I kinda feel like I laid down for a half hour nap and woke up at 7 and since it’s dark outside you’re not quite sure if it’s morning or night. Did you oversleep, is it the weekend, should I be hungry for breakfast or dinner and isn’t it great that pancakes can actually count as both? But taking a break from this blog kinda felt like that. I woke up and didn’t realize the time had passed and what was the first step to start, or end, my day. So, instead of putting pressure on the first blog back, like a kind friend who pushes you into the pool and you don’t even have time to scream “MY PHONE, MY PHONES IN MY POCK…” we’re just going to do this.
I was recently emailing my beautiful bride-to-be of a sister and was telling her how the Gods of Irony always seem to have their way with me. The specific instance I was referencing was back in college when I was out on a dance floor, doing my thang (aka OWNING it)…(or probably whipping my hair back and forth because it’s become a go-to move)…either way I was in the zone, but a quick time out was called and I headed up the stairs. When I turned around to make sure the masses were following I made eye contact with an individual in a wheelchair who was singing loud & proud “walk it out, now walk it ouutttt.” I really felt like I was being tested as to whether or not I was a good person. I’m not I discovered, but that’s not on my resume so f it!
Either way, it’s when these very Gods decide to spice up my life (girls of the world! Spice up yo life!) that I think “that’s going in my sitcom” An episode could revolve around the time recently when I discovered halfway through a work day I had a hole in my new dress, pretty much right down the middle of my derriere. I hadn’t realized I was walking around the entire morning like a g-damn hospital patient, the sway of my hips opening and closing it like the Aladdin cave. But that’s a speed bump along this journey, not a stop sign, so the Gods thought to up the ante.
I try to be taken serious as a colleague. Granted my football fantasy team was “Show me your TDs” and I made a hat to wear out of coffee filters and notebook paper the day of the Royal Wedding, but, still, I put the fresh in professional y’all . Which is why it may have been so detrimental that both instances of my recent harassment came in the work realm.
The first was around my birthday. A lovely gentleman decided to send me flowers to work. My co-workers know I pretty much stay mute on my dating life because it remains less complicated then to drag them through that saga. So when I received flowers you can bet I was bright red and instantly ran to the kitchen for a drink of water and a moment to breathe. When I turned the corner to return to my desk I noticed the masses surrounding my cube. While I thought maybe they were admiring, I soon saw snickering and knew this couldn’t be good. A fellow cubemate in the cuberhood decided it’d be hilarious to send out to the ENTIRE CHICAGO LISTSERV, give or take 150 +people, an email from my name that said “I just got flowers!!!” This only further solidified that my managers can now view me as an obnoxious teenage girl (emailing out about Justin Bieber sheets for the Giving Tree in my office mayyyy have also contributed to that). The responses I received ranged from “?,” to “I hope they’re from a cute boy,” “thank your dad,” “you’re welcome” to “please do not use this listserv for these reasons as there are managers on this as well.” They say no publicity is bad publicity, which is something I had to continually chant to myself this past Friday during my next escapade.
My bucket list is pretty standard, put my feet in all the oceans, see my favorite gays get married, take an old time western photo, attend an Indian wedding, be incredibly famous..etc. But the life lesson in this 45 minute segment is to be specific in the guidelines around your wishes. I awoke from a nights sleep like any other, wondering why I had a dream where my co worker shot me and what does this say about my anger issues? Either way, my roommate soon texted me “you’re on the cover of Redeye #Yup” I already panicked. We’re best friends. I know what that lack of description means, no “omg I’m so jealous, you made it” or even “can I be in your entourage now?” it was sparse. It was hinting at more. So I immediately texted back “AS MY BEST FRIEND YOU NEED TO TELL ME HOW BAD IT IS.” A few twitter mentions later, I was rushing to the closest newsstand. I didn’t even have to open the damn box as it was pressed against the glass, glaring back at me. There I was in the corner, 3 people enlarged on the cover with yours truly holding down the left hand spot….LOOKING LIKE THE TOWNDRUNK. Eyes half closed, drink halfway up to my mouth and a speech bubble pretty much coming out that says “I IZ SPECIAL”
Guys, I knew there was no way this one was falling through the cracks seeing as the Redeye is a free newspaper that every young professional in the city of Chicago reads on their commute. So ya know, only my target audience in life. I trudged slowly into work, knowing something was to await me. I turned the corner, had PTSD as I saw masses surrounding my cube, but I carried on. I then looked inside to find 20+ Redeyes wallpapering my entire office. I saw iPhones filming my reaction and I think a few clapping with glee at my misery. At this point I knew it as a stepping stone to my reality series fame, so I took it in stride and laughed my ass off. Apparently I wasn’t the only one given the responses:
- “bahahahah” –about 3 txts from people with no follow up, literally only that
- “famous. #celebstatus #goingplaces”- faithful twitter followers
- “omg its so bad. I texted it to my wife” – a manager at work
- “while sitting in the waiting room I saw the cover again and instantly lost it” – a
coworker that was in the emergency room.
- “no you look cute!!” – a liar and now an “acquaintance”
- “It looks like when good photos happen to ugly people” — a “reassuring” comment
- “please don’t tell people we share the same last name!!!!!!! What’s my itunes password?” –my father
- “THAT IS NEXT YRS CHRISTMAS CARD. What has seen can not be unseen. Who hates you at the newspaper?”—my brother
- “I hope that editor was good in bed” — A friend confusing infamous with famous.
- “I laughed like an insane person upon seeing it. I’ve been in 4 different neighborhoods today and have seen your face in everyone. This is the best day of my life” – said boy who sent flowers
- “I sent it to only like 3 friends” – about 35 different people
- “Were you a Sex & the City fan, you had a real Carrie Bradshaw moment there” – my straight guy friend.
- “You look sober” – a friend in Cleveland
- “Perhaps offer to autograph copies tonight in return for free drinks to drown the memory…” – My mother
So yeah, I think the God’s got the reaction they were looking for when I collapsed to my knees and screamed out “WHYYYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEE.”
Recognizing my 15 minutes only lasts so long though, I then stood up, gave the skinny arm to the paparazzi now following me, put a check mark on my life goal list and thanked the very Gods for giving me a sense of humor and the push in the pool I needed to get back to writing.