I invented Post-Its.

Along with many other part-time 20-somethings I know, I too am holding down two jobs. One is helping me achieve my career goal and the other is totally just for extra cash. I work on the weekends as a server at a banquet/wedding hall. It’s always been pretty easy and fun work full of unemployed hilarious actors, slightly egotistical bartenders, and an insider’s cynical view on the wedding industry. I’ve seen it all: bridezillas (moms of the grooms are often worse though), drunken guests (playing skip rope with the table linens), and the definite no-nos when it comes to speech giving (keep it short, avoid generalized marriage clichés and tell funny but appropriate anecdotes). But what happened to me one night was straight out of a sitcom.

I was doing coat check, a relatively easy position for a decent pay rate, when I see someone I know from my high school enter the queue. Now, in my two years working here, I’ve only come across people I knew twice. One time was pleasant (the dude was a dj) while the other was super awkward (she was a guest). When the guest saw me, she said “so I guess teaching isn’t going so well”. Yeeeeesh lady, just take your damn Slider already.

So with that prior experience in mind when I saw someone from my high school approach the coat check, I froze. Luckily, I was not recognized. Phew. However, the next person did. Along with a slightly judgmental gaze, she goes “wait, did you go to…” Yup, I did. She then proceeded to tell me about how the event here tonight was run by another alumnus and there were a whack load of other OACs running about here tonight.

When I was in high school, I graduated in Grade 12, the first year to do so. As a result, we never got to be the top dogs in the school and had to share graduation honours with the OACs (the 13th year). While I’ve gotten older, age differences amongst friends and relationships doesn’t matter, but when I was 17? Those 18 year olds were so mature and super cool. Now, a whole bunch of them were going to be here tonight. Hindsight: Anyone who does the “milk challenge” is NOT mature nor cool, unlike my teenage self thought.

 Person by person filed through the line to drop off their black coats (seriously Toronto, does everyone here wear black?). Some recognized me and said an awkward hi, some recognized me and said nothing (but they knew! They KNEW) and others had no idea who this little girl was who politely took their coat.

tumblr_mbcnc3vQaF1rurv44I’m just gonna hide now.

Some of the discussions that took place in that coatroom and what I wished I said back to them:

  • “You’re still so tiny!” (Yes, I am. Normally people don’t grow much past the age of 16)
  • “Is this your job?” (Yes, but I have a super rich boyfriend and I just really like coats)
  • “Wait, I know you! Did we go to University together?” “Yes.  Also high school” (and we used to be facebook friends, you nitwit)

I count my stars that at least I didn’t have to serve them food and make too much small talk while handing out chicken skewers. My interactions were limited to entrances and exits. And man, after the embarrassment of the entrances, I did not look forward to the exits. Little did I know, the exits would be the best part of the night.

Everyone gets drunk at charity fundraisers. A little less than those that would at a wedding, but there are still a large amount of people who pound a few back. So when they all started wobbling back: girls taking off their shoes and slurring their words, boys trying to be sly and obnoxiously hit on me, it was amazing. Suddenly, I felt in control. I had their coats. I was all powerful.

I handed them out, thanked them for coming and tottttally judged them like they judged me. That hot football player? Kinda has a beer gut now. The cliquey girls? Pretty sure I saw one of them go outside to throw up. I most likely won’t see any of them again and those that I did see that I liked, I can always chat to them on facebook. So see ya later, people of my past, I’ll enjoy counting my tips.


Damn you, John Hughes

You know what’s a horribly awkward experience that almost every person on the planet has experienced? Unrequited love. There’s a reason there are so many country songs and movies starring Molly Ringwald that address this. I’m not writing about the kind where the dude leads you on intentionally or you’re just completely delusional about the relationship. I mean the kind where you never really knew what could or will happen. Those “in-between”, ” maybe” boys. The kind that keeps you up at night when it’s way past the honourable mention of sleep and all you can do is fantasize about the what ifs.

“What if”…. Ugh, that’s a horrible, horrible phrase. I guess it has some historical/scientific purpose or else we would probably still be sitting in our caves doodling on walls and roasting s’mores and never have gone out exploring the world…. But when it comes to late night internal debates? Brutal.
Shy wave

We’ve all done the awkward wave.

