Used to be—circa 2001—a coffee shop in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Portland, Old Friends, that Helvetica and I would get ourselves coffeed up at every morning. And one summer, at about the same time as us every morning, there was a stunningly beautiful woman waiting in line. Blonde...Killer body...Just a Nazi breeding program dream girl. She even wore braids sometimes.

We took to calling her "Heidi the Hottie."

She was impossible not to notice, and soon we had a full dossier on her. She lived down the street in a how with a standard issue yuppie guy and some SUVs. Then one day, she was gone. The house was for sale. No more Heidi the Hottie. What else could I do but put her in a song, with a title reminiscent of the old Cab Calloway classic, "Minnie the Moocher?" Even tried to write it a little retro.

And I wish I could say the story ends there, but no. Flash forward a couple of years. Little vonHummer, Jr. II. and I are attending a They Might Be Giants show at the Aladdin. Guess who sits down next to us in the balcony, with her boyfriend?

Yes. Heidi the Hottie. And could I keep from talking to her? I submit to you: I could not.

I said, "Hey...didn't you used to live in this neighborhood in that house and go to that coffee shop at that time every morning and then moved away and we used to call you Heidi the Hottie and I even wrote a song for you..."

She nodded politely and the next time I looked over they was GONE.

Anyhow, I have no idea what kind of tipper she was, nor any of the other stuff in the song. By all indications she was very nice. And good at spotting a creep, too.

Extra credit for the John Fogerty "hoid" stylings, instead of "heard."