Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Laughing and Peeing at the Same Time

When I was younger my parents decided to put me on a girls softball team.
It (read: I) was terrible.

In retrospect, it would have been a better idea to put me in dance. I could not hit the ball worth a damn; I would always "walk" to first base; the coach put me in the outfield (where no one would hit the ball, because we were all 11 years old); and I was weird so no one liked me.

One of the fat chicks on the team, who at the time had a Pierce Brosnan hair cut, invited everyone on the team to her house for a sleepover. Yay fun!

When we got there, we were told to put all our sleeping bags, pillows, and over-night stuff down in the basement. After a few hours of pop and chips one of the girls (who was also in my class at school and quite popular) thought we should play charades.
"Yesyesyesyesyesyes!", chanted everyone.

There were the rules:
(1) Everyone got a piece of paper and wrote a word of their choice on it
(2) Everyone put their piece into a bucket
(3) Once you picked your word, you could not pick another.
(4) No talking!

When everyone was writing down their word, I was like:
"Wouldn't it be weird if someone wrote a word like 'freak of nature'? How would you act that out?". I proceeded to laugh. I was quite hilarious. What a funny observation.

No one else laughed. "Cricket. Cricket. Yeeaaaaa..........."
So we continued to play charades.

We went around in a circle picking words out of the bucket. Everyone was having a great time. The mood had gotten much more hyper (I think the sugar from the pop eventually got into everyone's blood stream).
Finally! It was my turn.
I picked my word out of the bucket and opened it eagerly.

OMG. I got "Freak of Nature" (which I had written down). I laughed. Loudly. Then softly. I had to hold it in so that I could act this out.
I gave it my best shot:
I started compulsively shaking my body and hitting my hand to my chest (as if I were "mentally retarded". * No offence to anyone who actually has or knows someone with mental disabilities*).

Uh Oh. I began to laugh again.
The popular girl spoke up in a monotone and not-very-impressed voice, "Freak of nature?".

I couldn't contain myself. I laughed so so so hard. The pop (read: "soda", if you're from America) from earlier was too much. I began to pee. First a little, then alot. There was no stopping it.

Once it started, my laughing stopped. My eyes widened and I quickly turned to go back inside the house. As soon as I turned, the other girls knew what was up.

"EWWWWW", said one of them.
"Omg, did you actually just pee?", said another.

Super embarrassing. I will never forget it.
Moral of the Story: Don't let you're kids develop a very selective sense-of-humour. It will only lead to peed pants at a sleepover.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

When Random People Play With My Hair

As a "keener" by nature, I often take opportunities to become involved in school functions.

As such,  I became a Student Leader during my 2nd year at university. I was roped in to doing many things like:
(1) help out at orientation
(2) give campus tours and,
(3) Participate! Participate! Participate! "school-spirit" events. (Yes, I realize how annoyed you are at the superficial excitement that is always shown by people who volunteer. The Fake Happiness. I know it well).

For Halloween one year, we set up a festive tent in our... *ahem*... courtyard? (If you call a large, concrete open space between 3 buildings a "courtyard").

It had all the cheesy decorations you'd expect: fake cob-webs, fake skeletons, fake haunted house music, real pumpkins, fake...smiles. (see below)

Our job was to hand out candy to students as they walked past and spread school spirit.

The day went fairly well. I handed out the candy. Smiled. Pretended to have a good time.
(see "good time being had" below)

Later in the day, we had a visit from this really bizzare student who didn't really understand social situations. He was tall, portly, had a wind-breaker on. Possibly Arabic, not sure. He hung around the tent for quite some time....

But as a student leader, it was my job to engage with him and chat. You know. School spirit and all that sh*t. (would have loved to ignore him).

I left him a lone for a while to chat with my friend who showed up!
While I was talking, I felt my hair move.

He had turned away from the back table and started to play with my ponytail. He picked it up and started to stroke it.

Wow. Awkward. F*ck off!!

I turned around and just stared at the guy. I reached my hand behind my head and grasped my ponytail, as he had sexually assulted my hair! No words were exchanged. He just smiled. He was having a great time.

He also didn't leave.

I eventually had to ask the head coordinator to kindly ask him to exit the tent area on account of him molesting my ponytail!
She promptly walked up to him and said, "thanks for coming out. We'll see you next time. Have a great day"

He nodded his head and walked away.
So weird.

I still volunteer to this day. But I'll never do a Halloween tent again.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

I Jabbed a Pregnant Woman

The title really says it all. I jabbed a pregnant woman.

It wasn't a poke. Or a prod. It was a straight up jab. And not even on a sensible place on her body. I jabbed her baby. What kind of person am I???

It happened while I worked at Save-On-Foods (the grocery store which sells slightly over-priced food but insists that you get "more, more, more" by shopping there...).

Here is a picture my old store! Fun times

Once you enter the main threshold of the store and turn left, there is a "hidden" staircase which takes you to The Office. It's one small space which has a window that allows people up there to surveil the store. Creepy? I think so.

