thatwasprettyawkward - Tumblr blog

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Sometimes I'll like, drop my bottle of water or something, for no reason, and I'll panic and think "DID I JUST HAVE A STROKE" and then realize, after a rough test of all my faculties, that I'm just clumsy.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Emergencies

You'd think one was excused from their awkwardness in times of emergencies. Not the case. In fact, pressureful situations only make awkwardness run reckless with abandon. Should we use the example of that one time my house caught on fire? We lived in an old house divided into four units. We were in the upstairs right and Mark lived in the downstairs left. Let's just say Mark was the type of guy to drunk-sing/yell in his backyard at 4 am like several times a week, not exaggerating. We grew to tolerate him like a colorful, eccentric part of the shrubbery. One night he chose with his decision-making to throw a cigarette butt in a pile of empty gasoline can, wooden gardening tools, and fence right up against the house, then pass out for the evening. Well. I was on the couch watching TV. This was before Cami was born. There I was in total innocence that the ass of our house was on fire. Husband was taking out the trash; he is the less lazy one in this story and probably many situations. In the backyard, he noticed a large amount of smoke, but our neighbors have bonfires all the time. But then he really looked. Right exactly at that moment, in the front of the house, to my view a large gang of yelling men bombarded the front window and door, banging on the door. I did what any awkward person would do. I stood up, staring at them, frozen. "FIRE!!!!!" They were yelling. All I heard was "Scary dudes yelling at me!" I wasn't quite sure if I was being robbed. I stared at them, looking back toward my husband for support, but he was in the backyard. "No," I said. They were like, fuck you I guess and went next door. Humorously enough the upstairs folks didn't answer either - they thought some drunk friends were trying to stop by or something. They live above a drunk and are used to such behavior. My husband came running upstairs. "The house is on fire!!!" He said. "OHHHHHH!" I said. Let's see. What do you do in a fire? I know you're supposed to get your shit and get out, but my question was this: at what point? At the moment, just the fence leading up to the house was in giant, giant flames and the fire department had been called. Some of the scary-but-life-saving neighbor gang were helping us put out the fire. Some had gone to do other things because we are assholes who won't even answer the door to be life-saved. There was no room for me to help put the fire out, so the time actually dragged by. I got my lil laptop and my little cat and my dog and stood in my pajamas in my front yard. Time moved slowly, actually, and I started to feel awkward about the whole thing, like I had prematurely evacuated. It was incredibly difficult to keep tabs on a cat in this melee. By the time the firemen came, we had mostly put it out. Mark was hiding indoors. The firemen were PISSED. All of us were safe and we caught it just in time to avoid the whole house going up in flames. I enjoyed getting to answer "my house was on fire!" for a whole week or so when people asked "What's new?" I'm sure Mark had to pay for the damage. The back of the house looked charbroiled. When Mark met our baby girl, he was a little drunk and sentimental and told us, "I'll try especially hard not to light the house on fire now. Won't we all, Mark. Won't we all.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Scarves

What is up with those people who breeze into the room with a gorgeous scarf just nonchalantly wrapped around them, like, "Oh, I just woke up with it draped around me like this." Like an exotic baby chinchilla.

Someone needs to teach me how to nonchalantly wear scarves. I always overthink it. Should the ends not show? Do I need to tie it in a huge bow? Does it have to be draping the same amount on both ends? I end up putting too much effort into it, and take all the je ne sais quoi out of the whole drapey feel, and end up look like a kindergartner like "Hi! This is my scarf!"

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Not talk so good.

Me (driving, gesturing to the back of the car wildly): Oh! I just remembered. There was a message for my phone. Husband: What? Me: The thing. It was an unknown number. Weird. For my phone, my phone! Husband: There was a message for your phone? Me: Sorry, ON my phone. A voice mail. For me. I am trying to say, someone called from an unknown number and left a voice mail, for me, that I have yet to check. Can you check it for me? Husband: I would be happy to. Is your phone in the backseat? Me: no... Husband: Then why were you gesturing to the back seat? Me: I don't know....

