#4 your breath be kickin' like ninjas!

okay...here's the deal: bad breath is the worst. not only can it cause instant death. it makes for many an awkward moment. for those of you who don't know, or haven't figured it out, i work in a salon doing hair full time. last week i'm doing my part to work through the large list of clients waiting to get their hair cut on this particular evening. most of you also know or have figured out that i am a female in her early twenties who is attracted to good looking men around my same age. so i noticed when a guy came in who's about my age and fairly attractive. actually i'll give him a little more than that. he's quite attractive. he has a nice face, cute smile, good hair. etc. etc. and it just so happens that after a couple of haircuts when i call the next name on the list mr. good-looking stands up and gives a cute little smile. i hold the chair still while he sits down. pick up the cape. get a little neck strip ready. turn to him and say something along the lines of "what're we doing for you today..." now in a world where good things happen to me, he would've smiled and explained his ideal haircut and then for the next 20 minutes or so i would give him just that while we chatted and i quickly learned that he's near perfect, exactly everything i'm looking for, he would've laughed at my quirky sarcasm and stupid jokes, he would love his haircut, he would've tipped me well, and sometime before his pretty but handsome face and cute smile walked back out the door he would've gotten my phone number and we would be set. but that world is not real and instead he opened his mouth and i about killed over at the remnants of whatever it was he had for his last meal. instead of smiling and letting out a silly joke i gave a weak smile and just nodded while attempting to hold my breath and assessing how i was going to smell that horrendous stench for one more second, let alone a 20 minute long haircut! racking my brain i get the idea maybe i can offer him a piece of gum out of my little hiding place in my station that i keep for my own bad breath emergencies. then i start arguing with myself about whether or not that could make things worse and was there even a piece in there? i'm pretty sure the last one was in my mouth right that very minute. so taking a deep breath i glanced in the mirror and reminded myself that bad breath happens, maybe he had frantically searched through his car, every pocket, asked the man in the parking lot on his way in, couldn't find help anywhere so had no choice but to nearly knock his poor hairstylist dead...and he was still a cute kid and i would continue the haircut and chat as planned. so as i cut he talked. from the back, as in standing directly behind him it wasn't so bad. it was only around the sides, closer to the mouth aka the source of the aroma that it was overpowering. so i started strategizing. i would ask the questions around the front and then quickly move towards the back before he began answering. thank goodness no one from corporate was there to see me cut this haircut. i would've been fired for sure. zero organization. whatsoever. and thank goodness this kid was so wrapped up in his own thoughts and seemed rather oblivious to how sporadically his hair was being cut. so as we talk i find out he is a writer. i am instantly intrigued and consider forgiving the breath situation just a little bit. then i get another whiff and hold back a gag, feel a little dizzy for a minute and start thinking "what could make anything so bad?!" trust me i know the breath the italian place brings thanks to it's close location...right next door. it's pretty bad. but this is far beyond that. i start wondering "were you snacking on some onions and garlic before you stopped in or what? worried about vampires? i sure wouldn't be if i were you...." so this continues on for awhile. the haircut is complete. a shampoo is so out of the question...and i start taking the cape off mid sentence. he pays...i don't even care about a tip anymore and i began singing the hallelujah chorus as i see him walk out the door and head for his car. the only thing that could be better is if the rest of the salon joined in after a minute....i know if i was basically dying someone else had to be smelling it... then we would break out into some kind of a supercuts musical.... just to top this whole awkward thing off.

bad breath happens...but as you can see it is terrible. and terribly awkard.

so in addition to a great, but sad story i have a piece of advice....keep some gum close by. you never know when you or the poor soul next to you will need it.

awkward.

#3 confusing someone's gender.

so today i played a really weird game of phone tag with an individual i've never met. she was calling to let me know about an organ training class i was signed up for. something about the sound of an organ training class feels awkward in and of itself...but it would be cool to know more about the organ, and the class is now on a day that works for me so i tried to call her back to let her know i'll be there and find out what time it's at. we kept missing each others calls and leaving awkward messages... "hi this is cailie...that girl that you've been trying to call all day and has left like 50 awkward messages on your answering machine...only to have you call back within minutes of receiving it...only to have me not answer..again..." phone tag=awkward. but here's what's even more awkward than plain old phone tag. so finally, after a couple of hours of this, someone picks up the phone. i had already been stressing about what her name was. it was one of those names that is pretty much the same as another name...if you know what i mean. to be honest with you i can't even remember THE name. so for the story's sake lets say it's wendy but originally i thought maybe she said mindy. so a voice answers, sounds like a woman and i politely say: "hi is this wendy?" person on the other end rudely replies: "no. it's not." me: "umm...oh....i'm...sorry..." rude person: "that's okay...pause..." at this point it hits me. this is not wendy. this is wendy's son. who sounds an awful lot like he is in the midst of puberty. had i called a minute before, or even a minute later it might be obvious that he is a teenage male. another minute later though, and it would be easy to confuse him for his mom...as i had done. so... mortified for me AND him i pause for another second and then ask if wendy is there. he tells me no. so i leave my message and hang up. at this point i start hitting my head with my little fists, yzma style, saying the infamous "stupid, stupid, stupid." that poor boy. that has to feel great. he's thinking: hair is growing on my body...everything is weird...i can't even control my own voice and some girl thinks i'm a WOMAN! way to boost his awkward jr. high self-esteem cailie! all i can say is i was glad there was a telephone and who knows how many miles between us....and i didn't have to live this awkward moment face to face. then i remember: i had the same incident at work; only that one was in real life. there was a woman sitting on one of the benches in the front of the salon waiting for a haircut when i arrived at work one afternoon. i looked at them....and made the assessment that they were a slightly masculine woman. their hair was definitely woman hair. they had very little make-up on but were still attractive in a natural way. they like wearing baggier, more masculine clothes. kind of weird...but hey we all go through that phase. i remember in late elementary school when i wanted a pair of boys' sneakers so bad. and i wanted to be a tom-boy. yeah that lasted for about one day....maybe this girl's tom-boy phase was lasting just a bit longer. so i set up my station and turn to the woman waiting and say a simple "have you been helped?" this is where awkward comes in...a definite man's voice replies "yes...i'm just waiting..." i literally jump. my eyes get huge. i don't know how to form a word, let alone a whole sentence. so i simply offer an "uhh..."turn and hurry to the back room. after laughing for a minute....and wanting to cry for this poor soul, i pull it together and go back to work.

