One Caesar Wrap with a Side of Humiliation, Please.

I know, this is like, a record number of posts for me this week—um, not counting November, where I listed my chocolate consumption every day while I was doing NaNoWriMo.

Today’s completely irrelevant and random entry is sparked by this vlog from John Green:



If you don’t know who John Green is, I would suggest you run, not walk to your nearest bookstore and buy “Looking for Alaska.” Then I would advise you head on over to the Ning and meet his brother Hank. Then I’d suggest you quickly become a Nerdfighter, because Yes: Nerdfighters are Made of Awesome.

So in this video, John is ranting about saying “Best Wishes” to someone he was talking to on the phone. He was kinda embarrassed about it because it’s not something you normally say to someone when you’re hanging up. Anyway, it reminded me of something that happened to me on Saturday.

I was eating out with my family; we were at a sandwich place and were standing in line. When it was my turn I ordered my chicken Caesar wrap or whatever it was, then the guy asked me what side item I wanted. This is how it played out:

Guy: What side?

Me: (after thinking for a moment….) Cheese.

CHEESE? What? UGH! The moment I said it I knew I sounded like such a loser. I mean, what was I thinking? That they were going to grate a pile of cheddar and sprinkle it onto my plate? That they were going to slap down a couple of slices of All-American Kraft singles? Cheese? Really?

I was So Completely Embarrassed. Once I realize what I’d said, I shook my head and said “Chips.” Because that’s what I meant. I wanted Chips. Not Cheese.

Really, you think you’re going to outgrow this stuff, and the daily mortification ends the moment you graduate high school, but it doesn’t. The guy I’m sorta married to but not allowed to talk about online has this rapidly growing list of “---isms:” stupid things I’ve said or done in his presence that he never lets me forget. Before the “cheese” incident the most recent was the night before when I pronounced “fowl” like “bowl.” What? And then there was the time we were in college, heading to a nearby town to get something to eat, and we passed a sign for a cheap motel. The rate was $39.95 but the “95” was really, really small. From a distance it looked like the 39 with a degree symbol. So I said: “I can’t believe its 39 degrees! It doesn’t feel like it!” It was night, but it was also Summer and probably more like 70/75.

These are the things I will *never* live down.

Now add to it the fact that I think Cheese is a side dish. (Sigh.)

It’s a good thing I’m a Nerdfighter and bleed “awesome,” because really, I can be *such* a dork sometimes.

Love,
Leigh