Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays

Look! I remembered! Hurray! Although I remembered Totally Awkward Tuesdays today, the downside is that I really think that I may be out of awkward stories. Seriously. Unless I'm able to dredge up some more long-repressed memories of times I humiliated myself in public, Totally Awkward Tuesdays may be totally over. It's been going for over eight months, and that's a whole lot of awkward, even for me.

But don't mourn quite yet, my friends, because I still have one more awkward memory to share. Those of you who've participated or at least read the Totally Awkward Tuesday stories over the last few months will not be at all surprised to learn that this is yet another "Tova and her friends made fools of themselves while ogling boys at summer camp" story. Remember that time that I said I wasn't boy-crazy as a teenager? I think I may have been in denial.

As I've mentioned once or twice before, my cousin Hannah, my friend Mae and I all went to the same summer camp every year, and we spent a good deal of time developing crushes on fellow campers (always of the male persuasion) and then following them around like junior stalkers. When we first arrived at camp each year, we'd spend a few hours scoping out that year's crop of campers to see which cute boys had returned from the year before and which cute boys were new. Then we'd find somewhere to talk so that we could compare notes on which of our crushes from the previous summer had returned.

This particular year, Hannah and I had noticed that one particular cutie, whom we'll call Nate (actually, come to think of it, his name may have actually been Nate... or maybe not. I can't remember, so I'll go with Nate) had returned to camp that year as he had for the last three or four summers. We also noticed that he was wearing a cast on his right arm. When Mae arrived a few hours after we did, Hannah and I quickly sat down on a bench with her to tell her which boys we'd seen and asked her if she'd passed any on her way in. As we went through the list, one of us mentioned that Nate was there and that he had a broken arm. When Mae heard that, she contradicted us by saying that she too had seen Nate when she came in, but that he did not have a broken arm, and perhaps we were getting him confused with someone else. But Hannah and I were adamant that no, it hadn't been anyone other than Nate, and that yes, his arm was in a cast. We cheerfully disagreed about this for a few minutes, then moved on to other subjects. After we'd been sitting on the bench talking for awhile, who should walk past us but Nate, complete with a cast on his arm.

Mae looked up, saw him, and before she had a chance to stop and think, blurted out (loudly enough for him to hear), "You're right! He does have a broken arm!"

We spent the rest of the week engaged in friendly bickering as to who should be most embarrassed over this incident (Hannah and I insisted that we should be, since by saying "you're right," Mae had outed us as the ones who were talking about him. Mae insisted that she was more humiliated, because she was the one who said it.) and speculating as to whether or not he had guessed why we were talking about him and his broken arm (probably).

So, ladies and gentlemen, that's my Totally Awkward Tuesday, and it just may be the last one. That means that you should definitely, absolutely, 100% participate this week, because it might be your last chance! For old time's sake, here are the rules:

1. Think of an awkward story that happened to you and then blog about it. 2. Link to my blog from yours. 3. Post a link to your totally awkward post in the MckLinky box below. 4. Ta Da! You're Totally Awkward!

Maybe I should work for Maytag

Hi! Remember me? The blogger who only blogs once a week lately? What is my problem, anyway? Actually, I have a lot of stuff going on, which I will probably tell you about. Someday. Maybe. But anyway...

Totally random, but Mr. Darling and I bought a washer and dryer yesterday (Whirlpool, 3 years old, $250 total on Craigslist. Hurray!), and I've spent most of today being a handywoman. I just sent this email to Mr. Darling and thought I'd post it here, because I really feel like I deserve a prize of some sort for being unusually handy. This email is word-for-word (except for the names, of course) the email I just sent to Mr. D, who is at work right now, where he gets no cell phone signal, but occasionally finds a minute to check his email in between getting bugs out of patients' ears (true story). This email proves to you that the way I blog is really the way I talk to people I know in real life. In other words, sexy reader, you and I are practically BFFs.


Monday, August 31, 2009 4:59 PM
From: Tova Darling
To: Mr. Darling
Subject: Maybe I should work for Maytag

Mr. Darling,
So... they don't sell 3 to 4 prong adapters for dryers (at least not at Lowes). Instead, according to the appliance guy at Lowes, you have to actually detach the three prong plug and attach a four prong plug. Which I did. By myself. Because I am awesome! (I am seriously unreasonably proud of myself for doing this. I think I should get some sort of medal or trophy. Maybe a plaque?)

Anyway, having done that, I was well on my way to being able to dry things, when I noticed that the back of the dryer says that you should absolutely NOT use that flexible foil hose for your exhaust. I looked it up online, and apparently every dryer in the history of the world says that, because it poses a fire risk. You should only ever use rigid metal piping. So, do I go back and get rigid metal piping? I think it's more expensive, but on the plus side, it won't burn you to death.

I have to go back to Lowes anyway to get an adapter for the water hookups, because one of our water connectors (the cold water one) is randomly smaller than the other, and the hose doesn't fit, so I have to get an adapter. So if we want rigid metal piping, I could get both things at once. I had to switch the washer and the dryer because they were on the wrong sides, and the washer hoses aren't long enough to reach the water unless the washer is on the left. The hot water is now hooked up, but not the cold.

Final question: The green grounding wire connected to the back of the washing machine - Where does that connect? I hooked up the grounding wire for the dryer when I changed the plug, but I'm curious as to where the green wire on the back of the washing machine goes to. Any tips?

