Will suggested that if I'm going to show off my autographed Laura Moriarty book, I should also share my rare treasure from another favorite author, David Sedaris. Yes, that's my copy of Naked up there. Yes, I also think the "W" in Mr. Sedaris' "with love" looks exactly like a giant, pimply ass.
I waited in line over an hour to have him sign my book. It was at the Barnes and Noble on the Plaza in Kansas City, Missouri during the late nineties. I had dragged my friend Brent with me to see Sedaris, but he refused to wait in line with me after the reading, so I stood there feeling dorky by myself.
There were tons of fans waiting to get their books signed, but the main reason it took so long is because Sedaris chit chatted with everyone. Except me.
When it was my turn to approach the signing table, Sedaris asked for my name.
"Becky," I squeaked. Mousy me.
He said nothing, but grinned for a long uncomfortable moment. I didn't know what to say. He began writing, his pen held so loosely in his hand it looked like he was doodling.
He handed me the book. I managed a barely audible, "thank you" and made my way through the crowd to the door. The cold wind felt good on my hot face. I found a spot against the building and cracked open the book to see what the hell he wrote.
And there is was. A giant, pimply ass.
I laughed out loud and didn't care who heard me.