Yeah, where's the punchline? Oh, it's coming. Rob joined us after all his schmoozing was done. In the middle of animated bursts of conversation, he sucked us into a well-told story involving a stripper and Portishead. A man who can make a stripper story sound poetic and not sleezy? Well that's a talented story teller. Then another author who-shall-remain nameless showed up at the bar. I have a huge crush on him. He is WAY intense, but I get the feeling that he knows he's hot, which dumbs down my crush a bit. With 80% of the publishing world being gay or female, a moderately hot author is something to write home about. Author X was rather flirty and I was a touch tipsy and gushing about how wicked his book is (that I haven't finished=barely at page 10). I quipped about how the three of us met on the internet, making it sound salacious and uttered my latest motto, "Picking up Moms is the new one night stand." To which Rob retorted, "That's always been my motto." Or something to that effect.
Author X joined us at the juncture when Kristin was trying to leave, Marla had ordered another drink and we were getting kicked out of the bar and forced into the karaoke area (What gives Gladstone? What gives?!) So it got a bit messy figuring out who was going where and meeting when. Marla and I went into the karaoke bar to wait for the authors to finish smoking outside. Marla and I passed the time by taking in the show. I told Marla my theories of karaoke, what makes a karaoke suicide. (Ballads are death. Always choose a relatively well-known "party" song. Don't choose an overused party song--Love Shack by the B52s comes to mind, and oh! Someone has chosen it tonight. The group karaoke rarely works. NEVER try to sing a Heart song. No one can do Heart but those eternal Wilson sisters. I cringe everytime someone tries to do "Magic Man.")
Continued on Point 6 below.