Guest Post: Episode 2 Continued…The Park Situation

Guest Post: Episode 2 Continued…The Park Situation

Mel-featured-imageMel is a friend of mine who has recently moved from Seattle, Washington to Leesburg, Virginia. We’ll just call a spade a spade – she moved to the opposite side of the country. This social butterfly is finding that the east coast isn’t the same as the west coast…at least when it comes to making new friends.

She keeps trying, though.

Mel has told me her stories about attempting to make friends and it’s just not what she had anticipated. First, she went to girls night and THIS happened. She, later, talked her husband into finding people at the park. That story is HERE.

Once you’re all caught up, scroll below to see the continuation to Episode 2.

tawsha connell

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at the park

My husband met a couple at the park that I am FINALLY thinking will work out. That story HERE.

Continuation…

The husband responded.

God, I’m embarrassed to even go any further.  Seriously.

He explained that I probably wouldn’t hear back from his wife for a bit because she is swamped with two kids under the age of two.  Sure, sure (saying from Cougar Town…if you don’t watch that show then you are missing out tremendously), I totally get it – it might take her a few days to respond.  So I think to myself, perfect, I can wait a few days.

Then,  he provides me with directions to the nearest Nordstrom Rack.  Let’s just stop here so we can all feel the gut punch that I felt.  Out of the entire email all he got was ‘Gee, I’ll go ahead and get her on her way to Nordstrom.’  Seriously?  I mentioned Nordstrom in my email as a conversation starter, something funny to read, something that would maybe pull them in and give them a little snippet of my effin spectacular personality.

I think we can all agree that my email didn’t land.  How could it not land? It was PERFECT. If I would have received that same email I would have cried pure tears of joy and responded with ‘Is now too early to meet for a drink?

Whatever. I found the nearest Nordstrom and did buy myself two pairs of Havianas that I rock on a daily basis and even got some M.A.C. powder.  I may not have any friends but I REFUSE to roll around without good make up while wearing TEVAS.  YES, I was wearing TEVA flip flops for a period of several weeks because I could not find my damn Havaianas.  At least that crisis has been handled.  Anyway, moving on.

Did the wife respond?  Let me sum this shit up to you in one word: NO.

It gets better.

About a week after me sending ‘the’ email to ‘the’ couple, Chris and I were discussing the communication exchange or lack thereof and he says ‘You know what? I remembered them mentioning something about how they enjoyed spending time with their BIBLE STUDY GROUP.’  I literally looked at him, with a straight face and said ‘are you f*cking kidding me BROWN? Nice RECON!’  Here I was thinking my husband would never steer me wrong.  Yeah, I take that back.  He basically put me on a bike with no helmet covered in honey and told me to go ‘that way’ towards 20,000 feathers.  Gosh, he is so sweet.

Meanwhile, Chris is standing there laughing, and at the same time I can feel my bowels dropping because I feel sick about how much of an ass I just made out of myself.  Don’t worry, he is STILL laughing while eating something super fattening and I’m just sucking on water.  Whatever, I digress.

THEN I SEE THEM AT THE PARK.  FML.

Friday night, my daughter, Kennedy, and I head to the park because it’s balls hot and we have nothing better to do with our time since the ARMY scheduled Chris at a four day training event on Mother’s Day Weekend.  GO ARMY.  Assclowns.  Let’s set the stage.  It’s just Kennedy and I at the park.  It’s a courtyard type situation where all of the townhouses are around me and the sidewalks cover the perimeter of the park.  If you are on the sidewalk you have no choice but to see who is at the park.  You with me?

The’ couple starts walking toward the park with their stroller and two kids.  I’m thinking, ‘Oh good god and I don’t even have any booze with me!’  My heart is pounding and I’m at a loss as to WTF I would say once they get to the park. Do I act like I have no clue who they are? Do I smile and wave like an idiot? Do I ignore? Where do I put my hands?  Seriously, kill me.

No worries, they came up to the park and took a sharp left AWAY from the park and AWAY from us. Not once making eye contact or even looking in our direction.  You might be thinking ‘Well, maybe that couple doesn’t know it’s you.’  I’ll give you that BUT they know who Kennedy is.  They all just sat around and played for like an hour.  All you moms out there know that you don’t forget another kids face after you play at the park with them for an hour and talk to their parent at the same time and exchange contact information.  Right?

Needless to say I’ll be on Google finding a new park where I can drink!

Mel

Guest Post: Episode 2. A Day at the Park

Guest Post: Episode 2. A Day at the Park

Mel spent the weekend at my house here in Nashville. While she was here, she wrote Episode 2 of her ongoing saga trying to meet friends in her new city. I’ll write about our weekend that included Faith Hill, Johnny Depp’s house and Mel making ME a friend. Before all that, it’s time we released Episode 2 of Mel’s story, first.

tawsha connell

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mels-profile-pic

Girls Night Out ended and I waited to hear from one of my hopeful new friends. (To read the story, click HERE).

