So, I’m at Mickey’s on Oak Park Ave, on my Sidekick, reading Mitchell’s post, you know, his take on the conversation that we all started in on yesterday, and whose booming voice do I hear next to me?
River. That’s right, our homey from the blogosphere. We go back to my bartending days– six years ago, but we’d lost touch forever, and the next thing you know, dude’s got his own kick ass blog going, we’re shooting the shit on each other’s pages daily.
Yesterday’s whole back and forth became such a great conversation, and then to be standing in front of Mickey’s counter waiting for my order, reading Mitchell’s response to River’s response to my rant, and look over to see River ordering food–it was just weird.
How ’bout it, Riv? You were just like–Wha–? Who? How?
Heh heh.
Funny stuff.
Well I don’t see you for several years, then i see you twice in a matter of weeks. It borders on supernatural.
That’s not the weird part, really. The weird part is the conversation we’d engaged in all day in the blogs and then reading Mitchell’s post which referred to that conversation, reading your name on that post and then looking to the right to see you.
That was the weird part for me. The only thing that would be weirder would be if Mitchell had strolled in and ordered a gyro while commenting on your post on his Crackberry.
N