Last night, David Sedaris told me this story about a crow and a ewe. Then he talked a bit about porn and "fucked-up kids" (two completely separate topics, thanks), his love for the Hotel Aldophus and how organ and marrow donors should be relieved of their tax-paying duties for at least the year of their donation (not a bad idea, really). I really felt like he was sharing with me...yeah, fine, despite the fact there were more than 1,000 other Sedaris fans at the Majestic Theatre last night for Arts & Letters Live featuring that sincere face rarely recognized and that distinctive voice often heard on National Public Radio.
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Since my best guyfriend (you understand such distinctions must be made) introduced me to Sedaris in an effort to kick me in the ass and inspire me during a rough patch, I've been a diehard fan. Therefore, there was no doubt I arrived with book in hand and was determined to have it signed. After his talk, staff writer Andrea Grimes and I settled in for a nearly two-hour wait to meet Sedaris, who was perched beneath the pink neon in the Majestic's bar area. We passed the time chatting with the lovely Holly Morgan of the Dallas Museum of Art, who regaled us with tales of being the shortest chauffeur ever (Sedaris didn't see her at first when she picked him up at the airport). At last it was my chance to talk to Sedaris, and I was off to a great start until I somehow managed to bring up that I have a fake front tooth, which Sedaris then asked to see. So there I was, with my finger in my mouth pointing out my fake tooth to David Freakin' Sedaris while explaining that "it won't ever change color, but the one next to it can still stain, so drinking straws and Parliament cigarettes are really the way to go...if you ever get a crown...since you smoke." He nodded, smiled, said, "Oh, right. Thanks," and signed my book, adding a skull-and-crossbones stamp to his signature. I can only hope he takes my advice. --Merritt Martin