What?...What?

My little brother set me up on a date with a cute guy who lives in Provo. He showed up and was very handsome, but he kind of sounded like a dumb jock when he spoke.

Dinner conversation:

Me: How many siblings do you have?
Boy: What?
Me: How many siblings do you have?
Boy: What?
Me: (Looking up from my food and getting louder) HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE?
Boy: Sorry, I’m kinda deaf.
Me: No problem. It happens when we get older.
Boy: (Smiling) Yea, I forgot my hearing aid.
Me: ha ha ha ha
Boy: Seriously.
Me: Ha ha ha ha. You’re so funny.
Boy: No seriously, I’m deaf. I can’t read your lips when you’re looking down at your plate.
Me: (Silent…crickets chirping around me)

The date and I went to a movie after dinner. I was rummaging through my purse and couldn’t find my glasses. The boy turns to me and says, “I’ll tell you what’s going on, if you yell the dialogue really loud in my ear.” It was a totally redeeming comment.


Later that night I called my brother to say WTF.
Me: WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME HE WAS DEAF?
Ghent: Really? I just thought he had a little bit of a speech impediment.
(My brother Ghent has known him for 2 years.)

Clownin' Around

I usually have a rule that I don’t date guys that are more than 3 years younger than me, but lately I’ve loosened up my standards a little. Utah doesn’t really have much to offer right now and I’ve got boo-koos of free time. A 24 year old asked me out and I just couldn’t say no…though I probably should have. He was rather forward in a totally awkward and dry way and I liked him immediately (Okay, he was just really hot…you got me). About 5 minutes into our date I realized that things would never work out between us.

Young Boy (YB): So do you have any hobbies?

Me: I go to the gym but I wouldn’t call that a hobby. I read books and used to collect koala bears. I once took up crocheting in college. That’s all I got for hobbies.

YB: I like hobbies.

Me: What types of hobbies do you do?

YB: I was really into flying kites for a while. blaa blaa blaa kites…blaa blaa kites…kites.

Me: That sounds neat.

YB: After kites I became interested in model planes. Blaa blaa model planes blaa blaa model planes.

Me: (trying really hard to sound like I care) That sounds neat too.

YB: After model planes I built miniature ships…..blaa blaa ships… ships…ships…boring

Me: So what are you into right now?

YB: (deadpan) Right now, my new hobby is humor.

Me: Humor? Like stand-up?

YB: no more like humor conceptually

Me: Humor conceptually?

YB: You know?

Me: Nope, I’m a little lost. Like conceptual clowns?

YB: No. I’ve become fascinated with what makes people laugh. It is so intriguing the variety of things that people find humorous. Don’t you think?

Me: (visualizing the phrase “game over” flash across his forehead while he’s wearing clown make-up) Yea, that is funny…I mean interesting.

My Purrrfect Life

I was looking online a couple of months ago for Halloween ideas and I came across this site in China that will make you a full plastic leather catwoman suit for $20. I ordered one, sent them my measurements, and promptly forgot all about it. On Saturday the postman rang my doorbell with a package from China. I immediately remembered all about the catsuit and hurriedly unwrapped it. My roommate was out of town and so I was home alone. Worse than that, it was snowing, so I was basically in hibernation mode with nothing better to do than put on a catsuit in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. The catsuit is a full-body (I mean full-body because it covered my feet, hands, and head) plastic, stretchy material that doesn’t have nearly as much give as I’d hoped. I squeezed, pulled, pried, lunged, tugged, and contorted myself into that costume. At the end, against any kind of decent judgment, I zipped up the back as far as I could. I posed in the mirror for the following picture and then quickly tried to get it off because I was sweating something fierce.

I realized that there was a flap that was covering the zipper and my plasticy, gloved hand couldn’t quite reach it. Unsuccessfully, I flopped around like a fish for several minutes trying to get a hold of the zipper. Then I was really sweating and starting to freak out and hyperventilate. How was I possibly going to get this thing off? It wasn’t like I could go next door to Glen, the 75 year old man to my right, and ask for a hand. The little old lady that lives on the other side of me would be equally alarmed if I told her I needed help getting out of my plastic sex-looking costume. Plus, as an added bonus, I seriously was about to pass out from heat stroke; that plasticy stuff doesn’t breathe at ALL!

I finally went out my back door and sat on the stoop in a full pleather outfit to contemplate the predicament I was in and to cool off. While sitting on the back porch I got the giggles and couldn’t stop laughing. Seriously, who else would wind up in a full plasticy, gimp-looking, catwoman costume and not be able to get out while home alone. ME! I finally stopped sweating and went back inside. It took about ten minutes of contorting, but I managed to grab the zipper and get myself out of the outfit, still having fits of laughter. Yes, it was another wild weekend in Salt Lake City. Someone please come visit me soon.

PS- I’ve decided that the costume would make the most amazing sledding suit in the whole world. Can you imagine the looks on the faces of parents and kids when I take off my ugg boots and trench coat at top of the local sledding hill to reveal a full black plastic catsuit and then proceed to body slide down the embankment? You may not have to imagine it for long because I’m pretty sure that I’ll be doing just that after the next big snow. I’m seriously that bored. Plus, who is going to recognize me and imagine how fast I’ll be?!

Here is a picture of what the catsuit was supposed to look like…if I was a tit-tacular thin Asian girl and it was made for my body. Even if I was, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't look this good in pleather.

Hey, Daddy, *I* want an Oompa Loompa!

I am so sick of girls dressing up as slutty (fill in the blank) for Halloween that I decided to go in the opposite direction. I was an Oompa Loompa. I almost chose to wear 8 inch, platform, plastic, stripper shoes with my costume and go as a Slutty Oompa Loompa, but I figured no one would find that funny but me.
(Picture- My brother and I on Halloween.)

Why is it that when you leave the house with no makeup on and wearing sweats to run to the store or decide to dress up silly instead of sexy for Halloween that you inevitably run into all the hot people that are never there when you look cute? This is some sort of Murphy’s Law. Anyway, I went out on Halloween and ran into one of the cutest boys I’ve seen since I moved to Salt Lake City. He was dressed as Freddy Krueger and he was looking at me. I looked back. He looked back. I kept glancing in his direction, and in my head, we were totally flirting. Then he caught my eye for like the 5th time and made a weird face. I suddenly had a moment of self-awareness. I realized that I wasn’t a “cute girl”; I was the creepy Oompa Loompa that was staring at the hot guy. There is no way that he could look at me, in the Oompa Loompa costume, and think that I was attractive. I almost laughed out loud at myself and then slunk back into the crowd quickly. WHY?!!