Friday, April 12, 2013

I Am the Lucky Owner of David Sedaris’ Giant Pimply Ass

David Sedaris is a big ass writer.  

Sedaris’ latest book, to be released April 23rd, is a collection of essays entitled Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls.  WTF?  What does that title even mean?  I don’t know, but it brings a smile to my face as I ponder its hilarious absurdity.  Quintessential Sedaris.  On Friday, April 19th, people will pay between thirty-eight and fifty-five bucks to reserve a seat in an auditorium in Salina, Kansas to listen to Mr. Sedaris read.  If you’d like to join them, visit The Stiefel Theatre for the Performing Arts’ website here:

This brilliant man has figured out a way to get Americans to gather at the center of the country to listen to him read.  Read.  And pay him for the pleasure.  Social critics bemoan our culture’s collective crassness.   We watch too much TV.  We’re addicted to our stupid smartphones.  And yet it is in this dank atmosphere that David Sedaris has found his following.  In Salina, Kansas.  For fifty-five bucks.

I’m proud to say I’ve been a fan for years.  In fact, I am the lucky owner of David Sedaris’ Giant Pimply Ass.  And I got it for free.

I waited in line over an hour to have Sedaris sign my copy of his book, Naked. It was at the Barnes and Noble on the Plaza during the late Nineties.  I had dragged my friend Brent with me to the reading, but he refused to wait in line afterwards to get an autograph, so I stood there feeling dorky by myself.

There were probably fifty fans waiting to get their books signed.  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 he grinned for a long uncomfortable moment.  My heart felt like it was trying to push itself outside my body. I didn't know what to say. Sedaris 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 message this big ass writer left me.

And there is was.  A giant, pimply ass.

I laughed out loud and I didn't care who heard me. And that’s what’s so good about Sedaris. That’s how he draws crowds to Salina, Kansas. No matter who you are, or what situation you find yourself in, he’ll make you laugh. Out loud. Outside yourself. He’ll get you to pay attention to some detail in life that’s kind of embarrassing and definitely weird and always hilarious. He hands over a giant pimply ass when you least expect it and somehow, it’s exactly what you need.