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Calling people by accident

I'm not sure if it's a design flaw in iPhones or if it's a design flaw in my brain, but I always accidentally call people when I'm meaning to edit their contact info. Or if you see a missed call in your lock screen and swipe to unlock, it just straight up starts calling them back. Okay, I guess we're doing this! No preamble or anything! No texting foreplay, just moving right to the over-the-phone interaction! Yikes! Most of the time, I hang up. This is because I'm not a "talking on the phone" kind of person. I'm horrible at it. This makes it extra awkward when I accidentally call someone I am good friends with when it makes sense to be calling them, like if we're meeting up, but then I hang up on them. How do I have good friends to meet up with, you wonder? People are kind, I tell you. People are kind.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Mental note: finish peeing before calling people

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Hot tub sweepstakes

Baby Camille and I enter the local radio station's hot tub sweepstakes. We put our name in the box.

"Her cheeks just kill me. Adorable," says one of the radio station people.

"Aw, thanks. You know what this baby needs? A hot tub."

Polite chuckles all around. Radio people are charmed, mostly baby's doing. Maybe this will help hot tub odds? But then,

"Actually don't worry. I won't throw my baby in a hot tub or anything." The mood becomes solemn.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

THANK

My husband was intending to yell “Thanks!” to me in a nonchalant manner while exiting the room in a not sketchy way, only he knew he was about to ambush me around the corner by throwing baby toys at me (this is what we do when she goes to sleep and yes, we are the parents), so in his excitement and giddiness he yelled “THANK!” while walking hurriedly out the room. I knew then that something was amiss.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Getting bought dranks

Whenever I was single, I always felt way too awkward letting people buy me drinks. Whenever it happened I'd feel so beholden to them that I would like, hang out with them the entire night even though I hated their guts and actually be too nice, and then end up buying THEM a drink or two. I think we know who the loser is in this situation.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

The Dentist

Few things are more awkward than trying to make conversation with someone whose two fists are jammed inside your mouth, their face in your face, while you breathe on them and drool.  You would think this was a signal that we just shouldn’t talk, but as we know, humans find silence very awkward. So many dentists and dental assistants still make conversation with you while they’re wading through your mouth-hole. You are expected to answer, because let’s face it, we wouldn’t want to be rude!

But the most awkward thing for me is that I don’t know what to do with my tongue. I never know where my tongue is in relation to their instruments and what they’re trying to see. I always seem to put it over the tooth that they are trying to clean. It’s not like I have a large tongue or anything. I just have no hand-eye-tongue coordination. Not to mention that my tongue has a somewhat embarrassing reflex. Like a moth to a flame, it automatically gravitates towards whatever is put in my mouth. It’s just curious and is checking things out. And I have to consciously keep it from happening. ”Can you move your tongue?!” Dentist kept having to ask. “Sowwy.” Again, tongue in the way. “Can I have you move your tongue again?” “Sowwy.” And over and over like this, the whole time. No, Dentist, I am not trying to be suggestive and fellate your instruments, I just cannot for the life of me keep my oral fixation under control.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Firing someone or quitting

Quitting, firing, big life changes… When the time approaches, the fear and the anguish and the emotions tied up in it all converge in the nitty-gritty details. At the top of the list is 1.) how to broach the subject, and 2.) where to do it. It can’t just, be, ‘How was your weekend?’ ‘I quit.’ Yet you don’t think about the details until the time comes, and then you’re so distracted figuring out how it’s going to work that you’re barely thinking about this big life change.

The location is the most awkward piece of the puzzle, especially if you work in one of those “open plan” offices bosses are so fond of, which are supposed to inspire collaboration, but really just inspire group YouTube watching and awkward quitting situations. You have to step into a separate room to do quit. EVERYONE knows something is up when you say “Can we step into your office?” It’s like when the mobsters say, “Let’s go for a drive. It’ll just take a sec.” SOMETHING BAD IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. I would almost rather quit in front of the entire office than simply ask my boss to go into a separate room.

But you do it. Then once you get into the other room, you have to deal with the other person’s super curious, wide-eyed blinking face staring at you. It is the worst! I bet sociopaths really like that moment, the moment before breaking big news. They like to milk it. I personally find it even more awkward than the actual telling of the bad news, so at that point I just unleash it. “I’m quitting right now!”

