I normally start with: Do you NOT know who I am? Really?
Picture a teenage eyeroll at the same time.
And then we laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.
(I go home of course and cry myself to sleep but hey. Don’t we all?)
My sense of humour is just not hitting the right notes, more often than not.
I like to er on the option of not really investing my time in selling myself.
I show up.
I am animated.
I smile.…..nauseatingly so. And the mask does not help btw.
And before I can help myself, I will most probably give you a sincere compliment. If you have stylin’ shoes on you are shooting straight up to the Top 20 list. Serious. I’m all for foot-eye-candy.
I then, of course, free my mouth and unleash it past the fashionable encased limb.
I should have stopped at the smile and the eye contact and oh my hat what splendid footwear but nooooo.
I open my mouth and BOOM.
That often gets me into sticky situations and those damn lips tend to run away.
Straight south if you look half human with a decently shaped funny bone that’s lukewarm.
I’ll take the lukewarm from 2019. That’s how anti-serious I’ve regressed.
Loose lips and ships and shit.
After I pick up the pieces of my now dubious character, if the person is still standing in front me albeit with a slight dazed look in their eye, I try to find humour…. although wasn’t the whole exchange that?
Case in point:
On a recent zoom call, I was trying to figure out where the VAG connotation were in pictures submitted for a group discussion.
VAG = Vancouver Art Gallery
You just know where I went first, don’t you.
Here’s to many more gauche situations where I leave WAY more awkward than you.
Ps. This counts for emails as well in my case.
PSs. I just had a Reeses cup and frankly my dear, who gives a rat’s arse about playing in tune. Chocolate and peanut butter solves everything.
Okay. I’ll allow bacon as well.
Oh goddamit don’t forget cream.
And for the love of all things bling: can we please lighten up and appreciate the beauty as the monster waves breaks over the bow?