Nothing has happened. No new Facebook friend requests, no calls, no interest. Oh well.  I’m Mel. I fart and SO DO YOU.

I’m not giving up, yet.

My husband, Chris, is normally pretty quiet when it comes to strangers or really any talking in general.  His philosophy is ‘if you don’t have something important to say then don’t say anything’. Mine is, ‘Say whatever you want and see where the conversation leads you’.  As you can imagine, we are opposite but still fit together nicely. STOP thinking about the bedroom you PERVS.

High points: Chris took our daughter, Kennedy, to the park. I stayed home to cook dinner (a rarity). Chris came home excited saying he met a ‘super cool’ couple. The wife is from Seattle and the husband seemed really cool. They exchanged info.

OMG. OMG. OMG.  This is perfect.  Chris did the leg work for me and simply passed along the contact information for me to reach out.  DONE. I was on that shit and was so excited.  Cool couple, new to Virginia (just like us), the wife is from Seattle and they have 2 small kids.  I mean how could my husband possibly steer me in the wrong direction, RIGHT?  The next morning I got up determined to send the perfect email.  Naturally, I reach out to a few friends (not in Virginia…obvsies) and share my excitement and ask for suggestions on how to create this. perfect. email.

One of my friends wrote an entire mail suggestion:

Hi! My name is Mel Brown and you met my husband yesterday at the park – I think you guys discussed maybe meeting up sometime? Well I’m TOTALLY in. Unless, of course, you’re like uber religious or something because we don’t do too well with the thumpin crowd. Oh, and if you don’t drink. If you don’t drink sorry, but you’re totally off our radar. And if your wife is a mousey no fun no style type with a ‘wake up and brush it” hairstyle and hasn’t seen a mascara wand in years.  Maybe you could shoot me a pic of her and I’ll decide if she has any redeeming features based on physical appearance alone? If she’s the elastic waist in public type I think maybe we should stick to playdates. Wait, only if your kid isn’t a total brat. (or ugly). If he/she is a whiny boring kid who constantly has snot running down their face we’ll have to skip that too. In that case maybe you and Chris can just hang out. But be honest, if you’re stupid (and people know if they are, don’t F with me here) he’ll ditch you based on a premeditated exit strategy we concoct over dinner tonight.

Ok, gotta run, I put Kennedy was in time out so I could finish off a bottle of wine in peace and type this email.

Hope this works out buddy!

Love, Mel

I laughed my way through that entire thing. Seriously, tears and all. I loved every piece of it, but I couldn’t send it. I mean I wanted to SO BAD, but there is a small percentage of people that could handle that email and I had to give this ‘cool couple’ a chance to survive so, with careful editing, I came up with the following:

Hi there-

My husband (Chris) came home last night from the park and told me about a super cool couple he met – apparently he was talking about you and your wife. So, your wife is from Seattle?  Does she need a new friend?  We can talk about how much we miss home and how no one here has a true love for Hunter rain boots – which I think is a travesty. But that’s just me.

I hear you just had a baby a few weeks ago?  How’s the little to no sleep treating you? Is your wife excited when she can manage to sneak in a shower and a clean pair of elastic waisted pants like I was? Or is she actually able to manage getting up, showering AND makeup with 2 small kids? Either way – good for her and I wouldn’t judge either one.

We would invite you all over for dinner but we don’t have a dining room table yet since we had to do a major downsize. Sooooo…would you all like to meet at the park again sometime soon? Not sure about you but Chris and I travel to the park with our plastic tumblers about half full of our favorite booze. You too?

Let’s talk real quick about where the nearest Nordstrom’s Rack is located and where in the bloody h*ll can I get a new pair of Havaiana flip flops? Seriously, these are problems that need to be solved with the quickness.

Hope to hear from you and hopefully my dry sense of humor made you at least laugh a little bit.  Chris is the super laid back one, and me, not so much. I’m dry. I have little to no filter and I’m about as real as they come.  However, I also have an incredibly large heart, loyal to a fault and take my friendships very seriously.  The world is nothing without good friends and a few great people in your corner. 

Have a great afternoon

Melinda – but my friends call me Mel (no I am not a dude…just have a dude name…THANKS MOM!)

Within 48 minute-ish, I received a response from the husband. It’s not what I had expected…

Mel

Guest Post: Episode 1. Just a Fart in the Wind

Guest Post: Episode 1. Just a Fart in the Wind

Part of knowing me is knowing my friends. They make me who I am and are the recipients of my crap on a daily basis. Mel is the recipient of ALL my crap. I met Mel (Melinda to those who don’t know better) almost 10 years ago. I was invited to take a boot camp class. Mel was the first person to say “hi” to me but just kept staring. What was she looking for? She wanted to know if I was going to barf during that class. Um…yep. Pretty much wanted to. Her staring posed a competition. It was me vs. my gag reflex. I could do this. No barf for me.

Point is: Mel is one of the best people I know. Since I moved from Seattle to Nashville, I’ve been in search of someone like Mel. What I’m learning is that this girl is one-of-a-kind. I’ll keep her forever. Mel just moved from Seattle and she has been sharing the most hilarious stories with me. I asked her if she’d write about it.

