Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Yes, All the Awkward, the Finale, Part 3


PART 2

Before I delve in to the thrilling conclusion of my awkward adventures, I wanted to share some feedback I have received from the first 2 parts. And let's be honest, we all know how this story is going to end - me shriveling up into a tiny ball internally and turning into stone externally. I'm surprised I didn't need to be wheeled off the bus.

Things that have been mentioned in regards to my awkwardness:


Painfully awkward Rob Lowe! If only when I wasn't painfully awkward my life was as swanky as his commercials show his to be!


The only time I'm like my favorite pony, Fluttershy, is when we make this face. 


Post-Hulk Bruce Banner. 

And just for fun:


There's totally an episode where Fluttershy Hulks out. Also, when you Google "Flutteryshy Hulk" you can apparently find Fanfcition based on this pairing.... what. That's. Weird. And anatomically confusing.

This is really getting away from me, so let's progress.

There I am hanging out with Switchfoot on their tour bus before their concert. My eyes bulging, which is scary because I can have some seriously huge eyes, my limbs are shrinking into my body like a t-rex, and I have no capabilities of speech.

Nothing has changed around me except now, I'm dying. 

I mean, I'm wearing a unicorn t-shirt. Actually dying. 

Luckily, as soon as the video ended the band was told they needed to make their way backstage for the show. They said their goodbyes, I said something along the lines of "nefghhhhblegh." We all walked inside, I'm sweating profusely in my white puffy jacket, brain fritzing. My cousin and I walk to main area, watch the awesome concert, and that should have been the end. No harm, no foul. 

But of course not. I wasn't humiliated enough!

As we were walking out, I confessed to my cousin that I had no idea that we were with Switchfoot that whole time and I'm so embarrassed at my naivety.

She asked me what I would have done differently if I had known (she's a counselor) and I said I probably would have asked for their autograph or something. She suggested I go ask them now, all on my own, working on my timidity. 

I gather my courage. I am cool. I can play this off. I am well spoken.

Deep shuttering breath.

I knock on the tour bus door.

I'm so nervous there aren't words. I might vomit. 

"Yes?" Keyboardist. He's like in the back, no big deal!

"WE MET EARLIER AND I HAD NO IDEA WHO YOU GUYS WERE BECAUSE I LIVED OVERSEAS AND UNDER A ROCK AND MY T-SHIRT HAS A UNICORN AND I AM REALLY SORRY YOU AREN'T FAMOUS ENOUGH IN MY LIFE FOR ME TO KNOW YOUR FACES BUT CAN I GET YOUR AUTOGRAPH BECAUSE YOU ARE FAMOUS AND I DID THIS ALL WRONG?!"

"Uh. Sure. What would you like us to sign?" They're really nice guys, I could barely tell they were trying not to laugh.

"Oh. Um. I didn't think that far."

They ended up signing my ticket stub. It's lovely.       

What's your most embarrassing encounter with someone famous?


 

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Painfully Awkward, Part 2

Let's recap! (and I have a correction) (Part 1 is the last post)

Upon reflection, on the day I met my not future husband, it was not the first week of class. So I was just late and lazy, not lost.

This is important for me to clarify because I really did put effort in to my appearance when I started school. By the time of this story, we were well in to fall, and I did not care, especially in the morning.

How did I realize this timing mistake? My dear Roomie asked me if I was wearing shoes during this encounter.

The answer was no, I was not. I went through a ridiculous, idealistic college phase where I didn't wear shoes as some kind of absurd protest against poverty and shoeless children. Some idea about being barefoot in solidarity, or something. I was a hipster before hipster was thing. And I had really tough feet.

So, there I am. On the path. Bare foot. I am wearing sweatpants that I had hacked the bottoms off to make them into long, ragged shorts and a bright red Old Navy polar fleece. I have not done my hair or make up, and as it is morning, I am rocking my legendary bed head.

LEGENDARY

I am a hot mess, without any of the hot and extra mess. I am a mess mess. 

And there he is. Jeremy Wariner. In all his glory. Walking towards me in the blinding sunlight. I'm fairly sure there was a heavenly choir in the background. 

