Category Archives: Awkwardness

20 I Should Have Knowns

I met Paul on February first.  One hundred days later he was down on one knee and opening a little black box.

Moral of the story: a lot can happen in 100 days.

But before I tell the story of that 100 days, you need to know the back story.  To truly appreciate God’s timing and plan, you need to know that I was 31 when I met Paul and I had never had an official boyfriend before him.  Paul was my first kiss.  And that wasn’t because I had “kissed dating goodbye” or was saving my first kiss for the man I knew I would marry.  It just worked out that way.  And I’m so glad it did.

You also need to know that before I met Paul, I went on a lot of first dates.  But not a lot of second dates.

In fact, in March I wrote an e-mail to my friend Cindy who was collecting “should have knowns.”  She wrote a book about Christian dating and on her blog she compiled a list of red flags that signal the point when we SHOULD HAVE KNOWN things were definitely not going to work out.  Here’s the list I sent her:

20 I should’ve knowns
I should have known when…
1- he tripped me and smashed my face in the mud. #ithoughtitwashilariousatthetime
2- he told me his New Year’s Resolution was to do more yoga.  When I asked why, he replied, “To be honest, it’s to pick up on girls.”  #ew #thiswasafterhetoldmehewasarocketscientist #apparentlytalkingtogirlsisharderthanrocketscience
3- his first question to me was, “Okay, I have to know- Chevy or Ford?” #idriveatoyota
4- he told me he doesn’t like going to baseball games because he doesn’t like big crowds. #weirdphobias
5- he showed up carrying a machete. #actuallyithoughtthatwaskindacool
6- I found his blog where he wrote about proposing to his friend even though they never had dated. #shesaidno #sodidi
7-  he told me about his addiction to dip. #ithoughthewastalkingaboutchips
8-  he assured me he had no children…or grandchildren. #doesthatreallyneedtobeclarified
9- he had shoulder-length silver hair and fought in the Gulf War. #howolddoyouthinkiam
10- I asked him what he did for fun in college and he said, “I don’t know.  I ate a lot.” #fatkidproblems
11-  he looked like an Abercrombie model. #prettyboysoftenhavezeropersonality
12- he was a real life model who just moved out of his girlfriend’s house. #atleastigotapizookieoutofthedate
13- he talked about himself more than I talk about historical fiction novels. #thatmeansalot
14- he thought it was strange that my whole family gets together for dinner during the week and plays kickball in the front yard. #thehardemansweretoocoolforhim
15- I ate way more of the dessert than he did. #inhisdefenseidoeatanabsurdamount
16- he would only hang out with me after midnight when no one was around. #mycollegeroommateshatedhim
17- he would karate chop my throat as part of a “game” we would play. #throatpunchingisneverokay #myroommateshatedhimtoo
18- he made a joke about my acne. #imtheonlyonewhocanjokeaboutmyzits
19- he talked a lot about Nascar. #fellasleepwithmyeyesopen
20-  he was 47.  I know it’s my lucky number and I know age is just a number but when you’re 19 years younger than a black man named Stacey who works as a janitor in Comptom and is a foot shorter than you, you can use the age thing as an excuse not to go on a second date. #wehadsoupatcocos #imwaytooniceduringthemeetngreetatchurch
By the time Paul came around in February, I was truly beginning doubt if there were any good ones left.  Waiting for him to arrive was hard.  But good.  Stay tuned for the next post in which I’ll write about the waiting.

Looking Awesome #jumpingfails

Have you ever thought about the pictures that never make it onto Facebook or Instagram?  You know, the pictures that never get taken or are so horribly ugly that they would NEVER be posted.  It seems we use the Internet only to broadcast our cool or funny or beautiful moments.  But the awkward, the disappointing and the embarrassing- those moments are rarely captured on film and if they are, they are usually quickly deleted.

But what if they weren’t?

What if we took pictures of our failures and let the whole world see how pathetic we can be at times? Continue reading

Katie Confessions # 4

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written any confessions on here.  That’s partly because I haven’t had time to write anything and partly because I found out several parents of my students read this lil’ blog, and I don’t want to get fired.  Kidding.  Sort of.  Hi, parents:)

Since it’s been a while, I’ve been doing, saying, and thinking lots of confession-worthy things.  I’ll just share a few and separate them by categories. Continue reading

Reasons I Love to Teach (#4)

No Fart Goes Unnoticed

In the adult world you can often get away with passing gas at work without fear of judgement or ridicule.  Other adults will silently endure your SBD’s.  They might want to gag and plug their noses; their instinct might be to cough and to cringe.