In case you couldn't tell, I'm so pleased with myself for doing all of this! Hurray, me!! I feel like an electrician. An electrician who sprayed water all over herself when she tried to figure out which pipe was hot and which was cold, and then immediately sat in cat litter... but still!

I'm going to have you look over all of my hard work before I plug anything in so that I don't electrocute myself.

I love you!!
Tova

Um... Oops.

This morning, I woke up and went to get a massage. After a fabulous massage, I walked over to Starbucks and got a white chocolate mocha (my favorite). Then I wandered around to a few stores looking for a dress for a dinner we're going to tonight (more on that tomorrow). I bought a dress at Forever 21, then walked over to a department store to look for some accessories. As I was going up the escalator, I suddenly said - out loud, to no one in particular - "Oh fudge!" (I really did say fudge instead of the other F word.)

Because it finally happened. I forgot Totally Awkward Tuesday. Argh! So, um... feel free to be awkward amongst yourselves, but I've got nothin'. (Sad face.)

I'll post for real tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be doing penance by eating leftover mashed cauliflower. (Haha, just kidding... that's not penance... my mashed cauliflower is delicious. Maybe I'll share my recipe with you.)

If you want to share an awkward story anyway, even though I'm a complete slacker, you may do so below.

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday

I almost feel like I'm cheating by using this story as a Totally Awkward Tuesday, since I already mentioned it on Twitter, but it was extremely awkward, so I thought I'd flesh it out for those of you who aren't following me on Twitter. (Speaking of which, why aren't you?)

Two Tuesdays ago, I flew back from a fabulous visit with my sister. I love flying, but on this particular flight, I had the middle seat between two other people, which is my least favorite seat on a plane. (I'm pretty sure that's everyone's least favorite seat.) About half an hour into the flight, I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom, but I hate making people get up so that I can get out of my seat. Plus, the woman in the aisle seat fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake her up. So I decided to hold it. That was my first mistake.

When we finally landed an hour and a half later, I thought my bladder might burst, and then, of course, there was a delay because another plane was still at our gate. After what seemed like forever, I finally got off the plane, at which point my need to go to the bathroom was nearing emergency status. I knew that Mr. Darling was waiting for me, but it was an absolute necessity that I use the bathroom before meeting him. As soon as I got out of the plane, I started speed-walking in the direction that seemed likeliest to lead to a bathroom. Finally, I saw the "Restroom" sign, and I sprinted towards it, turned into a little hallway, and ran into the bathroom, carrying my gigantic purse and wheeling my carry-on bag. I ran to the first open stall, pulled all of my stuff into it, and then turned to close the stall door.

The bathroom (like just most other public restrooms) was set up so that the stalls were facing the sinks which were in front of a gigantic mirror. As I turned to close the stall door, I noticed that the woman at the sink directly in front of me had very short hair. Then I noticed the face reflecting in the mirror - the "woman" with short hair was actually a man. I felt a brief embarassment for the poor man who had wandered into the women's restroom by mistake... until I noticed that there were also men at every other sink in the bathroom.

Yes, somehow, I had not only run into a very crowded men's restroom, but I had also failed to notice that I was rushing past several men in my hurry to get to the stall. I stood there in shock for a minute, then grabbed my bag and ran back toward the exit. As I came out of the bathroom, I nearly collided with two women who had been sitting near me on the plane. They looked at me, looked at the large sign by the door that said "Men," and then one of them asked the obvious question - "Were you just in the men's restroom?"

To make matters worse, I then had to walk with them the rest of the way down the hall until we all reached the proper restroom.

In the future, I'll gladly wake up any sleeping airline passengers so that I can go to the plane's unisex bathroom.

So what's your awkward moment? Share it on your own blog, link back to mine from yours, then link up below!

To boycott or not?

For the past few months, several stores in the area have had large groups of picketers in front of them. Mostly, it's Wal-Mart, but a few other chain stores seem to be picketed every now and again, too.


These people may have really good reasons for picketing. They could be the best reasons ever. They could be eloquently worded arguments that would convince me to never, ever shop at Wal-Mart again. The problem is that their signs look like this:

BOYCOTT WAL-MART!

We are printing our reasons in ridiculously small font so that you can't possibly read them from your car.

PLEASE DON'T PATRONIZE THIS STORE!

Seriously, I have excellent vision, and even when my car is stopped at a light, one lane away from the picketers, I cannot for the life of me make out even a single word of the tiny font that explains their reasons for demanding that I not shop at Wal-Mart. My best guess is that it's something about unions or healthcare, but for all I know, it could also say "We protest the mistreatment of the smiley face logo" or "Their bakery-fresh buns are not quite as round as we'd like them to be."

How on earth do they expect me to support them if it's impossible to tell what I'm agreeing with? And they're marching at the far end of the parking lot, about 4,350 parking spaces away from the actual entrance of the store, so unless I park a mile away from Wal-Mart, get out of my car, directly approach these people, and ask them what it is that they're protesting, I will never know what these signs say, and let's be honest - I'm never going to do that. If you want my support, it's probably best not to make me work that hard to support you.


Every time I drive past, I think, "Somebody should really stop and tell those people that their signs would be more effective if people could tell what they said," but I'm definitely too lazy to do that. In the meantime, I'll continue to shop at Wal-Mart unless someone comes up with a good reason I shouldn't and then prints it in two-foot-high letters and holds it up in front of me.