Shit's Gonna Get Weird or Your Money Back

Albert Camus once said, “Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.” While that may be the case for many, some of us, apparently, use all of our energy to do the opposite. We all have that friend: the one you keep checking at company functions to see if they’ve told a child molestation joke to the boss or who stare like a serial killer when they meet people. In my circle, I’m that friend. I like to think of them as my “idiosyncrasies,” though let’s be honest, it’s more of an amalgamation of my own personal social deficiencies.

I’ve realized I have a small window where I can feign normalcy and pass as sociable and interesting. Once that time has passed, though, it’s just a series of What the fuck? and face palming. At this point, I’m getting ready to turn 30, so I’ve been living with my awkward tendencies long enough that I’ve basically stopped trying to correct them and simply embrace the weird. 

Here’s when I get my most fabulously awkward:

1.     Not knowing my audience.

“What’s black and blue and doesn’t like to have sex? The 8 year-old in the trunk of my car,” said me to my old CCO when he asked to hear a joke. Any comedian can tell you knowing your audience is key. For me, I seem to take it as a personal challenge. Add the fact that my sense of humor is offensive, strange and borderline creepy and you’ve got a winner at the office party! A few years ago I walked up to a group of producers I worked with who also happened to be some of the most buttoned-up, conservative people in the department. I gifted them with this gem:

Me:      Knock, knock.

Them: Who’s th—

Me: CUUUUUUUUUUUUUNT!

Cue the uncomfortable silence and staring as I look around the group with a big smile, waiting to high five for my brilliance. Then they walked away. Nailed it!

2.     When I’m writing.

Every writer seems to have a method that works well for them. Drinking, people watching, crying, whatever. For me, I tend to talk to myself. A lot. From my perspective, I’m thinking scenes out in my head then saying them out loud to hear if they actually work. Sometimes midway through a scene. And I get into it. I’ll act that shit out like I’m Sutton Foster and Tony nominations are coming. From an outsiders perspective, though, it looks something like this:

Blankly stare out window. Furiously write something in notebook. Blankly stare again. Start laughing.

Me: -- because the spirit of God is speaking through his butt mouth.

Look back down and write again. Stare blankly at table.

Sorry guy-who-just-wanted-to-drink-his-Latte-next-to-me-in-silence. 

3.     When I have a crush

If I’m talking to my friends, I have no self-consciousness about the things that come out of my mouth, because they’ve put up with my shenanigans thus far, so no worries, right? When I develop feelings for someone, though, I am incapable of being cool until I feel totally comfortable. I suffer from a sort of mental incapacitation resulting in both bouts of silence and strange outbursts. And as we’ve learned from Robert Downey Jr, you never want to go full retard. My comprehension of the English language diminishes to mumblings, childish jokes and weird unsolicited comments on random objects. I was listening to someone I had a crush on tell a story and when there was a pause in the conversation, I pointed at his shoes and said, “Those are shiny.” Nailed it, again!

4.     Talking to acquaintances.

When it comes to meeting people, I’m a champ. They haven’t had months or years to realize how ridiculous I actually am yet. I can ask them questions about themselves and play the getting to know you game and everyone feels fuzzy. When I’m stuck around people I only kind of know, though, I’m a disaster. I’m that person who will hit the close button on the elevator to avoid any form of small talk. I’m terrible at it. The simplest questions, such as, “How was your weekend,” cause me to draw a blank, as if the entire time I wasn’t at work I didn’t exist in anything but a metaphysical state. I don’t want to over share with them, but I don’t want them to think I’m some recluse who does taxidermy for funsies, either. So I make shit up, because I honestly can’t even remember my own life when put on the spot. What’d you do? “I saved a bag of puppies from a dragon and then recorded my first rap album in a gym locker room. And because I know you're wondering, I named the Dragon Ralph. You?” End of conversation forever and ever.

5.     When someone is having a severe emotional crisis.

Let’s just say, there’s a reason I’m a writer. In person, I’m nowhere near as smooth and intelligent as I pretend to be through the magic of the written word. I can make a point, I don’t stutter or laugh at inappropriate moments; I'm a regular human being. That’s why via text, I can give thoughtful advice, because I'm able to think before I speak and neither of us are plagued by my strange facial expressions. In person, though, I’m the worst. I try so hard, but I’m an Irish Atheist with Jewish relatives who was raised Mormon, so our dealings with feelings and such tend to be pushed into tiny boxes that we can crush down until they burst out at a more appropriate time. Like a baptism. I spent so much of my youth putting on a shiny, plastic smile (because it’s what the church teaches you to do), that when someone exposes a very vulnerable side and starts crying, I tend to do a lot of staring and nodding. Though, this makes me appear to be the best listener on the planet, on the inside I'm just trying to figure out when the appropriate time to make a taco would be.