July 28, 2008

Losing My MoJoe

Posted in Uncategorized at 9:14 pm by LG

Even though I’ve come out, I’m still failing in my efforts to write more. I did, however, spend two hours trying to figure out what the heck an RSS feed is and how how I could get that little orange volume-looking button on my page. I got frustrated and failed at that too. But I was successful in putting on a link (to your right) where you can go to get an email update from my blog. It’s supposed to send you an email every time I write. (This way, Laurie, you don’t have to check it every morning and get pissed off when there’s no new posting – I’m sorry for not entertaining you more often. wink!)

Judy even instructed to write more: since in “real life” I am usually more worried about others’ feelings than my own, I should use blogging to express my true voice. Which, I do. But, here I am, still not writing. I know it’s because I have so many feelings about moving 3000 miles from home, and I’m hesitant to unleash them for fear that I may not stop crying — or laughing, or screaming with excitement, or sweating with anxiety, etc. — once i start typing. Maybe I’m being a big huge baby about this, but it’s hard. I hate being an adult.

By the way, on my blog, I’m going to forever refer to Judy as J-Know. ‘Cause she’s wise and sassy.

So, since I can’t yet write about anything deep, I’ll stick with a surface story. It’s a goodie.

I treat myself to Starbucks every Friday morning. Monday through Thursday I actually make it to the gym and just drink the crappy coffee there. But Friday, I sleep until 7:30 — well, I set my alarm for 6:00, pretending I’ll get up and workout, but I press snooze 9 times instead — and stop at Starbucks on my way into the office. Call me a sellout, but I love everything about the place, and this one in particular because it’s in the hip area of town. The music is fresh (I know, I’m not credible with statements on music…I still love BelBivDevoe but I feel like I can at least tell a good tune from a bad one), the service is chipper (and everyone who works there has great skin, which makes me feel so happy and clean), and the coffee…well, it just feels so good when it hits my lips. I haven’t worked up to ordering anything greater than the bold brew (room for cream), but I aspire to one day confidently order something sexy like a “triple shot venti soy hazelnut vanilla cinnamon white mocha, heavy on the mocha.” (That will probably be awhile since I’m nervous just thinking about having to say that aloud.)

But the best thing I like about this particular Starbucks is – or, more appropriately, was – the clientele. I had a Starbucks romance.

Much like the coffee I love, he was tall, dark, bold, made my heart race, and I imagine he would have warmed my hands on a chilly morning. I don’t think I ever really did want to meet him, because, after all, the fantasy is always better than the reality, right? I’m sure if I had talked to him, he’d do something weird like constantly refer to himself in the third person. But, from a distance — he, sitting on the corner couch, me, standing at the creamer station — we had a lovely affair. I’d see him from the window as I walked up, and he was usually busy grading papers of some sort. It looked like complex math, which made me weak in the knees. I’d come in, smile, order my coffee, smile, get my creamer, smile, walk out, blush, smile…and basically skip to my car, I would be so giddy. This went on for several Fridays. He stopped grading papers at one point, but was still there at 8:25 am with books I could tell he was reading for fun.  Sigh.

One Friday, I was a bit of a mess. I had gone out the night before and didn’t make it home when I should have. I’m quite sure WhereInTheWorld and my co-clerks had something to do with it. I’m quite sure it was fun. But, I wasn’t pleased with myself when I woke up Friday morning after pressing snooze a good 15 times. I didn’t have time to shower, so I just threw on the jeans on the floor next to my bed. Classy. (and, yea, I can wear anything I want to work right now – it’s great and I’m trying to soak it in before I’m committed to suits for the rest of my life). I pulled my hair back, washed my face, and scrambled to get to Starbucks for my “date.”

I saw him as I approached — wishing I would have taken more time to at least put on mascara — and walked in. He was sitting on the couch with a book, which he lowered just beneath his big brown eyes to give me that warm look. I imagined he was thinking, “Good morning, Love of My Life; I’m digging the devil-may-care look you’ve got going. Hot.”

