adventures in awkward

Once in a while I make it a point to tiptoe outside the edges of my comfort zone and do something I normally wouldn’t. This is painful for me. Oftentimes accompanied by lots of pacing and profuse armpit sweating with an occasional collapse to my knees while screaming WHY, GOD, WHY? Why must I do this?  Okay, I may be over-exaggerating a tiny bit, but I think you get the idea. I do seem to go through extra deodorant during these times, but that could just be a mere coincidence.

Recently Alex and I decided we were going to go to a hockey game. We live pretty close to where the Carolina Hurricanes play, so we figured why not? Tickets are cheap, it’s something to do. Normal people enjoy going to sports games, right? Why not us? I can drink beer, holler like a lunatic, lift up my shirt and rub my belly all over the protective glass around the rink like the best of them. It would be great. Totally fun. Just fantastic.

It was great to be around all the excitement. Flashing lights, music that made people jump out of their seats and wiggle their asses, families that were taking photos with the big furry mascot, piles and piles of fried food and beer. It was a hoppin’ place to be, for sure. Honestly… I get it. I get why people love going to sports games and why people shell out buttloads of money for season passes/clubs. There’s so much excitement and fun going on. I, too, am glad we stepped outside of our socially anxious comfort zones and went and tried something new. All those people in the arena reminded me of something very important to me:

Why I stay the hell home.

rambles

Ever have one of those days?  You know, the kind where you get to finally find out what urine tastes like, and take a knuckle-puck to the face? Unfortunately, I have. A ‘knuckle-puck’ is not a clever way of saying I was punched. I’m talking about a Mighty-Ducks-inspired hockey shot that drove a puck, courtesy of my brother, right into the cheek of a sad, awkward 8-year-old clutching a Cabbage Patch Kids lunchbox. If you haven’t heard of The Mighty Ducks: you suck and there’s simply no way we can go on being friends any longer. We’re done. (Okay, I’m only joking.) I don’t think I’ve ever even eluded to the fact that I have an older brother. But, he does exist, and he was being an asshole that day. Now, I will say in his defense – I don’t think he  was actually aiming at me. Or… that’s what I like to tell myself, at least.

It was winter in Connecticut at the time. When I ran inside crying to my mom, she sent me back out to lay in the snow. She wasn’t going to let me use the frozen peas she paid for to rest on my bruise when there was free snow just laying around everywhere outside. C’mon, now. 

monstersincsnowcone

This is where a shitty situation turned, well… pissy. All I can say is: don’t believe it when someone tells you yellow snow is just extra lemonade they dumped out earlier in the day. My 8-year-old self can assure you – it’s not. 

It was a rough day. Boys, I tell ya.