What a great evening...

You see this man? This man is one of my most favoritest people ever. and i mean ever. It's none other then Dave Eggers, the literary mastermind (I'm really reaching for it now) behind A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, You Shall Know Our Velocity, and most recently How We Are Hungry. I love Dave Eggers beyond words. Anyone who has ever read A.H.W.O.S.G would know how incredibly amazing this man's mind is. He is funny, yet at the same time he has something to say that's worth listening to. He brings new meaning to the word satire.

I don't know, I could blather on and on and on about the amazing amazingness of Dave Eggers. Seriously, I could go on for pages upon pages, but I won't bore you with my stalkerish adulations. It gets a little scary, even for me. Last year M and I went to see him in Lancaster, Pa, which was great since she was living there at the time and I only had to drive an hour and a half to get there. This was the first time either of us had met anyone remotley famous so we were a little starstruck going into it. I sat there sitting on my hands, swinging my feet like a child, listiening to him talk and M just sat there with a stupid grin on her face. We were both horrible fans and forgot our books to be signed (I, being a horrible friend, also forgot R's book to be signed) so instead we rounded up all the staplers in the household, resulting in a rather hilarious conversation with R while he was at work, "If I were R's stapler, where would I be?" "Idon'tknowprobablybehindmycomputerIdon'thavetimeforthisI'mreallybusy!" We rummaged through some bags to find a silver sharpie and were on our merry way. (For those of you not in the know, Eggers had a gratuitous picture of a stapler in his book! He just drew it there! A stapler! Genius I tell you! Pure Genius!!) Once we got through the signing line, we sheepishly tumbled our staplers onto the table muttering "we're horrible fans" as he looked at us like we had five heads. Each.
"Umm... thanks?" he said.
"Oh no no no" exclaimed M, " we want you to sign them!"
"Oh well, I'd love to, but I don't have anything to sign them..." M whips out the silver sharpie, "with. Awesome!" So he signs the staplers. "I cannot improve upon this. D Eggers" on one, "This is not a stapler. D. Eggers" on the other, and just his signature on the last one (I guess he ran out of steam). M asked him a random question about what he reads for pleasure and then stood there with that stupid grin and a vacant expression on her face as he started talking about the authors he read ("I really don't read anything mainstream, I'm always reading new things to be published") hearing nothing but "wah wah wah wah" Charlie Brown style while only his head remained in focus, becomming larger and larger has he spoke and everything else became smaller and smaller and more fuzzy. I just stood there dumbstruck and in awe of M's bravery and intelligence in asking such a question, while my brain emptied of all intelligent thought as soon as we reached him in line, resulting in one syllable grunts whenever a question was directed at me. M asked him if he wanted a cookie after he was done signing, "Yeah, but not anything... weird" Afterwards, walking to the car, M and I were ecstatic. We were swooning. We were in love. Speaking at the same time, "I asked him if he wanted a cookie!! And he said YES!! And I GOT it for him!! and it went from MY hands into HIS mouth!! Oh My God Oh My God!!!!" "I can't believe Dave Eggers SIGNED my STAPLER!! He'll remember us FOREVER!! I bet NO ONE has EVER asked him to sign a STAPLER!! We're so WITTY! And He was so FUNNY and SMART!!! And he LISTENED to EVERYTHING anyone had to SAY!!!!!!" Seriously, we were high on this for days. Days upon days. We were obsessed.

So last night, R and I went to Elliot Bay Book Co. to see Dave Eggers again (oddly enough I can't just refer to him as Dave, or Eggers, or Mr. Eggers. It's always DaveEggers. Even in his presence). I told M about this and she reacted exactly as I had expected (and kind of hoped. I mean I feel like a real asshole saying this, but I was so fucking smug when I told her. I could barely contain myself.) This time promoting books that would benefit his nonprofit, 826 Valencia, which is basically a tutoring center for underprivelaged kids with awesome storefronts (The one in San Francisco is a PIRATE store! and the one in Brooklyn is a CRIME FIGHTING store!) And he was really smart and funny as always. I was more in control of myself, as I did not want to embarass R. I remembered my books this time and stood in line to get it signed, and when I got up to him I tried to prompt his memory.
"So I saw sometime last year when you were promoting You Shall. It was in Lancaster actually."
"Oh wow, Lancaster? Really?"
"Yeah, my boyfriend and I just moved out here about a month ago from Pennsylvania. When we saw you in Lancaster, my friend and I had you sign our staplers" prompt prompt remember me!!! remember meeeee!!!!
"Oh yeah... why can't I remember that?... ... ... You brought the silver pen, right?"
"Yeah" yessss!!!!!!! YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!
"Real conservative town, Lancaster is. One mention of Bill Clinton and off with your head!"
"Yeah, it's really weird going to college there. On campus everything is so liberal and it's so different once you're off campus. I mean you're in a whole new world once you walk..." blather blather blather, bore bore bore. attempt to hold his attention for two seconds longer. blah blah blah. Amazingly enough he looked me straight in the eye and listened to everything I had to say, a little unnerving to say the least.

R got his book signed and we walked home in the rain. I called M and gloated a little bit. I think she understood. Then we got delicious pizza and watched our new (free, horrible) tv for a little while and went to bed. What a great Saturday night.

ed note: Did I mention that he shook my hand? No no no, I don't think you understand the gravity of this. Dave Eggers shook my hand. He TOUCHED my HAND. He touched MY hand. MINE not yours. Well, maybe he did touch yours if you were at Elliot Bay Books last night around 8 o'clock, but... well... whatever, ok? just... whatever.