But over the past few days, I've experienced what can only be an abnormal scientific clustering of awkward activity. The kind of abnormal activity that makes you laugh with recognition. Or perhaps furrow your brow and click "NEXT BLOG."
The concentration of these episodes is what is so striking, and I imagine the science behind it is similar to that which causes sun bursts. Or, black holes or something. Maybe it's related to why Jupiter lost one of its rings. I've broken it down for you:
(You can go ahead and check my math. Should be DEAD ON.)
I suppose it all began when I tried to sell my son's umbilical cord to a complete stranger at our community-wide yard sale. But since this story is kind of gross-like and fully Mommyblog material, you have to click this link to read all about it.
Don't worry, there's no pictures. Just mostly me describing how I almost tossed a crusty, old, not-sure-which-son-it-belongs-to umbilical cord stub at a total stranger.
So after this episode at the yard sale, there was a work-people barbecue that my husband and I were slotted to attend. I dropped the kids at Grandma's because, HEY--UMBILICAL CORDS ARE EXHAUSTING, and we drove over to this shindig.
Things were going fine, conversation circles coming and going, pigs roasting, kids-totally-freaked-out-and-screaming, and s'mores roasting.
Eventually, I found myself in a small circle with my husband and three of his co-workers: two guys and a woman.
Honestly, I have no idea what we were even talking about. This is because at some point in the conversation, I noticed a bee had landed on her supple cleavage region. So, did I tell her and let her embarrass herself by screeching and flailing about yelling GETITOFF! and other silly, awkward things?
OF COURSE NOT.
No, I silently reached over and TOUCHED HER BREASTS. You know, to swat the bee off her chest. Or, as was in this case, directly INTO her dress and supple cleavage region.
Let's just say that my hand hovered a bit with indecision. Surely I don't help her dig it out, but I mean, it WAS MY FAULT. The men were gawking a bit as she fished it out gracefully. I stammered and sipped my drink. Then she cupped her breasts and announced, "It's not like I would've really felt the damn sting anyway!"
The good think about being socially awkward at a party is that the drunks usually distract the attention away from your, you know...inappropriate fondling.
Moving right along...
A few days later, I put a few things up on Craigslist that had not sold at the yard sale. NO, NOT THE UMBILICAL CORD. The Hub has some computer stuff and brewing equipment that he no longer uses and I felt...odd?...giving it to the Good Will.
I started getting a slew of emails shortly after listing our stuff. I'd done it under my account, so my technique was to reply to the request the best I could, then forward the email to The Hub for further details and haggling.
Just yesterday, a man emailed about the brewing stuff. He wanted only one of the items, he said, and how much would that cost? Pleasant enough fellow. Even had a pleasant name and followed formal grammatical conventions.
So I forwarded the email with the attached message:
Another guy is interested in the brew stuff, just to keep you apprised. xo
A few hours later, instead of a response from The Hub, I got one from the pleasant-enough-fellow. He had once again used proper punctuation, but...I was...confused...concerned...and making a scrunchy embarrassed face.
You see, my friends, I had REPLIED to the pleasantenoughfellow who usessemicolonscorrectly AND SIGNED IT XO. I responded once again and tried to reassure him that I wasn't some random floosey who was using this "BEER BREWING EQUIPMENT" ad as a ploy for my, um, SERVICES.
I'm still not sure if I locked in that sale or lost it.
MOVING ON, because YES, THERE'S MORE!
A few days after the Craigslist-unintentional-and-inappropriate-flirting-incident, my husband and I were in a doctor's office waiting room. Fox News was blaring on the wall-mounted television set. As is customary during our wait time at this office, we began mocking the headlines and reporting tactics. (Well, my husband does that. I make fun of the anchors' hair.) The news of the day happened to be this brew-ha-ha about the chick who got fired from Hooters for being fat.
As we chuckled and made charming, hilarious comments like, MUST BE A SLOW NEWS DAY! we noticed an older, gray-haired woman scowling at the TV along with us. So The Hub looked over and made another friendly comment about the ridiculousness of the headline.
HIM: This Fox News, right? Over the top...
OLD LADY: Yeah, well you should've seen me in college! I was a 40, 24, 34 and those were the days before they'd INVENTED BREAST IMPLANTS!
HIM: ...Well, no....I....
ME: [awkward smile]
OLD LADY: Everyone thought I was stupid, you know, because I had big boobs. And I never met a man who could tell me the color of my eyes. I was always SURROUNDED IN DROOL. And I WAS AN OLYMPIC SWIMMER!
FOX NEWS: ...chicken wings...hahahaha...
HIM: Hooters does have good wings...
ME: [awkward smile]
OLD LADY: WHAT?! Sure, you go for the food, eh? And you don't care who brings it do you, I'm supposed to believe? I THINK YOU'RE SUFFERING FROM TESTOSTERONE POISONING.
NURSE: You can come back now...
HIM & ME: [collective sigh of relief]
OLD LADY: Have fun kids.
My husband and I. We make friends wherever we go.