Wednesday, September 12, 2012

I'll Never Be Mistaken for Sporty Spice.

I've been having an amazingly busy, awesome, frightening summer.  I mentioned in my previous post that I don't do well with strangers.  And so, in a totally logical move, I joined the Beehive Sport and Social Club and played Volleyball with the team Vicious and Delicious.  Or, VD for short.  Cause, you know, saying the entire name is far too taxing.  We had a rough start and soon found ourselves in last place.  But with our rallying cry of "We don't completely suck!  We don't completely suck!" we soon moved our way up the ranks and managed to scrape by with a last minute win to qualify for the semi-finals.

Which we immediately lost.  Shocking.  With moves like these...

It's all about intimidation.  And that girl on the other side of the net.  She was intimidated.

Erin sacrificing the body.  And succeeding!

We're the amazing team on the left.  Falling all over the ground.  While being awesome.  Obvs.

If anything, she's graceful.  Just look at that form.  Perfection!

Yup.  Me cowering.  The normal response when one has balls flying at their face.

Erin massaging my cheeks after I just got face-spiked.  Which was not awesome.


We ended up losing by 2 points to the team who won the championship.  We put up a damn good fight and we're banding together with a couple of new players to take on the fall season league. 

In other not-so-close-to-winning news, I've also joined a coed softball team.  Candito's husband plays on a team that was in desperate need of an extra female player.  And when I say desperate need, I'm not exaggerating in the least.  They won the whole thing last year.  I haven't swung a bat since little league.  I'm not kidding when I say they were desperate.

I agreed and showed up.  I was sent to right field.  I hung out.  It was boring.  It was perfect for me.

The next week, Erik made pizza before I was supposed to head out for the game.  I packed a couple of slices to take with me.  I figured I'd have time to eat them while standing around in right field, watching the game as a spectator. 

Tragically, upon arrival, I was informed I would be the catcher.  I laughed in Mike's face.  He convinced me he was not joking.  Mother hugging effing shit.

Okay.  Cool.  No biggie.  (Except it was)

This isn't just a friendly softball game.  No.  These people play to win.  What's THAT about?
The week before, one of the guys tore his calf muscle.  So he wasn't playing this week.  He was probably last week's catcher.  

We're up to bat.  Keith is up and I'm on deck.  He hits it and takes off towards first base.  I look over just in time to see him collide with first base and do this weird front shoulder roll which looked oddly graceful at the time.  He pops up and he's safe.  I'm up.  Hearts thumping when Mike calls for a time-out and Keith saunters up stating non-nonchalantly, "I think I broke my collarbone".
He pulls his jersey to the side and BAM!

Kay, I actually have no idea who this man is, but poor Keith's shoulder looked something like this.
 Like a mother hugging alien invasion had taken up residence under his skin in the form of a pop-up tent.  It was not okay.

Keith went to the hospital.  

Soon enough it was the other team's turn to bat and I slowly took my place behind home plate.  The umpire was 800 years old and I could feel his hot breath on my neck.

Candice was standing on the other side of the fence providing moral support.  She asked if I was okay.  She said, "Dawn, you alright?  You look scared.".

My response, "I AM scared.  I'm wearing pink nail polish.  I don't belong here!"  She laughed.  I think she thought I was kidding.

I wasn't. 

We lost that game 11-23.












Monday, September 3, 2012

Sometimes People Don't Care If You're A Weirdo

Wanna know why I love blogging so much?  I'll tell you.  In fact, I'll make a list.  I like lists.  Especially short ones.  I feel like I've accomplished something and it only took me 17 seconds.


Why I Love Blogging.  A Comprehensive List.

1. I do it when I feel like it.
2. Expectations are low.
3. It's online which means the people I do inadvertently communicate with, I'll never ever have to meet them in real life.  Which, for someone who has been painfully shy since she can remember, who still makes the most basic social blunders, and has to be constantly reminded by her coworker to stop staring at her feet while walking through the office, is a calming reassurance she clings to in the cloaking silence of night.

I wish I were kidding.  I'm not.  This shyness and insecurity stems from years of being picked on, passed over, ignored and ridiculed.  Just like the mass majority.  I think we all have our horror stories of adolescence gone askance.  And we all have our ways of coping as adults.

My go-to method?  Run away.  Run far far away from anything that may make me mildly uncomfortable.

