Archives for April 2009

So remember yesterday how I told you that last year at the ASCAP Awards I was really, big-time, super chicken about meeting Louie Giglio and when I finally talked to him it was like I turned into a spastic cannon and I couldn’t make the words stop shooting out of my mouth?

Remember that?

Well, yesterday when I walked in to the place where they were having the awards, Sister’s co-worker Dan (he is ASCAP’s Christian music guy, and he is also hilarious) said that he thought it might be fun for me to sit at a table with some of the guests instead of sitting in the back of the room and hiding behind a computer. I told him NO, NO, BEHIND THE COMPUTER IS FINE, THANK YOU, and he said, “Well, the point of this whole night is fun, and I want you to have fun!”

Dan had apparently forgotten that my usual brand of fun is a bucket of chicken from Popeye’s (all white, extra spicy), a 12-pack of ice-cold diet Coke and an all-day marathon of “The Real Housewives of New York City.”

Anyway, Dan went on to say that the whole dinner thing would be an absolute blast and oh, by the way, I was going to be sitting at a table with, among other people, Shelley and Louie Giglio.

And then the room was suddenly filled with so much irony that it flipped over and started to spin and everything went black and I fainted.

Now. Before I go even one step further with this little tale, I want to be clear that I really don’t put people on pedestals (except I probably do put Amy’s hair on a pedestal. And Christy Nockels’. I think it’s because THEIR HAIR BELONGS THERE). My issue at pretty much any large social gathering is that I stink at small talk, and I haaaaaaaaaate situations where people might feel like they’re forced to talk to me. You compound the forced conversation with the fact I’m at an awards dinner and at some point in the evening I’ve got to explain to the other people what in the sam hill I’m doing there since I don’t sing or write music or, you know, work in the music industry, and that means that I have to tell them that I have a blog, and inevitably people ask what I blog about, and usually the best answer I can think of is, “Um. I don’t know. Bacon? Cheese? The Bachelor? My hair?”

It all just reeks of awkward.

So.

After Dan told me about The Table I went downstairs to change clothes and tried to figure out how I was going to make small talk and Twitter and take pictures and blog and whathaveyou while trying to be a polite dinner companion. The more I thought about it the more nervous I got and I am not even kidding when I tell you that I got so worked up that I started digging through my bag to see if I could find anything remotely resembling a nerve pill because MAMA WAS FEELING A LITTLE ANXIOUS.

When I walked back upstairs I looked at my phone and saw that I’d missed a call from our friend Travis, so I called him back and told him that I was dealing with a tricky situation because Dan had put me at a table with Louie Giglio and Some Other People and I was a nervous wreck and had gotten myself completely worked up and what, what should I do, WHAT?

Travis told me that MAYBE I SHOULD PRAY (point well taken) and then: “Oh, it’ll be fine.”

“But you know how I ramble when I’m nervous. I’m terrified of an awkward silence and I just talk and talk and talk and talk to fill up all the empty conversational spaces.”

“Well, that’s true,” he said. “You’d better watch it or you’ll just talk and talk and then it might get quiet and then before you know it you’ll start saying LAMININ LAMININ LAMININ LAMININ LAMININ and you won’t be able to stop.”

“EXACTLY.”

“Just please don’t say ‘laminin‘ over and over.”

“I won’t. I WON’T.”

“LAMININ LAMININ LAMININ LAMININ.”

As it turned out, I was totally safe dinner-wise, because Sister, Dan and I decided that it really might come across as rude if I was sitting at a table and pretty much typing or texting the entire time. So instead I stood in a doorway to the side of the stage, and it was delightful because in addition to being able to take pictures and run back and forth to the computer, I was able to look at Amy Grant’s hair almost the entire time.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but her hair is spectacular.

The awards really were a ton of fun – I love being in settings like that where people are super-supportive and appreciative of each other – and I even got to talk to a couple of sweet bloggy friends who were there, too (hey, Liz! hey, Amy!). I had the best time.

Once everything was over I started gathering up all my stuff, and I was just about to leave when I noticed Sister talking to someone who was holding a bunch of awards. And when I moved a little closer, I realized she was talking to none other than Louie Giglio. So I did what you would absolutely expect me to do: I took their picture.

After the picture we said our goodbyes, and y’all, as Louie was walking away something came over me and it was like I couldn’t help myself and my mouth opened up and this is what shot out of it:

“LAMININ!”

And in that moment I felt like a complete goober, but I also felt like I’d had a bit of a victory because I didn’t say the word over and over – I only said it one time. Just once!

But do you know what’s even better? After I said it, Louie Giglio turned around, grinned and fired right back:

“LAMININ!”

And that is the story of how the laminin made my whole night.

Well, the laminin and, you know, Amy’s hair.

Okay – this ASCAP Christian Music shindig just got up and running, but I have some very, very important information to share with all you girls who are children of the 80s and early 90s:

AMY GRANT IS HERE.

And she looks fabulous.

I am trying so hard to get a picture on the sly – you can’t even imagine. But I’m trying to keep a respectful distance because, like I just told Sister, if I get too close to her I am likely to start serenading her with every single song from “The Collection.” As it stands I can’t get “In A Little While” out of my head, so I’m afeared that if I get too close to her I’m going to break out my monotone version of “Stay For Awhile.” It is sure to send her running for the closest exit.

Also, Sister just handed me a menu card so I could tell you about salad course: roasted tomato tart (I thought it was a biscuit, but I’m from Mississippi so that figures) with caramelized burgundy onions, goat cheese parfait (I thought it was mozzarella because my palate is very sophisticated) and baby greens in basil oil.

I could eat nine of them.

In case you were wondering.