(this is annie)

i'm sorry, andrew bird.

(A note: Matt is going to help me install Movable Type, so then I will be able to write more often. Having internet access at home would help, too, but the frugal German in me refuses to pay $50 a month for it.)

This happened about two years ago, but it's an embarrassing story that deserves to be told:

One wintry Saturday night, I decided to go to a Hideout dance party. At the time I was sort of dating somebody, and his gruff roommate happened to be there. "Oh! Hello, gruff roommate," I chirped. Gruff roommate replied with some niceties, but then grabbed a nearby friend quickly. "This is Andrew," said the roommate. "He plays violin, too." Exeunt gruff roommate, enter Andrew.

I should mention that I tend to babble when I am nervous, and handsome men often make me nervous. So I began with this: "So you play violin. Me too. Well, I used to more often, but lately I don't so much, but I really should do more of it, you know? Where do you buy your bows and whatnot? Because I need a new bow. Not a boyfriendy beau. You know, a horsehair bow. That kind of bow. Except if you know of a shop that has nice boy-beaus, that would not be a horrible thing, either. Ha ha ha." Andrew looked amused and bemused. We talked for a little while longer and all was fine, but when I brought up Hitchcock's The Birds and talked about it for some length, he suddenly got weird and bolted.

At first, I thought it was the normal flight pattern of the North American Male. Later, after thinking I figured out that he was Andrew Bird, and realized he probably thought I was mocking him. Crap. I felt like a giant jerk, but then again, it's not as though I meant to make fun. Two years later, I am still hoping to run into the poor guy to explain everything. Let's hope it happens in 2004.

say hello

    it's anniet at gmail.


© 2009 avt

custom counter