I Had Dinner with the Poet Laureate of the United States

I know what you’re thinking: “How in the hell did someone as carnie-folk-bizarre as Lorca get herself invited to eat dinner with someone as classy as the Poet Laureate? There’s no way.” Well, you can just stuff it with your snooty self. I did, too, have dinner with the Poet Laureate and it was even at her private house and everything. So there. The really weird thing is I kind of only just now remembered that I had dinner with the Poet Laureate and I only remembered that I’d been to her house after I just typed all that.

See, when I knew her, she wasn’t the Poet Laureate (let’s see how many times I can type Poet Laureate in this blog post), she was just my Poetry professor in college. Anyone who has any delusions about my writing talent and my love of poetry can read my blog post about being forced to enter an erotic haiku writing contest. Needless to say, I did NOT do well in Poetry (and I did not win that contest).

But at the end of the Poetry class, we all got to have dinner at the professor’s house. I only got to tag along because I was technically still enrolled in the class and because I waitressed at a restaurant that made kick-ass hot wings and I could get them at a discount. Yup, I brought hot wings to the Poet Laureate’s house for dinner. She made these funky Middle Eastern dishes and I contributed hot wings to the soiree. Betcha can’t get guess whose dish got gobbled up first.

The great part about this professor being named as the new Poet Laureate of the whole country is that I know some really awesome dirt on her that I could potentially sell to all the tabloids who want to bring down the Poet Laureate in shame. Okay, I’m willing to concede that there probably aren’t that many tabloid staffers who know that we even have a Poet Laureate, let alone who she is and what she did. And I also concede that the only really juicy story I have about her is that she wore this brand new cerulean blue shirt on the first day of class and that it reacted somehow with her deodorant so it turned the armpits of her shirt hot pink. I wish I had thought to go digging through her drawers while I was at her house for dinner…

Isn’t it great how I didn’t even TRY to make it look like we’re really standing together in this photo? But I promise, we’re totally standing together…