adventures in awkward

Over the weekend I was accosted by a surly unibrowed woman in Target over a Tickle Me Elmo.  It was like being transported back to the time when Backstreet Boys ruled the airwaves and having big hair was actually fashionable rather than just being a surefire way to pick out the Carol of the group. (You know Carol. She’s the annoying one everyone invites to be nice, but no one really likes her.) Poor Carol. Poor poor Carol.

There I was mid sentence, explaining to my 11-year-old niece how Elmo drove people batshit crazy in the 90s, and this woman walks up. She was mad that I clicked the ‘try it now’ button which sent Elmo into a roaring laughter. (Which, I have to say, is really goddamn obnoxious to be honest. He sounds like a monkey getting his rectum finger popped. Not that I’ve ever heard that – just assuming.) She pointed her finger in my face and told me that I was the sole reason her migraine was getting worse, and that I was too old to be playing with toys and being loud in public…… What?

This woman left her house on a Saturday, went to one of the busiest stores in town to walk her grumpy ass through the kid’s section full of toys…  all while she apparently had an excruciating migraine. Yet it’s my fault her migraine is getting worse.  Do people not have common sense anymore? Has fast food caused people brains to shrivel up to the size of a raisin? What is going on in this world?

PS – I’m 100% the Carol of my group. Don’t feel bad, fellow weirdos and awkward folk. You’re in good company.

 

adventures in awkward

Random-As-Shit Thoughts On A Tuesday

1. I’ve wandered off the plank and I’m drowning deep in what has to be the worst bout of writer’s block imaginable. It’s rough down here. I’m trying to tread water but my head’s been under so long I’m at the point where I’ve turned into a catatonic vegetable without a functioning brain anymore.  And not a good one like a cucumber either, more like a lone asparagus stalk that’s sole purpose is to make your pee smell like sulfuric death. (Am I the only that one that’s completely repulsed by asparagus? Yuck.) Anyways, I want to be here. I miss you guys. I feel like I’ve made a lot of friends on here and I’ve been cheating on you with my  real life, which… let’s be honest… is far less fun and interesting. I’ve made a schedule for myself and plan to be here daily to post or read your guy’s posts. It will take me forever to catch up, but it starts today. What have you done to get over writer’s block? Or do you just gorge on a sleeve of Oreos dipped in peanut butter until it goes away?

2. I’m hoping none of you guys were affected by Harvey or Irma. My brother and his girlfriend live in Fort Lauderdale, Fl, so we had some unexpected guests here for about a week. It’s always fun having people stay at your house unexpectedly, not knowing when they’ll be able to leave, while simultaneously eating all of the food in your kitchen. Let me tell you, nothing tips the depression scale more than waking up to enjoy your favorite coffee only to find out your guests have killed the last of your sugar-free creamer. The horror! The madness! You can’t mess with people’s coffee. This is America, god damn it! Really, though… I would have let them stay for however long they needed. I hope if any of your had to evacuate, you had a safe place to go. I’m over hurricane season.

3. I have a random question to ask you guys. I asked Alex this a few nights ago and I’ve asked a few other people since then just to see what their answers would be. We are approaching Halloween, so it’s a fitting question.

– If you died today and could choose one person to haunt for the rest of their life, who would it be and why? (It has to be someone you’ve met in real life, I know the majority of you want to haunt Trump. Also, it doesn’t have to be a scary haunting like you’re Pennywise or something, you could just be a ghost that is annoying as hell.)

adventures in awkward

Am I the only one that gets seriously annoyed when they are corrected by random people online? I’m talking about the grammar police in all their unholy glory. Here in the “blogiverse,” (that word chaps my ass a little) it seems like everyone and their mother has an English degree and likes to shove it in the face of unsuspecting writers when they spot a mistake. What’s with that? Don’t you guys have something better to do with your time? Why leave a random comment that has nothing to do with a blog post solely to correct someone you don’t know? Am I missing something here?

smellycolons

Usually the amazing lessons from the self-appointed grammar police begin like:

“I think you meant to say…”
“Not to be rude, but…”
“My mom thinks I’m special and smart, it would be a shame not to share my knowledge…”
“I won my 8th grade spelling bee, so I’ve got the credentials to correct you…”
“I don’t get enough attention in real life, so I feel the need to make strangers feel belittled.”

News flash: nobody likes a know-it-all. You guys really are the bursting ass pimples of the internet.

