..you can't take phone calls you're not prepared for...

Being an awkward penguin and generally avoiding human interaction/awkwardness, I hate talking on the phone. For me, it's just so awkward that it makes talking in person not so bad. 

I tend to get so nervous that I mumble and talk in a monotone voice, and it's just awkward and painful for everyone involved. 

Since phone calls are so mentally taxing for me,I don't pick up my phone the first time someone calls unless it's a relative or close friend. I just can't do it. I'm not mentally and emotionally prepared. 

I have to take a few minutes to gather myself and prepare topics of conversation before I call the other person back. I also have to take a few extra minutes so that person would think I was actually doing something important that prevented me from taking the call the first time rather than know what I was really doing, trying to calm myself down and reign in the awkwardness before calling back. 

I shouldn't be allowed to use communication devices. 

...no one hears you in a conversation...

This is an awkward faux pas that always makes me want to crawl under a rock. 

I'm in college, so I hang out in big groups a lot. And lots of times, we all end up talking at each other at the same time, so no one listens to what anyone else says. 

For some reason, I usually pick this time to try to jump into the conversation, and it never works out well for me. 

I'll start saying something, and whoever I'm talking to will switch his attention to someone else while I'm still in the middle of my story. 

It takes me by surprise whenever it happens. I mean, how do you react to that? I never know what to do, so I usually end my sentence with, "...and then I saw a pink elephant," and put my head down and pray that no one else saw. 

One good thing that comes out of this is that it has made me sensitive to other people who are experiencing this. So now I try to pay it forward. When I'm in large groups of people and I see it happening to someone else, I always let them know that I'm listening to their story even if no one else is. 

I just wish someone else would do the same for me...

...someone's in your way at the store...

I never really know how to act in public, which makes shopping fairly unpleasant. 

I'm the type of person who likes to run into a store with a list of things that I need so I can quickly grab them and then leave. The goal is to have as little human interaction as possible to prevent my inner penguin from bringing the awkward to the party. 

So when I'm in a store and on a mission, I get thrown off my guard when I go down an aisle to grab something from my list, and there's someone standing there, staring at the products and waiting for divine inspiration in her decision making. 

It slows me down quite a bit because I have to stand there and pretend to browse when I really have my eye on my item and all I want in the world is to grab it and run away, but I can't because I'm too awkward. So I stand there and impatiently wait for the other person to finally pick something and leave, but I still can't grab my item yet. That would signal that my browsing had been fake, which the other person already knew, but I still refuse to prove it by making my move as soon as she starts to leave. So I wait a little longer for the other person to go completely out of sight before I finally grab my treasure and awkwardly run away. 

I blame the stores for not posting signs saying, "No awkward penguins allowed."

...you avoid looking at the money inside your birthday card...

As we all know, I'm an awkward person. So naturally, I hate being the center of attention. This makes my birthdays almost seem like torture. Don't get me wrong, I love being with my family and getting presents. I just really dislike having the focus of the party on me. 

 I never know what to do when everyone sings happy birthday to me. I hate looking around and making awkward eye contact with everyone while they're singing at me, and I can't sing along since it's my birthday. So, I usually end up awkwardly staring at the cake and looking up every few seconds while trying to smile and nod my head to the song. 

My favorite part of getting cards from my grandma and great grandma at my birthday is getting money inside. You know, aside from the sweet and thoughtful notes written inside. However, it's also really awkward because then I have to open it, read the card and pretend I'm not peeking to see how much the check is for. 

I'm not sure why birthdays are on my mind since mine is still a few months away, but those are my thoughts on birthday awkwardness. 

Stay awkward, my fellow penguins. 

...your friends make plans in front of you and don't invite you...

This is probably one of my least favorite awkward situations to deal with. It's not only awkward, it's kind of an ouch moment too.

Let's say I'm sitting with Suzie and Jane at lunch. We're chatting, laughing and having an all around good time. It's a great moment, and I'm feeling nice and popular. 

Suddenly, Suzie and Jane start talking about their other friend Darlene:

Suzie: "Oh my gosh, I love Darlene!"

Jane: "I know! I haven't seen her in forever!"

Me: "Oh yeah! I met Darlene the other night when we all went to dinner. She's really nice! I like her a lot!"

Jane: "Yeah, she's a sweetheart."

Suzie: "We should hang out with her again this weekend!"

I suddenly get excited as I sniff an opportunity to try to be social.

Jane: "That's a great idea! Let's go to Sally Tomatoes on Main Street!"

Suzie: "Cool beans! Who all should we invite?"

Please pick me please pick me please pick me

Jane: "Aw we haven't seen Darlene in forever. Let's just keep it with the three of us. It'll be a fun reunion!"

Me trying to be nice and hide my disappointment and shame: "...That sounds fun! Have a good time, guys!"

....

Cool, guys. Guess I'm chopped liver. 

...you're too afraid to be the first to turn in your test...

I think I can safely say that I've never been the first person to turn in a test. 

I honestly think I experience more anxiety from turning in my tests than I do from actually taking them. 

I'm a pretty fast test taker. I don't rush through them, but for some reason, I usually finish before everyone else. Then I sit there and nervously look around before deciding to act like I haven't finished yet.

