nataliekresen’s posterous

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December 10, 2008

This Spit Was Magnetic

Ah! What is it with loose lipped people? How do you not know when spit is flying out of your mouth? Ewwwwwww. Come on man; our mouths are not made to be spray bottles, you're not cooling anyone down with that...

I went to a holiday party a few nights ago. Due to a series of cirmcumstances, I ended up going alone. A-l-o-n-e. Now, I am a big fan of spending time with one's self; I've gone to my fair share of movies and lunches and coffee shops alone, but a party? No one wants to go to a party alone. I walked around the icy block one more time than necessary so as not to be one of the first eager guests to arrive.

Once my hands were properly chapped and my hair, thoroughly wind blown, I decided it was a good time to enter. To my surprise and delight, I ran into a friend at the coat check. Sigh-- a partner for the night. We proceeded into the party.

It was after my second glass of wine when 'he' approached. At first I just wanted to be nice, felt bad for him really. He was an older gentleman, wiry grey hair, slightly puffy eyes, tall. Sentence after sentence, the spit began its erratic dance from the inside of his lips to my cheek, eyes, lips, hair. It was a disgusting performance that I wanted no part of. Like when you're pulled into a dance circle and you've two left feet. Panic. As each new word formed, I tried to withdraw, dodge, hide my once clean face but this spit was magnetic and just kept coming.

I used Match(spit).com for awhile (spit). You (spit) know, you have to put your (spit) income on there (spit). Wom(spit)en won't even (spit spit spit) look at you if you're (spit) below a cer(spit)tain bracket.

What was I to do? Listening to one sentence, I felt like I was leaning over the railing at Niagara Falls. I began talking rapidly, incessantly, so as not to leave him time to form new wet words.

Oh,youknowanywomanwhowouldcareaboutthatisnotworthyourtime. Breathe. I'msureyou'llfindsomeonerightforyouyoujusthavetobepatient...

How was I to tell this man that his dates were going down the drain because he showered them with drool instead of compliments? Speaking of showers, it was about 4 minutes into the conversation when I realized I desperately wanted one. Oh soap, I've never missed you so much.

What did I do? What any rational wet woman would do. I motioned to another girl, Well, what about her? I think she smiled at you? And when his giant rain cloud of a mouth turned, I downed the last of my wine. Shoot, I'm all out I lifted my glass as a signal of its emptiness as well as a shield to block any forthcoming spittle. I'm off to get more and that 'more' turned into me running for the door...

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September 16, 2008

Embarassing moments...

Nobody wants to walk around with spinach stuck in their teeth. Nobody. So why don't we tell people when they're walking around with spinach stuck in their teeth? Those poor souls, small talking, attending meetings, smiling at strangers, all the while having a tuft of green wedged between their upper left central and lateral. It's so unfair. Or at least I think so.
 
You may wonder why I'm sitting here thinking of gum lines and molars. The truth: that person was recently me.
 
Yes, I spoke at all day meetings with confidence, smiled at the trucker who honked his horn at me, even had a lengthy discussion with a co-worker, only to discover (hours later) that I'd had a bit of lettuce in my teeth. At the end of the long day, that leafy green glob stared back at me in the mirror with malice.
 
Now once you realize that you've carried a piece of foliage around with you everywhere, you start to retrace your steps...did I flirt with the guy in the elevator? Did I giggle near the water cooler? Did I approach my boss about a conflict? Everyone I talked to that day flashed across my mind at rapid speed. Rapid speed. And let me tell you, there were a lot of f*cking faces.
 
And not one single person gestured, hinted, shared with me, this little but significant detail. What gives? Why is it so hard to say, Uh-hem, excuse me but you have a little something right...there. Yes, there, in between those two teeth?
 
I mean at least slip me a toothpick or a piece of gum. Something. But no, people appeased me all day and let me walk around as if my mouth were the produce section at a grocery store...
 
Is it so hard to be honest?  Stranger or not, what's your vote on this?  
 
I think mine's pretty obvious.
 

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Filed under  //   embarassing moments   food  

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August 21, 2008

Nocturnal Lessons...

Okay. So, I planned on blogging today about something positive, upbeat, inspirational. But I got drunk last night. How do these two pieces of information relate? Well, I learned a valuable lesson and am willing to share my personal story in an attempt to prevent someone from doing this in the future. It's good to learn from the mistakes of others...

The Lesson: Don't (please allow me to repeat that for emphasis) Don't get drunk and be within a 10-foot radius of a computer. I mean it, don't do it. I did and as a result, I sent a very brief but, nevertheless, very embarrassing drunk e-mail.

Now, I was known for this sort of behavior in college, drunk dialing someone I rarely talked to and had some sort of complicated past with. The relief in a drunk dial is that the person (or voicemail) on the other end can quickly decipher your drunken state through your slurred voice, hiccups, and amazing ability to break out into song (or tears). All is excused. But the computer is a far more dangerous medium. The receiver of the 'email' cannot tell what your sobriety state is and therefore may assume that this is an important message that's been brewing inside you for quite some time. He/she may think you want a heart-to-heart or that your feelings are so overwhelming for him that you had to get out of bed at 4am and email them just so you could get some sleep. While this is not the case, there is no indication to the receiver that he/she should think otherwise.

And people, no matter how good of an idea it seems after two martinis, a glass of wine, and shot of tequila...you cannot retract it. Remember this. And remember too that the person you choose to email is not going to be someone that you've talked to in awhile. No, it's going to be someone far enough removed that you don't have their phone number anymore, that's why you've resorted to an email in the first place.  That, or like me, you just happen to be on the computer listening to some music and it seemed like a great idea.

When inebriated, anything that seems like a great idea is a horrible one and one you will most definitely regret when dawn breaks the next day. In fact, now that I think about it, things that seem like a bad idea when drunk-- drinking water, going home alone, passing on the third round of shots--is usually a good one and things that seem like a good idea-- emailing, making phone calls, dancing-- is usually bad.

So the moral of this episode is: When drunk, do whatever seems like a bad idea. And, if possible, put a password protection on your computer that's prompted if your logging in after midnight. And make that password so difficult that you'll never remember it. I suggest making the password something like: u7t3l=5b3545%&

Good luck and stay smart...

 

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