| Tips for preserving a relationship |
[Oct. 29th, 2008|07:48 pm] |
While walking with down the street with your girlfriend, if you are passed by an 18-wheeler with a ledge sticking out of the side, do not point to it and shout "I want to get on that!" until you have checked to make sure the truck is not also adorned with a billboard-sized picture of a topless woman.
You will live longer. |
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| Major disclaimers |
[Apr. 12th, 2008|03:34 am] |
When I hug a girl, I have a tendency to put my hand against the back of her head and press it gently against my chest. This makes for a satisfying hug each and every time...
...PROVIDED SHE'S IN FRONT OF YOU! If you try this technique with someone standing to either side, you'll just poke her in the eye.
Furthermore, this maneuver is extremely habit-forming, and you must pay heed at all times to be sure it is only used on the opposite sex. Dudes do NOT enjoy being hugged in such a fashion.
ESPECIALLY if they are the same height as you!
I'm not explaining that last caveat. Draw a diagram. |
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| The Tailor's Remorse |
[Apr. 4th, 2008|04:04 am] |
Tear-away pants are all fun and games until you try to stuff a bulging wallet in your pocket and wind up wearing them around your ankles. |
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| Tales from the Pub, Episode 3 |
[Mar. 22nd, 2008|10:04 pm] |
Further Clarification Needed
Zak- I told you not to drink that so fast! The bar closes in an hour.
Me- Oh shit! I need to get home tonight. I should dance it off.
…
Brad- So get up and dance!
Me- To what? This is a slow-dancing song.
Brad- So dance with the guy singing karaoke.
Zak- Hey, I know that guy. He’s a huge douche-bag.
Me- Then I should go up and snowball him.
*Looks of utter revulsion*
Snowball \ˈsnō-ˌbol\
1. n. A high school tradition which begins with one couple slow dancing until prompted to separate by the DJ. Each of them finds a new dance partner, and the dance floor continues to grow, like a snowball rolling down a hill. I wanted to keep dancing with Janeane, but the DJ called "Snowball" too quickly.
2. v. ( The author accepts no responsibility for any unwanted knowledge gained by clicking this cut. Also, eww. ) |
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| Drunk Lesson #2 |
[Nov. 22nd, 2007|01:17 am] |
How to tell when you've had enough:
Me: So what's new with you? Last year of your second graduate degree, then law school, right?
Stuart: Actually, law school might not happen.
Me: When? |
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| Snippets of awkwardness |
[Oct. 21st, 2007|11:35 pm] |
Anthony- Why did you put "Action Jack" next to your name?
Me- It's a nickname.
Anthony- People actually call you that?
Me- Yes. In fact, There are hundreds of people who know me by no other name.
Anthony- But why Jack? Why not "Action Adam?"
Me- Because that doesn't sound tough at all! Which of those two guys would you rather have rescue you from terrorists?
(A room full of blank stares reminds me that they don't know how I got the name)
Daniella- When's your birthday?
Me- December.
Chuck- Mine too! What day?
Me- The ninth.
Chuck- I was born on the eleventh.
Daniella- And I was born on the 24th.
Me- You share a birthday with Jesus???
(...)
(The subject is changed with no explanation)
(At the checkout of CVS, I recognize the cashier)
Me- Hello there!
Stephanie- What are you doing here?
Me- (Rather defensively) I just wanted some ice cream.
(...)
Me- Or perhaps you're wondering why I'm in Oxford?
Stephanie- Yeah...
Me- Why do some people have stars on their nametags?
Deanna- You get one after working here for six months.
Me- Oh, I thought you were a Sneetch or something.
Deanna- What?
Me- You haven't read The Sneecthes?
Deanna- No...
Me- Dr. Seuss?
Deanna- I've never heard of it.
Me- (valiant attempt to explain a story about discrimination to several black women)
Me- So, do you ever shorten your name, perhaps to Bernie?
Bernadette- Nope.
Me- Okay, just curious.
(...)
Me- I guess that makes sense. The last girl I met who did that now goes by "Michael."
Bernadette- Oh... |
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| Five dangerous little words |
[Aug. 6th, 2007|12:22 am] |
For the last four weeks, I was staying at a place called University Center- kind of a generic dorm for three different universities. Over the summer, they do weekly contracts for whomever is interested in filling their eighteen floors of empty space.
Unfortunately, their summer session ended yesterday. I knew this was going to happen, but I have a few friends in Chicago, so I figured I would be able to bum a total of seven nights' worth of lodging between them (my classes end in a week), especially if I cooked rice left and right to make myself less of a nuisance.
But I was thwarted at every turn. One friend decided unexpectedly to be an RA and went back to Miami for training. Another turned out to be living with her parents in a distant suburb. And another blatantly didn't return my call. The stakes were growing.
