From: (Message Meister)
Date: Mon, 8 Apr 1996 09:55:01 -0400 (EDT)

Greetings.  Coffee time again!  This week's piece speaks for itself...
(and the author's name is just a coincidence!)

    "How I met my wife"  by Jack Winter (The New Yorker, 25 July 1994)

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant,
despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing
alone in a corner.  She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total
array.  Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it
since I was travelling cognito.  Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could
see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose
if anything bad happened.  And even though I had only swerving loyalty to
her, my manners couldn't be peccable.  Only toward and heard-of behavior
would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was
evitable.  There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as
flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero
were slim.  I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could
easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it.  But then, all at once, for some apparent
reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make
heads and tails of.

I was plussed.  It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it
nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen.  Normally,
I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if
this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded
in situations like this only a told number of times.  So, after a terminable
delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd
with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a
promptu speech, I was petuous.  Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I
started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion
that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character
who was up to some good.  She told me who she was.  "What a perfect nomer," I
said, advertently.  The conversation become more and more choate, and we
spoke at length to much avail.  But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a
godly hour.  I asked if she wanted to come with me.  To my delight, she was
committal.  We left the party together and have been together ever since.  I
have given her my love, and she has requited it.