Look at the blog, Larry. Just look at that blog.

This is gonna be about Band-Aids. It's pretty great.

#20. Who’s the social Band-Aid man. I am. I am.

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Well, there’s a first time for everything. First time riding a bike. First time baking a souffle. First time slapping Band-Aids all over my face in a vain attempt to mine a blog entry out of my own humiliation.

And you know that last one was too weirdly specific to be anything but what I just did six minutes ago.

The plan was simple: Put Band-Aids on face. Have someone comment on my (presumably) horrible face-injuries. Rope them into a lengthy conversation about the meaning of Band-Aids as a brand and as a method of covering up face wounds. Write about it in blog.

At least I got the last one right.

Here’s how the plan actually went down. You know, in the real world. First I put Band-Aids on my face. That went ok, I guess. I mean, there were Band-Aids. On my face. It would have been really hard to screw that up. And the walk to Subway went about as well as I expected it to. A couple people gave me weird looks. One guy flat-out stared at me. That was kind of awesome. I make it into Subway. Approach the lady hiding behind her plexiglass shield of emotionlessness. I can see she’s ready to crack- ready to forgo years of carefully fine-tuned social graces and ask me what the hell happened to my face. I can feel this blog post writing itself. This is happening. She speaks:

“You gotta move to the other line, hon.”

I’d like to think the ‘hon’ was her way of softening the hypothetical blows my face had suffered. But to the next line I went. This time my sandwich-maker’s a guy. We’ll bond over the rugged masculinity of rock climbing using only your face (the reason I had concocted for my hypothetical injuries), and spend hours drinking beer, lifting weights, and grunting in approval at each other. I tell him I’d like both kinds of peppers on my sandwich. He puts some of each on.

At this point, my imaginary Ignatius Reilly bravado is failing fast. I have to act.

“So you know what’s weird?”

“What.”

“I’ve had these things on my face all day and NO ONE has asked me about ’em. Not a single person.”

“Well, I was gonna say something, but… you know. I didn’t wanna say anything.”

“It’s cool. And in all honestly, there’s nothing under these. I’m doing this for a school project.”

“Ok well if it’s for a project, that’s cool. Like if there’s a grade and all.”

“Oh there is totally a grade involved in this. Grades are the only reason I’m walking around with these things on my face… Yeah.  Ok on a scale of one to ten, how weird is it that I did this?”

“Oh there’s a grade involved, I don’t think it counts.”

“I get a free pass?”

“Yeah.”

 

So if no one really commented on my Band-Aids without me prodding them about it, are Band-Aids not the social stigma I thought they were? Or, inversely, are they not the awesome testosterone-fueled battle scar coverings I thought they were?

Maybe Band-Aids are just a normal part of social interaction. Maaaybeeee.

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Written by mandudeman

March 2, 2011 at 8:46 pm

Posted in Week 5: Social

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