Right now, I am a stay at home mom so I don’t get out much. I like staying home and not getting out and getting ready, and out of the house, and in and out of the car, and shopping or doing anything with a baby is a lot of work. My husband says I need to get out more but that’s how people get kidnapped, murdered and other bad things. There are entire shows on tv about all that bad stuff, I’d like to not be on one of those shows.

This week I didn’t get out. What I did decide to do is call someone to interact, I was going to call them anyway. The nervousness is still completely there even though I don’t have to be face to face. I know what you’re thinking, I chickened out. Ok, I won’t do this again, I will actually do it face to face next time.

I needed to call the gas company to check on our bill, that’s my next target, small talk with the local small town stranger who works at the company answering phones in the billing department. Just a little background, I am not from this town, I do not socialize and I don’t know many people around here so chances are that I would know the person who talks to me is slim to none.

Here’s how the call went: I gave Liz my info and while she was looking it up I decide on an ice breaker. I heard this ice breaker years ago from an old co-worker and he was a funny guy and everyone liked him, if I can pull it off it will help things go more smoothly. I say, ‘what are you wearing, Liz?’ not in a creepy way, just like ‘how’s the weather?’ kind of way. Liz says, ‘I’m sorry, what did you say? Did you ask what I’m wearing?’ I hear the disgust in her voice and I panic, I thought it would be safe, we are two girls and I didn’t sound like a pervert. I try to recover, ‘Well, you know I just got these leggings and they are so comfortable. I was wondering if you have a dress code because I know sitting in a chair in dress clothes for eight hours is no fun.’ I think it’s going better but when I’m nervous I can’t stop rambling and then I say, ‘and I remember when I wore slacks I had to wear a thong so I wouldn’t have panty lines. Nobody likes a thong, that fabric going up your butt, so uncomfortable.’ I wanted to die inside after I let all that slip out and I felt bad for Liz. And I think she felt bad for herself too. She said, ‘Are you asking me what kind of underwear I’m wearing?’

I have to think fast, ‘Liz, are you there? Liz, I can’t hear you, I’ll have to call back, my cell reception is bad.’ What is wrong with me, asking what she’s wearing and talking about thongs. But thongs are really uncomfortable. I’m looking for another gas company in the area and maybe I should stay away from ice breakers.

Please Invade My Privacy! And maybe you won’t have to hear about my underwear.