Okay, it's official. I'm now a celebrity.
No, my brilliant writing didn't suddenly win me a Pulitzer prize or a six-novel contract from Random House. No, I've bypassed such petty mileposts along the road to immortality.
You see, I've had a food item named after me.
No, really. A friend of mine runs a restaurant in the Shenandoah Valley, and after a lot of back-and-forth on the virtues of the local pallete (i.e., chopped steak), he added the item to his menu. With my name attached.
Sure, it's an honor (though I think my friend, who will go unnamed, meant it as a dig). At the same time, though, it's kind of like naming a double-decker cheeseburger with bacon after the Smiths. Not that I'm a vegetarian or anything -- I'm just not a fan of food items that are typically made up of the scraps of meat not even our Bizarro grocery store would try to package and sell.
Though strangely enough, the Mark Toner(R)(tm) is made of sirloin -- a quality meat item, that. And it's the most expensive item on the menu. Which, as another Right-Thinking American knows, is the true meaning of Quality(tm)(R).
So today, it's a sandwich. Tomorrow, you'll see my name on a skyscraper or two. Just smack me if I start hanging out with supermodels, okay?