I remember when I was tasked with firing this poor intern. Well, I shouldn’t say “poor,” I was fully on board with firing her, she totally sucked.

Did I mention I worked with my husband? Some people might find THAT awkward. What can I say, it was a record label, where anything goes, and anyways we were both in charge of the interns. So naturally, I dragged him into it. “Maybe it will be less awkward if we BOTH fire her!”

Well. The morning came, and I was strangely just as nervous as I would be for a job interview, which is the exact opposite of what was happening.

She came into my husband’s office. He gave me the signal, and I slid on into the room and shut the door. That’s all it took! The deed might as well have been done. Judging by the look on her face, she already knew. She looked like someone being beaten up by a gang of hoodlums. She looked as fired as anyone had ever looked. Because you just know that’s what is going to happen when doors are shut.

Still, we had to go through the motions. “This isn’t working out for us,” yada yada yada. The world went white and I have no idea what I said to her, but she politely but dejectedly collected her things and left immediately.

I got an IM from my coworker all the way down the hall saying, “That went great! I think you really let her down easy.” So I guess the closed-door thing was moot anyways. The takeaway from all of this is you should really just quit or fire someone in front of everyone.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Not knowing band names

When someone’s like, “Hey dude do you like band XYZ???!!?” and I haven’t heard them, there is always that long moment where I’m internally panicking about just how I will break the news to them. First of all, they are so excited! I feel like my curt “no” is throwing a monkey wrench into their band enthusiasm and will ultimately make them feel rejected. This is the internal dialogue of someone who spends a staggering amount of time worrying about others’ happiness. ‘That creepy man on the street – was my smile a little placating?!?’ I digress.

And secondly, I wonder if they will think I’m unhip if I don’t know of the band. It doesn’t excuse me that I work in the music industry; the pressure is even stronger in the music industry. The worst is the repeat offender – someone who knows about so much goddamned new music all the goddamn time that after they ask you if you’ve heard a band for the fortieth time, YOU START TO LIE. But you don’t wanna full-on lie, like “they played at my wedding!” so you chicken out a little bit. It’s one of those wiffly-waffly lies. These are the worst. “Yeah, man! I’ve, I’ve definitely heard of their existence. Lil bit. You know. They exist and I’ve heard band names.” “Grizzly Bear? I’ve seen a grizzly bear before.” Lots of nodding and gesturing happens here. 

[thatwasprettyawkward]

"The Sport"

When I was in junior high, my parents went through this phase where they “thought I should try out for sports.” Despite their good intentions, it didn’t go too well. The biggest disaster was that, because I’m tall, I kept actually getting picked for the teams. Basketball, volleyball, you name it. “She’s tall! That has to count for something,” they all said. Didn’t matter that I literally dodge every single ball that flies in my general direction. In practice, at games, all of the time. I consider this to be a smart move on my part.

After the thrill of feeling like an official “sport-person” in the “in-crowd” wore off, I became increasingly miserable on the volleyball team. I tried to quit, and my parents didn’t want me to. “Quitting is for quitters!” they said, and other such PSA slogans. Then they talked to my coach, who was like, “Yeah you should let her quit.”

[thatwasprettyawkward]

The bus, part 2

One day on the bus a fat man fell asleep on me, leaning especially hard on me when we went around corners. And all I could do was giggle under my breath about it, struggling to breathe, until the bus driver lurched to a halt and the fat man slammed his head into the seat in front of him, and then he woke up and proceeded to have a semi-normal conversation with me while I stifled a smile. Neither of us acknowledged that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Accidentally ignoring people like an asshole

Look, I ignore people. A lot. It's something wrong with my brain, I don't know, I just can't NOT ignore people all the time. Here's how it works:

I’ll be going about my business, say, shopping for baby clothes in this instance, then realize with a start that someone has been next to me, talking to me, for a long time. A sweet little girl, with a cute like pink outfit who has been talking to me for who knows how long about something cute like bows or rainbows or something, I don’t fucking know, and here I’ve just been totally snubbing her like a jerk while she rambles on about Girl Scout Cookies or violin lessons or something adorable. It's just that I was SO into these cupcake onesies that the entire world disappeared for a couple minutes there.

