Now We're Cooking With AWKWARD

Last Thursday John and I went to a cooking class here in Orlando. We were split into teams of four, assigned a kitchen station, handed a pack of recipes, and unleashed. It was actually kind of fun, considering I hate to cook and was really just there for John's moral support.

(Me: "What's this, you like to cook now? HERE LET ME BUY YOU EVERY COOKING UTENSIL EVER AND SIGN YOU UP FOR CLASSES AND SING SONGS OF YOUR PRAISES JUST PLEASE NEVER STOP COOKING EVER. Also, could we have scratch-made Mulligatawny soup tomorrow night? With fresh bread? KTHXBAI.")

Ahem.

Before our teams were set loose in the class, though, we had the dreaded "everyone go around and say your name and what you do" with the big group. And wouldn't you know it, John was first.

He later claimed he was caught off guard with no time to prepare, since usually he just points at me and says, "I work for her." Flustered by the sudden spotlight of attention, though, John instead blurted, "Hi, I'm John, and I'm a blogger."

[wincing] Oooh. Rookie mistake, John.

This immediately intrigued the instructor - a spry 74-year-old - and for the next few moments we (oh yes, I got roped in, too - THANKS BABE) had to stumble through the usual incredulous Q&A in front of a small crowd of mostly disinterested strangers.

"Well, the main one's about cake, but we don't make cakes. We, uh, make fun of bad cakes - but only bad ones! - and not in a mean way, just a funny way?" [pained smiles] "Yes, it's our real job. No, we're not homeless. Surprisingly, quite a few people DO visit the site. Yes, every day. How many people? Uh..."

Did I mention no one else had introduced themselves yet? And that this was literally our first impression on 20 complete strangers?

John and I don't break the ice so much as bellyflop on to it awkwardly, knock the wind out of ourselves, and then worm-crawl away while waving off offers of assistance like, "no no, it's all good, WE DO THIS ALL THE TIME."

After our painfulness ended, the rest of the group zipped through their intros in about 10 seconds flat, no follow-up questions needed. Of course.

Apparently John and I are so rusty at meeting non-internet people that we've pretty much forgotten how. I'm extra spoiled by you readers; with you I get to meet "new" people who already know me well enough to not be unduly alarmed when I get a little fan-screechy about my Harry Potter Christmas decorations (which happened later), and when I talk about my costumes (which also happened later), you know I (probably) don't mean in a weird sex way. Plus I think there's extra grace given with us geeky internet types: we know to give each other a lot of leeway, awkwardness-wise, and that's a lovely way to live.

I bet there's a life lesson in there somewhere.

Anyhoo, in the meantime: if you notice any strangers in the comments talking about "is this the girl who burned the leeks and who doesn't make cakes but still has a job with them somehow," pay them no mind.

That was totally somebody else.