An Awkward Weekend

Most of you reading this have already witnessed my inevitable awkward-ness at some point.  Between me making things awkward, or weird things just happening to me, it seems there’s something everyday!  Well, this weekend was absolutely no different, not that I expected anything else.  Let me give you a rough outline…

  • Friday night:  Springfield College’s production of The Vagina Monologues.  I decided to take a break from MTEL cramming and see the show with some friends.  While I think Eve Ensler is a tad crazy and personally find the shock value of the roller-coaster emotional show 90% unsatisfying, I support the student-based cast sprinkled with friends and acquaintances.  The best part of the show is always the unique piece the SC cast brings, which this time was the ending showcasing hurtful stereotypes.  In effort to speak out about women’s rights, reclaiming sexuality, and anti-violence, Ensler’s production adaptations around the country and world hypocritically objectify women, project anti-heterosexual and anti-male biases, refer to “good rape” in the case of an underage girl, and use strong language ineffectively (for my taste).  She attempts to strategically place the monologues in an emotional up-and-down order which fail over and over, leaving the audience with only a whirlwind of feelings, not anything concrete.  Many in the audience get sucked into the feminist thesis Ensler declares her show to have (also now in a very awkward book version), but looked at from a critical standpoint, her message isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.  Yes, you guessed it: awkward.

[The rest of my weekend has a much lighter, not so much of a rant tone, don’t worry!]

  • Saturday afternoon: Assigned seats in the MTEL; placed next to a boy who I can only assume had Taco Bell for breakfast…  Insert gagging and suffocation while trying to put all my literary genius into a Scantron test.  Also seated behind a woman with the sniffles.  I empathize with the feeling of having a runny nose, and I’m sure this lady wasn’t trying to give me a stress-induced stroke, but next time instead of sniffing once a millisecond, save us all, step out of the room, and displace your snots in a tissue, thanks.
  • Saturday evening: At the end of a 4+ hour afternoon of microwaving my brain on reheat to oblivion, I emerged from the test site into a wall of fog.  In my depleted mental state, I was hardly able to locate Rhonda (my Civic) in the parking lot.  However, I knew by heart the nearest McD’s location, and treated myself to a Shamrock Shake.  Obviously, the only cure for a fried brain – duh.
  • Sunday morning: Up bright and early, I trekked with the SC Outdoor Club to Mount Snow for a beautiful bargain day of skiing!  Once in the lodge, I was greeted with the un-welcomed sight of pale, hairy dad-thigh as a foreign family stripped down to their whitey-tighties in the middle of the ski lodge before putting on their snow pants.  Absolute car-wreck syndrome where you want to look away soooo badly, but the image is burned to memory before your eyes catch up.  Totally normal, right?
  • Sunday at lunch: Since I was spending the day skiing solo, I was free to do exactly what I wanted.  Which, at 12:30, happened to be a nap.  So, amidst chattering families and melting snowboots, I rested my head on the table and conked out for a solid 40 minutes.  As if that’s not awkward of me, I was woken up to a buzzing phone call from some woman who wanted me to “Guess who it is!?!”  It was a voice I’d never heard before, and after a few drowsy “I don’t knows”, I finally lost patience.  Just as my thumb was reaching for the end-call button, I distinctly heard her say “Whoops, wrong number!” and launch into a manic cackle.  Lovely.  No sooner had I woken up to take that unnecessary phone call, did the skis propped on the support pillar about a foot and a half away crash to the table right where my unconscious head was resting minutes before.  While my face was saved from mutilation by skis, my Teddy Graham box (lunch) crashed to the damp, dirty floor of the lodge.  This was more depressing than awkward, but I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the skis to refrain from giving me more stitches in my left eyebrow, and instead knocking my family of golden honey bears to the ground.

There’s one more piece to the story, but it has to be saved for another post to come…  PS. I promise I’m not making this stuff up people…  It’s all a day in the life =)

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