So I sit there for several more minutes and erase the smudges on the answer sheet and double check to make sure I didn't accidentally spell my name wrong. 

I could do something more productive like double check my answers, but I have learned that that's actually a terrible thing to do. 

Several times, I've followed my usual pattern and finished my test first and then decided to double check my answers. Well, this is never a good idea because when I go back over my answers, I always second guess myself and then go into panic mode while deciding which answer is correct. This usually takes a while, so I go from being the first done to actually being the last because I've spend so much time agonizing over my second guesses. 

So I've learned the hard way that it's actually better to awkwardly sit there and erase the smudges while waiting for someone else to be the brave person to stand up first to turn in the test. 

Once that's finally happened, I still have to wait a while because I know that if I get up right after the other person, then everyone would know that I was purposely waiting for someone else to get up first. They would know that I'm an awkward penguin. 

Now, I know that it's probably blatantly obvious to everyone given my awkward demeanor, but I still like to believe that I can somewhat hide my inner awkward penguin. I try to keep that cat in the bag. 

...you can't even brush your teeth without being awkward...

I live in a college dorm with lots of other girls. I'm an awkward person. This is a problem. 

I've never thought of the bathroom as an appropriate place for social interactions, but apparently, in college dorm life, it is. It's a watering hole. See what I did there?

Anyways, I hate going to the bathroom. I hate it. 

I'm the type of person who likes to go in, brush my teeth, wash my face, take care of business, and get out. No conversations necessary. 

But, I live in a dorm where unfortunately, most of the time, the bathroom is the only place where you interact with the people you live with. 

Don't get me wrong - I'm a nice person. I like to say hi to people and smile and for them to do the same to me. But I just find it so awkward to walk in and make eye contact with someone, smile and exchange a few pleasantries when we both know why I'm there. 

Sometimes, I just feel like I should say something honest like, "Oh hey....just going to, you know....poop....Ok bye."

Now that I finally gained the courage to use the p-word, let's talk about that for a little bit. 

There is another awkward situation that I deal with on a regular basis and fervently pray that others do as well in order to make me less of a weirdo. 

I engage in what I call poop-offs. 

Please tell me you've done this before. It's where you're in the bathroom, you know, taking care of business, when someone else comes in and does the same thing a few stalls down. We stay there for a few minutes, doing, you know..., when I'm finally done and it's time to leave. 

Except I can't. And here's why:

Neither of us has seen the other person's face, and I intend to keep it that way. I prefer to keep our connection on an emotional level. We have bonded through a common experience of answering nature's call. But by all means, I do not want the other girl to see me or know who I am. 

So I sit there and wait, praying that the other girl will finish and leave soon so I can finally come out of hiding in the stall and crawl back to my room with my tail awkwardly tucked between my legs. 

And I wait. And I wait. And then I wait some more until I finally give up and finally emerge from the stall and try to wash my hands and leave as quickly as possible before my new buddy comes out to find me. 

And it never works. She always comes out just in time for us to make awkward eye contact and have a moment of mental "Oh, it's you," clarity before we both drop our heads in shame and scurry off on our merrily awkward separate ways. 

Speaking of poop (*gasp* I said it again!), if you haven't watched this video yet, do it now. It's pretty neat. 

And speaking of being pretty neat, watch this video, too. 

It has nothing to do with anything. It's just pretty, you know, neat. 

...you're innocent but accused of a crime...

I am terrified of these scanners. Terrified.

This is not an irrational fear. It stems from a scarring event.

I was about 13 or 14 when all of my cousins turned emo, so in order to fit in, I myself went through a very awkward emo wannabe phase. To be fair, this was my only defense, especially since my emo cousins invented a game they liked to call "Kick the Prep." And I was the prep.

Anyway, that's a tragic story for another day. So, since I was going through my wannabe phase, I would often frequent Hot Topic with my cousin and peruse the aisles of "The Nightmare Before Christmas" paraphernalia  dark band T-shirts with terrifying graphics, and highlighter colored eye liner.

Of course, Hot Topic had one of the scanners of doom.

So one day, after spending an hour circling the store and trying but failing to convince myself that I liked the junk they were selling, my cousin and I decided to leave the store.

However, as I was merrily making my way out, the scanner had a panic attack and made a sound that would only be appropriate for the Fort Knox alarm system.

The cashier went into Barney Fife mode and yelled at me to wait so he could come search my bag. At this point, things happened in slow motion for me. As I watched in horror as the stern cashier marched over to me, I imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios in my head, including one about me going to jail because I had accidentally dropped something in my purse or put something in there after forgetting to put it back on the shelf.

Anyway, after the cashier thoroughly searched my purse and all personal possessions and I talked him out of frisking me and searching the soles of my shoes, it turned out I was innocent and the scanners had made a mistake.

I hate those stupid scanners.

So naturally, my normal reaction to leaving stores has changed to this.

Of course, I also always check my own bag before I leave the store on the off chance that my inner awkward penguin is also a kleptomaniac. 

...when you become a prisoner in your own house...

