I had dinner with the Madison's Three Divas of blogging last night. The suspense after such a dinner, of course, is wondering what about the dinner will be subsequently posted. NinaNet is running a photo of me with a dessert, which she notes was eaten "after a sumptuous tortelloni dish preceded by a monstrous fried calamari plate." Ann chimes in that the dessert "violates the rule against eating anything larger than your head." Quick clarifications: we all shared the calamari plate; I didn't come anywhere close to eating all the Tortelloni; I didn't come anywhere close to all eating the dessert, either, despite Nina's ravenous assistance; the dessert was actually a good deal smaller than my head, although larger than what I was expecting from the description.
I will admit I am somewhat to blame for this exchange in that I asked Nina how come she never took pictures of our food (e.g.) when we went out to dinner. I am also thankful for the photo for calling my attention to a hitherto unnoticed and slovenly-looking stain on my shirt.
Recaps of the night also note a conversation about the mating merits of People Magazine's Sexiest Senator Alive, Russ Feingold. After Feingold was judged deficient by one person, a follow-up asked by another person to tried to narrow down the location and nature of standards by replacing Feingold with the Woody Allen of today as a prospective romantic partner. To me, this was akin to somebody finding out that you wouldn't eat a box of earwigs for a million dollars and then following up with, "Oh yeah? Well, how about for fifty thousand dollars?" (And, no, despite whatever impressions you may have been given by other blogs, it's not the case that if you put some chocolate syrup and powdered sugar on those earwigs I would scarf them down for free).