But they won’t.

They will sit in your cloud of stank and not utter a single complaint because that’s what adults are supposed to do. Some won’t even giggle if what you thought was going to be an SBD, turns out to be a not-so-silent-but-still-quite-deadly butt-hole emission.  (Because as my dad says, “When you get older, you can never trust a fart.)

I bet politicians and big-wig businessmen can get away with ripping a rapid fire of terrible toots without anyone even raising an eyebrow.

Adults are condemned to silently suffer when others emit pungent odors reminiscent of rotten eggs and sewage.  Age has taught us that is proper and polite to simply ignore the fact that a colleague has released odors so strong and so sour that one must breathe through their mouth to prevent fainting.  Social protocol is clear when it comes to farts in the workplace: “That fart never happened.”

But this is not the case in schools.

It’s quite the opposite really.

The great thing about farts in the classroom is that they don’t discriminate.  Farts don’t care if you’re male or female, a freshman or a senior, a jock or a band geek.  Farts are universal.  They can strike at any moment and plague both the tall and the small, the  rich and the poor, the popular and the socially awkward.  No one is safe when it comes to a surprise gas attack.

And when the attack happens in a high school, if just one little pop slips out or one simple waft of a future poop is released into the air,  it WILL be noticed.

There will be snickering.

There will be comments.

There might be students pretending to pass out.

And if the victim is a girl trying her hardest not to be noticed, she might be traumatized.

I would venture to say that at least 60 % of teenage girls would say their most embarrassing moment of high school was caused by a fart.

Because when you fart in a high school classroom, there is no social protocol.  And teenagers can be ruthless.

Just yesterday I had to pretend to rearrange the books in the back of the classroom so students wouldn’t notice my laughter after witnessing the after-effects of a deadly bottom blast.  The class was quizzing their partner on vocabulary words, and I noticed one boy with his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose.  His parter had his head in his arm.  Both boys were shaking from laughter.

Then I noticed the boys directly in front of them.  One was gagging.  With one hand he plugged his nose, while he used the other hand to wave away the invisible anal vapors.

The poor tooter was grinning and turning bright red, but there was nothing I could do to save him.

You can’t order teenagers not to laugh at a fart.

You just can’t.

And you’re asking for a mean case of the giggles to break out if you call any attention to the brown cloud.

As an adult, I know that I can’t laugh and point like all the others.  It is my duty as a teacher to change the subject and capture the class’ attention so they will forget about the flatulence and the poor fellow who released it.  But this is one of the hardest parts of my job.

Because when I hear or smell a fart, I am DYING inside.

And I love that high schoolers haven’t yet learned that you’re supposed to ignore the stank and the squeakers.  I love when I catch them exchanging silent glances across the aisle, saying with their eyes and a quick sniff, “Do you SMELL that?!”

You may think me rude for deriving such pleasure from these moments that must be sheer torture for some kids.  But students aren’t the only ones afflicted by attacks.  Teachers, on occasion, also have to squeeze our cheeks to hold one in.  And every once in awhile, we too lose control and let out a butt burp.

However, we are not trapped in our desks like the poor kiddos.

A friend and former flight attendant, who often suffered from the alti-tooties, taught me the beauty of crop-dusting an aisle.  It was one of the most valuable lessons I learned as a new teacher. Feel the sphincter’s song about to be sung?

No worries.

Simply walk up and down the aisles at a brisk pace leaving the students to bask in your fart cloud and wonder which classmate had done it.  All the while, they’ll remain completely oblivious to the pungent party in your pants.  This method has been tried and tested.  It works like a charm.

Sure, it’s probably pretty immature of me to enjoy others’ farts as much as I do.

And yeah, as a 30 year old, it’s a bit ridiculous how funny farts still are to me.

But with a sense of humor like mine, farts in the classroom are ALWAYS a highlight.

 Fellow teachers, have you found this to be true in your classrooms?  Non-teachers, do you silently suffer through others’ silent-but-deadlies?  Or perhaps you farted in class years ago and still haven’t forgotten about it, do us a favor and share your story here.    

Sunday Morning Confessions 23

I’m not Catholic but on Sundays, I make confessions.  Instead of telling them to a priest, I tell them to you, the internet world.  I try to post these in the morning, but let’s be honest, they typically get posted on Sunday night or Monday morning.  The best part about these confessions is when you make them too, so don’t be bashful and add your own confession in the comments.


