A Dreadful Question

I made the biggest mistake today. I asked THE question I vowed I would never ask. No, not the, “when is the baby due?” question, I’m not that dumb. Let me explain.

I remember when I was asked for the first time. Porter and I had only been married like five seconds and we ran into someone I hadn't seen in a while.

Friend: “Hey, how was the big day?”

Me: “The best, thanks for asking.”

(But seriously, it was the best. The dance party was off the hook.)

Friend (right in front of Porter): “Soooo, how is married life?”

What kind of stupid question is that? Porter is standing right there, what am I going to say?

“OH. MY. GOSH. It is the worst thing ever. I wish every second of my life that I was single again.”

I mean really. DUMBEST QUESTION EVER. Don’t ask me it because I will no doubt give you an exaggerated answer like I have stated above (jokingly, of course).

However, I made the mistake of asking it today. It makes me sad to realize I have succumb to asking stupid questions (because there is such a thing). I know there are people whom I have never met that read this blog (queue crazy lady who writes me incredible hate mail), so let me just give you a glimpse into what my life is like.

I’m seriously so awkward when it’s silent. I panic and I hate when conversations fall into a rut, because I try to save them and it doesn’t go well.

Anyways, I stopped by Wal-Mart during my lunch break to check out their Duck Dynasty swag. (Side note: Seriously, if you aren’t watching Duck Dynasty, you are missing out on the best show on television. Even better than New Girl. Boom, I said it.)

I was just looking around because I have a younger brother who is obsessed with all things redneck. I feel bad for him because literally no one in my family is particularly passionate about hunting, fishing, etc. and poor Kirk is in love with it. His dream is to grow up, buy the state of Montana (what?), and live in the middle of nowhere so people won’t bother him. Strangest life goal, I know.

Anyways, I was walking around when I bumped into an old friend/acquaintance (I use the “/” because I totally forgot her name and I feel like you can’t call someone your “friend” if you don’t at least know their name.)

She was there with her husband, which I knew was her husband, because of their matching wedding rings…so tender. She started asking me a bunch of questions, then I asked her a couple questions, and then it got to the point where I should have said, “Well, it was good to see you again,” and then walked away.

But, of course, I’m not that graceful.

Me (standing next to life size Uncle Si cut out): “So do you like Duck Dynasty?”

“Friend”: “No way, I’m not really into trashy TV.”

Timeout: Now that I think about it, I would have never followed up with this question if she hadn’t just insulted my taste in television. I mean she didn’t know I secretly want to be a Robertson sometimes, but still.

Me (panicking because I have no idea how to follow such an insulting statement: “Oh…uhhh….well, how is married life.”

“Friend”: “Good.”

Awkward silence.

Me: “Well, that’s nice.”

Awkward silence.

I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only logical thing someone like me could do. I picked up the Uncle Si throw pillow, I looked at the girl, and said, “I actually really love this show. And you should too.”

Then I just walked away. I hate myself right now.

Until next time,

Carlie

Good Times at the Gym

Porter and I go to 24 hour fitness every morning. We see the same guy when we check in and the same girl at the front desk as we are leaving. The gentleman that sits at the front desk when we first get there always says, "Good morning, enjoy your workout!" On the other hand, the girl (who is always wearing a half smirk on her face) just stares at us uncomfortably.

Today, her stare was especially annoying. Maybe I was just grumpy from having to open all of the obnoxious snap chats Porter had sent me while I was working out with the caption, "Happy Hump Day!" (Side note: I'm probably the worst snap chatter ever. I rarely respond, and while I do find most of them to be rather pleasing, the image of Porter taking selfies at the gym weirds me out haha).

So anyways, we are leaving the gym and the girl at the front desk stares, and stares, and then stares some more. It's getting to the point where I'm about to bust a cap on her face. So, to relieve me of this anger and keep me from a future assault charge, I'm doing what brings me great pleasure and calms down...I'm going to write to her instead of slap her upside the head.

Here is my poem to the strange girl at the gym:

She is at the front entrance and greets the members walking in,
each and every morning she wears that twisted half grin.

It comes time for us to finish up and walk out the door,
I dread walking past that one girl because it has happened before.

Yes, that strange girl at the front desk will just sit there and stare,
because the site of a one-arm man with a hot wife is rather rare.

We try to stare back at her hoping one day she will quit,
but she continues staring on from her chair she does sit.

I want to ask her if her mother ever taught her about respect,
because if she doesn't stop soon, she is going to get decked.

She makes me so angry but Porter isn't even phased,
his positive attitude about this kind of stuff leaves me amazed.

So for now, I will try to ignore that infuriating girl who sits at the front,
but if she doesn't stop soon, I'm gonna get up in her face and be rather blunt.

So, there's my rant for the day. Until next time,

Carlie

(Also, there are only ten days left to contribute to our tree. That's right people, only 10. We are so close to our goal! If you are a good person who wants to help the children of Primary Children's Hopsital, and have the means, please donate here.)