And that worked.  Sort of.  It kept me from doing silly things that would make me feel dumb which would then lead to mentally replaying my stupidity while laying in bed at night berating myself.  

But.  It also kept me from doing a lot of things I really wanted to do but was too afraid to for fear of looking mentally deficient.  For lack of a better term, I've been working on "getting over this" for years and am sure will have to consciously continue to work on this for years to come. 

Which brings us back to item #3 on my list of why I love blogging.  Avoiding real life human contact.  Ugh.  That shit's just the WORST, am I right?  I'm not much for meeting new people.  I get nervous and alternate between rambling and absolute silence.  I become this self absorbed tardling who forgets to ask the most basic questions about the other people.  It's only until I've already left the Blue Plate Diner and am driving back home that I realize I have no idea what ANY of the three people I just met even do for a living.  I didn't even think to ask if Rich's pinky toe was still intact or at the very least bent at an impossible angle and if so can I see and maybe take a picture with it while I'm flashing the peace sign?  I've no idea how long Caroline has been with her significant other, how they met, children?  Anything!  And Brett...hell.  The most important tidbit I picked up about him was that he preferred hot coco with extra whipped cream while the rest of us were enjoying our first cup of coffee like the adults we were all claiming to be.

Let me back up a smidge. Brett is a fellow blogger.  Brett of the It Was Dark, Stormy and I Lost My Serial Comma Brett.
I don't recall when he first commented but he did.  I thought his comments were funny and witty.  And then I started to read his blog.  And I laughed.  A lot.  Case in point... one of my favorite posts ever.

And so, when he let me know he'd be coming through Salt Lake on his way to Burning Man I jumped at the chance to meet up with him. 

And then immediately thought better of it.  The hell was I thinking?  He's going to realize I'm even lamer in real life than online and that just won't do. 

I got over myself. 

It was with great anticipation that last weekend, after saving Brett and his comrades from certain death, (they took 58 years to leave Colorado so by the time they reached Utah, plans for drinks changed to plans of breakfast the next morning as they were heading towards the Salt Lake KOA where they would most assuredly get themselves shanked.  They were diverted elsewhere near Park City after giving them the wrong exit but don't worry gang, they found it!) we met up at the Blue Plate Diner for breakfast.

I got a call that morning (not sure what time.  Just that it was before 10:00 and I was still in bed) from Brett saying they'd be there in 15 minutes so see you there!

THE FUHHHHHH?

Brush teeth, slap on makeup (The HELL if I'm showing up without some effing makeup) no shower, no time for brushing hair.  Just the essentials.  Like deodorant.  And shoes.

I find where they parked their monstrosity of an RV and scuttle down the sidewalk to the diner.  I tell the host I'm meeting some friends.  He points to a table of 3 inside and asks if that's them.  I squint inside trying to weigh the pros and cons of seating myself at the wrong table with the wrong strangers.

Brett saves me from that particular embarrassment by coming up behind me to show me where they're seated and greets me with a big hug.  The genuine kind of hug.  He was funny and warm and witty and exactly the type of person he comes across as on his blog.  He introduces me to his friend Rich and their traveling companion Caroline, who they also picked up off the internet.  It's not as seedy as it sounds.  The crew she was planning to attend Burning Man with disbanded.  Rich and Brett were looking to pick up an extra which they advertised online. 



When Brett introduced me to her, I had to keep reminding myself not to be the creepy girl who stares.  She had the most startling blue eyes and these impossibly perfect teeth.  She was beautiful and it didn't take someone with a Y chromosome to see how she snagged her spot on the burning bus.
The boys chose wisely and a damn good thing they did.  She became the self-appointed keeper of decorum and slayer of all things deemed "potty humor". 

At one point, while she was describing the RV, she stated, "Both sides pull out.  It gets REALLY big".
I snickered and quickly looked down at my plate hoping the brim of my hat hid my obvious smirk.
Things would have gone downhill quickly without Caroline had we been left to our own sophomoric devices.

I don't remember what we talked about.  I just remember how I felt.  Comfortable and happy in that moment to be with the company I was with.  Oh.  And I feel at this point I should mention Brett did not, in fact, order hot coco with extra whipped cream.  It was chai.  But still...   

Breakfast came to an end and we said our goodbyes.  As a final send off, Brett kicked me in the butt with his sandal shod foot.  This person who I'd just met for the first time ever, literally sends me on my way with a kick to the ass.  Who DOES that??

I do believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship.