I'd rather strip in front of people than talk to them

I say a lot of stupid shit. If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you probably already know this, but I have a bad habit of saying things that people should only think – or maybe I shouldn’t even think most of this stuff at all.

Back in college, my interview stories were notorious.

• I once told an interviewer I wanted to lay down on his desk and unbutton my skirt. I meant that I was completely full from our lunch, but it didn’t really come across that way. (If you read my book, I modified that particular story and included it.)

• I was asked to explain the biggest difference between small-town Kentucky and Cleveland. I answered it was all the colored people. Seriously. I think I left him speechless. Then I went on to explain that I didn’t mean it as a derogatory statement, but growing up my friends were not diverse. It wasn’t until college that I branched out and met people from different cultures. In the end, I actually got my highest-salary job offer from him.

• At a large, well-known company in Atlanta, I accidentally called the matching employees lemmings. The guy who was interviewing me matched them as well.

Yet somehow I graduated with six job offers. People either get me or they don’t. Luckily, most of the engineering interviewers seem to be as socially inept as I am and impossible to offend.

Fast-forward to now. In real life, I monitor my words closely. My husband works in a hospital where political correctness is key. I try to stay far, far away from anyone who affects his job for fear I’ll say the wrong thing and we won’t be able to eat next week.

At our first hospital social function, to my husband’s great dismay, I told his boss that my husband must have him snowed because he can’t even run the laundry machine at home. Cut me some slack; I was nervous. I said the first thing that came to mind. That was six years ago. I haven’t been to another work-related social gathering since.

This morning, my husband informed me that we’re going to his department Christmas party tomorrow night. This will be the first time I’ve been unleashed on the people who sustain my lifestyle in years. I’m terrified because polite conversation is my downfall. I'd be more comfortable stripping in front of these people than I will be trying to talk to them. I’m considering pretending I have laryngitis so I can silently hang on my husband’s arm and make apologetic glances.

What do I talk about? I’m not scared of much, but tomorrow night terrifies me. I don’t want to disappoint my husband, but embarrassment is the only probable outcome from this little experiment. If we’re lucky, he’ll still be employed and the only damage will be the walk of shame he has to do into work on Monday. Being married to me, he’s already pretty good at that one.