I'm Awkward and Have No Friends

I find that I'm not really fitting in lately.  Ok, rewind, I have never really felt like I exactly fit in, ever.  I've always been a little awkward.  But lately, it's been much more apparent.

We moved to our current abode last October.  And I know that's not an incredibly long time to live somewhere, but long enough to make a few church friends, right?

Today we were at the public library catching a puppet show and checking out some books.  As we were looking at Star Wars graphic novels a kid came up to Monkey and goes, "Hey, I know you!"  And then he proceeded to tell us all about how they're in the same class at church.  Monkey was super shy, but this kid went on and on and on.

Then the kid goes, "MOM - come over here, I know them!"

So then his mom comes over.  Obviously she goes to the same church as us.  Since October.  And she's like, "How do you know them?"  And then I tell her that they're in the same church class.  And honestly I didn't know her kid, so it was totally ok with her not knowing Monkey.  But then she said, "Oh, how nice....."  and had one of those obvious fake smiles plastered to her face where you could tell she was trying to think of an excuse to leave as quickly as possible.

I'm not good at the obvious fake smile.  Or perhaps mine is just much MUCH too obvious, which would make me an expert?  I dunno.  Either way, I decided that it would be best to just go back to looking at Star Wars books and make it easy for the church lady to go away.  Which she did.

And that pretty much sums up all the local interaction I've had here.

The only person I can exclude from this is my next door neighbors.  Not the drunk guys who live on the other side of our duplex (who just moved anyway) but the one in the house next to that.  Those people are pretty cool.  And our kids play together outside pretty much every day.

But I think I scare them.

I have to work a lot.  Which means that I sit at my computer lots and lots and lots.  So I don't talk to them too much, even though they see my kids daily.  But then when I do actually have a conversation with them, it's been so long since I've had adult social interaction that I turn into a 3 year old and questions start spewing out of my mouth like this: "What are you doing?  How long does that take?  Is it hard?  Your living room is fabulous, what did it look like before you remodeled?  What about this light, was it there before?  Oooh, look at your kitchen - did you do the subway tiles yourself?  That's awesome.  Where did you live before this?  When is your daughter's birthday?  Do you have a dog?  How long have you been married?  What color is your toothbrush?"

Also, sometimes I forget that some people aren't ok when I forget to use filters.

I think I need to take a class where everyone just has to sit around and practice "polite conversation".  Or if there was a class called "People Skills for Beginners" I might be able to learn something.  Maybe then I could perfect my fake smile. 

And then, just maybe, I'll be able to fit in better here......

The Magic Assembly

A couple days ago the kids were talking about an assembly they had at school.  We were all sitting around the dinner table, and the story came out in pieces as they ate.  So, originally, I thought things occurred like this:

All the classes were sitting in the gymnacafetorium, ready to watch The Amazing Whatever-His-Name-Was Magician.  Which was probably a big relief from all the school work that never occurs in May anyway (is it just me, or does the last month of school seem like a complete waste of time?). 

At some point during the show, the magician's dove escaped from some unknown hiding place and starting frantically flying around the room.

I imagined lots of flying, and a totally flustered set of adults trying to catch said bird.  All the while, in my mind, the magician was standing on stage feeling like a total hack.  I mean, what kind of crap magician can't contain his hidden dove before his "watch how I make this dove appear out of thin air" trick?

So the bird swoops around the gymnacafetorium while teachers and the principal chase him, and finally, after all that drama, the dove swoops down and lands on the little blond head of a kid in Opie's class. 

Everyone is shocked that the bird has landed on a student's head until another kid in that class holds out his hand and, with the magic touch of Radagast the brown, gets the bird to slide onto his fingers.  Then he calmly walks the bird up to the magician, who is now so horrifically embarrassed that he has to immediately pack up and move to a foreign country.

And that's how the story went in my head, after hearing the tidbits of information from Opie and Two Bits, in between their bites of tuna casserole.

However, it turns out it wasn't that exciting.  I asked questions and we got the actual story out of it.

Apparently the dove didn't escape while it was supposed to be hidden.  The magician had just done his "dove appearing from nothing" trick, and when the kids applauded the dove got skittish and took flight.

Apparently the dove did NOT fly around the room with a group of frantic adults chasing after it.  In fact, I guess there was very little drama.  The dove fly straight from the magician's hand to the unsuspecting head of a 2nd grader.

The kid who got the bird off his classmate's head must have had his own birds, because he apparently knew what he was doing.

And, apparently, the magician finished his show and was hardly embarrassed at all.

So, basically, the point of all this is: things always play out much better in my imagination than they do in real life.

The end.

a letter to my nemesis

Dear Evil Shower Curtain,

You think you are sooooo clever, don't you?  That you have it all worked out.  That you can defeat me.  But let's think about this logically - do you really think you can beat someone with my abilities and mental prowess?  ha ha ha. Your confidence is humorous.

I am on to your plan, evil curtain of fear.  I know how you mock me with your attractive fabric - the fabric you use to shield my vision from the rest of the bathroom.  Do not think you can fool me - I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON.

I know that you're hiding serial killers in the tub when I have to pee at night.  I know these killers have knives or deadly ninja throwing stars.  And I know that you think you're tricky when I pull back the curtain at lightening speed to find the tub empty.

I don't know where you're putting the assassins, but I will figure it out - that you can be sure of.

I know that when I'm showering you like to invite the satanic girl from The Ring to spy on me.  I know that you wait for me to turn around to shave my legs or rinse the shampoo out of my hair, and then have her creepily pull the curtain back in the bottom corner of the tub so that when I turn around again I'll see her evil little face looking at me.

Don't think you can surprise me.

I also know that you are in league with the spider king - I know that he sends his legions to infiltrate the shower just to catch me unaware and vulnerable.  But don't think that I can't reach for that can of aerosol hairspray that I keep handy just for the gluing of the crawling demons to wall.

One of these days I will vanquish you shower curtain, and you will no longer be able to to torture me with your campaign of paranoia.  Possibly I will just enlist the help of your benign cousin, the clear plastic shower liner.  He may be your ghetto relative with no sense of style, but with his help I would be able to see all parts of the bathroom at all times.  And then I could forever banish you to the nether regions of the hall closet.  And what good is your power there, hmmm?

Mwaha haha ha ha ha ha ha h aha HA.  You better start watching your back.

Sincerely,
Your Greatest Foe