And I stand there, frozen solid, looking a mess mess, jaw hanging open. I just stop walking, moving, and thinking. Like a really smelly statue.

And he keeps walking towards me. And then he's smirking. And as I continued not to move at all, he is outright laughing. And then he is right in front of me.

Did I move? Make a cute joke and scrape my rats nest out of my face? Jump out of the way? Anything? No. Nothing. I am made of humiliated stone. 

My not future husband then has to step on to the grass to go around me, howling with laughter. He continues on his way, and that is that. A while later, I turn around and go back to my dorm. I had strong rules about not going to class (am I sick? do I have something due in another class that isn't done? is there something more fun to do? is it raining? am I dying of humiliation? No class).

One more story, for your entertainment.

This one took place when I was fourteen. I was newly back in the United States, complete with significant gap in pop culture knowledge. 

My cousin's friend was the stage manager for Switchfoot, an up and coming band (this was right at the beginning of "The Beautiful Letdown" era). She asked me if I would like to go with her to their concert. 

My first American concert (Amy Grant doesn't count, but man, her Heart in Motion tour was spot on, I don't care who you are) with my cool older cousin?! YES.

I was pumped. I wore my fancy unicorn t-shirt.... puberty was tough on me. 

We met the friend at Starbucks and then he asked if we wanted to see the tour bus.

Uh. Yeah.

We get on the bus and there are other people on the bus, other staff and little people, etc. 

We're all hanging out laughing, everyone is so nice! I'm so cool! Living in the United States is a breeze! I've got this!

Someone asks if we want to see the new music video. 

Uh. Yeah.

 PAUSE: Remember that gap in pop culture? I had no idea who Switchfoot was, other than they were cool and famous. 

We sit down at the back of the bus to watch and as it plays I realize something. 

These aren't little people. They aren't staff. They're the people in the music video.

 I'm hanging out with Switchfoot. 

 TO BE CONTINUED

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Hi, My Name is Anna, and I'm Painfully Awkward, Part 1

Most of the time I'm loud, friendly, engaging, all the "typical" signs of an extrovert.

An illustration of this - whenever I take personality quizzes, for example "What My Little Pony Are You?" I always get answers like so:


Thus, it's often shocking to people when they find out that I am introverted. If I do not have significant amount of time in my nest, I turn in to a monster. When I speak in front of people, I get so much adrenaline I cry and my voice shakes. Going places where I do not know anyone zaps all my energy. Meeting famous people, important people, and/or powerful or pretty people turns me in to a babbling idiot and/or crazy person. 

This last point was illustrated in my life a few weeks ago. One of our most important clients was visiting at work, during the negotiations to renew the account. It was stressful for all involved. I was not part of the meeting, but I was very aware of what was on the line. I spent all morning bouncing on my ball (sitting on my ball is often a bad idea, I'm just waiting for them to take it away). 

As I'm bouncing on the ball the client appears over the top of the cubicle, like a jack in the box, to ask directions.

My adrenaline immediately skyrocketed, my bouncing increased, and I start babbling away about various directions, pros, cons, and drawing elaborate air maps with my hand. After this onslaught of information, the client politely said thanks, with the mild look of alarm I often illicit in people in his eyes, and I said "you're welcome," and then I did the one-two finger guns.  

Finger guns.

FINGER GUNS. 

This catastrophe reminded me of previous times I acted a fool.

My freshman year of college was soon after the '04 summer Olympics. If you remember those games, you know who Jeremy Wariner is. He was an amazing runner, broke all kinds of records, always wore his sunglasses and giant diamond earrings, and supposedly had an ego the size of Texas.

I was in love.

18 year-old me is swooning, 28 year-old me is rolling my eyes

As fate would have it, my freshman year at Baylor was his senior year there. I just knew we were going to meet, fall in love, and have very athletic babies. 

My first week of class I was running late and was hopelessly lost. There was no one around, except one person walking towards me on the path, one very famous person. One very famous person in sunglasses and diamond earrings,..

TO BE CONTINUED