Me, At A Party, Sort Of

So, I've told you how I drive my car in the snow. I am darn good at that. I know all the tricks of the trade. For example, shift into neutral if you're trying to stop and you start to slide ominously close to the rear end of the car in front of you. The wheels will stop turning and believe it or not you will stop. Note: this trick does not always work with 100% success; once I had to shift into neutral and steer into a snowbank on the curb to avoid rearending someone. Not to digress. Okay, wait for it . . . I have never told you about how I am at a party.

I don't really go to parties. That's probably the main reason I don't talk about going to parties. Did you know that in my entire college career I never attended a party? Did you further know that I have never been intoxicated from alcohol use? Did you further know that one of my friends used to tell me I had obviously escaped from a nursing home and had some really good plastic surgery done to make myself look younger? Okay, so, one of those lines is only half true, but I'm not going to tell you which one. Suffice it to say if you ever find me at a party I will have to put the blame on quantum tunneling. I would never knowingly go into a situation like that.

So, I was going to say, since I am a social oddity I don't do too well at large events with lots of people. Recently, I attended a church picnic with my husband. It was fun until I decided to tell a joke. Our new vicar from church was leading a short devotional to close the evening's festivities. He asked a simple question: "What is the meaning of life?" I responded by shouting -- twice, because nobody got it the first time -- "42!" Of course, nobody got it the second time either. Then one person started laughing and confirmed that no, Esther is not crazy, she's just the queen of obscure references.

Boy, I felt stupid. Yeah, I'm here all week. I don't even need alcohol to make jokes like that.

Incidents At Random

Craig and I made some new friends this past week on Sunday. This other couple at church invited several families over for a cookout including us. We had never met them before because our church has two different services. We attend the early service, our new friends attend the late service. So, we went to rsvp for the get together they were hosting. Since we had never met we decided to introduce ourselves. The husband is G., the wife is J. After introducing ourselves G. noticed Craig's rather conspicuous guitar coffin case. "Is that a guitar?" he asked. Craig replied in the affirmative and then I said, "No, it's actually stolen money and drugs." With a straight face. Okay, win one for first impressions. Fortunately, my new audience laughed. Yeah, I won't be saving that line for a job interview.

Sven called this morning. Yes, I was confused too. He told me he was from the Netherlands and he wondered if I could help him. He was trying to reach [insert random gas company whose old phone number now happens to be our home number]. I explained that we were a residence, but I did have the current number to [insert random gas company whose old phone number now happens to be our home number]. So I gave him the number. He told me that [insert random gas company whose old phone number happens to be our home number] should be paying me a fee for fielding calls. I totally agree.

No further news to report. Things are fine here, just fine.

This Am I

Taking a different angle on my life than the usual serious note you get on my blog, I have decided to tell you a few stories about myself that may shock. I am not always the cool headed, political analyst you read about on here. So, I will begin with a story from yesterday and go back through the years to reveal a few more incidents in my life that may surprise my noble readers.

1) Craig and I went to the mall on a whim last night. It was already 8:30pm and I was not sure when the mall would close. I was banking on 9pm as we live in that kind of a town. I paused after passing through the door of the mall to scrutinize the hours. Of course, they were on the outside of the door, so I was reading them backwards. I muttered to myself as I did this, "10am to 9pm Monday thru Saturday."

Suddenly Craig said, "Why are you staring at the man?"

I was surprised by this, because I had seen no man at all. As we walked away I asked Craig what he was talking about and he told me I had been staring at a homeless man who was standing right in front of me as I looked at the door. I guess the guy was eating a sandwich and started to look surprised at my concentrated stare. So, yeah, apparently I accidentally ogled some homeless guy with a sandwich. Out there somewhere, is a person who might recognize me the next time he sees me, but I will never know what he looks like. All I saw were the store hours and tell me, how would this guy know I was reading store hours? Who reads store hours backwards through a door?

2) I lived in Washington, D.C. for a while and I worked in one of the House Office Buildings. One day as I was on my way home from work -- keep in mind this was not my first day -- I got on the elevator and pushed the first floor button. When the door opened I got off and started walking. I arrived at the place where the outer entrance should have been, but it was not there. I started wandering around the floor searching for the entrance. I began to panic after 20 minutes or so. I was trapped inside a building, would I ever get out? I noticed the red exit signs and decided to follow them. They took me to the elevator and stairs. Yes, indeed. I had got off on the third floor instead of the first (of a four story building, mind you).

3) Craig, myself and my roommate went to Wal Mart one time near Halloween during my senior year of college. We were just walking into the entrance when I noticed something moving to my right, out of the corner of my eye. My peripheral vision is extremely good, my reaction time is even better. I turned to face a monstrous, dancing, singing skeleton and I screamed for all I was worth. Then I realized it was not real. There was a woman mopping the floor nearby and she just about ended up rolling on the floor with laughter.

So, there you have it. Three stories that illustrate the fact that I am not perfect. Are you disillusioned?