I am a famous person.

I have a niche. In certain circles on the Internet, I am well known. I am Dave the Poop Guy. I have legions of fans --- hordes of screaming, adoring Poopketeers. I am Dave, Dave, Dave of the PoopReport. Yes, you may touch my hand.

OK, so that may be inaccurate. But sometimes it's fun to think of myself as a minor celebrity, as someone that people want to meet. I've never met anyone solely in the capacity of PoopDave before -- I've been introduced to people as "this is Dave, he runs a site about poop," but I had never met someone who knew me only as the guy who does PoopReport.

When I'm introduced as "Dave, my friend with the poop obsession," it's not terribly awkward. Because I'm introduced as a friend, as someone who is likeable in spite of my fetish. They may think I'm weird and gross and imbalanced, but since I'm a friend of so-and-so, there must be something more to me than poop.

But last weekend, I took the next step. I met someone who only knew me as PoopDave, the Guy Who Does PoopReport.

Her name is Kathryn. She lives in Denver. She's 24 or so, a designer and a big poop fan. She emailed one day, we got to talking, and she agreed to design a better logo for the site (the original logo looks less like poop than chocolate chip cookies -- I can't draw). As luck would have it, I was going to be in Denver for my brother's high school graduation, and since four days of straight family would kill me, maybe Kathryn would like to get a few beers with me?

In spite of the overwhelming odds that I'd turn out to be a creepy Internet stalker, she agreed.

We agreed to meet in a nice dark bar on Platte Street. She was just Kathryn, while I was Dave, The Internet's Foremost Expert on Poop (as far as she knows, anyway). What was going through her head? Did she think she was meeting someone who's fame is on par with, say, Matt from X-Entertainment or the guys who run Fark? Or was she thinking big, like meeting the guy who played Waldo on Family Matters?

It was awkward at first. I was nervous. I got there 15 minutes early. I didn't know what she looked like, other than she had short blond hair. So every time a girl with short blond hair came in, I would stare and stare, trying to make eye contact. I must have creeped out at least 4 girls before I finally found her (she had been sitting on the other side of the bar, waiting patiently for me. She got there early, too).

We chatted. Eventually, it wasn't awkward (at some point, she must have grown convinced that I was going to kidnap her or crap myself for fun). After a while, she asked "so... what else do you do besides poop?" We discussed that for a bit, but that isn't terribly interesting, so we chatted about poop some more.

We talked all about PoopReport. She gushed "I can't wait to tell my supervisor (apparently a big PoopReport fan) I met you!" That fed my ego, believe me. I am a celebrity. I don't think anyone has ever excitedly told anyone else they've met me before (not counting the times people have finished that sentence with "eww," as in "I met Dave, ewwww!").

Kathryn was delighted when I told her Cottonelle will be introducing moist toilet paper in the near future. I thought she was excited about the product, but she just found it really funny that I'm so in touch with the poop industry. I guess I am. I can just sit back and wait to begin my career as an expert witness in poop-related legal cases.

A few beers later, the evening was over. I had a good time. I think that beneath my public persona (which goes no deeper than gooey brown excrement), I can be confident that I am an interesting, charismatic human being -- that means I didn't offend her, and there weren't TOO many awkward pauses.

Also, as a minor celebrity, I'm not doing too shabby. Fame and fortune, here I come. Is there a guest shot on Letterman in my future? Probably not. But I could probably swing the Craig Kilborne show... how hard could that be?

Oh, and for you poop fans: on my way home, I stopped by Taco Bell. As soon as I finished eating, my tummy started to rumble, and I rushed to the bathroom and blew my bowels all over the inside of the toilet. Man, that's good food.
-- Dave

Like Dave? He's featured in The Journal of Ass Production!