Yesterday morning, I decided to sleep in a bit and let my hair go au natural without the much-needed hair straightening. When I started getting ready, I didn't recall having any client meetings or events so I decided to go light on the makeup, throw on a tee, capri jeans, some ballet flats and call it good.
Off to work I went.
When I arrived, my intern was way more dressed up than me. Immediately, I checked my calendar and realized my mistake. I had forgotten about the big Comcast client appreciation party that night. Uh-oh. We had already RSVPed so I couldn't really bow out.
I showed up at the party and it was all business suits and dresses with heels. I naively thought that I could slink into a dark corner at the bar and hang out for a bit and then sneak out before anyone noticed me. Everything was going according to plan until I remembered that Urijah Faber was going to be making an appearance at this party.
That's when I proceeded to freak out.
Let me start by saying that I don't freak out often. I'm usually cool as a cucumber in these types of situations. I've met my share of celebrities and am normally like "whatev". But I'm a huge MMA fan and an even bigger Urijah fan. He's an amazing athlete, entrepreneur and kind of a big deal here in Sacramento.
Still, I was managing to lay low until I had to open my big, fat mouth (which I still blame on the two glasses of champagne that I downed). One of the sales managers at Comcast came over to ask us if we wanted to take a picture with this SF 49er football player legend. We declined. Then I said something about Urijah...blah, blah, blah. Next thing I know, the sales manager comes back over with him so that we can take a picture.
Can you say awkward?
There I was...easily the most casual person in the place and feeling completely uncomfortable. Mostly because I looked like a hot mess but also because I have a teeny, tiny celebrity-type crush on the "California Kid" (which A is aware of and often teases me about). After attempting some sort of intelligent conversation (of which I don't remember a single word of what I said), I posed for my picture, sweating profusely and trying not to wish I could crawl under a rock and die.
If only, I had gotten out of bed an hour earlier, done myself up and donned some appropriate party attire...I would've been my confident, bubbly, normal self.
Instead I was this girl...on the day that I forgot.