I lied to you guys.  Okay, I didn’t so much lie as I omitted part of the story.  But a lie by omission is just as bad as a flat out lie, or at least that’s what I tell my husband every time I discover he had Taco Bell for lunch and didn’t tell me about it. (Here’s a tip my dear:  Hide the receipt.)

As you faithful readers know, I recently discovered I went all day wearing a necklace with the price tag on it.  I’m obviously awesome.  It was super embarrassing, but considering I do embarrassing things like that all the time, honestly, it wasn’t even much of  a blip on my radar.

Considering my “radar” is comprised of this blog and my poor memory of events that’s clouded by liquor, I would say my radar is probably faulty too.

Either way, I told you about how inadvertently leaving the price tag on my necklace made an amazing impression on a new employee in one of our other offices. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, shame on you.  Catch up on the blog and come back to me.  Seriously.  I will wait.)

Although what I told you was (sadly) true, I didn’t tell you the second part of the story; the part that happened about 20 minutes after the price tag debacle of ’12.  Yes my friends, there is more embarrassment.  You’re welcome.

After removing the price tag from my necklace (and removing “call doctor about mysterious rash on neck” from my to-do list), my coworkers and I realized it was time to cut our happy hour short and head out to the restaurant to meet our clients.  I caressed my beer one last time, telling him I was sorry to see him go.  However, since I recycled him, I hoped to see him soon…preferably filled with more cold beer.

We headed to my car, as I was the designated driver.  (I know, right?  Imagine the group I was with if I was the most responsible one with liquor.)  Because I’m super important, my car is always filled with random things.  From an extra pair of Spanx to Ziploc bags of protein shake powder, there’s always a wide variety of items shoved into my car…typically on the floorboards in the backseat.  That day was no different.

I walked to my car (his name is Deiter), put my purse down, and began rearranging things to ensure my coworkers had a place to sit (and that they didn’t see what size the Spanx on my floor were).  It took a few moments to clean out the backseat, as I have an entire animal rescue kit in my car.  No joke.  I do.  If I see an injured or lost animal, Deiter and I are fully equipped to rescue him.  Tell your friends.

I finally made a space for my coworkers, got in, and revved up Deiter for the drive.  I pulled out of the parking space and decided to drive to the back of the hotel to exit to the highway.  Part of me knew it would be easier to get to the road from there, and part of me wanted one last glimpse at my iced cold beer in the recycling bin.

As I drove through the parking lot, two women in a vehicle going the opposite way began waving at me furiously.  I recently had a run in with a misinterpretation of hand gestures while driving, so I wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions about the meaning of the waves.  Naturally, I assumed they recognized me as a celebrity blog writer.

I nodded my head in acknowledgment but they continued to wave and yell.  What was wrong with these women?  They obviously were an obsessed group of fans. Suddenly I knew what Rhianna felt like (only without all the domestic abuse).  I was glad I was safe with Dieter.

Then I heard yelling from the other side of the car.  My coworkers and I looked over and saw an extremely attractive man walking towards us, pointing and saying something.  Did I really have that big of a following?  How did all these people know I was the voice behind the blog?

Naturally, I ignored the women and brought my attention to the dream boat who was trying to catch my eye.  Just as I was getting a pen to give my autograph, I heard what he was yelling.  No, it wasn’t that I looked amazing, although my outfit looked much better without the price-tagged necklace.  Rather, he pointed to the top of my car.

I brought Deiter to a halt and got out to make sure I could understand what he was saying (and to check out his butt in his form-fitting khakis).

Your purse is on top of your car,” he said, pointing.

Seriously?!  Did I really just drive away with my purse on top of my car?  Surely not.  I looked and sure enough, there was my Nine West purse, holding steady on top of Deiter.  (Yeah, you read that right.  It’s a Nine West purse.  Be jealous.  I’m a high roller when it comes to purses.)

I sheepishly grabbed my purse and got back inside quickly.  Of course, there was no way to disguise yet another embarrassing occurrence from my coworkers, who were still calling me “Blue Light Special” from the price tag incident from fifteen minutes prior to the purse crisis.  So instead of being embarrassed about it, I embraced it and laughed about it.

I’m pretty sure the new guy thinks I’m a total idiot, and he’s probably not wrong.  But at least I set the bar low for myself, so when I do or say something brilliant, he will be mesmerized even more.

Such a happy ending to yet another embarrassing moment.

One Thought on “Even more lasting impressions


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