I went to New Orleans and all you got was this lousy realization that I am very awkward in person

Oh, you guys. That was...a whole lot of weekend. I never walk away from a party without feeling that I probably need to make amends with some people, and this one was no exception, so here we go. 

Things For Which I Am Sorry

Meaning to spend more time with you and failing. Several of you are eligible for this one.

Pulling a weird sympathetic face when you paid me a compliment as though your taste is questionable/borderline tragic. (Ironically, I was pretty comfortable with Emily's approach of directly threatening to kidnap me and carry me around in a little cage. Hey, speaking of...)

...photobombing your cute headshot while sucking down a sandwich.

Not actually sorry about this one.

Not stealing all the name tags for you as promised. Or making it home with my own. Or my lobster hat. Or my sense of dignity never mind, didn't even pack that one.

Having the same name as you and causing some blog-related confusion. Also, aaaaaalmost linking to myself there just to be a jerk.

Dragging down your 5k time by 3 minutes/mile.

Being a dud at Saturday night dinner. I was just really tired and stressed out from all the vacationing and lack of responsibilities I had endured for three solid days.

Not squeezing ooooooone more free Bloody Mary refill in there, come on Erica! Four is weak! Where was your A game?

Probably owing you cab money.

Making you eat sushi in Baton Rouge.


Not taking a video of the best street performer ever, the Transformer who ACTUALLY GOT DOWN ON THE GROUND AND DROVE AROUND LIKE A CAR. It was amazing.

Only understanding about every third word that you said, you delightful little ball of Canadian energy.

Not getting your Twitter handle until I heard you say it out loud on Friday. That one is more an apology to myself, for having to live with dumbness.

Giving you the free flashlight/compass/whistle I got when I checked into the hotel instead of a proper souvenir, sorry honey.

Sitting/staring. Prolonged exposure to big groups causes my brain to start eating itself.

Things For Which I Am Not Sorry

Coconut cake for breakfast.

Among other things.

Any of this, really.

Expressing fear that your hypothetical barefootedness would guarantee contracting a case of syphilis and learning that syphilis is easy to treat and therefore of little concern.

Discovering my ability to telepathically control the satellite radio through a small stretch of East Texas.

Knowing what I'm going to ask you guys the next time you pop up on Gchat.

Leaving my camera behind at the Friday night party and gaining some special memories/blackmail fodder.

Alligator poetry.

This guy: