My Embarrassing Moment

WARNING: This story does not have a happy ending. You've been warned.

It’s not that I don’t have a lot of embarrassing moments. I’m sure I do. I think I’m just really good at forgetting them. On purpose. But this one stands out in my memory. It’s sort of one of those moments where…well…let’s put it this way: If you were to line up any 10 people you know, then let me relate this story, then asked you to pick out to whom you think this happened, you’d pick me.

So my roommate's relatively new girlfriend was having a birthday party at her nearby apartment. She invited all of us, enticing us with the promise of pretty girls we’ve never met. 

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for me to spot one in particular I thought looked promising. I pulled my roommate’s girlfriend aside and asked her your standard questions: Is she dating anyone? Is she someone I’d enjoy getting to know? Does she have athlete’s foot? When my roommate’s girlfriend answered “No, yes, no,” I decided to make my next move. By this I mean I avoided eye contact with the target while mingling with others. 

After optimal mingling was reached, I strutted over to the girl of interest, and started a conversation. It was a rather short conversation as I recall. Just your typical questions: Where are you from? What are you studying? Do you have athlete’s foot? I don’t recall all her answers, except to the last one (No). Regardless, I stayed very calm and collected, lightly brushed my nose with my thumb very cool-like, and prepared for her poor heart to break as I told her “Well, I had better go.” 

I didn’t want to leave empty handed, though. I started to utter the point-of-no-return words, “So, can I have your number?” but it was as if time slowed down. It DID slow down. Wait! No. Time moved at its normal pace. It just SEEMED like it slowed down because just as these non-refundable words escaped my lips like a flock of doves, EVERYONE AT THE PARTY SIMULTANEOUSLY STOPPED TALKING, leaving me stranded like a middle school track star waiting for his mommy to pick him up. If my life were a sitcom, the camera would have zoomed in on my lips as my voice was slowed down, taking it down an octave. “Can I have Y-O-U-R  N-U-M-B-E-R?” Silence. I could hear the gust of wind as the entire party turned their heads to the lone person still talking: me. The beautiful girl to whom I was talking looked around the entire room. “Is this a joke? Are you serious?”  I sighed the biggest sigh this side of Who-ville. I was defeated. “No, this isn’t a joke. Yes, I’m serious.” 

Everyone else at the party resumed their conversations as best they could when they realized what was going down. I say “as best they could” because, after the awkwardness they just witnessed, the best they could probably do to re-start their conversations was to use phrases like “Did you see the sky today? Talk about blue!” and “So, how ‘bout them General Authorities?” 

So, the girl gave me her number. I called her a few days later figuring this would be a great story to tell our kids. She never called me back. But the joke's on her. I never wanted to date her! Ha Ha Ha! No siree. I think she has athlete’s foot.

Dream Jobs

The other Sunday at Ward Prayer, my peers and I were talking about our dream job. It’s an excellent conversation starter. So I started thinking about my dream jobs. I’ve got a few ideas: 

DISNEYLAND TOUR GUIDE

It only makes sense that my favorite place on earth would make my favorite office. They say the secret to Disneyland’s success lies in the details that create the atmosphere. Those two things are the biggest reasons I love Disneyland. Walking around, I can’t help but be fascinated by the different plants, architecture, bricks, lamp-posts, and other minute details. I would love to get paid to show VIPs the tiny intricacies about the happiest place on earth. Plus, Walt Disney is one of my heroes. I like to think he and I would have got along great. I’d love to tell people the history of his life and vision for the Disney empire. I’d even love to be the tour guide on Disney’s Jungle Cruise ride. I find their jokes hilarious. If you know me, that shouldn’t come as a surprise. 

MONEYBALL

Well, Moneyball isn’t actually a profession. It’s a book and a movie that describe sabermetrics, the analysis of baseball statistics. I love baseball (mostly playing it, although I’m not very good), and I love math and statistics. There’s real money there. This seems like an exciting profession to me, but it’s not very fun to write about in a blog, so I’ll move on to:

CHILDREN’S TELEVISION HOST

A few shows come to mind for which I’d love to be the host: Blue’s Clues, and Reading Rainbow. When I was in high school, I worked at a summer day-camp for children ages 8 to 10. It was a blast. In a sense, I was paid to pretend like I was their age for a day. Here’s the secret: pretend like you’re only a LITTLE BIT smarter than they are. In other words, I might be giving a simplified explanation of something very complicated, but I pretended like I just barely learned it. As such, I made it seem like it was ground breaking science (to them, it might be). Also, I made it seem like they were teaching ME by asking them questions to which I already knew they knew the answer. They loved feeling like they were smarter than a 16 year old.

I can easily see myself doing this on a show like Blue’s Clues. Speaking to the camera: “Can you see where the missing shoe is?” Look everywhere but the right spot, then with wide eyes and exaggerated surprise, “Very good!” Plus, I love drawing those simple pictures. “Now draw a smaller curve for the top of the sofa.” PLUS I love mysteries! This is easily my ideal job. 

Or I could host Reading Rainbow. If you remember, LaVar Burton’s job description consisted of 

• trying new things like dressing up as a clown,
• asking people about their jobs, like a bee-keeper for example
• introducing the book of the day
• having an awesome, guttural laugh
• saying “…but you don’t have to take my word for it,” and “I’ll see ya next time,” while moving his hand, palm inward, up and down in front of his chest.

Ooh! Ooh! Another show just came to mind that I’d be perfect for: Bill Nye the Science Guy.