Invisalign: Exposed

Saturday night girls’ din! Hashtag yay! Hashtag reunion! Hashtag OMG!

These things normally go smoothly, with plenty of pictorial evidence to back all claims of yummy food, lots of laughs, and everlasting BFF love.

Normally, I don’t have Invisalign.

I recently made the bold economic move to realign my previously aligned bottom teeth. (Who wears retainers in college?) (Hashtag monetary fail.) (Hashtag I’m done hashtagging. Promise.)

I’ve only had these sheer trays of straightness for about 3 weeks, but I’ve sort of adopted a dignity-rule: If I know I will be eating out with friends, I leave my Invisalign at home.

The problems start when there are multiple events slash locations stacked in a single evening.  I lose focus. I forget about this foreign plastic object adhered to my lower row of chompers.

When this happens, it’s generally okay. (I’m saying this after less than a month of treatment, btw.) I wait until a moment of intense conversation to bow my head and awkwardly pop the sucker out and slip it into a napkin, delicately sliding said napkin next to my purse for safe keeping.

Saturday night, I did this.  All night long, a crumpled napkin sat next to my clutch, carefully disguising my dental apparatus. Not one of my tablemates was any the wiser.

As dishes were cleared and credit cards lay flung atop each other in the black envelope-y thing, I decided to run to the restroom. 

Less than 5 minutes later, I returned to the table.

Something was awry.

My napkin. My napkin had disappeared.

…

F*ck.

…

Whatever peak my cool factor had almost theoretically reached during the course of the evening, plummeted immediately to dorkdom, as I hailed the closest busboy and filled him in on the…situation.

He informed our server, and soon enough, 4 members of Eveleigh’s overly gracious staff had flashlights out, checking the ground, as others searched through the napkins in the kitchen.

I am never getting invited back.

As I began to fear the worst, our server reappeared, extending my teeth-mold on a napkin, albeit, with a caveat: “Don’t put this anywhere near your mouth until it receives some intense sanitation.” (More gist. Less verbatim.)

Apparently, someone had decided to toss the contents of the napkin into the trash can.  It was on the top of the pile, they assured me, but still definitely lay within the confines of disgustingness.

I have to look really pretty the next time I go back there.

That probably shouldn’t be for awhile.

Hibernation Inspiration

ithinkironyisSOfunny and I decided to go to The Den on Sunset last night to grab a couple drinks and a bite to eat. A nice mellow, casual place for a girl-talk-catch-up-sesh.

Enter Keith. Name has been changed to protect the ego of the offender.

Keith was our waiter. Keith decided to sit down at our table with us.

Ok. First of all, I sort of have this thing about personal space, where I cherish it and do not appreciate when its existence is completely and totally disregarded.  Initially, his awkward level of immediate comfort  was fascinating enough to render it amusing.  I was even willing to crack a smile at his layman banter about the three of us dating. (What? I had just moved back to LA at the time.  I was both hard up for humor and hesitant to turn my back on any potential neighborhood-bar-friendship. Momentarily.)

5 minutes later, he was still sitting there, my cracked smile had realigned into polite, obscured annoyance and ithinkironyisSOfunny and I made unobscured eye contact of the whenishegoingtogetupandtakeourorder variety. 

The answer was not any time soon. Keith launched into a less than scintillating autobiography.  I half-listened, awestruck at his inability to discern that ithinkironyisSOfunnyand I possess individually supreme senses of narcissism and were apathetic about both his career choice (actor) and training center (Beverly Hills Playhouse).

At the end of his diatribe, he stared at me, expectantly. Oh, right.  This is where I respond with signs of interest.

"Ooh."

"What does ‘ooh’ mean?"

"It means I’ve never heard of that and know nothing about it, but I’m not judging you."

…  

Things started off well.

We finally coerced Keith into taking our order and leaving our general area for a peaceful moment. Our catch-up convo took a turn for the serious, when guess who socially-ineptly chose to slide right back into our booth.

Pregnant pause. Awkward expressions clearly broadcasting the silent version of dude-are-you-serious.

Ignored. Keith was back and ready to chat.  This time about the relationship he and I were allegedly about to begin.

Deep breath. Where the F is our food?

Oh. There it is. Being brought out to us by the chef. It had apparently been sitting there for awhile, dropping drastically in temperature. We sent Keith away to procure us some utensils.

He came back with more than silverware.

"Are you a famous actress and should I not be hitting on you right now?"

"Is that a two-part question?"

We then learned that he once told Jon Hamm he should be an actor because he was such a charming man.

…

Swoon?

Somehow, we got him to leave again and picked up our heart-to-heart chat-sesh, ignorantly believing we would finally be granted a little bestie alone time. When Keith sauntered over again, he was a man with a purpose. 

"You guys should come to our karaoke night." Turns to face me. "Actually, you and I should go to karaoke somewhere else. When I’m not working."

*crickets*

Now, I love the sh*t out of karaoke, but even my microphone mania has its limits.

"Your boyfriend would probably be upset."

I nod.

"You have a boyfriend?"

I nod. “He’s mildly protective.”

…

Attempt at humor. Awkward linger. Uncomfortable shifting.

…

…

…

Eyes down. Pay bill. Exit Quickly.