in the words of brian regan: "have you ever guessed somebody's gender wrong?...there's no recovering from that..you just gotta move on 'cause you ain't wriggling out of nothin'! hey excuse me..sir? MAM! okay...bye...bye human....bye person...nice to meet you individual..."

AWKWARD

#2 putting hemorrhoid ointment on your eyes to reduce swelling.

maybe i only know about this because i am a girl and i cry my eyes out more than i'd like...or maybe this is just common knowledge. you know how it goes...you have a bad day. maybe you wreck your car. you get dumped. someone you were very close to passes away. crying nice and hard happens. i'm not talking about the cry where you let out a few minutes worth of tears, wait for about ten minutes for the few splotches to clear up, dry your eyes, clean your contacts, if you are female you then touch up your makeup and go about your day as normal. i'm talking about the cry where you let loose. you just let it flow like there's no tomorrow. for me it often goes like this: i'm usually laying on my own bed crying to someone over the phone, or my mom is there, or i'm laying on my parents bed, and i'm punching the pillows and crying/yelling about whatever i'm so upset about as i sob. before the end of it they make me feel better. note: me feeling better means they're going to crack a joke about something totally stupid and sarcastic that makes me start to cry a little more but it also makes me laugh...thus the best feeling ever: laugh crying. anywho...after this whole ordeal the splotches are unreal. my nose is raw from blowing and wiping. my head is pounding. but the real problem: the puffy eyes. puffy isn't really an accurate word anymore. it's more like....gigantic tumor-like growths where normal little eyeballs used to be that you're now attempting to look out of . and the worst part: you think going to bed will help. WRONG. they are even worse when you wake up. so the first thought is to splash some cool water on them. that helps a little. the next thought is ice. so you lay there icing your tumor-eyes and hoping it'll help. that will also help quite a bit, but it doesn't totally fix the problem. most people think at this point there is nothing else. but....oh there is. once upon a time i heard from a source i can't even remember but i want to say it was back in the days when i did pageants that if you put a little bit of hemorrhoid cream on your eyes it would reduce swelling. So when my eyes morphed into a monster yesterday and the ice wasn't doing the trick i turned to my mom and said i'm going to try it. she seemed to think that it was a good idea until i pulled the tube out and started to open it. then she started frantically saying, "maybe you just just use some more ice...i mean the only thing that could make life worse right now is if you end up blinding yourself with hemorrhoid cream..." my response..."if i'm blind i won't ever have to worry about this or any of my other problems again...i can just wallow in my blind misery!..." so i proceed to squeeze a little bit on my finger and rub it under my eyes. it made my skin burn a little but i think it helped. it's made to reduce swelling and irritation to sensitive tissues. so really....it shouldn't even be weird. but then as i'm sitting there in the bathroom with gigantically puffy eyes and greasy ointment all over my face, waiting for a miracle, i start reading the tube. bad idea. i can handle reading about it's real purposes but while it's sitting on my face...that is where awkward starts screaming in my face..."apply to affected area up to 4 times daily especially after each bowel movement..." "for intrarectal use..." i'm reading about applicators and bleeding now...and at this point i freak out a little and wipe it off my face.

for the record it is a great idea and did help.

just don't read about its true purposes while it's on your face.

Awkward.

#1 why isn't it my birthday?

take a minute to think back to your childhood birthday parties. lots of cake. lots of maniac kids screaming and running through your tired parent's house destroying everything within reach. lots of games, balloons, presents. what is missing from this description? the kid who can't seem to understand that it's YOUR birthday, not theirs. there is always that kid lurking in the corner of every picture. touching every gift. removing the last bits of wrapping paper and tape. letting out an occasional sigh and a "man....i always wanted one of those..." They aren't right in the middle of the action. Nor are they fighting for all of the attention. they're just always there. always helping. always wishing the birthday and all that comes with it could belong to them.

this will be much easier to open if i help you with this corner...

here....let me read this for you...

well it's not my birthday so i'm not going to smile. but i'm not about to let go of my corner here.

awkward.