Wow – good thing you didn’t have an outburst, huh?!

I think I can confidently say this has happened to every single one of us. And if not, then it will. At some point or another you will find yourself in a situation where you have to talk to the most socially retarded person on the planet. And it won’t be easy.

From my experience, these conversations always progress through at least four stages. There is a fifth, optional, stage that you must pull out if you are absolutely required to speak to this person on a regular basis. Like, if you married them, for example.

If you can, drink your way through the stages, it’ll make it that much more entertaining and much less awkward. Though be warned, sometimes drinking to this extreme is seen as ‘inappropriate’ or ‘raging alcoholism’.

For sanity, it’s best if the stages are brief, but more often than not, they’re not. If you’re at a party or a bus-stop, the stages will progress very quickly. If you go to school with or are related to the socially inept dweeb, the stages will drag on until you would prefer to stick shards of glass in your eyes than continue talking with them.

The first stage is introduction. Often times, you don’t realize how socially retarded someone is until you make your first attempt at conversation.

You say hello and they look at you; you introduce yourself and they look at you; you ask them what their name is and their friend answers you. If you make the mistake of trying to shake their hand, they’ll look at your right hand extended and then back to your face. Their facial expression will not change. If at all possible, leave the situation now. If it’s important that you talk with this person, try to progress through the remaining stages quickly just so you can say “I tried”.

The second stage is asking questions to try and get them to talk.

Most socially awkward people will answer your questions with one or two words and will not ask you anything in return. This makes the question-answer stage painfully boring (or maybe just painfully painful); you’re going to have to get creative if you want to get anything out of them. But it likely won’t work. Don’t worry, you’ll move onto the third stage soon enough.

The third stage is volunteering information; since they won’t ask you anything, you begin providing them with the information that they should be asking for, or random facts and trivia.

I like to tell stories; it’s far more entertaining (for me) than telling them about what I do for work, or how I know the person we both know. Besides, that will only work for so long; plus I think that if I tell a story about the most basic life experiences, I will show them just how easy it is and they might reciprocate, even just a little bit.

Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. When it does, it’s glorious; when it doesn’t, I’m sure the dud is left wondering how I yammered on for 15 minutes about buying milk. Eventually, stage three runs it’s course. No matter how hard you try, you can’t think of anything else to say to this person. Welcome to stage four.

The fourth stage is where you simply ignore them. Stop making eye contact, stop looking in their general direction, basically stop acknowledging their presence entirely.

This is the final stage for people that you don’t need to talk to ever again. It’s the best stage when dealing with random people at the bar, or on the street, because if you do it right, even you forget that they’re there.

However, in most social circumstances you can’t stay in this stage for very long; people will start saying that you’re rude, or a bitch. These people have been in the fifth stage for so long that they’ve forgotten what it’s like going through the first four stages with this person. Don’t worry, it’ll happen to you too.

The final stage is acceptance. You come to realize that this person has made it through their entire life being a social tard and nothing you do will ever be able to change that. Sometimes it’s easier to just lay down and take it. Luckily, you won’t have to take much, because they likely are still unable to have a conversation with you. You better learn to love awkward silences. My coping mechanism is music – I play music in my head in an attempt at convincing myself I’m having a good time. Oh, denial, you’ve helped me so … … … wait… no, you haven’t; I did it all on my own.

 

 

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations.

Soooo…. how was your weekend!?!?! *grin*

Happy New Year! Here’s a quickie* post to tell you something extraordinary that happened to me on NYE. It was a great night!

*note – this was supposed to be quick post, without pictures (because I’m not EliseArt) but then I decided to draw pictures (I’m sorry) and it took me like 2 hours to compile this post.

First, I met up with Karen and we headed to The Keg for dinner and drinks. Mostly drinks. They have this lemon meringue martini that is absolutely delicious. They also had this super special that I ordered and Karen ordered a regular steak dinner and we split all the extras (salad, dessert, CRAB!). It was pretty much the most spectacular dinner ever. But I did regret sharing the crab with her.

After dinner, we went down to the pub to play pool and have some drinks. Mostly drinks. We used to frequent this bar on a semi-regular basis. And by semi-regular basis, I mean we went there once a week, every week, for a year. And a half. So, it’s safe to say that we know people there.

We walked in, and were expecting to see “Tom” behind the bar, but he wasn’t there. He was pretty much the one we went to see, because we knew he’d be there for sure. And then it turns out, he wasn’t. We thought it all might be a bust. But we decided to play pool anyway and see what happens.

Shortly after, Karen spotted “Joanne” on the patio. She came in and said hi and we said we’d see her on the patio in a little while. I technically* beat Karen at pool and this guy had already called winners, so I had to play him.

