When Joe and I first started dating and I met his friends, I was impressive. I'm not going to lie. I was the life of the party. I sparked conversation, I laughed at all the right places, I cracked jokes...I don't know what it was. Somehow I was not socially awkward. I thought maybe I had finally grown up and come into my own. Turns out? Nope. No, I'm exactly the same person I used to be. At the Super Bowl party with Joe's friends, I was super awkward to the extreme. Here's the breakdown.
The commercials are going. I'm paying attention even though no one else is (As I expected would happen. The curse of being in Advertising.) People are laughing. Chatting. And then this ad comes on:
And I screamed. SCREAMED. Silence fell over the party. Everyone looked at me. I had my face covered and buried in the couch cushions. Joe whispered, "She has a phobia of whales."
You know what, Chevy? SCREW YOU. I was expecting a lot of things from this Super Bowl, including overeating, giggling at the phrase "ball control", and watching a ton of great ads without FEAR FOR MY LIFE. And you have RUINED those plans for me
2. Boy Parts
You guys know I'm not the biggest sports fan. But I'm willing to gather where ever there are people talking smack and eating bean dip. I've learned through years of training (aka forced viewings of sporting events) how to pacify my time. And that is by scrutinizing the players.
Who has the most stickers on their helmets? Who has a weird last name? What does that tattoo say? What did he just mouth to the other player?
I figure, if other people are analyzing the plays, I can analyze the players just as well, and become just as adept. And YES. I tend to call their uniforms "outfits." And YES. I know what color Gatorade they're drinking before I know what direction they're running. And YES. Sometimes I end up noticing their junk.
But come on. I mean, they're wearing the tightest lower-half clothing next to ballet dancers. Things are played in slow motion. Knees run into things. Can you REALLY blame me when, during a silent moment, I pointed at the screen and shouted, "PENIS!"
Like I said before, I was the only one with a vested interest in the commercials at this party. I was fine with it. It did mean that people thought I was a little bit nutty because as soon as the game stopped, I would completely zone out of any conversation, mid-sentence and stare at the screen. That wasn't really the worst of it.
I was getting food in the kitchen when the ads TOTALLY SNUCK UP ON ME, so I ran back into the living room. I'm standing there, deep in analytical thought, when the host just goes, "You ok, Emily?"
I had been staring, frozen. My brow furrowed, my lips moving, holding a pair of tongs with chicken still in them. While everyone sat, chatting happily around me. They all turned to stare. Joe whispered, "She's in advertising."
Oh well. So much for being impressive. At least Joe's friends know who they're really dealing with now.