As I strode past him toward the counter, I felt the oddest sensation travel down my leg. It happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to process it, but I believe I was thinking that some animal may have been caught in my jeans….and then it came out the bottom as I was walking. Right in the middle of the busy Friday-morning Starbucks scene. Although perhaps resembling an animal, it was not. It was, instead, my underwear. Leopard print. Thong. When I saw them on the floor, in front of my man, I was so confused. I couldn’t figure out what the hell happened….did these just actually come off of my body? How could that have happened? I can’t even imagine what he thought (not to mention the 20 other people in there who were witnesses). But then, I remembered I had put on different underwear that morning. And it hit me – when I had taken my jeans off the night before, I had also taken off my underwear in the same swoop. So they were in there when I put the jeans on that morning and had just slid down my left pant leg.

Quickly, I thought of schemes. Maybe I could pretend – nonchalantly – that it was simply a handkerchief, and that maybe I could pick it up and blow my nose with it just to make it obvious. See everyone, it’s just a handkerchief. Yes, that’s it. A handkerchief. Leopard print. In the shape of a thong. If my hair hadn’t already been in a ponytail, I may have picked it up and wrapped it around my hair. See everyone, it’s just a hair-tie.

I’m sure all of this went through my mind in a nano second, but it seemed like an eternity, in slow motion. I ended up just taking a deep breath as I bent down, grabbed them, and stuffed them in my purse. I couldn’t look my guy in the eye. I could barely order my coffee. I shuffled out the door, and chalked it up to one of those days. I did, however, take a couple-week sabbatical from my Starbucks soirées. When I finally did return, he was no longer there.

I guess he already did see my underwear. Game over.

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11 Comments »

  1. Laurie said,

    That is so funny!!

  2. Jen said,

    Oh my god, I SO needed a story like this to get my day off to a better start!

    I can (sort of!) relate to this story. I once dropped a tampon out of my purse on a crowded metro train, and it landed squarely on the sandaled foot of a Catholic monk. Naturally, I didn’t notice until he called out and got my attention, then pointed to his foot while everyone on the train watched. But then, my monk wasn’t hot and was, you know, celibate.

    By the way, I get your blog in the RSS feed of my Google Reader. I think WordPress automatically allows that, but I wouldn’t know how to get it without Google Reader.

  3. Jen said,

    see, you didn’t lose your mojoe…it just fell out the leg of your jeans! 🙂

    remind me to tell you sometime about the time i worked an entire breakfast shift at teejayes with my middle shirt button unbuttoned. it also involves wearing something from the night before, leopard print and humiliation.

    xo
    J

  4. Mel said,

    Ummm…are you serious?? This really happened? That is SOOO something that would happen to you! I can picture you stooping down to pick it up…makes me laugh out loud! Thanks for sharing.

  5. Mitter said,

    Girl, if you don’t package these up one day and sell them, you are missing out on your New York Times best seller list opportunity of a lifetime. This is some seriously funny s#*&!!! (sorry moms – but it is).

    And Jen – Buddha and The Secret would say that you missed out on an opportunity. He was there for you day after day, obviously interested in the same thing as you – MATH?!??! I mean really, how many hot math guys can there be??? If you see him again, go for it girl!!!!!!

    Love you!
    Mitter

  6. Kelly said,

    That’s some funny %$^! Reminds me of Elliot from Scrubs, and the type of reaction that she would have afterwards! If only I could’ve been a fly on the wall! I don’t know if that is more embarrassing than flashing my nipple (thanks, Gracie!!) to the entire sales force at Honda yesterday! I can only imagine what must’ve been going on in your head when this happened!

  7. Southern Aunt said,

    You made me laugh out loud! I love your blog…keep it up Little girl. Can;t wait to see you when you start your trip out west.

  8. Every time I hear this one I laugh outloud. And I will not accept any responsibility for the goings-on the previous night. (“What did you do to her?!?!”)

    I think you should have just put them on over your jeans and walked over and introduced yourself… “Me Jane.”

  9. Lisa said,

    This is BRILLZ! I’m surprised that hearty Jenn laugh didn’t escape from your mouth. You’re a hottie…you can dowhatchoowant…including dropping thong in front of any guy! He probably got a boner and thought you saw…and didn’t come back. That’s what I think.

  10. Whitney said,

    I think this was even more funny the second time around! I tried to retell the story once, but now I can just point them in the direction of the blog ; ) My version was no where near as halarious!

  11. Paula said,

    I bet you could have just curled up and died, but you should’ve picked them up and said to him: How did you do that? Next time you see him and I hope you do talk to him! And next time you have a ruff morning don’t go to starbucks! Paula


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