*note – she was kicking my ass and then accidentally sunk the 8ball. I won by default. (the two greatest words in the english language – De Fault, De Fault!)

I started off pretty good – sunk like 4 balls in a row. It almost looked like I deserved my win. I was pretty pleased. Especially when I did this super trick shot (totally not on purpose); the look on this guys face was “Oh no, I’ve been had”. Once I told him it was an accident, he looked more relieved and then proceeded to kick my ass.

At some point, Karen tells me that “Shaun” is outside with Joanne. We decided that we’d go out and say Happy New Year after I got my ass kicked. We didn’t have to wait long.

We go outside and Shaun says “Hey Girls! What’s happenin’!?”. Not much, not much… we started getting into a place at the table, Shaun says “You might know my buddy Brandon…” Just as I’m about to sit down, the guy turns and looks at me:

I dropped everything and hugged him and said “OH MY GOD – IT’S BEEN SO LONG!!!”. Meanwhile (i.e. simultaneously) he’s having the exact same conversation with Karen. Shaun is at the table, completely flabbergasted, saying “Yeah, so you may know my buddy Brandon…. I guess you might know my buddy Brandon… I guess you know my buddy Brandon…” Too funny.

So Brandon was my brother’s best friend in elementary school and we were really good friends for a lot of years. Realistically, it’s been 15 years since we’ve seen each other. To say it was a total trip to run into him, would be the understatement of the century (or at least of last year). To say that I ran into him, at a bar, that I go to pretty much all the time, seeing him with someone that I always see at this bar… well, you can’t really put that into words. I was shocked; I couldn’t believe it (I can’t believe it). Needless to say, I spent most of the night going “BRANDON! IT’S SOOOO GOOD TO SEE YOU!!”

Shaun routinely hits on me when he’s had a few… dozen, beer that is. It’s harmless; nothing ever comes of it; he works with my dad and is probably terrified. Anyway, at some point, after he reached this point of drunkenness, he said “Ah geez… I wouldn’t have brought Brandon if I knew Heather would be so into him” Or something to that effect.

My reply? “Oh Shaun. Don’t worry – he’s not competition; he’s like a brother to me!”. To make matters worse, Karen leaned over to him and said “Really? … So now what?!?”. How embarrassing; but a great night nonetheless!

P.S. Dustin: Please refer to above pictures; this is the reason I need EliseArt. I’m sure you now understand. Please forgive me for (and be patient of) the time I take out of Elise’s day/life to illustrate for me. I’m positive we now see eye-to-eye on this matter.

Your nose moves when you talk

Okay – so I went to the fishing derby. Unfortunately, the only thing I caught was a cold. Fortunately, I was fortunate enough to eat the catches of others. It’s nice when people share their fish!

This year was quite different than previous years. For one, Chris, the guy who brings us to the fishing derby, showed up sick. He ended up sleeping for 18 hours straight and missed the Friday night gong show. It wasn’t quite the same without him. During the Friday night gong show, two guys decided to play some guitar. My best friend, Karen, said I should join them, but I said no because they seemed all professional and stuff and I didn’t want any part of that.

I wasn’t prepared for what came next, and I was deeply grateful for not wanting to be a part of it. These two guys tuned guitars (unsuccessfully) for at least an hour, enduring the drunken heckles of most of the spectators. At one point, I grabbed my guitar and me and Karen played and sang, while the drunkies bitched about the guys who couldn’t tune a guitar. They didn’t really even realize someone else was in fact playing a tuned guitar. Our campfire sing-a-long just wasn’t the same.

Saturday seemed to be a bit mellow, but we decided to drink our way to a party anyway. But then, Karen up and broke her nose. It was a pee-related event and I don’t think I’m at liberty to say much more than that. Needless to say, she wasn’t feeling like ripping it up after she smashed her face in. Turns out, the party was on that night, we just missed it entirely.

Sunday was the day the derby wrapped up. I didn’t win a door-prize even though that is totally my forte, but Karen did and she chose the prize that I would have chosen, and I’m sure she’ll let me play the drinking game one day, so in a way, I did win. In a very long, convoluted way, that is.

OH AND I GOT BOOTS!!!

This place is particularly muddy down on the banks of the river and since we intended to fish we had to be prepared. On Wednesday, Karen informed me of her intention of buying some gum-boots. On Thursday, I realized that if I wore my hiking boots, I might ruin them, so I texted her during the day and asked if she could pick me up a pair as well. She searched high and low and finally found some cool ones in our sizes. She bought me a pair that she wasn’t quite sure if I would like or not, but figured if I hated them, then we could trade. Luckily, I loved them and we got comments all weekend about how cool our boots are. Mine look like this:

That took far too long to draw and yes, they actually ARE that cool! Keeping in mind I’m not exactly a pink kind of girl, you can imagine why Karen suspected she was giving up her boots. The beauty part is, when I asked her how much I owed her she said “Nothing.” and I said “What?!” and then she said “They’re a gift for being such a great friend!” and I said “Aw, really?! Thanks!!! Now you’re a great friend too!! 😀 ”

Sunday was supposed to be the day where we fished, but since Karen smashed her face in, we went home instead. Despite having not gotten fishing-derby-drunk, and having went to bed by 1am every night and slept until 9am every morning, I was surprisingly tired, so I wasn’t upset.

