auditioned together for "Ghosts" (Priceless dialogue= Joe "Hey, whatever happened with that?"/ Dorajar -A smidge uncomfortably: "Um...I got it?") and Linzie recognized a former student and his girlfriend (Typical banter from he= Me: "She's cute"/Him "Dude... she's a bitch.")

And so it goes. Like at the State Fair where I used to run into peeps I knew like a fiend- This year? Not a soul. Not even an uncomfortable "Ex" siting. (Ry-Gonn and Muck Muck ran into some trivia peeps they knew, and Dorajar was even recognized by a woman who was working at the Eco-Building)

I mean, there was a time when I couldn't go on a soul-searching expedition up the side of a Tibetan mountainside without running into SOME Sherpa I was buddies with. Nowadays, their oxen don't even recognize me.

Is this what happens to the homeboy homebody?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not frassin'. It's been years since I've been able to go out in public without the throngs throwing themselves at me...strange women offering me their first born or men asking to bottle my sweat.

I'm guessing the half a bulb of roasted garlic I ate might've had something to do with keeping people at bay. IJS