1.  I was busted picking a wedgie during class.  When my undies bunch, my go-to maneuver is to hang out in the back of the classroom while my students work on something independently.  I also use this strategy when I need to pick my nose.  I suppose I could try Kevin Jame’s move as seen IN THIS AWESOME CLIP(begins at minute 7:50), but I prefer to hide in the back of the room so I can really “go for it” and quickly and efficiently dislodge the offending garment.  However, this week, a freshman boy had a pertinent question at the wrong moment.  He turned around and made eye contact with me right as I was mid-pick.  I’m not sure who felt more awkward at that moment, but he chose not to ask his question.

This awful moment reminded me of that moment when you walk in on someone in the bathroom.  Eye contact at that moment is thee absolute worst.  I so dread that moment that in my dreams a few nights ago, I got in a car accident and when the police showed up, I was in the bathroom and the officer walked in on me while I was mid-wipe.  Talk about a nightmare.  I don’t dream about vampires or chainsaw murderers; no, my nightmares involve painfully awkward moments.

2.  I eat A LOT of cereal.  Need proof?  My roommates and I have a shelf just for cereal.  All but two of these boxes are mine.

Until college, I honestly didn’t know that people my age ate “non-sugar” cereals.  Why would anyone ever choose Special K when they could have Cinnamon Toast Crunch?

Another cereal confession:  I wish there was a meat-flavored cereal.  Does this sound good to anyone else?  For instance, tonight I had Cheerios for dinner.  It was delicious but I thought, “Man, this would be even better if the Cheerios were steak-flavored.”  I don’t know, guys.  I think this could be my million dollar idea. Continue reading

Sunday Morning Confessions 18

1.  Sometimes I look like a bum in public.  Right now is one of those times.  It’s Friday night.  Others are out at the movies and parties and football games.  Me?  I’m at Panera with wet hair, mascara-smudged eyes, and sweatpants that have cat hair and peanut butter on them.  In my defense, introverts can only take so much “socializing” so by Friday night, I’m typically beat and in some major need of some “bum” time.

Okay, so it’s not just Fridays.  It was also on Wednesday this week.  After a long day of acting like a grown-up, nothing sounds better than lounging in a pair of sweats and eating a bowl of Luckies. Continue reading

Wedding Awkwardness

If you came here yesterday looking for the post I promised, I apologize.  I’d like to say something came up and I made some sweet summer plans, but really my book just got good and I wasn’t in the writing mood.  See, sometimes my personality disappears and I can’t write.  Well, I can write but it is boring drivel.  So I waited until my personality turned back on to write this.

There are a number of certainties that will happen when I attend a wedding.

* I will certainly get lost driving there and will most likely be late if I’m not in the wedding.

* I will certainly get teary-eyed at some point during the ceremony.  (Okay, if you were at my sister’s wedding you know sometimes I full on sob.)

* I will certainly peek during prayer to find fellow prayer-peekers and see who else is taking tissue out of their bra to wipe their eyes. Continue reading

Hot Yoga

My sisters and I have taken up yoga. Hot yoga, that is. The room is heated to 104 degrees which I love although sometimes I feel like I’m going to pass out. That’s what exercise should feel like, yeah?
It is relaxing and excruciating and fabulous all at once. It forces you to focus and balance and sweat your brains out. But I think the hardest part for me is to hold in the giggles. Because, people, there are some strange birds in yoga classes.

Should you ever decide to try hot yoga, and I highly recommend you do, there are a few characters I must warn you about. I’m assuming these characters show up at all hot yoga studios throughout the nation and you need to be warned that they will be there and they will make you giggle.

Booger rules

I had the top bunk my freshman year of college which was fabulous but made some things difficult. Namely- getting into and out of bed. I had to climb on my desk, get a tight grip on the headboard, take a deep breathe, and swing my leg up while hoisting my whole body up and over. It was a process. I tell you this so you won’t judge me as harshly when you read this next part.
So there we were, a few weeks into school. I had bonded with my roommates and the girls in my hall- so much so that about 5 of them joined me on my bed to watch a movie. Then my roommate Jenny looked up.
“Oh my gosh, Katie. Are those boogers on the ceiling?”
There was no way out. I could think of no lie.
So I blushed, I laughed, and then I came clean.
“Yes. Yes they are. But in my defense, it’s too much of a hassle to climb down and get a tissue late at night and I can’t fall asleep with boogers in my nose.” Continue reading