Embarassing Confession #2: I am a Sucker

It's true. I'm a sucker. I am the sort of person who cannot walk by the Salvation Army bell ringers without either putting something in their little bucket, or feeling incredibly guilty for pretty much the rest of all eternity. It's not so much that I'm generous as much as it is that I'm stupid.

The other day a stranger came up to me and said, "Do you have a couple dollars I could use to get air in my tires? I'm completely broke and can't get my bike home." I was like, "Sure, here you go." Dude proceeded to walk away, pick up his bike, and ride away. I am a sucker.

And I've learned that non-suckers are born with an innate knowledge of how to work suckers. I've noticed that whenever they have people selling stuff outside of Wally World on the weekends, they always get the cutest, sweetest child with the widest eyes in the world to be the ones to ask for money. "Miss, could you please donate your hard-earned money to our stuffed puppy club?" I know that a stuffed puppy club is not a worthy cause, but when I look into those eyes, my hand reaches for my wallet against my volition.

Maybe you can relate...

You see, there is some hope for the suckers of this world. There are ways of avoid um, suckerage. Getting suckerized? Whatever you call it, here are some useful tips:

1. Recognize the signs. People who ask for money usually stand in doorways or other heavily trafficked areas where they can more conveniently suckerize suckers. They often hold jars or other containers used to hold their money. Often these jars are decorated with eye catching cutesy labels that are cleverly designed to make suckers feel guilty. Another clue is if you actually witness another poor sucker giving them money. If you see any of these signs, try to avoid the suckerizer if at all possible.

2. DO NOT make eye-contact. If you see someone who appears to be asking other people for money, ESPECIALLY if the money asker is a cute wide-eyed child, do not, I repeat DO NOT make eye-contact. Suckerizers know that if they make eye-contact with a sucker, they have already won the battle. Pick something like a cloud in the sky or a freckle on your arm to stare at so that you will not have to make eye-contact.

3. Walk in large groups of people. If you are the only one there, then wide-eyed suckerizing child WILL suckerize you. They will make it impossible for you ignore them with their precious wide-eyedness. They will pull you away from the cloud or freckle and by the sheer power of their awesome adorableness will FORCE you to make eye-contact with them. As you know from reading the previous tip, after you have made eye-contact, all hope is lost. You have been suckerized. If you walk in large groups of people, there is less chance that the suckerizer will focus their mad skills of suckerization on you. If there is no large group of people, just wait a few minutes. Large groups of people seem to be everywhere (as every socially awkward person can tell you), so if there isn't a large group of people readily available, one will probably be arriving shortly.

4. Pretend to talk on your cell phone. Okay, so this trick is EXTREMELY juvenille and practically ANY suckerizer can see through it in a heartbeat, BUT it seems to work in 99.9% of potentially dangerous situations. When walking by wide-eyed suckerizers, just lift your cell phone to your ear and pretend to carry on a conversation. For added protection, you might want to loudly tell the pretend person you're pretending to talk to that you are very broke and hate wide-eyed children who try to collect hard-earned money in cutely decorated jars.

5. Just don't carry cash. This doesn't exactly kill the guilt factor in me, but at least it keeps me from getting suckerized. If you don't have cash to give, you cannot give cash away. Debit cards are incredible inventions. Of course, this is only going to be useful until the time when the suckerizers wise up and start carrying portable debit card scanners. It's only a matter of time.

If you're a sucker, hopefully these helpful tips will be...helpful.

SAA Ep. #6: OFF DA HOOK!!!

Sometimes, one of the greatest adventures a socially awkward person can have is to vicariously experience someone else's socially awkward adventure. Today, this happened to me. It was wonderful.

