Degrees of Awkward

Hello all,

Life has been pretty even lately, so I have had some difficulty thinking of blog worthy things. Luckily enough I keep a pen and paper around me at all times so can remember notable instances.

There has been a bit of boy drama, Fuckhead included-but not the center of, but I’ll say more about that when I get some perspective on the whole thing. I will say one thing about the pharmaceutical sales rep from the last entry; let’s call him Mr. Likes-Me-But, for 2 reasons: he really likes me, but I’m lukewarm about him and he REALLY admires my ASSets.

I’ve known him since January, we’ve gone out a few times, had non-sleeping sleepovers, but I can not remember his face. That’s a bad thing, right? I don’t know what it is, but for the life of me, his face is just a blank when I try to recall the evening’s happenings. Even worse when I do see his face I do know that I’m always let down with what I’ve been dealt with. In my head I have replaced his face with the face of half of this charming gay couple that comes into my store 2 or more times a week.

Mr. Likes-Me-But and the one half of this couple share many similar qualities, many of them being centered on being a gay version of Mr. Clean. Not my usual type, but it’s like trying on outfits; you really need to see it on to see if it’s going to work. Last week I decided to tell the Mr. Clean of the couple about my brain lapse and that when ever I think of Mr. Likes-Me-But’s face I see his instead. He was very flattered and perplexed. I have no idea why I told him this, I mean, he’s an attractive guy and all, but I thought it’d be funny-funnier than what it was.

The next day he came back into my store with his partner who resembles a very tan and good looking elf. They are quite a site, Mr. Clean and a very tan elf. Somehow it works.

The Elf: “So, Mr. Clean tells me that you can’t remember the face of the guy you’re seeing, so you picture Mr. Clean’s instead.”

Me: “……………………………….uh.” (awkward non-breathing silence)

The Elf: “That is so funny; we’re going to have to hook you up with one of our friends with a much more memorable face.”

I was finally able to breathe after he said this. I don’t steal guy’s boyfriends…..anymore. That all could have gone terribly bad, but they were very cool about it. I even gave Mr. Clean my number the next day so we all could hang out sometime soon.

That I would consider “Awkward Medium”, I receive a daily dose of “Awkward Mild” every day. For instance, Graham has been very particular about eating recently. If it’s too hot, the wrong time of day, or the wrong room he will not eat his food. The trick I have figured out is that if my parent’s dog, Spike, is around Graham will eat his food because Spike stares at him like a little starving match girl. Last week Spike pushed Graham out of the way and Spike ate his food. It’s no big deal, it’s just dog food. Dad found out and yelled at Spike, “You git on! Git! You’re just a chow hound! CHOW HOUND!! You know better than that!” Spike doesn’t know better than that, he’s a dog. Like many members of my family, he can still exist here without the most outstanding of SAT scores.

Another example of “Awkward Mild” occurred the same day as the “Chow Hound” incident. I was passing through the living room as my parents were channel surfing. Because of our new cable, this activity which used to take only 10 minutes can now replace a whole evening of actually watching an entire television program. For no reason what so ever my parents landed upon MTV and more specifically Paris Hilton’s My New BFF Season 2. After they had absorbed a few minutes, Mom looked at Dad and said, “I don’t know what they’re going to prove by petting that hungry tiger. I mean, how much can you learn by being with a tiger.” I was actually impressed by the observation until they proceeded to watch the entire episode.

Now I will tell you about the “Awkward Spicy”. It is uncomfortable, lingering, and you can’t wash the image out of your brain even if you try. I try to buy groceries we all can use, just so I feel like I’m contributing to the house, so last week I saw toilet paper on the list so I picked some up while I was out. I got the economy pack, it was so big, that as a promotion, they gave you a little travel size pouch of moist adult wipes. Now as much as I like feeling fresh, I’m not to the point in my life where I need moist toilets for my personal up keep. But apparently I knew someone who did. Mom!

I came home with my grocery gifts and after I put them away I presented my mom with an overly thoughtful gift.

“Here you go. I thought you could use these…….they were attached to the toilet paper……… You can use them at the fair or something…….You know, to stay fresh and what not.”

There is no appropriate way to present your mother with moist adult wipes. Could she use them? Yes. Should they be a gift from her son? No. As I was talking it was like the part of the Roadrunner cartoons when the coyote falls off the cliff and it takes forever until the little “pfff” as he hits the dust. Mom simply said, “Oh…. yes, mmm-hmm.” Super-duper, freakin’-fragin’ awkward.