Monday, when I woke up I realized why I was so tired. I had caught Chris’ cold. I cursed his name and considered calling him to tell him, but I’m not sure if we’re “there” yet, so I let it go. But I’ll likely inform him of all of this the next time I see him.

Let’s see… other stuff happened… but the side story will make this post unbearably long, and no one really wants to read about vomit, so I’ll just leave it at that.

One of the guitar guys, Ken (who had successfully tuned his guitar – yay built in tuners!!), is the person who originally was the campfire sing-a-long guy. Well, we are now friends on facebook and we will be working together to add more songs to our already long set list. So maybe, if all works out, we’ll have a rip-roaring good time next year.

Also, Chris and Tony (the organizers) informed everyone that they are not organizing the derby next year. *major sigh* Our deal with Chris is, he gets us a motor home and we cook for the fisherpeople. Since he’s not organizing next year, we won’t have to cook, so we can actually fish. Bonus! Not so bonus: we’ll have to foot the bill for our own motor home cuz there’s no way in hell I’m tenting it at the fishing derby… not after three years of precedent.

Okay. I think that’s it now.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing an illustration that has been reused and recycled numerous times. Apparently I pout a lot in my stories. So over-dramatic.

Oh… a troll bidge!

Alright… this weekend is the weekend I’ve been waiting for. It’s been a year in the making, but, finally, it’s here. It’s fishing derby time, boys and girls!!!

A bit of background: I volunteer at all the work events for my dad’s union (ILWU Local 502). So when I say the fishing derby is the event of the season, I mean it! The fishing derby is not exactly volunteer work. Chris, one of the organizers, needed some people to cook, so he asked my best friend to help out. When she found out the night time is comprised of campfire sing-a-longs she knew I had to go. To entice us even more, Chris rents an RV and lets us use it for the weekend. In return, we cook for the fisherpeople. A pretty good bargain if you ask me.

This is the third year that I’ve gone to the fishing derby and the first year where I’ll actually fish at it (what a concept!). But fishing and cooking aside, there’ll be a rip-roaring party every night we’re there. There will be many-a-story about the fishing derby, hopefully some of them are PG enough to make it into a blog. Otherwise, all the poor saps at work will have to hear about it, yet again. Sorry guys! 🙂

Hey – you don’t believe in wearing sweat pants out of the house… some of us like to have a good time!!

I’m chronically honest. I am pretty much incapable of lying. Why? I don’t really know. It makes me feel like I’m deceiving people and the guilt brings me down. I’m truely honest to a fault. Luckily, that, however, is my only fault.

When I was growing up, my mom always told me that if I lied about something I would get in more trouble than if I told the truth in the first place. Because she would find out if I lied. At the time, I thought this was complete bullshit. Ya right, Mom, you’re going to ground me, regardless. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that she was right (just don’t tell her I said that!). Do something wrong and admit your mistake and the other person involved will appreciate your honesty (although will still be disappointed). Lie, and they find out, well now, that’s grounds for dismissal. Or so I assume. I really haven’t found myself in that situation before. Why? Because the guilt brings me down and I always fess up before anyone has any opportunity to ‘find anything out’.

However, every so often, I decide that my guilt complex has held me back far too much in life and I throw caution to the wind and do dishonest things. So far, Karma, Murphy’s Law and/or the Spite Gods have struck me down everytime I decide this is a good idea… thrusting me back into my “honest to a fault” default. Bastards.

A few weeks ago, I was celebrating my birthday. I went to a pub and got nice and liquored up and then decided to go to a club to dance… well, the club was one skytrain stop away. I get to the station and go towards the ticket machine with the intention of paying (because not paying would be dishonest!)… and my friend says “We don’t really have to pay, do we? I mean, it’s one stop!”… and I started to say “Oh, yes, yes, we do.” But then I said “You know what, it’s my birthday and I don’t have to pay on my birthday, let’s go!!!”.

