Wardrobe Malfunction

This month I set a little challenge for myself: I want to run one mile every day for 30 days.  I'm currently on Day 6, still on track. This might be a dubious goal, however.  It only takes 10 minutes to run a mile.  It takes me longer in general to change into my gym clothes.  10 minutes of exercise is not really a thing anyway.  I will proudly boast to the doctor the next time I get a physical, "Well, I always get in my daily 10 minutes of cardio." I need to bump this up to 2 miles to get anything out of it probably, but as it stands, I like my little goal because it's easily achievable.  So this morning before work, I finished my mile at the Clarendon gym and I looked in my bag to grab my work clothes after I took a shower.  I pulled out the shirt, the shoes and then a sickening realization washed over me.  The pants.  Dear God, where are the pants?  No pants!!! I stood frozen, contemplating my next move.  How could I forget this?  I saw only two options:

1. Ride the metro back home, get the pants and ride back to work for a round trip of 1.5 to 2 hours.  And call my boss and explain why I was late to work because I forgot my pants.  
2. Make do with the swishy gym pants.  Just go with it and pray no one notices until the shops open at 10 a.m. and you can buy another pair of pants.

Dear reader, what would you do when faced with such an impossible choice?  I texted Joe frantically and tried to call my mom for advice.  Joe wrote back,"O.M.G.  That is one of the reasons I always fail to work out before work.  I'm terrified I'd forget socks.  But pants is worse."

Much worse!

Daredevil that I am, I went with option 2, the nice sweater combined with gym pants and sneakers.  I decided the heels would make the whole thing even more ridiculous.  I darted off the elevator to my desk, pants swish swish swishing as I went.

No meetings on the Outlook calendar, phew.  I pushed my chair up as close to the desk as possible, but I thought maybe I should tell my immediate coworkers just to cut the awkwardness off at the pass.  "Peter, I don't have any pants!" I exclaimed.

Wait.  That came out all wrong.

Luckily, the stars aligned and I stayed in my chair till 9:55 a.m., then snuck out to Ann Taylor Loft and was the first person inside when they opened the doors.  I flagged down the salesperson for help.  Here was a guaranteed sale for her.

I tried on one pair of plain black pants from the sale rack and bought them, wearing them out of the store.  And here's where my luck turned around.  Guess how much they were?

$5!

Yes, really.  That fact redeemed my day entirely.  Good ol' Ann Taylor Loft!  Can I be featured in a commercial to tell my dramatic and uplifting tale?

DDR

This past weekend, I went to the NBC4 Health and Fitness Expo for this article.  Tons of people and exhibitors, and in our travels, we walked by the Dance Dance Revolution booth.  "Look at that," said Tony the photographer.  "Oh, DDR?" I said.

He didn't recognize the acronym.  I thought that was just common knowledge.  Joe and our friend Alex C. didn't know what DDR was either when I was recounting this story.  I continued calling it that, despite their protestations, because I am just too cool for school.

I suggested that Tony take my picture while I tried my hand at DDR, but just as a joke.  Well, he took me seriously.  I tried to demur, by saying that I am really terrible at this game.  No, really.  Really.

I ended up trying it, in front of a long line of DDR-crazed tweens.  The results were not pretty.

I have a very "Durrrr" expression on my face.  And my feet are barely moving.

OK, one foot got off the floor in this photo.

So the whole 40 seconds I played, I don't think I even hit the foot pad successfully once.  I am a horrible dancer, and seem to be incapable of getting my brain to direct my feet to move in a timely manner.  The screen kept saying "boo, boo" and I'm sure the tweens watching were about to start yelling that as well.

I slunk away and Tony said, "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you were terrible, huh?"

Nope.

"Maybe if you practice all year, really work at it, you can come back next year and show them."

File Under: Other People Can Hear You

During my commute to work on Tuesday, I passed a middle-aged man in a suit walking down the sidewalk in downtown D.C., singing in a stage whisper along with his iPod. Singing, mind you, not humming. I got close enough to hear a bar or two, and guess what was he singing?"Your sex is on fiiiiiiire."

Tell Me If You Think This is Funny

Before we went out on New Year's Eve, we went to a nice restaurant for a prix fixe three course menu. Although I've been to many a fancy dinner, I never feel at ease. With my klutziness, I know that disaster lurks at every turn.

So we sit down for dinner, and it's just as New York chi chi as I envisioned. I had my slightly trashy dress on with Snookie-style hair poof and I tried to talk myself down as I perused the menu. "Ok, Adele, you're doing fine, just don't screw this up now," I thought.

It was decided that we would have cocktails, and I just glanced at the menu. "I would like the Stigmata," I told the waiter.

"The cocktail is called the Stigma," he said.

Oh no, I just ordered up the crucifixion wounds of Jesus Christ.Now you've done it!The more I thought about this, I could not compose myself. Debie and I kept laughing, probably making a scene.

When the waiter came back with my drink, he set it down and said - with a completely deadpan expression - "Here's your cocktail. Hammer and nails are in the back room."

Novelty Keychain

At work, we have to carry our keys around in order to get into the bathrooms in the hall and back into the office. Last Friday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk when I heard our secretary say over the loudspeaker:

"Attention, staff. Lost keys have been found in the kitchen."

I immediately realized that the keys were mine. But the loudspeaker announcement kept going.

"The keys have a keychain that reads - If you don't..."

Time stopped. "Oh, no," I thought. "She wouldn't."

But she did! The secretary proceeded to read the rest of my novelty keychain OVER THE LOUDSPEAKER TO THE ENTIRE OFFICE.

I ran to the front desk to try to make her stop, but it was too late. Why do I even keep that thing on there?

So Hot We'll Melt Your Popsicle

Before we went out on Halloween, I went over to a friend's apartment for a little party. We were playing a card game with a rule that if you drew a certain card, you had to stand up in front of everyone and sing a song, and everyone would sing along with you.I drew that unfortunate card. So I took a deep breath, stood up, and sang:"California girls/ They're unforgettable/ Daisy dukes/ Bikinis on top"And waited for others to join in. But the whole group just stared at me, unblinking."You guys don't know that song?"

Everyone in the room shook their head, no.

"Really," I said. "'California Girls.' You don't know 'California Girls?' The song that plays on the radio every one and half minutes? Since spring 2010?"

*Silence*

Maybe I should've sung "Teenage Dream" instead.