Up in The Office is where employees (mostly managers) can go to pick up labels, order forms...etc. for their department. One sunday I went up there in the morning to go gather the labels for my department. Usually people who worked the graveyard shift are still working at this time.

So I get to the top of the staircase. Collect my sh*t. And, of course, stop to talk with one of the graveyard gals (who had been hanging signs all night). She had on this really old-looking, puffy jacket that was definitely from the men's department. It was massive on her.

It was just the two of us up there, so I decided to make small chat. I began by saying the usual: "oh hey! How's it goin'? Haven't seen you in a while"
Puffy-Coat replied: "Oh good. How are you?"

I said I was good as well.
We then had a bit of an awkward silence.
I needed to brake that silence.
Nothing is worse than awkward silences... because both of you KNOW its awkward and are probably dying for the other person to start up another topic.

"Oh my", I said in a playful voice, "it almost looks like your pregnant".

I then tightened my fingers together to form an optimal jabbing position. (As demonstrated above). And proceeded to jab her right in the belly.


Puffy-Coat: "...That's because I am pregnant".

More silence.

Me: "Oh!"

Silence Again.

Me:  "...I'm sorry".

I walked away SO FAST. I am such an ass. Wow.
If her kid has brain damage, it's MY fault. Who jabs a pregnant woman? I'n definitely going to hell.

In my defence, I didn't know. The puffy coat from the mens department would have been baggy on a portly man! Ya'll shouldn't hide your baby bumps. Show them off! that next time I will think before I jab.

Awkward Scale: AA
(out of a possible 5 "As")

Monday, March 5, 2012

Grandma's Boobs

The second worst thing in the world is imagining your Grandparents naked.
The first worst thing is actually seeing them naked.

Before I go further you must understand the set up of my living situation. I live in a house. It's in the middle of our street. And it has hedges which you can play badminton over. My grandparents bought it when they were young at a decent price.

Unfortunately, where I live, property is VERY expensive to buy (or even rent). So my parents were lucky when my grandparents offered to move into the basement and give us the top 2 floors.

It works. Sometimes.

BUT, because we live in such close quaters we can borrow stuff from each other (like food). Which is what I go down there for. Quite often it's for Chunky soup, which they store in their closet/pantry.

Let me explain this in greater detail: They have a closet in their room, which they also store food in. (Is that weird? I think it is...).
You can see it behind me in the picture below.

(Why am I dressed this way? I don't know. It's actually quite embarrassing. I was hoping this would be the least awkward component of my experience/story.... You be the judge.)

ANYWAY. One day I went downstairs to grab some food out of the pantry. I went all through their house looking for someone to ask whether I could take it or not.
No one was home.

As I walked into their room, those white doors opened and out stepped my grandma with no shirt, no bra, no pants...
just underwear.
OMFG. Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew! Awkward! My eyes!

I turned my whole body IMMEDIATELY away
My grandma scooted back into the closet/pantry. She goes: "Oh my dear...I didn't hear you come in".
I say nothing. Just leave.
SO awkward. I just saw her boobs. *Gag*!

It's almost comparable to when you go into public change rooms at your local recreation center and see all these old ladies (or men, if you're a guy) showering in the nude. But this is worse. Much worse. Incredibly worse.

We choose not to talk about this event in our house. It's been a buried story until now. An awkward moment through and through.

Awkward Scale: AAAA
(Out of a possible 5 "A"s)

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Diapers on Teenagers?

At some point, you need to stop wearing diapers.

The acceptibilty of wearing diapers vanishes when you hit 4 years old. I've known some people who may have even used them a bit later than others... maybe 7 years old. But when you are in your teens, you should have that bathroom routine down pat.

Yes. Yes. People might have some bladder problems which means they might need them.
But c'mon.

When I was in highschool,  I use to go up to one of my friends' cabins for a week of sun, fun, and "organized activities". (She had THOSE kinds of parents).  Every year I would be dropped off at her house and then I would climb into her Grand Cherokee for a 6 hour ride with her parents and her brother.
Jimmy Buffet, Meat Loaf, and Queen were often played in the car ride. You decide whether that's cool or not.

This one year, at her cabin I discovered something.

My friends' cabin had 4 doors in the entire space: the front door, the bathroom door, and 2 bedroom doors. This was not my discovery, though.
I was going to change into my pajamas for bed and needed somewhere to do this in private. The bathroom was taken by her brother (who was 13 at the time), the "kids room" was taken by my friend, so I had to take her parents room.

While in there, I noticed the closet door was wide open. Sitting right in plain view was this MASSIVE diaper package propped sideways in the middle of the closet.

Why did they need diapers? Both kids were teenagers. This was so weird. I didn't want to bring it up, so I just kept quiet...

...until later that evening. I saw the brother go into his parents room. I was settled on the couch (aka. my bed) and when he finally emerged, he walked very slowly with his legs stiff, trying not to move them. I also noticed that there was an obvious outline of something bulky in the "underwear region".
OH GOD. The Diapers.

SO AWKWARD. I knew. But he didn't know that I knew.

(^Here I am sleeping on the couch after that awkward moment...)