I went to the library, which is usually a pretty low-key adventure. This has not always been the case. Depending on the size and unfamiliarity of the library, I can have TONS of socially awkward and even socially frightening experiences in a library. Those librarians are terrifying. My local library, however, is small and fairly non-scary. Plus, thanks to the wonders of technology, I can have a full library-going experience without ever having to speak to an actual human being. I can reserve the books I want online, then they give me an automated call to let me know the books are ready. I go in, pick them up, use self-check out...badda bing badda boom, I have my books without having to socially interact with anyone. Plus, I get to hear the uber non-soothing sounds of the book checking out machine "SCAN YOUR CARD" BEEP! "PLEASE WAIT" "SCAN FIRST BOOK" BEEP! "PLEASE WAIT" "SCAN NEXT BOOK OR PRESS FINISHED, IF DONE" BEEP "PLEASE WAIT" ahh. It's like a heavenly choir of obnoxious robotic music.

Anyway, today I went in and picked up some books that I'd reserved. I actually had to speak to the lady at the desk because I had a 20 cent fine because their computers said I had turned in a book two days late, when I had actually turned it in two days early. *Shrug* Whatev. After talking to the nice non-scary librarian lady, who didn't even ask me the obvious question "Why in the name of King Arthur are you checking out eight reference books about knights and chivalry?" I almost offered her an answer anyway, but I figured she didn't care. The answer, of course, to "Why in the name of King Arthur am I checking out eight reference books about knights and chivalry?" is "Because I am writing a book."

"Because I'm writing a book" is the answer to about 83.4% of the questions I get asked these days.

"Why are you making a list of potential names for horses?"
--Because I'm writing a book.
"Are you getting enough sleep? Why are you so cranky?"
--Because I'm writing a book.
"Why did you just maliciously giggle for no apparent reason?"
--Because I'm writing a book.
"What's your name?"
--Because I'm writing a book.

You get the idea.

Anyway, after checking out my books and proceeding to leave the library, I came across an interesting scene in the library foyer. All right, so "foyer" is a generous term in this case. My local library is small. Between the outer doors and the actual library is a really small area about ten feet long and four feet wide that contains some free reading material and such. As I walked through the door, I noticed it also contained a trash can and two elderly ladies who were leaning over said trash can, listening. I could hear what they heard. It was a high pitched BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

One of the ladies looked at me seriously. "We think there may be a bomb in the trash can."

I leaned closer to the trash can. "It doesn't sound like a bomb," I said (because I'm obviously an expert on what bombs sound like). "It sounds like a telephone is off the hook."

The two ladies exchanged looks of utter horror. "Oh no!" one of the ladies said. "Someone has accidently thrown away their cellular phone!" Seriously, they both seemed more upset about the idea that someone had lost their phone than the idea of someone putting a bomb in the trashcan of a small local library.

I leaned closer to the trashcan. "I don't think the sound is coming from the trash can," I said. I looked up, and on the wall was a telephone. I walked up to the phone. With one finger, I pressed the phone back to the receiver, from which it had become slightly dislodged. The beeping abruptly stopped.

One of the ladies exclaimed to the other, "Well, I've never seen a telephone do that before, have you?"

"I've never even had a telephone," the other lady replied.

Yeah.

I took my books and returned to my car, grateful for the adventure I'd just had. It's not every day I get to rescue two old ladies from a bomb...or a telephone.

I'm Socially Awkward Girl: Saving the world, one socially awkward adventure at a time!

Embarablast From the Past Episode #3: Vampires Don't Give Blood

Before I say anything else, let me inform readers of the fact that I am about as pale as a human being can get without being an albino. We're talkin' Edward Cullen would KILL (hopefully not literally) for my fair complexion (I even sparkle when I wear body glitter--or don't shave my legs). If you connected all my freckles with a brown magic marker (which, by the way, are not all that magical when you really think about it--false advertisement???), I might actually look like I have a tan of some sort. But my freckles aren't connected; consequently, I look like Casper the Ghost's big sister.

My nickname in middle school was actually "Casper legs." And people wonder why I'm socially awkward...