/end rant.

seizuresalad

Also, I get annoyed by terrible spelling too, so I’m not completely exempt in all of this. It’s the people that go out of their way to correct it is what drives me nuts. It always seems like people do it just to pat themselves on the back for being smart.

adventures in awkward

There was a time I used to crank out posts every other day, but now I’m only managing one a week. Brain? Hello? Are you in there? Your presence is requested on the poop deck. Need all hands on board. We’re wading through some serious shit up here.  I’ve been a little preoccupied lately with family trips, drama, and personal issues. (Oh my!) But don’t worry, I’m not planning on boring y’all to tears and telling you about it. If I were you, I wouldn’t give a crap(even though you’re all probably too nice to say that.) So…you’re welcome.

I saw this questionnaire floating around a few weeks ago, and thought it would be fun to fill out. They are questions you don’t see very often, which is a lot nicer than the standard “why do you write?”  “what’s your favorite hobby?” cliche ones. I don’t remember who came up with these questions, so if it was you, let me know and I’ll add you to the post! If you decide to answer the same questions, make sure you let me know in the comments so I can come check it out.

What female celebrity do you wish was your sister?
Jennifer Lawrence. Have you ever seen this chick do an interview? She is absolutely hilarious.

What would you name your daughter if you had one?
My favorite girl’s name right now is Elia. (Yes, from Game of Thrones) Alex has already put the kabosh on that name sadly. I’m going to try to push it again when the time comes.

What would you name your son if you had one?
Cade. I heard it on a TV show recently and added it to my list! (I have a list of baby names to one day use. Judge me all you want, jerks.)

What was your favorite TV show when you were a child?
Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers. I actually watch them on YouTube sometimes still. They never get old. Also, Gummi Bears. Anyone remember that one? (Bouncing here and there and everywhere!)

What did you dress up as on Halloween when you were eight?
A cat. Every year. I was such a boring, sheltered kid.

Have you read any of the Harry Potter, Hunger Games or Twilight series?
Yes, all of the above. Most of these are excusable except Harry Potter! Go read it, or we can’t be friends. Seriously. This isn’t a laughing matter. This shit is important.

Do you know who Kermit the frog is?
Is this serious? Who doesn’t know who Kermit is? I’m guessing you were also robbed of the joys of Kool-Aid and Pogs as a young kid.

Have you ever been to Olive Garden?
I could live off their breadsticks. (I’m not drooling, you’re drooling) If you’ve never had their breadsticks, you’re not living life to its fullest.

What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender?
I was going to be named Blair either way. Woo!

If you have a nickname, what is it?
I have nicknames from everyone. It’s funny, I RARELY hear my actual name unless it’s from my husband’s side of the family. Alex calls me B, my sister and her husband/kids call me Beep, my parents and brother call me PDQ. My friends call me Beech. They all have back stories besides the ‘B,’ because that’s what my name starts with. Obviously.

Would you rather live in a rural area or in the suburbs?
Rural, hands down. I live in the suburbs now and I hate it. People… gross.

Where did you buy your jeans?
The ones I’m wearing? Old Navy. I buy most my jeans there or JCPenney. They seem to have the best deals and I like the way they fit. I’m not exactly the classiest clothes buyer – I just go for comfort. I wear a solid t-shirt and jeans basically every day of my life. I’m boring as hell.

How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real?
In first grade, sadly. So I think six? Some kid said it in the classroom and the teacher confirmed he was right. My mom was so pissed she called the school and complained. Six is too young to lose your belief. It’s a cruel, cruel world we live in.

 

-Pick one(or more, if you want) and answer below! That we can get to know each other better. Don’t you want to get more close and personal with me? I know you do.

adventures in awkward

I’ve been having one of those child-like moments where I’m desperately missing my family. Seems strange, considering I just saw them last month and they were driving me crazy, but my mind functions as well as a hamster’s so you really can’t expect much. I’m also suffering from terrible writer’s block, so I thought I’d share one of my all-time favorite posts from two years ago that involves my mother. Here we go…

“You know how parents are ultra embarrassing when you’re growing up? Maybe it’s their undying love of Birkenstocks, or when they try to say trendy things like “that’s cray” and “chillax,” or even how they clip their toenails onto their plate after they finish eating. Well, at the ripe age of 28, I’ve come to the realization that this embarrassment never ends. It just evolves into something different.

palmspringspoolsign

(picture taken in Palm Springs, CA this past summer)

Mom: Blair, did you see this sign? Maybe you shouldn’t swim today.

