Gem-chan's Embarassing Stories.
Why am I telling the "world" my horribly embarassing stories? Well, if everyone knows then my so-called friends and family can't use them to blackmail me anymore. That and they are damn funny.
Embarassing Story # 1: Good Cheese
This particular event occured in 2000, while I was a junior at Colgate University. Now, the names of the players might not mean anything to y'all out there, but in my family, these people are celebrities.
James Carville was an advisor to President Clinton and is a well-respected Democratic party pundit. He married a Republican party pundit, Mary Mataline (I don't know how to spell her name) and a movie starring...um, I think Geena Davis and Michael Keaton was made about their relationship. In a more recent note, James Carville had a bit part in the Luke Wilson flick 'Old School'.
James Carville is GOD in my house. His books are required reading. My dad and I used to watch him on Crossfire when I was younger.
So, James and his wife came to Colgate to participate in a political round-table with some Poli-Sci professors. I, of course, went. My ex-roomate and friend Betsy went with me. She had been invited to the after-event wine and cheese thing, which was invite only, and she asked me if I wanted to go along. I agreed. Her buddy on the student council said that James and his wife weren't going to go to the after event because they had a plane to catch and I was OK with that.
After a very interesting and spirited event, Betsy and I made our way to Merrill House, a small house where the professors and guests eat. It's like a very, very nice restaurant that's on campus, but the students can only eat there if a professor invites them. Anyway...
I ignore the people who are debating politics and head straight over to the cheese table. I had been subsisting on ramen for months at that point, so I was stuffing my face with cheese and crackers quite happily. Betsy sidled over to the table and told me to take it easy on the cheese, but I only grunted at her and continued going to town.
Suddenly, the room goes silent. If I had been paying attention, I might have noticed that. But I am deaf to all except the cheese's siren song. Finally, I decide that a beverage is in order, so I turn around and walk right into...James Carville.
He stares at me for a moment. I gawk at him. He kind of smiles. My mind goes blank. I am completely running on instinct.
I hold up a toothpick with a lone square of cheddar, and, in a squeaky kind of voice, I say: "Good cheese."
Good cheese. This man is one of the most brilliant political minds of his generation, my father would give a kidney to speak to him and all I can manage is: "Good cheese."
He blinks at me and raises an eyebrow. He's probably thinking something along the lines of: "How did this mental-hospital escapee get into Merril House?" and "Which authorities should I notify to have her taken away?"
But, he is a Southern gentleman, so, he reaches over, grabs a toothpick with some cheese on it, takes a bite and nods at me. "It is good."
I nod back, slack-jawed. Suddenly, my mind cranks back up. I realize what I have done and know that any attempt to save my dignity is completely beyond my means.
I could not, for instance, pretend that my cheese comment was an opening to a larger discussion on government or something:
"Cheese, Mr. Carville, could be said to represent government. As de Toqueville once said, 'A good government is like good cheese. A little bit stinky, but very good on toast.'" Nope. There was no way to save myself. So, instead, I turn bright red, close my mouth and flee into the night, Betsy cackling hysterically behind me.
Of course, I stupidly blurt the whole thing out to my dad later on and I become the butt of family jokes at every single major family holiday since then.
But, it was good cheese.
