I walked into Bree’s house the other day and laid my coat across the bench next to the door–out of reach of her new puppy Scrappy that loves to eat in no particular order hats, mittens, boots, hems, anything hanging off your person, etc. As I put my wool coat down, the zipper magically connected with a plug that was slightly pulled from the wall and shorted the entire house– literally– and burned two perfect tong marks into my circular zipper pull.
After Bree and I spent many many minutes with the fuse box, including one terrifying moment when the smoke detectors started beeping and I was convinced the house was going to blow, we managed to get the lights back on. The only additional casualties was a small burn mark on the inside of my coat, our blood pressure and a now-black outlet cover.
“Damn,” Bree said, “I wonder if there is something wrong with my electrical circuit?” (I should be clear here– we had no idea what we were talking about.)
“Or Rachel finally got her super powers,” her sister said.
I’m thinking definitely the latter.
An official roundup of OKC messages from people I never ever would go on a date with–
Do you want to chat?
Your profile really interested me. If you feel the same then we can talk further and see how it goes?
No way a woman as beautiful as you should be on okcupid this close to valentines day!!!
I like your charming smile , you are so pretty
What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing on this site
Care to talk a bit?
Hey! Saw your profile and thought I’d say hi. However, I just wanted to point out I’m married up front and understand if that’s an issue. Otherwise, happy to chat!
And a link to a youtube video that I 100% did not open.
I did some light google stalking before an OKC date last week and discovered that the gentleman in question worked for a company that I interviewed with during the Great Job Hunt Weight Gain of 2012. He clearly presented as a good ol’ fashion D.C. do-gooder, previously working to “eradicate child labor in the Uzbekistan cotton sector.” I have never thought of Uzbekistan cotton sector. Not once.
He was delighted to learn of our holy-mother-this-town-is-small connection, telling me the person they did hire for the job I’d interviewed for sat next to him. And the woman that sent the “thanks, but no thanks” email was his ex-girlfriend. In D.C., the seven degrees rule of separation is more like two degrees and one of those degrees is real fucking awkward. It’s a fact.
While waiting for a stop in play to go back to our seats at the Caps game last night–
Strange Girl #1 to me: You look like that actress.
Me: The one from “Orange is the New Black?” I know.
Strange Girl #1: The one from “American Pie.”
Me: Yeah, Natasha something-or-other. She always plays slutty girls.
Strange Girl #2: Well, you don’t look like a slut.
Strange Girl #1: Yeah, no slut vibe. I mean, unless you wanted to give off a slut vibe. I bet you could.
While walking past a whole lot of high schoolers last night–
Me: Excuse me.
High School Student #1: Let this cracker get by!
Me: Did you really just call me a cracker?
High School Student #2 to #1: That was rude! How would you feel if she called you a [insert incredibly racist word here]?
High School Student #3: I’m sorry, he’s drunk.
Me: Carry on.