Yesterday morning, I logged onto Facebook and saw I had twenty-two notifications. My first thought (before opening them) was, “Holy cow, people love me!” Then when I opened the notifications, I saw that 21 of these people had “commented on a video of you”. My heart stopped. What? When did I make a video? What had I done? ZOMG!
I winced and clicked on the link. Please, don’t let someone have discovered my secret identity as an exotic dancer (exotic because I have moves that’d make anyone look twice…from disbelief that I’d actually dance in public).
The video came up. I held my breath. I swear I’ll never ever pretend I’m driving on the Autobahn again. *peeks through her eyes* Phew. I was tagged in a video (book trailer for Tonya Kappes’ novel) which was excellent, by the way. Can’t wait to interview you for the blog! But the fear that someone had a video of me and posted it on the interwebz stuck. And because I like to ponder, I have to wonder if I have a guilty conscience, or if I’m just paranoid.
Let’s look at the facts: I don’t party anymore, but there have been a couple of times when I got a little tipsy and danced. No, I didn’t take off my clothes or anything, but I really, really don’t want someone to have a video of me doing my version of dancing. I mean, I know I can’t dance worth a damn, which is why I generally wait to do it when I’ve had a few drinks in me. Regardless of my claims to the contrary, the only people who will want to watch me dance are those who want to piss themselves laughing. Paranoia, check.
Fact: I am a goober. Yes, yes, when I was in college I didn’t party for the first few years. I was a band nerd. After practice, I was too tired to go dancing. So what did my friends and I do for fun? We’d head to the 24-hour grocery store, browse the aisle and act like asses. Case in point, the day we decided to have a heel-clicking contest. I lost. Okay, I can’t click my heels. Happy now? My feet got tangled up together and I fell in the cookie display. I’m sure there’s a security tape out there somewhere with this mishap playing in slow-mo. Paranoia, plain and simple.
Okay, so the more I think about this, the more I realize that I’m just paranoid. I can’t think of anything I’ve done that I’d have to be guilty about…unless someone got a video of me ogling men, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of…is it?
My other thought, was that someone (because this was under my pseudonym) got a video of me doing something stupid at Nationals. What comes to mind? Me running into a glass wall at the hotel. I didn’t like…run smack into it. It was part of the revolving doors and I thought we’d reached the lobby when I started to step forward only to meet the wall. Sayde Grace had a good laugh at that, but that’s not too bad, right? Or maybe someone had a camera on during the man-eating deer workshop and they panned on my face when I realized Bambi is a killer. Still not too bad.
Phew, I’m so glad I got this off my chest. I’m paranoid, y’all. How about you?