Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Not So Much a Phobia as a Favor: Saving You from the Affliction that is Val

I recently received an email from a blog buddy, in which she broached the subject of a possible meet-up with other bloggers who reside in the greater Backroads area.

Help meeeeeee!

I find the idea of such a gathering a bit daunting. Not because I fear an undercover sting operation. Nor a bracing beat-down with bars of soap tucked into pillowcases. Nor the conclusion, when Ashton Kutcher comes out to say I've been punked. This may come as a surprise to you, but I am not a social butterfly.

It's not that I'm shy. I can hold my own in a conversation. But I don't initiate it. Who would want to hear what I have to say? If my life was A League of Their Own, I would be Marla Hooch. Without the slugging capability. I'm Carrie White without telekinesis. "Caddy" (it's KAY-dee!) Heron in Mean Girls, without the actress's substance abuse issues. Had Lord of the Flies been written as Lady of the Flies, I would be Piggy. I always feel like the fifth wheel, the sixth toe, the third rail. Well. Maybe not the third rail. I'm not that electrifying.

For the most part, people respond to me in a positive manner. But I'm always afraid of saying something really stupid. Not as stupid as Jerry Seinfeld and his "panties your mother laid out for you" stupid. Not even "when are you gonna breed these steers" stupid. Just mildly stupid. Where everybody stops talking and looks at me. In pin-drop silence.

When I write stupid stuff, I can go back and edit. Or maybe not, you  might be thinking. But at least I can't hear the silence. Or even worse, the gasps. See the surreptitious glances. The clandestine finger twirling near the ear.

Val is a dish best served up in the print medium.


Chickadee said...

I think it's a great idea. I would love to be a part of that meeting! And if it makes you feel better, I'm pretty goofy and say goofy things. We'd be great together ;)

Linda O'Connell said...

You'd be surprised how many of us make the same mistakes and have the same esteem issues. We are writers! Of course we prefer anonymity to speaking in person. We're writers. Join the meet and greet. You amy be surprised.

Tammy said...

Or you might just find yourself on an island with a bunch of Piggies. ;)

Sioux said...

Don't trust Tammy. Don't say I didn't warn you. She's one of those obnoxious WWWPs.

Linda is right. We write for a reason--or for several reasons. One is because we fit in better between the lines on a page than we do at a dinner party.

Stephen Hayes said...

Hey, you're Val, for goodness sakes. Buck up girl. You've got what it takes. Whenever I need to bolster my confidence before speaking to large groups I start with a poop joke. It never fails.

Val said...

Good! Somebody to take the heat off of my inappropriateness.

How about we all sit in our cars and exchange notes? But don't fold them in those little triangle shapes, because I was never cool enough to learn how to make them.

The more Piggies, the merrier! Except when my husband mistakes them for wild boars, and has them mentally caught, penned, butchered, and made into sausage...all in the time it takes me to do the shopping. But that's another story.

I think you're jealous of more than Tammy's spectacular sphincter, from which words flow like nectar. Look at that pic! Her hair is so shiny...like it was freshly washed in a school faculty bathroom sink. You know she has access. Look at her! She's mocking you! Daring you to climb back in that sink that trapped you.

Linda is always right. If I threw a dinner party, I would be Mary Richards, and Linda would be Sue Ann Nivens, surreptitiously cooking the food for me. You would be Lou Grant, taking HALF of the veal Prince Orloff, so that Tammy as Rhoda, at the little table with her date, Henry Winkler, would have to share.

Ahem. Those two paragraphs right there illustrate why I am socially unacceptable. And "surreptitious," in all its forms, is my new favorite word.

You're so sweet! I'm sure such a tactic would make me the life of any party. I feel my confidence returning. I'm fresh out of poop jokes, but here's one that might be construed as naughty:

Did you hear about the gal who had a crush on the new preacher? She chased him up and down the pews, all around the church, until she caught him by the organ.

Sioux said...

You know, I'm almost as girthy as Lou, and Linda is far more Sue Ann than one would imagine.