We start riding the escalator up to the platform, I felt pretty confident… and then the guilt started getting to me. Halfway up the escalator, I turned to my friend and whispered “…There’s a cop… at the top…”. Her response: “No there isn’t. You’re paranoid”. So as the escalator reached the top, I see a lady standing there, in a uniform that can only be described as cop-like. She looked me in the eye and said “Ticket, please”.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell her the truth and say I didn’t have one… so I start searching, in vain, through my empty pockets, even going so far as to open my coat and look inside…

…as if I’m one of those “street vendors” that carries watches inside the coat, but instead of watches it’s valid train passes. There weren’t any. My friend looks her straight in the eye and says “I’m drunk. I didn’t think to buy one” so the nice lady says “Okay well, go and buy one”. So we did. No harm, no foul. Things don’t always work out like that.

I go to school. I go to school in the evenings basically next door to my work. I park at work, because it’s free. But the other day, I was really running late so I decide to park at school. I mean, I was running so late, I had to eat my dinner in the car. Not too bad, everyone eats while driving right? Ya, sure. But my dinner was a pork chop. I’m serious.

Anyway, a friend of mine goes to school with me and she tells me that for the past 9 weeks she’s been parking at school and she doesn’t buy a ticket because she figures that the stall has been paid for for the day. And she hasn’t gotten a ticket so far, so she figures her logic is sound. So when I decided to park at school, that was my thought process.

However, when I parked, I realized that would be dishonest, so I should just pay for a ticket. But I had like 50 cents in cash and parking is $4. I could put it on my VISA, but that seems like an ordeal and I’m running late, so I’ll just throw caution to the wind and go to class. Afterwards, I come out and see a little something on my windshield. Dammit.

I owe $57.70 for parking illegally; $47.10 if I pay within 7 days. All that because I was running short on time (heaven forbid I’m almost late for class!) and didn’t have cash. I did go there with the intent to park illegally, but then the guilt brought me down and I was going to pay, but all those other circumstances forced me to be dishonest. Bam!! Spite-God-Powers initiated.

Moral of the story, it’s a bit easier (and cheaper) just to fricken pay. Why? Because there won’t always be a nice skytrain cop at the top that’s willing to accept “I’m drunk” as a reason for dishonesty.

Big thanks to “EliseArt” for providing illustrations

It’s like reading the book, watching the movie

I recently won a prize. Not exactly a Nobel Peace or Pulitzer Prize, or anything. But a prize nonetheless. It’s not exactly a well-known fact, but I really enjoy winning prizes. I find it thrilling. Despite my apparent bad luck in other arenas of my life, I can win door prizes like nobody’s business.

One year at my company Christmas party (sorry! ‘Year-End Party’.) I got to the venue a bit late, and seeing as I had only worked there for three months, the one table that had people at it that I knew, was full.

Of course.

I ended up getting a space at this table that just happened to have some empty seats. But they were people from a whole other department… that I had never had any contact with… awkward! Turns out, they were pretty lame and left right after dinner anyway. Before the prize draws even began! What are you? Crazy?!

Being, basically, the last person at table, I promptly started collecting all the discarded door prize vouchers and eagerly awaited the prize draw. The thing is that I work with a bunch of scientists. So just go ahead and try and get them excited about something other than chemistry and/or rush samples. I dare you! Needless to say, the prize draw was pretty tame.

However, not too long into the draw, my number was called. (And it was my actual number, not one of the ones I picked out of the garbage). I hopped up and started running over to the stage to collect my prize. The emcee, having watched the last ten ‘winners’, was very appreciative of my excitement and proclaims to the crowd “Now that’s what we want to see!”. I receive my prize and walk back to my table, flaunting it the whole way. It was a bottle of wine!!!!

I don’t even drink wine.

A few draws later, another number of mine comes up! Having just been up there, I convince my best friend to go up and claim the prize… c’mon… you can keep it! She proceeds to walk up to the stage and back to the table, ever so calmly. To be honest, I can’t even recall what the prize was… alls I know is: “that was my ticket – I WON!”.

A few draws later, another number of mine comes up! Incidentally, it was my best friends’ actual number, but since she had just been up there, and there was no one left at my table, I decided to go up to claim my prize. I was trying to play it cool; I didn’t want anyone to remember me. However, despite my attempt at censorship, my excitement was pretty obvious and the emcee recognized it right off the bat… “Hey! Didn’t you already win?” I guess he pieced it together.

Dammit.

“Yeah, but……. this is a ticket someone at my table gave me!”. Hoping beyond hope that I had a chance at winning something (other than the wine I won’t drink), I not-so patiently awaited his response. To my delight, spectators from the crowd start shouting out “Let her have it”, “So what if she already won”, “Oh, come on! Someone gave her the ticket”… Finally luck is on my side.

The emcee sighs; resigned, he hands me the hat. I draw out my number; lucky number 23, oh yeah! I see the lovely assistant approaching me with a gift basket. It looks beautiful. I can’t wait to see what it is. I receive my prize and walk back to my table, flaunting it the whole way. It’s a gift basket from Starbucks!!!!

I don’t even drink coffee.