This post will get progressively worse.

Like at first, you’ll probably go “oh, that wasn’t THAT awkward. Really”

Just wait. We’ll get there. I’m easing you in.

Here are three stories. From just a little awkward moment to “oh fuck no”.

So, a few years ago, something happened that made me laugh harder than I have ever laughed at a job.

I share a room with two women and we’re all around the same age. We’re all grandmothers.

Anyway, this dude who works with us came into our room all cocky and shit, thinking he was funny, and would make us squirm. He had a bag of nuts and the brand name is “My Dad’s Nuts”. He asked us if we wanted to “eat his dad’s nuts”.

We didn’t skip a goddamn beat.

“I have dreamed about having your dad’s nuts in my mouth.”

“Can I get all of your dad’s nuts in my mouth at once?”

“I can’t wait to bite your dad’s nuts.”

He admitted defeat and literally ran out of the room.

But that isn’t the funny part, even though it was pretty fucking funny. He left the bag of nuts. We ate them.

Anyway, a woman in sales and her adult daughter visited our room shortly after. The younger woman had a chihuahua puppy and one of the woman I work with held the puppy. The puppy went crazy smelling her mouth.

Office mate: Oh my god, he probably smells my dad’s nuts in my mouth.

I sat in a cubicle but couldn’t see anything that was going on. I could only hear it. The two women who had come in were completely silent.

I had my head on my desk and cried I was laughing so hard. I could hear my other office mate wheezing.

Pretty sure no one I work with will read this. I know for sure at least 2 people have read some of these posts, but I have no reason to think they still do. If you work with me and are reading this? Fine…you’ll probably be able to identify the person I am talking about, but just be cool. Gosh.

The next awkward moment story goes back around 19 years.

I had just been promoted to IT department director. I don’t think it was my first day as the boss, but definitely the first week.

The IT department was a room built of cinder blocks. It wasn’t fancy. There was a row of eight cubicles, two wide and four deep. A small conference area and my office.

The back row had a narrow space between the cubes and the wall. I had been in the back cube talking with a woman about a project and a man who worked for me, we’ll call him Calvin, was talking to someone in the adjacent cube.

I walked past Calvin and put my hand out as I passed him. It was a “I’m walking past you” gesture. Only the gesture failed. It failed so bad.

I cupped his balls.

It felt like I cupped his balls for about a weekend. It was really only 3 to 5 seconds, but when you just get promoted to director and one of your first acts is cup your employee’s balls that 3 seconds feels like a lifetime. I snatched my hand away. He put his hands in his pockets, broke out into a smile, and said “So that’s how its going to be.”  Pretty sure I told him to shut up and that he was banished from the planet.

The best awkward moments story involves Randy, though. We’re going back 25 years for this one.

We lived in Kansas City, MO. While my job was in MO, I had to travel, on occasion, to Ft. Scott, KS.  Ft. Scott had a train station, a Super 8, and a KFC. And the warehouse I supported. Okay, I am sure there is more to Ft. Scott, but that is what I remember.

The hotel was a nightmare.

The train station wasn’t far from the hotel and the tracks ran about 10 yards behind the motel. So, every 60 to 90 minutes I would be startled awake by the train horn.

I learned to request a room at the front of the motel because then the train whistle would still wake you up, but it wasn’t so loud that you thought you were being attacked by a screechy monster.

Randy joined me on one of my trips to Ft. Scott. We went to KFC for dinner. Pretty sure our only other choice was vending machine food.

KFC was hopping. There was a steady stream of people going in and out. When we left, we filed out behind the other people leaving.

Randy thought I was in front of him. I was not but was standing next to him. Who knows where his head was, but he definitely was not present in the moment.

I looked over at Randy and he had his hand on the ass of the woman in front of him. This was not a young woman. I’m going to say she was at least in her mid 80’s.

Me: Dude! What are you doing?

Randy looked at me, then at his hand, then back at me. But did he let go of the strange woman’s ass? No, no he did not.

Me: Randy, stop touching her butt. Seriously, let go of her butt.

It was like his brain couldn’t handle what was happening and his hand decided it was quite fine where it was.

He did remove his hand, eventually. The woman turned around and Randy apologized profusely. She said “Don’t worry, sugar, that was the most fun I’ve had in 50 years.”

It’s been a goldmine for me for the last quarter of a century. Arguments can be ended with “At least I didn’t grope an old lady’s ass.”

Okay, I can see how an argument could be made that my awkward situation was worse than Randy’s.

Mine involved an employee and his was a stranger that we never saw again. But he cupped her ass at least five seconds longer than I cupped his balls, so his was definitely worse.

I’d like to say that these are the worst of the worst of our awkward situations, but I bet if I tried, I could come up with a few more. Or maybe not. I may have blocked them.

You guys, sleep has been elusive.

I mean, I’ve had insomnia issues since my early forties, but I seem to be going through a bit more than usual.

My post menopausal hormones have fallen in with insomnia and formed a gang against me.

Pretty sure I hear mother nature and father time chuckling as I write this.

The shit that is keeping me up is so fucking stupid. It’s not work anxiety or mortality anxiety. Nothing like that.

It’s snippets of songs or inane questions. I could get the answer if I got out of bed and picked up my phone from the charger.

Last night, I had Gimme Some Water by Eddie Money stuck in my head. It’s lasted through out the day. At this point, I am fairly certain that I shot a man on the Mexican border.

But that was just the soundtrack for the real reason I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t remember the name of the woman Rod Stewart was with when he recorded Tonight’s The Night.