Stupid me, I brought it up with his sister the next day. I asked:
"Does your brother wear diapers?"
"Oh... Okay."

So much lies. They were all lies. Lying liar!

Unfortunately, I still think of this awkward moment, the awkward walking, and the awkward conversation whenever I see her brother.
You might say we have an awkward connexion. (eh, eh?! Nice integration)

Awkward Scale: AAA
(out of a possible 5 "A"s)

Saturday, March 3, 2012

How Friendships Turn into Acquaintences

In highschool I went to the Northwest Territories.
For those of you not from Canada: the Northwest Territories is in Canada. It's in the northern part...slightly to the west. Geography, ftw!

In winter in the north it is not uncommon for the temperatures to reach the −50 °C (−58 °F) but can also reach the single digits during the day.

In short, it's fucking cold up there.
To help put it in perspective, the temperatures were so low that when we arrived on the tarmac my nose hairs froze. (The cold temperatures were so extreme that the moisture from exhailing would freeze immediately. Hence: frozen nose hairs). It's the most bizzare sensation ever, let me tell you!

Anyway. Before the trip we had to prepare. We had to pack all our warm clothes, snow pants, winter jacket, gloves...the whole 9 yards! And because I am SUCH a frugal person I didn't want to bother buying all new snowpants. So of course, I begged my friend to lend me her "old ones" (which weren't old at all and were probably bought the year before).

When we arrived in the Northwest Territories we first stayed a couple nights in the local school (we weren't allowed to stay in the homes because it was unsafe..... no further comments). The following 4 days were spent "On the land", where we slept in tents, in temperatures around  - 40°C.

To keep ourselves from freezing to death, we were advised to sleep in our snow suits. (We actually got given a second snowsuit to put overtop of first snowsuit). They also provided these weird furnace things for each tent.
This was all well and good. I wanted to stay warm as possible. No way I'm getting frost bite and dying. So I vowed to stay near the furnace as much as I could.

Needless to say, shit got fucked up!

I stood too close to the furnace and my friends semi-new snowpants that she let me borrow on the condition that I return them unscathed...caught fire! Oh balls.

ProTip: When you're on fire, your not calm... You're a fuckin' tazmanian devil. And no shit, because you're ON. FIRE.
I was inside the tent, so I couldn't drop and roll because there wasn't space. The "floor" of the tent ALSO happened to be made of tree leaves. Yes. Tree leaves. I think it was pine, to be more precise.
I forget how I put myself out. Possibly just patting it with my glove. People do that, right? It's probably safe-ish. But it eventually went out. No horrible 2nd degree burns!

If you'll examine here.... the burn on the pants wasn't THAT bad. Sure its very noticeable, but it could be worse. Right?

Returning the pants was awkward.
She ended up asking me to keep the pants. Yikes.
I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but she didn't buy my clever argument of "it's not that bad".
Heh heh. Um.... needless to say, we now exchange cards at Christmas and not pajamas... if you catch my drift.
Awkward friendship= Current aquaintences

Awkward Scale: A

(out of a possible 5 "A"s)

Friday, March 2, 2012

Old Men in Ballet

TRUE FACT: I use to work at Save-On-Foods.
It's a grocery store. Where you can buy food. Sometimes you can save on it....most of the time it's over-priced. But all this information is irrelevant. And not funny. Or awkward. That's just me.

One thing you must know is that I get hit on by men quite often. To be more specific, old men. And by old I don't mean "he's in his thirties". By old I mean over 50. 

During my time at Save-On-Foods, most old men who hit on me were customers. They were never younger than 40 and almost always NOT interesting. (This one guy told me how he use to be involved with pidgeon racing).

At the time of this story, we had a guy who worked in our Deli who was a skinny, frail old man. His hair was thinning, he had thick glasses, and he creeped on me frequently. I thought: "Oh, He's an old man. He's not going to try any lines or put the moves on me". So I never shot him down when he wanted to talk. Bad idea.

One day, I was labelling kosher pickles that we served in Bulk Food (that's weird, isn't it?). This man... we'll call him Jaques, approached me on his way to the break room. Without saying a word he hands me this photograph and a key chain which was in the shape of a "half-heart" (I assume he had the other half....).

This photo depicted himself, in a deep V-neck leotard flying through the air with his hands held triumphantly above his head.

What do I say? Should I thank him? Do I laugh? Do I ask questions about wtf is going on in the picture? Or, I should act interested.
In the end, I thanked him. I thought that sounded the best. But he didn't move. He just stayed there. So I went on:
" So you used to be in ballet? That's neat"
Pssh. Who says NEAT anymore. He'll know I'm lying.
But he totally bought it.

It was only after he left that I noticed on the back, he left his email address. I lol-ed. Spartacus650 was his chosen name. Of course Mr.Ballet chooses spartacus.
I reported this odd behaviour to my manager and he laughed hysterically. He got on his little walkie-talkie and called up the other manager to hear my story and see my In the end, he did nothing about it.
Yay for me. Yay for old men living the dream. Yay for awkward situations?

Awkward Scale: AAA
(out of a possible 5 "A"s)