I’ve had my fair share of unrequited loves. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m chicken shit (I am) or I like the idea more than the reality (most likely) or if I just really like putting myself through the drama (my dad once bought me a mug that said “drama queen” on it). Yet, I seem to continually find myself in these situations. I like guys that aren’t living in the same province as me, the guys who are engaged to I’m sure their lovely fiancées, the dude from high school I never got to go to prom with, the list goes on! Not to worry though, 90% of the time I don’t do jack and just keep on plodding on through life while sitting miserably by my computer screen while they post happy couple pictures on Facebook.

“Well, Twitch,” you may think, “you sound kinda pathetic instead of funny and I was promised some funny blog content! Get to the good stuff.” Alright, how about the boy I’ve liked since elementary school getting married and inviting yours truly as his only childhood friend to the wedding? It’s taking all I can NOT to turn into Julia Roberts from My Best Friend’s Wedding. Or finding out that someone you liked wanted to ask you out but you thought that train had sailed so you friend zoned his butt, only to learn years later that you’re the idiot and he was going to ask you out? That time when you liked someone younger but have no idea how to broach the subject without coming across as a Ms. Robinson? What about when a guy tells you he likes you but oh wait, he jumps on a plane shortly after? (this one has actually happened more than once)

A part of me loves it: the chase, the crush, the mystery. Another part of me hates it: the uncertainty, the self-doubt, the let down. I know the obvious answer to all my unrequited love stories to slap myself and make myself more available to the “here and now guys” rather than the “hopefully later guys”. I am learning to do that. It’s scary but I’ll get there. The world is full of less complicated relationships. Yet the hopeless romantic in me is still looking for that movie ending … And hopefully its one where i don’t die tragically in his arms, ditch ducky at the dance or end up twirling around a wedding with my gay best friend. Actually, come to think of it, the last one doesn’t sound that bad.

Hold onto your butts.

I don’t really know how to properly write the first entry of this blog. I can’t just jump right into the crux of my being but also not bore the readers with minute accounts of my day to day life. I need it to be witty and retrospective enough to warrant a repeat viewing or even the illustrious honour of a bookmark or follow!

I guess as any good narrative begins, I should probably introduce myself. The name is Twitch (or Twitchyq if you will), pleasure to meet you. I’m approaching the age where I should have figured out my shit, learned how to hem my own jeans, and not dissolve into a pit of giggles every time a paint can hits Marv in Home Alone. Alas, in my 28 years on this earth, I still haven’t quite mastered those things.

Some Things I *have*mastered:

  • Daily functions (I can sort my laundry AND tie my shoes)
  • Random memorization of seemingly unimportant information (just you wait, my line-to-line recitation of The Princess Bride or various softball cheers from middle school will one day come in handy)
  • The pass code to get past the really hard lava level in Aladdin on SNES and move onto the fun genie level
  • Knowing my passions and when I’m motivated, pursuing them

Things I should probably work on:

  • Treating people like I want to be treated BUT also not getting upset when they don’t do the same (the world’s an unfair place, yo)
  • Learning that being a vegetarian doesn’t just mean “eat more potatoes and put cheese on things to make them taste better”
  • Ruining movies/TV shows/Book endings by inadvertently giving obvious hints (I.e. “Oh man, that ending! So GOOD! Pay close attention to the part where he tells him he sees DEAD people!”) Side note: I didn’t actually say that but my sister claims I do this all the time
  • Turning my negative, awkward thoughts into something a bit more productive….

… Waazah! An idea sparks during lunch with some old friends. My buddy turns to me after I regale him with one of my stories. “Man!! Twitch, you should write a blog about the awkward, yeesh-filled but not totally soul crushing things that you experience. I’d totally read that and you can use the anonymity of the Internet to be as honest as you wants” (I may have paraphrased his more succinct “you should write a blog”). Well, after many drinks and the realization that I am self-involved enough to devote a blog to my inner ramblings, here we are.

In this blog, I will take you through some of the misadventures of a 5 ft somebody. I was debating if I should go with a “20s somebody” instead of “5 ft but I figured, hey I’ve identified more with being the precocious kid in the front row of school photos long before being a 20-something. I hope to write about funny / borderline pathetic events in my life with an attempt at humour alongside them. The heavy stuff? Personal tragedies, dogs dying or the ending of Lost? That’ll be channelled elsewhere. So sit back, curl up, shavasana or whatever and enjoy the ride.

Oh, and I promise: the second, third, twentieth post… Those will be much easier to get through.  At least, for mine and the rest of the ‘net’s sanity, let’s hope so.