The Chicken Dance

The Cubs are in town, which means I headed out to the ballpark to attempt to get Darwin Barney to notice me (and, also, to watch some mediocre baseball).  My friend Dennis was sweet enough to buy the tickets as an early birthday gift.  He also told me that he had a little something else for me.  I thought going to the game was more than enough, but he insisted that I was going to LOVE it.  Far be it from me to refuse a gift!

I got to the game and he handed me my present.  It could go down as the best present ever.

It was about 100 of these:

Excuse the poor picture quality, will you?


The card, obviously, has my name and phone number on it.  The idea is that if I think someone is interesting enough (read: cute or any adjectives similar to cute), I'll walk up and give it to them.  This is a great idea, in theory.  Occasionally, I see someone I think is worth a chance, but I don't have time (or the nerve) to talk to them.  This is a funny and clever way to put myself out there.  I liked it!

I liked it in theory, that is.

You see, friends, the fact is that I'm a chicken.  I wasn't able to give my card to ONE guy yesterday.  There was a guy sitting in the row in front of us, who laughed at everything I was saying.  (*Tangent* Typically, I would think his eavesdropping to be creepy, but we ALL know how loud I can be in public.  He probably couldn't help but overhear me and my humorous musings.)  Clearly, he was charmed by me - let's be honest, who isn't? (Don't answer that.) - but I couldn't bring myself to give him one of the cards.

I just didn't have it in me to pass him the card.  I was so nervous, my hand was shaking.  My number is on this thing!  What if he didn't text or call?  I would be disappointed.  If I can't give away a single card, what am I going to do with 100 of them?!?

Reflecting on this later, I figure that if I were to give out ALL the cards, surely there would be at least a single guy who would be interested.  That's my shot: 1 in 100.  Those are worse stats than either the Astros or the Cubs have this season (or any season), and that is saying quite a bit.  But, even then, all I need in my life is one dude, right?  And if they like my gall and see the humor in the card, then they kind of get me already. 

Is handing out the cards worth the risk?  Possibly.  Kim Kardashian or Winston Churchill (or someone equally important) said, "Without risk, there is no reward." 

Maybe the reward is learning how to take a harmless chance. 
Maybe it'll make me more adventurous.
Or maybe someone will call me. 

Maybe?

~J

Ways I Fail At Dates: Vol. 1

I am going on an actual date tonight, with a real, live boy.  Since this is the first one I've had in a while, I starting thinking about the ways I could possibly mess it up (natch).  I'm usually a big advocate of positive self-talk, but since I'm dusting off the old dating chops, I went into crisis mode.  What do I wear?  What if I'm wearing too much make-up/perfume/hairspray?  What if I'm not wearing enough make-up/perfume/hairspray? And so on.

I made a list of the possible (read: probable) ways I could fail at this date.  My hope is by identifying them, I can avoid them or something like that.

Being Annoying:
Sometimes I pay more attention to my phone than other people.  Sometimes I am a jerk.  Sometimes I crunch ice.  Sometimes I laugh too loud, at things that weren't that funny.  Sometimes (okay, okay, all the time) I talk too loudly.

Conversation Issues:
Sometimes I use too many words. Sometimes I don't use enough words.  Sometimes the words I use are too much like an SAT prep class.  Sometimes I trail off in the middle of a thought.

Eating Habits:
Sometimes I eat like someone is going to steal the plate from me.  Sometimes I drop food all over myself.  Sometimes I burp so loudly, people in the next county ask what that noise was.

Nerd Tendencies:
Sometimes I talk about library issues that no one but librarians care about.  Sometimes I go in depth about some random movie trivia.  Sometimes I bring up the fact I was a hopeless dresser in junior high and high school.  Sometimes I discuss my love of first-person shooters.  Sometimes I am Andrea Zuckerman.

Hipster-Related Snobbishness:
Sometimes I scoff at people's musical preferences.  (One thing: I'm saying RIGHT NOW that Nickleback is excluded from this section, because NO ONE should like Nickleback and liking/listening to them is a total and complete dealbreaker.)  Sometimes I think something that someone is watching is too mainstream.  Sometimes I talk too much about Tom's/organic food/indie band/arthouse movies.

Whew.  I'm sure there are more than this, since I'm inept at dating and all.  Let's all hope I can avoid these and come out of this date unscathed.

~j

If I Were a Boy

I ran again yesterday, on a different trail in a different part of the city, but the results were pretty much the same.  During the hour I was out there, huffing and puffing, I had some time to think about how things would be easier if I was born a boy.  I mean, they really would.  I know ladies are hard to understand, so maybe I'm being biased because I'm a girl and I understand me.  All I want is to have someone think of me as important and make time for me - there's no mystery there.  I'm sure I could figure it out if I were a dude, because I think I'd be a sensitive, artsy type and the girls would swoon.  

Know that I have no desire to actually BE a guy, but I know that if I were a boy version of me, I would be a catch.  Think about it:  I own my own car, I have a good, steady job, I'm good with kids, I'm sweet, I'm complimentary, I'm tall, I have a good relationship with my parents, I'm not hairy, I can sing well, I play the guitar, I love Jesus, I have good friends, I'm sociable, I'm funny, I can deal with crying, I don't pick fights and I love animals, just to name a few things.  I'd basically be Ryan Gosling, minus the beard and questionable fashion choices.  I would be in high demand if I were a boy.

But, I wasn't born a boy. I am girl and I am a dork.  I send pictures like this to the guy I'm smitten over:

What a nerd-o. 

Yes, I did actually send this.  I made the sign, took the picture and sent it.  Where were you to stop me?  After the text went out, I groaned.  "Gah!  You're a complete moron. *headdesk*"

If I sent a picture like that to a girl, she would die of cuteness overload.  You send a picture like that to a guy and he, well, he probably groans too.

Surprisingly, he liked it.  I guess my dorkiness has won at least one person over - and my favorite person no less.  Yay on that.