But luck was on my side! I have a cousin in Chicago, who actually lives right next to ImprovOlympic. She's pretty cool, but we're not terribly close, so I didn't expect to be able to impose a weeks' worth of place-crashing. But she offered exactly that, in return for watching her cat at a later date.
Finally, things were going my way. It sounded too good to be true, but everything fell into place just perfectly.
Or so I thought. When contacted for details on Thursday, she was taken by surprise. Apparently I told her "I'll get back to you," so she was waiting for my confirmation- which, of course, never came, because I didn't remember saying that and thought it was a done deal. During that three-week period, she made other plans.
So then I scrounged up a plan B in 24 hours. I ended up taking public transportation back and forth twice to bring my assload of baggage to the apartment of a classmate. Incidentally, if you ever consider buying a flamboyant hat that won't fit in your bags, be prepared for the distinct possibility that you'll be forced to wear it around the city all day and look like tool.
I'll sleep here again tonight, then it's off to Sarah Sargent's house for Monday and Tuesday. Which should be awesome, because I haven't seen her in forever.
Wednesday and Thursday will be tricky, though. I'll be staying with another classmate, and we'll apparently be sharing an inflatable mattress on the floor of an apartment owned by a couple going through a divorce.
And to top it off, I'm pretty sure that he's gay. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, except that I've been inadvertantly flirting with him all month. And he has no reason to suspect that I'm straight, especially when I show up wearing my aforementioned flamboyant hat.
But of course, I don't even know for sure that he's gay, and I know that it's a major faux pas to assume that every gay guy wants to bang you. Which only increases the potential for awkwardness! Somewhere out there, Larry David is laughing at me.
So since he's an ultra-swell chap and I don't want to offend him, I'm going to have to be ultra subtle and pay close attention to subtext and intent.
So, the moral of this story is: a simple phrase like "I'll get back to you" can turn your life into Hamlet. |
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| Drunk Lesson #1 |
[Jun. 14th, 2007|02:41 am] |
If you lean in toward your friend to shush him, but forget to put your finger in front of your nose, this gesture will be interpreted to mean "Let's make out, man-friend!" |
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| I'm at a loss here... |
[Jun. 5th, 2007|03:11 pm] |
Okay people, I've got something to ask you all. But first, let me set the situation up:
So I found myself taking a bus to Columbus, at a loss for what to read along the way. I don't have much in the way of book income; most of my books have been in my possession for years and been read several times. Mostly because I default to interacting with people (and rarely travel alone), and most of my literary intake comes from websites.
And from what books I had available, I gave consideration to the implications of being seen reading them in public. For example, I ruled out anything pertaining to ninja, because I feel that it would be disrespectful to publically study what was traditionally a secret art.
When it seemed like I was totally at a loss, I remembered something: an essay a professor had given to me, that I never got a chance to read. Interesting, new, scholarly appearance... success! I excitedly anticipated the bus ride.
But what I didn't consider was that the bus station was in Over the Rhine. So the bus was 90% black people, and my selected reading material was called The Black Body as Souvenir in American Lynching.
Yes, that's right. I'm one of two white guys on the whole bus, and I'm reading about how after their ancestors were publicly tortured, humiliated, hung, and burned on bogus charges, MY ancestors would race to be the first to cut off what was left of their dick to keep for a good luck charm.
Mercifully, nobody was sitting next to me. I'll file that under "God, case for the existence of."
Am I the only person in the world who gets into these kinds of situations?
And no, Larry David doesn't count. |
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| *phew!* |
[Apr. 8th, 2007|09:43 pm] |
Happy Easter! Especially you, Jesus- I'm glad you pulled through after all.
So my first Lent is over. And I can finally say the word NINJA again! Wow, it looks so pretty gracing my screen...
It wasn't easy, considering that I dressed like one five times in the last forty days. But then again, that allowed me to refer to "The kind of person who would wear an outfit like this." The word slipped out twice- once while referring to a famous group of teenage turtles, and once while trying to explain why ninja don't eat garlic.
And it was especially amusing to see how long it took people to guess what I had given up. My roommate of three and a half years took ten minutes to get it, and that was after telling him it was a foreign word, five letters long, for a 400-years-since obsolete occupation I'd like to have someday but probably never would, and that in a way, it is the opposite of a sound designer.
This trial resulted in one interesting moment:
Hairstylist- What did you do today?
Me- I just came from filming something.
Her- Oh? What did you film?
Me- I was a... well... it's kind of hard to explain.
Her- Okay then.
Me- Actually, it's really quite simple. It just involves the use of a word I gave up for Lent.
She then recoiled in utter revulsion imagining what kind of movie it could have been. And I was powerless to set her straight.