So about ten years ago or so, I went to a blood drive. I don't particularly LIKE giving blood or anything, but it seems like a nice thing to do since I seem to react pretty well to the blood donor process. I've never passed out or gotten dizzy or anything. I don't have any iron deficiencies. I mean, it kind of sucks (literally and figuratively) when they jab that needle in your arm (all the while telling you that it won't hurt a bit--which isn't entirely or really at all true), but at least you get free Swiss Cake Rolls at the end. All in all, it's not the worst way to spend a half hour.

Only this particular blood drive lasted longer than half an hour. I was in college, living with my parents and commuting two blocks to school--kind of convenient. The blood drive was near the campus, so I figured I could go to class, give blood, and come home. Only there was this ridiculously long line. I waited. I waited some more. When I was the very next person in line, my dad showed up and said, "Um, we're kind of waiting dinner on you, so if you could just hurry home as soon as you get done, that would be great!" I said they could start without me (knowing they wouldn't), because honestly, I was in this whole, "Gee can ya'll stop acting like I'm a member of the family now? I'm a college student!" Now that I'm living on my own, I'd really like someone else to cook for me, but yeah--hindsight is 20-20 and other various cliches.

So I finally get what I've waited over an hour for--that two foot long needle jabbed in my arm by someone who has only had about ten minutes experience finding arteries. I survived the giving of blood. I got a free tshirt or something cool like that. I don't really remember.

What I do remember was sitting down in front of a Sweet Gray Haired Volunteer Lady who handed me that Swiss Cake Roll I'd been waiting for. I ate it hurriedly so I could continue on home to eat dinner with my (as I thought at the time) lame parents. I got up to leave when the Sweet Gray Haired Volunteer Lady (or SGHVL--pronounced "Si-hiv-ul"--the G is totally silent) reached out and grabbed my arm with far more force than believable or necessary.

She looked at me with deathly serious eyes. "You can't leave yet."

It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Was she some kind of SGHVL vampire in disguise? Had she lured me there with Swiss Cake Rolls so that she could feast on some of my A positive juice?

"Excuse me?" I asked innocently, because honestly, I had no clue what SGHVL's problem was.

"You can't leave yet," she repeated. "You need to eat something."

"Oh," I said, wondering if SGHVL was suffering from dimentia and had already forgotten that I had JUST scarfed down a Swiss Cake Roll. "I ate enough. I'm good to go."

"No," SGHVL said, increasing the pressure of her grasp. I think it hurt worse than the needle they used to siphon my blood. "You don't look well. You need to eat something else. Sit down and eat."

"I feel fine," I protested, wondering if I had suddenly just broken out in hives or something. "I've given blood a few times before, and I've always been fine afterwards. I don't feel dizzy or anything."

"You don't look well," she repeated. "Eat something."

"I have somewhere I'm supposed to be," I said. "I really need to get going, so if you'll be a nice SGHVL and let go of my arm...."

"You're too pale," she said.

Then I understood. Of course! She didn't understand that I had a severe lack of melanin. I laughed. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm ALWAYS this pale."

She shook her head. "No, dear. No one could POSSIBLY be that pale and still be healthy. You are going to rest here and eat some more until your color returns."

"If we're going to wait until my color returns, we're going to be waiting a while. I never HAD any color."

I kept arguing, but SGHVL would not believe me. She was adamant to keep me there until either my color or Jesus returned.

So I sat down and asked for another Swiss Cake Roll. SGHVL smiled with satsifaction, released my arm, and leaned down to get me another prepackaged chocolate coated sugar rush. As soon as she wasn't looking, I bolted for the door.

It took her a few seconds to realize what was happening. She chased me, but luckily for me, I was 20 and she was probably close to 80. Plus, I had a head start. As I escaped into the parking lot in all of my pale non-dizzy glory, I could hear SGHVL's shrill voice calling out to me in the night, "COME BACK! COME BAAAAAACK!!!"

For all I know, SGHVL could be sitting in a nursing home muttering to herself about the "Pale One Who Got Away."

POWGA!

Pronounced "Powa!" The G is still totally silent.