Wednesday, May 21, 2014

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 50: Unglued, Part the First

"You have to hear this one Patton Oswalt bit," Aaron* said, grinning excitedly from across our cubicle. "It's hilarious!  He's talking about a girl he slept with and going to get the morning after pill..."

Aaron and I have shared cube space almost the entirety of his seven months at our company.  In that time, we've become fast friends, bonding over our love of standup comedy and just generally ridiculing the ridiculous.  He's a standup guy (pun intended): ambitious, witty, enthusiastic, encouraging, deep-voiced and football-player-muscled.  All in all, a classic hero.  He even rescued me during Raleigh's horrendous Snowmaggedon a few months earlier by driving me home in his huge SUV. I owe him several home-cooked meals at this point.

"I was thinking about it last night; you have to listen to it!" he continued. I raised my eyebrows.  He was already giggling.

"No, no, seriously!  I know it sounds bad, but it's so funny. He's telling this story, right, and then this guy in the crowd heckles him, and he just GOES OFF on him.  Oh my god, it's amazing.  He just YELLS at him for like ten straight minutes.  He's like, 'YOU DOUCHENOZZLE!'...wait, I can't do it, I'm gonna ruin it.  You just have to hear it...oh my god..."

He put his head down on the desk, shoulders shaking. His mirth was contagious; I couldn't help but grin too. 

A few hours later, we were headed to the Durham Bulls Ballpark.  Our company had paid for us all to go to a game as a team-building exercise, providing food and a half day to sit in the sun.  Since we live close to each other and have to drive the same way going home, Aaron and I carpooled in my Focus.  I plugged my iPhone in and turned to Patton Oswalt station on Pandora, and wouldn't you know it, right as we approached the exit, the very bit he was talking about came on.  He's right - it's hilarious.  Soon we were both helpless with laughter, and the traffic jam we got stuck in coming off the exit didn't seem nearly as bad.

The ballpark was packed yesterday, almost unbelievably so.  We spent an hour circling the area around it, trying in vain to get into several parking decks only to be told they were full up as we approached in a long line of equally frustrated drivers.  At long last, we found a parking deck four blocks away from the ballpark with some open spaces.

Now, here's the thing: I'm 4'10". My shoe closet is full of 4-inch heels. 

I've run down Broadway in stiletto mary-janes. I've clipped along Oxford Street in heeled boots. But yesterday, as I was hiking the four blocks from the parking deck toward the ballpark with Aaron, the heel on my 4" cork wedge sandal ripped in half.

We made it there, but unbeknownst to me, the front part of my shoe was hanging on by a thread - literally.  Many flights of stairs, bleachers, and a long saunter (well, toddle, on my part) around the arena looking at souvenirs didn't help.  By the end of the afternoon, I collapsed at a nearby picnic table with my coworkers/girlfriends, my left sandal holding itself together for dear life.

And that was only the beginning.

*Not his real name.  It rhymes, though.

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