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mels-profile-picI recently moved across the damn country.  Why you ask?  Oh cause the husband got a job close to D.C. so we packed up our world and headed east.  We went from Seattle to Leesburg, Virginia.  No, not West Virginia – I didn’t marry my brother, and I don’t drive to work on a combine.  Northern Virginia, or as the locals call it ‘NOVA’ – super close to D.C.  Ask me if I’ve actually driven into D.C. since I moved here two months ago and I’d tell you NO.  Not because I don’t like the town but because I’m still trying to get used to this little town called Leesburg.  Look it up…it’s cute.

However, the one thing it’s lacking is friends for Mel. Before I moved here, I was worried I wouldn’t find anyone to hang out with. Thankfully I had ONE, count that…ONE friend on the east coast, and I adore her, but I want to add to my circle.  I need a posse to call my own. A little something about me – this bitch is social.  I’m not sure when it happened – I don’t remember being super social when I was younger, but I guess I probably was.  I mean it doesn’t happen overnight, so clearly I’ve been this way for a long time and never even realized it.

So anyway, I’m gonna blow through some small details to get to the goods, and the point of this post.

I moved here. My hair was in need of some love. I searched Yelp. Found a cute place. Made an appointment. Got to chatting during the appointment, and was invited out that weekend for drinks at a local bar.  YES! I’m making progress quickly, and this whole making friends thing won’t be that hard.  Um, yeah…ok…just keep reading…it gets so much better.

So I call my one friend, V,  and invited her to come with me.  Another thing about me – I normally like to travel in groups of two or more. Showing up alone gives me the armpit sweats and an awkward smile, so I try to avoid it or I end up looking like I’m constipated with a sweat gland issue.  Anyway, we meet at a place that looks good for dinner.  Um, mind you we are both new to the area and don’t really get out of our yoga pants often, so we stepped it up a notch – our pants had buttons. GASP, I know.  The place I picked looked nice enough.  I walk in before V got there and realized it’s for the older crowd, like the crowd where the men wear some type of Dockers at all times and the women are in Estee Lauder….you know the type,  and don’t act like you don’t.  Oh well, we are here and we are gonna eat. Food was delish, wine was even better, and the older guy on the piano signing and playing about 10 feet from us was a great add.  V and I wondered who invited Elton John.  Pretty sure it looked like she and I were on a date.  Whatever, she’s hot so I’m okay with it.

Next, we meet up with the new crowd at a sports bar.

A. V and I are over dressed

B. We’re both super nervous to walk into a bar where we know NO ONE.

We get in there, find my new friends, and sit down and get to chatting.  Things were going great. Everyone was super nice.  Some older, some younger, some married, some not.  Group seemed cool. Some time later the surroundings got quiet and I was just talking to two of the girls. One girl had just had a bunch of botox done to her face, so I was getting her to make different faces. When her face didn’t move even one millimeter I thought it was funny and would laugh.  I have a super loud laugh at times.  It pretty much scares small children and it’s a lot to take in all at once.  Sometimes I laugh so hard I go silent, then end up gasping for air.  A real hot effin’ mess. Whatever, I own it.  So here is what happened next:

Me: “Ok, so try to scrunch your nose and wrinkle your eyebrows like this” (insert me making a weird face)

Botox: “Ok” (insert her trying and nothing happening)

Me: (laughing so hard I farted)

Yup, you heard that sh*t right.  I. LAUGHED. SO. HARD. I. FARTED

Here’s the kicker – it’s not like my tummy was upset and I was holding it in. I had NO CLUE it was even on the horizon.  Was it loud, you ask? And I would respond with ‘UM, YES!’ Now here is where the details get hazy.  I remember hearing it, and thinking ‘OHMYEFFINGOD did that seriously just happen?’, then turning my head super fast to the left and catching myself because what I was doing was looking BEHIND me.  Nothing gives you away faster than to TURN AROUND to see what just happened.  I’ll tell you what happened – YOU FARTED, BITCH.  Nice work.

See, if I was at home with all of my old friends, they would just say ‘Nice work Mel’ and we would move on like nothing happened. No. Big. Deal. However, when you BLOW ASS in public in front of people you have literally known for about 27 minutes – yeah, it makes an impact. FML.

So how does one recover?  Yeah, not sure.  Thankfully it was odorless, and thankfully the bar started to get loud again and we kinda moved on to a different topic, all the while I’m saying in my head ‘I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.’  The night goes on and it’s totally fine on the surface, but you KNOW they heard it, and you KNOW they are dying to talk about it. I’m officially ‘the new girl who farts’. YAY.

Favorite part?  When I get home I tell my husband the story and he laughs and says, ‘Yeah, they will be talking about you at the salon tomorrow!’  So sweet.  But dude, he’s right.

You may be wondering if anyone from that group has called to invite me to another place to drop ass?  I’ll keep you in suspense until my next post.  Gotta keep you bastards wanting more!

Love,

Mel