Cool, cool water…

Only, I actually did remember. Britt Ekland. But then I would tell myself that was wrong. Not Britt Ekland, that other girl.

When I got up this morning, I googled it and it was, of course, Britt Ekland. When I first saw the answer, my initial thought was, “no…that’s not right.”

Give me some water…

I had so many plans. But not getting much sleep fucked up a lot of those plans.

I took Friday off work and this is the end of my long weekend. I got about half the housework done that I wanted to. Although, I can’t really blame being tired for dragging my feet on the house work. I am in tune with nature, I too abhor a vacuum.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, then according to my house, I am an atheist.

I need a little water…

It wasn’t a complete loss, though. I accomplished two things.

First, I got to add to my “travel around the world” money. When I clean, I keep the money I find in a dresser drawer for a trip around the world. I found a dime in the tub, so there’s that.

The other thing is I figured out how to fool my devices that spy on me.

You know how you can talk about something specific and almost immediately see ads for that exact product on your social media accounts?

Well, when I cleaned today, I just recited this over and over: Anal warts, fungal cream, stinky halitosis, scabies cure, lice combs, how to fix neurosis.

I have way fewer ads on my sidebars now.

Mostly, a bunch of messages that say “Oh god, I’m so sorry” and maybe a few mental health facility ads.

So, you know, I’m spending my time off productively.

Here’s to hoping that I sleep a little more tonight since I have to go back to work tomorrow. Or if not, maybe I’ll at least get a different musical artist. No offense to Eddie Money.

Smack that horse in the ass, with my last dying gasp
My brother could hear me say

So, Randy and I have been together for over 26 years now. Not saying we haven’t had our ups and downs, but mostly, they’ve been great years.

One would think, after 26 years, we’d know all of each other’s stories. We don’t. We learned that a few days ago.

***Warning: if you are disturbed by maggots, read no further. I promise, no pictures or graphic details because they are goddamn maggots.***

Randy and I are on our 7 jillionth attempt to get into better shape.

We have had some good success in the past. This time isn’t so much a success as it is a leisurely attempt at not gaining weight.

We’ve been trying to cut some carbs and decided to try these weird ass noodles.

Miracle noodles or impossible noodles. Something like that. We still have a bag in the fridge. I could go check but that would require me getting out of bed. I think we can all agree that is not reasonable.

These noodles are strangely white and are in liquid in plastic bags. When you open the bag, they smell bad, vaguely of dead fish. But if you soak them for a while and then heat them up, they are fine. No odor at all.

So, we were in bed, watching TV and eating chili spaghetti with these weird ass noodles (don’t judge) and compared notes.

Randy: They’re too chewy.

Me: I don’t mind that, but I can’t get how white they are out of my head. It’s disturbing.

They were chewy, but not absurdly so. Like way less chewy than the calamari at an Olive Garden. 

Randy: We should research the ingredients a little more. We’ll probably find out that they’re made out of maggots or something.

You guys, my reaction was extreme. I think I sputtered for a minute.

I grabbed my plate and left the room in a definite huff.

Me: Why would you say that? Seriously. What the fuck?

I took my plate out to the kitchen and walked back in the bedroom.

Me: I could vomit right now. Just why?

Randy:…

Randy: Okay?

I threw my hands up in the air and left the room again.

I paced around in the living room for a minute and it dawned on me.

He didn’t understand. He had no idea the profound revulsion I feel if I even hear the word “maggot”. Just writing maggot makes me shudder a little. I’m not phobic, because I’m not afraid of them. I am repulsed by them. I mean, that still may be phobia. I don’t know.

I just know it’s more primal than fear. I’m afraid of some things. I am afraid of flying in airplanes, but I will. I just hate it and have to drug myself. I am afraid sharks.

I still don’t swim in the ocean though because that’s just dumb and asking for shark trouble. Also, I’m fairly sure I’m delicious so why would I risk that?

But I digress.

Anyway, I took a few deep breaths and went back to the bedroom.

Me: So, you have no idea why I freaked out over maggots. Have I ever told you my maggot story?

Randy: Noooo. I don’t remember any maggot story.

Me: Okay, when I was around 10 years old, I was playing on the sidewalk in front of my house. I had this pair of leather loafers with a weave. They were brown. 48 years later and I still know exactly what they looked like.

Randy: Yeah, I don’t know this story.

Me: Anyway, I took my shoes off and they were on the sidewalk. Some kid grabbed one and threw into down the sewer in front of my house. I laid down in the street and started to reach into the sewer to get my shoe back.

Randy: Oh god.

Me: Dude, the sewer was filled with maggots. I’m talking tens of thousands. I’m talking a mound of maggots. My shoe was completely submerged. In maggots.

Randy: Okay, so I’m feeling bad about the whole maggot comment now.

Me: So, I lost my shoe.

Randy: How come you never told me this?

Me: I don’t know. I don’t think about it much. And if I do, it’s not something I want to talk about. I can barely say the word maggot. I mean, if I see a snake I’m probably going to scream a little and run away. But if I see a maggot, I’m going to curl up in a fetal position and rock for a while.

Randy: Damn.

Me: I remember specific scenes in shows and movies solely because someone said the word “maggot”.

Randy: That’s pretty bad.

Me: Anyway, about those noodles. Maybe, if we chopped them up rice sized they’d be easier to eat.

Randy:..

Me: Like little maggots.

I seriously have no idea why there is still a bag of those noodles in my refrigerator.

The point to this post is this: Even if you’ve known each other for decades doesn’t mean that there aren’t still things to learn about each other.

Image by Horacio Lozada from Pixabay