“What?” I start to say, but then, before she even starts to repeat herself I say, “Oh, yeah,” suddenly realizing I had indeed heard everything she said ON A SUBCONSCIOUS LEVEL.

This is just more interesting to me than anything. If it occurs to me, after the fact, that this person has been talking to me the entire time, why couldn’t my brain listen in the first place? What cue subconsciously told my brain to suddenly translate what I was hearing from Charlie Brown Adult Wah-Wah-wahs to English? Has this ever happened to you? It's some trippy shit.

What does the other person think in this situation? "Did you actually just retract your ‘What?’ How is it that you thought you didn’t hear me, but it just turns out you had indeed heard me?" It's that without my even knowing, my brain determines that it is wholly uninterested in what they are saying, without even running it by me. Thanks, brain. It is the ignoring of the ignoring of what people are saying, is what it is. 

Or like with my neighbor the other day, there was the ignoring of the ignoring of his whole existence, as we rode the bus together, then walked to our houses side by side, and the moment we turned off the sidewalk to our next-door houses it all came back to me. “Oh, it’s you!” I said coquettishly. "Yes.” he said in a way that one speaks to an asshole.

Listen, I'm not stuck up at all. I’m not even a non-rememberer of faces! I remember faces to a creepy extent. I’m definitely not too cool for school, or cats, or cracked cell phones or even bath salts. Little do they know, it’s because I’m just too busy with the constant flow of cat videos and DMX playing in my head.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Ordering

I feel many layers of awkward during your standard business transaction. There’s the ordering, the small talk, the moment after you get your receipt, and the waiting. It is forced interaction with someone you don’t know. If you’re getting food, don’t even get me started on eating it there. That’s just out of the question. Where would I look the whole time while? Do you expect me to sit there, chewing, while staring into space? Or do I zero in on one person while I’m sitting there chewing?

I am wholly incapable of any type of thinking on my feet. Us awkward folks, we are good at making decisions while blanketed in footie pajamas our living room, surrounded by the loving support of our captive pets who are staring adoringly at us, with zero pressure from the outside world and ample time to weigh all options. We are much too vulnerable out in the real world, with taxis honking and dogs barking and guys yelling in East Coast accents and errant pieces of trash distracting us.

Today I went to an adorable European bakery for breakfast and ended up ordering the exact opposite of what I had intended.

Inner brain, which gets muffled a lot in the outside world, is yelling: “Order something savory! Order something savory!”

The bakery lady casually rattles off the Danish selection: “Cheese cherry blueberry coconut apple cinnamon”

“WAIT. WAIT WAIT WAIT.” says I, “Did you say ‘blueberry coconut’?” Now, there is only one savory option she rattled off, but the fact that my husband likes coconut has shrouded my thinking.

“No, we have blueberry Danishes and coconut Danishes – separately.”

Entire world is thrown into a state of turmoil.

Inner brain is yelling: “MFFDFKLD! FDLKF!!!” If I could hear it, it would say, “Order cheese or coconut! Or both! These are the things that you and your husband Like and Choose to Eat. You should order what you Like as opposed to something Else Altogether.”

“I’ll have the blueberry!” says I. Not a one person is satisfied.

[thatwasprettyawkward]

Waiting for someone to come over to your house

I can usually gauge my level of discomfort with a person by how I spend my time waiting for them to come over to my house. If I feel fairly comfortable with them, I might not put on a bra, and I might be watching television. But if I feel even the slightest bit unfamiliar with them, the decision of what to do becomes more difficult. For some reason, I die of awkwardness when I envision someone I barely know coming over and catching me mid-lounge, deep into an episode of Archer with a potato chip stuck to my chin. It’s too intimate. Or maybe it’s a stupid girl thing. I don’t even know. Regardless, even though I’d rather watch TV or something, I end up putting on COOL music and trying to busy myself with small tasks that I can’t get fully absorbed in, things that I would never normally do. “Oh, Hi John! I was just polishing the litter box. Before that I was putting this group of knickknacks onto this table, then putting the knickknacks that were on that table on this table. Won't you come right on in.” I inevitably run out of stupid fake tasks and just end up sitting there staring at the door like a Labrador Retriever until I hear a knock at the door.