The Awkwards.

1. I went to Old Navy this week in a hyper and gleeful mood, as I had a gift card and nothing to do for the day. Aisle after aisle, I filled my arms with clothes to try on. My fingers literally had hanger impressions in them from trying to fit so many items into one trying-on trip. (I adore you, Old Navy.) I finally made my way to the dressing room. In the middle of trying on some fabulously trendy shorts with little anchors on them, a girl yelled to (I assume) a friend of hers and asked if she wanted to try on something. She replied with a yes. All of the sudden, girl #1 threw a pair of white shorts under my dressing room door. I panicked and threw them back out. (In hindsight, yes, it occurs to me that I should have said something.) Alas, girl #1 must have already made it to her dressing room or left because I could still see the white shorts right outside my dressing room floor. Girl #2 said nothing. Curiously, I don’t think I ever heard words from them again. I find this odd…you would think girl #2 would have requested for the shorts again or girl #1 would have asked if they fit. I can only presume that they found each other, sans white shorts and nearly as awkward as I, and fled. A minute later, an Old Navy employee showed an angry lady with a crying child to a dressing room and kicked the shorts back under my door. This time, because I am queen of awkward, I held the shorts out with my hand under the door and said, “Um, these aren’t mine.” No one replied, and I hastily pulled them back in my room and remained silent with inner turmoil. I rapidly selected the clothes I wanted to purchase, gave the white shorts to the Old Navy lady as I left, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone until I was out of the store.

2. One morning I took Jack out back to do his business. The fences in our neighborhood are the chain-link kind, so there isn’t much privacy in the backyards. We have yet to schedule a meet and greet with Jack and our neighbors, who are frequently throwing parties in their backyard. They are very sweet and friendly; our dog is very terrified of anything or anyone he doesn’t know. Jack occasionally barks at the man who lives there because he’s tall and Jack doesn’t like men until they come up and pet him or throw his frisbee. This particular morning, the neighbors had just thrown a party of some sort the previous night. I thought they would be sleeping the day away, but instead they were all out chatting and chilling in their backyard when I took Jack outside to relieve himself. He proceeded to bark at them incessantly and he refused to pee, no matter how much I yanked on his leash to pull him to the opposite side of the yard. Even when he was on the side of the house where they were out of sight, he whined and looked up at me like I had betrayed him. I shamefully took him back inside after an awkward “sorry” to the neighbors and their guests, and then I glared at him for the next 7 hours.

3. Back in the days of elementary school, I began to play the flute in band. My grandparents were very excited about my new musical endeavors. I remember calling them with frenzied fervor when I achieved “first chair.” They didn’t answer, so I proceeded to leave a message. I was walking around in the kitchen of our old house, carrying the phone with one hand, and running my other hand along the counter in tween-age delight. I began my message on the answering machine…”I just wanted to let you guys know that I got first chair in…” Before I could finish my sentence I screamed a lengthy and bloodcurdling scream that sounded as if my arm had just been severed. As I had been sliding my right hand along the counter, I unknowingly skidded it across the hot electric stove, and in the middle of my happy message screamed at the top of my lungs. I dropped the phone and started wailing and running for the sink. My mom had to quickly make another call to leave a less terrifying message, alerting the grandparents that I was in fact not kidnapped or killed, but had simply touched the stove in a moment of inadvertent stupidity. (Now that I think about it, this event may have been the catalyst to my fear of talking on the phone.)

 

I have several more of these. We’ll save them for another day. Happy weekend. ;)

~Cait

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