I have a horrible habit of purposely putting myself into awkward situations that tend to make me extremely uncomfortable for no other reason than to hopefully come out of my own personal hell with some kind of funny story. I always tell myself not to do it anymore. "Amanda," I say, "Why do this to yourself? All you are going to do is sit there panicking the whole time. Avoiding people you don't know. Trying to find something to prevent you from having to talk to anyone - all the while counting the seconds until you can make a quiet exit."
"But Amanda," I counter, "think of all the great comedy material you will come out with! Should you survive, that is."
"I know, Amanda. It’s tempting. But, honestly is it worth it?"
I usually end up answering this question with a resounding "YES!" And then immediately hate that part of myself.
Currently the new situation is that I was invited to something called a “Slumber Party” where I would potentially go to a friend's house which will be filled with girls whom I have never met while some lady would try to sell us . . . well, adult lady "Tupperware," if you catch my drift. (Let me reiterate that I will only know maybe 2 of the 15 women that will be there.)
Could there possibly be anything more uncomfortable? It's doubtful.
Is there a chance I will go? Sure.
Will I end up hyperventilating and dying in the process? It's possible.
Hopefully something better will come up, and I will be forced to put my comedic material yearning on the back burner for the time being.
*Ali, you probably shouldn’t let Matt read this one.
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4 comments:
I told my husband that he shouldn't read your latest post and then I proceeded to tell him about your post but he suddenly started to convulse while muttering "I think I can fly, I think I can fly" over and over again.
I don't think he'll be reading it.
The best possible name for it:
Shtupperware.
OK, the best possible Yiddish name.
I'm sorry you couldn't make it - it was, in fact, a comedic gold event. And I'm pretty sure there won't be a next time, so I'll have to host something even more ridiculous. Ideas?
Adult... lady... tupperware... no idea. Completely lost. All I can think is diaphrams. But why would someone be marketing those at slumber parties? Perhaps it's a lucrative... thing. I'm going to drink more, and hopefully within the next couple weeks I'll understand your joke.
Love, Neil.
...oh.
Love, Neil.
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