The Girls and I decided to start a book club, which we’ve called “The Lady Literates,” because we’re fuckin’ ladies. Our first book was David Sedaris’s new memoir, ”When You are Engulfed in Flames.” This was also centered around the fact that David’s book tour was stopping in our little Broad Ripple bookstore, Big Hat Books.

I adore your standard little ma and pa bookshop (or especially a “shoppe,” I love a “shoppe.”) But neither Pa nor Ma were prepared for the onslaught of Sedaris fandom. (This person got some great images uploaded to Flickr of it. Yeah. Thanks for showing me up.) A huge line wound around the block, and he spent about an hour and a half signing books before he even stood up to read.  He was, of course, completely worth the wait, and I basked in the rays of my writer crush as he read.  (Seriously. Hearts circling above my head. Bloop. Bloop. Bloop.)

We must meet him, we decided.

Book signing, Round Deux.
Did I mention waiting?

Oh, the waiting…

We sighed; we grumbled.  We squinted toward the front of the line, What are they TALKING to him about? Are they telling him their LIFE STORIES?! People always think that just because they read his work that they KNOW HIM INTIMATELY. (Knowing full well I am one of those people.) We were hot, tired, getting grumpy. Then came that glorious breakthrough of Slaphappy.  Someone from the book tour came around and had us write our names on slips of paper so David could quickly dedicate them.  At this point, Jana and Brooke had left, leaving their books in our clearly unsound care.

“We should just have him write something random in here,” I suggested.

“Have him write it ‘To Hooker’,” someone said, probably Katie, because she uses the term “Hooker” more than you would believe.

Sedaris had been signing for hours. We arrived at 6p, and it was approaching 10:30p, and they moved what was left of the line from the outdoor tent into the scorchingly hot, tiny bookstore.

[Writer's crush is SO OVER.]

[Yeah. We had kind of turned on him at this point.]

Having run out out of conversational topics and overall sanity, Bess introduced a game called “Who’d You Rather” — a highly complex game in which a player is presented with two names and she must decide which one she would prefer to sleep with.  This can start out with a beginner level question like, “Leonardo DiCaprio or Jake Gyllenhall?” (Leo, because Gyllenhall’s got that f’ing pout that he does, like someone killed his puppy.) But then someone says, “Mario or Luigi?” and you’re wondering what it says about you when both Bess and Katie pick Luigi (”He’s taller!”) but you pick Mario because he’s “the hero,” and where have your feminist sensibilities gone?  As the line neared the Biographies section, Bess would just pick two books at random, and I was left thinking things like, “You know, Winston Churchill is DAMN sexy,” or “Mussolini would DEFINITELY be a better lay than Hitler.”

11:30 pm.  We make it to the front of the line.  David Sedaris is before us.

“HOORAY!” I shout, throwing my arms in the air.

No response. His tour staff looked at me like I was crazy, like people normally wait in line three-plus hours to have someone write his name a book,
I approached him first, and I honestly can’t remember what I said. Bess recorded it as “I’m a big fan,” which is probably accurate, only she failed to detail the slurring. And the drool.

“I like your nails,” he said.

“Oh, thanks. I had them done for a wedding.”

To Jenn. I like your talons.  David Sedaris.

It was Bess’s turn to gush. He asked her what she did for a living, we basically just said, “We make [CENSORED] commercials happen.”
To Bess. When I see fries I’ll think of you. David Sedaris.

We handed over Brooke’s book next, saying she couldn’t stay but would appreciate a signing.
To Brooke. You’re lame. (drawing of a little crutch)

Finally was the book with “Hooker” on the inscription.
“Hooker?” He looked up. “You have a friend named Hooker?”
We explained that it was our other friend that had left earlier in the night.

To Hooker.  You could have met me in person, but instead you are sucking cocks for money.  David Sedaris.

WRITER’S CRUSH IS SO BACK ON.

SO WORTH IT.