I feel blessed that awkwardness comes to me in such unique ways. |
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| The wrong kind of affection |
[Nov. 6th, 2006|03:54 pm] |
On Saturday my parents came to see me after I had gone out/stayed up with Heather until 6 AM. This was a bad combination, and my subconscious had trouble switching tracks.
I first realized something was awry when I kissed my mother's neck as I hugged her.
This sank in when I patted my dad on the back and slid my fingers down his arm as I pulled away.
Later, he put his hand on my shoulder and I squeezed his fingers.
At this time, their most recent memory of me is leaning in the window of their car...
...and stopping three inches short of kissing my own father on the mouth.
NEVER underestimate the value of your parents' sense of humor. |
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| Delivering the promise |
[Jun. 29th, 2006|02:03 am] |
Okay, 26 hours ago I said there'd be a story "tomorrow." So it's time. This story is called "The little idea that couldn't."
The life of a cashier is filled with idle moments. Yesterday, as I wondered how to use this time, when I saw a large man carrying himself with an awesome mope. At that point, I said to myself, hey, I'm supposedly an actor; this would be a great opportunity to just observe how people move.
It didn't take long for me to find my next subject of interest: a woman in her early thirties gesturing with great intensity in a futile effort to get her small daughter to follow her.
After about ten seconds of close study, I realized someone was standing directly behind me trying to get my attention. I spun around to meet a woman of 50+ years, who scolded me in the most distinctive of Chinese accents:
"You looking at pretty young girl!"
There was nothing I could say to defend myself. As we laughed together, I realized I would need a better way to spend my down-time. |
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| Awkwardness alert |
[Apr. 22nd, 2006|01:10 pm] |
Have any of you ever told a girl you just met there was "room for one more" in your pants, but really just meant that there was literally enough space in your trousers to fit two people?
Don't do it. Apparently people put weird connotations on phrases like that. |
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| At the time of writing this... |
[Mar. 20th, 2006|12:29 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | awkward, story time | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  It's a bit creepy in here | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The buzz of my computer | ] |
...it's 12:30 AM, and I am the ONLY person in the library. I came to the door, and it was locked, and there were four cops walking around. I figured they wouldn't let me in, but I swiped my ID card and the door opened. We were a little surprised to see each other, but since the library is supposed to be open 24/7 they let me in.
Then they left. But on their way out, I had to open my big mouth...
Me: Hey, do you know Nick?
Officer: Who?
Me: Uh... I mean... Officer O'Diam.
Officer: Yeah. He resigned last year.
Me: Oh.
Officer: How do you know him?
Me: Umm... uhh... I... I was in his custody last year.
Officer: Oh, really?
Me: Yeah.
What kind of idiot says that to FOUR COPS who are about to leave him COMPLETELY UNSUPERVISED in a university building that is usually rife with bustling activity?
I think I can safely answer that: only me.
(Update: shortly after I posted that, two of the officers came back and said I had to leave) |
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| Awkwardness prevention tip |
[Feb. 12th, 2006|09:16 pm] |
If you walk around a corner and a bunch of people throw hands up into the air, check to make sure they're not voting before you wave back at them. |
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| Joining in on the WRONG conversation |
[Sep. 7th, 2005|09:47 pm] |
Him- Sometimes pain can feel good.
Me- Uh, I think you've got pain and pleasure mixed up there, buddy.
Him- I prefer to call it "Masochism."
Me- Really? You're a masochist?
Him- Yeah.
(pause)
(I slap him in the knee with my baseball cap)
Me- So did you enjoy that?
Him- I think a better question is: why are you trying to get me off?
Hey, speaking of masochism, don't ever eat Listerine Cinnamon Breath Strips. They're fucking NASTY. And that probably has something to do with the fact that they contain LOCUST BEAN GUM. Don't put that shit inside your body, kids. |
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| The most awkward story of my life |
[Mar. 5th, 2005|11:06 pm] |
Just to warn you, some of you may consider this story "too much information." But I don't know how to make one of those things where you have to click it to read it, so if you're a dainty fairy princess without a sense of humor then just scroll past this entry. Now, for the rest of you, sit back and be regaled:
So we were all eating together and it was a grand time. Until Ruth dropped a spoonful of her ice cream down the back of my shirt. As it ran decsended down my back, I made a comment about something "sending chills down my spine," and prided myself for being so damn witty.
But, left unattended, the ice cream drifted further down into my depths. I soon found myself announcing that it was in my ass-crack and excused myself to the restroom.
Whilst cleaning my crevice, I again thought of something terribly witty. I then returned to our point of dining and said to Ruth, "Thank you. I am now the only person I know who has ever wiped his ass and found chocolate."
Funny, huh? It was to me. Problem is... Ruth didn't laugh. She instead informed me that it wasn't ice cream she dropped down my shirt, but merely a piece of ice.
I sat in solemn silence for the next minute or so. |
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