Yeah, I've done this many times. For some reason, whenever people set foot in my neighborhood, their aggressive inner tiger comes out, and my house is always the target. 

People knock on our door all the time and for so many different reasons. Some people want permission to let their dogs poop in our yard. Sometimes a political campaign volunteer will ask for permission to put their candidate's sign in our yard. Sometimes the next door neighbor just wants to chat. Lots of people, like boy scouts, girl scouts, and sports teams, want to sell us stuff.

Either way, I am an awkward penguin, and I am socially awkward. My mom always taught me, "It's your house. Answering the door is an option."

I have taken this to heart, but I execute it a little differently. I don't see myself as queen of the house who can boldly choose not to open the door. Oh no, I am a cowardly prisoner who goes to great lengths to go unnoticed. 

I turn the lights off. I pull ninja moves to cross a window without being seen. Several times, I've even hidden in a closet and waited for several minutes for the aggressive intruder to go away. 

Yep, I'm that awkward. I'm not even brave enough to answer the door and politely tell people I'm not interested in whatever they're selling. 

...you think Christine is real life...

Have you ever seen this movie?

Maybe I've seen it too many times, or maybe I have a very overactive imagination. Either way, I'm pretty sure that the storyline is true and that some cars are out to kill people - me, specifically. 

I've had so many moments where I've been walking through the different parking lots around campus and I've kept a suspicious eye on cars that could spontaneously come to life and run me down. 

This has been highly inconvenient since it forces me to walk in areas that would generally be safer, like in between parked cars and behind fences and dumpsters, places where I would be less likely to get hit. Oh, and higher ground. I always look for higher ground. 

Yes, logically, I know it's not really going to happen. But my irrational inner voice is always screaming fun things at me like: "RUN!" "Oh my gosh look at that car. That looks pretty suspicious.." and "Hurry hurry hurry, that car's totally coming for you."

Yes, I know. I am not only an awkward penguin, but an awkward and irrational penguin. 

...you agonize over an embarrassing situation years later.

Uhh make that 15 years later...

I have a very embarrassing memory from my childhood that I still agonize over and stop and shudder when I think about it. 

The awfully awkward moment took place when I was probably five or six years old. My father was the coach of the high school football team, and I went to a lot of the practices with him to serve as the water girl and stare at all the cute players. 

One day after practices, I was playing around on the bleachers, running up and down. Well, what do I do best as an awkward penguin? Fall. 

I tripped and smacked my bottom on the bleachers. It was great timing, too. Right after practice had ended when all the players were walking by on their way to the locker room. 

I may have been a five, but I had pride and a heart full of five-year-old love for my boys, so my ego definitely took a hit along with my rear end. 

Of course, the player to come over and see if I was ok was the one I had been fantasizing about marriage with. Ok, I know I was five and he was 18, but I was willing to deal with the age gap if he was. I figured when he is 100 and I'm 87, who'd notice the age difference?

Anyways, he jogged over in all his beautifully sculpted glory, flipped his hair, flashed a perfect pearly smile and asked if I was ok. 

I will never stop wanting to force myself to step on a lego for the answer that I gave him. I still wince just thinking about it. 

"I'm fine. I meant to do that."

...your mother raises you to have insane road rage

I don't know if anyone out there has road rage as badly as I do. I mean, it's bad. 

And there's nothing I hate more than a traffic jam. Except for cooked spinach. Raw spinach is great, but cooked spinach is of the bowels of the devil. 

Anyways...I wish I could come up with creative ways to avoid traffic like these clever Russians, but I'm a broke college student. So I'm forced to stick to flashing my pinky at people. I've always felt that middle fingers are overrated and, let's face it, just plain mean. There's something about throwing a pinky that makes me feel like I've found a classier way to satisfy my inner Irish temper. I mean, I have very little Irish in me, but still...

Anyways, I'm an aggressive driver. I hate when the people in front of me go under the speed limit or even the exact speed limit, so I'm a little bit of a bumper driver. Yes, I'm one of those people. 

So one day I was in traffic, and the guy in front of me was slowly crawling along. This made me angry. After my tangent was done, I noticed his bumper sticker.

Touche, slowpoke. Touche. 

Anyways, I was thinking about it, and one day, I realized - it's my mother's fault. 

I know, I know. People have spent decades paying therapists thousands of dollars to be able to blame their parents, but it's true! 

When I was little, my mom used to get annoyed with the people in front of her, so she taught me a game that she used to make herself feel better. She would pretend that our car was a German tank and the buttons on the radio could fire different weapons like rockets, flame throwers and a good old machine gun. 

Whenever she would get mad at the person ahead of us, she would whip out her fake German accent and yell, "Aha! You haf messed viss ze wrong person! Vee vill get you!" and then proceed to punch the buttons and fire imaginary bombs at them. 

She even taught me all of the buttons and which one went with which weapon and let me take turns firing at the cars ahead of us. And she even passed on the bad German accent. 

Do you see now? My road rage is not my fault! Now, my mom doesn't get quite as...worked up as I do, but still. She planted the seed. 

I'm a really nice person, I promise. But sometimes the crouching tiger escapes from the inner awkward penguin.