Me: Uh… I’m fine, mom. No diarrhea here.

Mom: But, I saw you rush to the bathroom when I was getting water in the middle of the night. I just assumed it was urgent. Is everything working okay down there? Have you seen a doctor lately? Diarrhea can make you dehydrated. Make sure you drink more water today.

Me: Thanks, mom. I’m good. Just a routine visit in the night.

Mom: Do you remember that time you pooped in the bath tub when you were with your sister? I can think of a couple times you went in the water when you were little. I don’t know what it was… but, you liked to let loose once you hit water. I think it relaxed you. It was so weird.

What’s more humiliating: my mom deciding to loudly discuss my issues in public, or the woman who was frantically pulling her kids out of the water while they were crying, thinking there was actually a possibility I would crap in there? Thanks for the vote of confidence, lady. I’m almost 30.”

(Man… I miss being 28. I’m getting so damn old.)

adventures in awkward

Random As Shit Thoughts On A Friday

1. Do you guys ever get to the point where you’re so overtired you laugh at nothing? This always happens to me. Alex and I will be watching something serious on TV at night and I burst out laughing over some fleeting thought, and he stares at me awkwardly like I’ve suddenly sprout an extra head or the skin on my face is melting off. I call these the night crazies. They make me laugh so hard I start gagging. It’s actually pretty fun. Last night I walked into the room where Alex was watching a soccer game (or football, for all you fancy EU folks.) I glanced at the TV for a second and realized the goalie’s last name was Areola. AREOLA. I laughed so hard that it felt as someone kicked me in the stomach. Could you imagine growing up with that last name? Poor guy. (Honestly, I have a childlike sense of humor, so I probably would have found this funny even if I wasn’t overtired.)

2. I know most of you shop on Amazon… right? In 2017, I’d actually be a bit concerned if you didn’t. Anyways, I added a link to my sidebar that leads to the front page of Amazon. There is nothing different about it, except I’ll get a tiny kickback from ‘recommending you use Amazon.’ This is a humor blog, so I don’t intend on trying to actually sell anything off Amazon to you guys, but if you use my link it will help support me/my site at no extra cost to you. If you do use it, I truly appreciate it.

3. If you’re following the saga of Neighbor Boy (you know, that prick in my cul-de-sac that wrote with permanent marker all over my car?) After a month-long lull in activity, it has peaked again. We had workers at our house last week redoing our deck, and apparently they caught Douche Boy throwing eggs at their work truck. Seriously. This kid just randomly walks out and throws eggs at a car in someone else’s driveway. Who the fuck does that? The day after that, he walked to the middle of our cul-de-sac, smashed plates, watched the shards fly everywhere, then ran back inside. So, we finally went over and spoke to his dad. Hopefully it changes something. We really need to move…

Just wanted to add in – RIP to Chester Bennington. I cannot emphasize the impact Linkin Park had on me while I was growing up. Their old music still gives me the massive feels every time I listen to it. Please, if anyone is having/knows someone who is having thoughts of suicide… reach out for help. 

adventures in awkward

The internet is a magical place. As long as you forget about the countless cyber bullies and trolls, disgusting atrocities hiding on the dark web, and hordes of people yammering on and on about politics that are impossible to avoid until you finally decide to take a screwdriver to your face and pop your eyeballs out. (Which is what I’m close to doing.) If you create a personal bubble on the internet and you’re successful in avoiding all the weird shit, it is an amazing place to be, though. Until your safe space gets penetrated by seriously weird search terms like mine does.

I will say, one of my favorite things about blogging is the search terms that people use to find my blog. I have zero idea why some of these led here, but they make me laugh, (and a little uncomfortable) so I’m going to share them today. These are the five strangest ones I’ve had over the last six months:

pickle tickling
i got poop on my balls
transgender crazies
have you ever seen something and busted out laughing? (The real question is…. who hasn’t?)
do sheep have vaginas?

I’ve got no words, guys. You are some strange motherfuckers.

Then, last night I was on Google looking at Adwords. (You know, the program where you pay Google to advertise your stuff for you.) I was filling out the forms to see what type of prices they had, then I saw this and was deeply offended. (The quality of this photo sucks. Sorry.)
The first suggestion for me to advertise my blog under is poop. POOP. Seriously, do I talk about poop often enough that Google thinks I should pay hundreds of dollars to get people who are searching for poop come around here? Is that what Google really thinks of me? I don’t know if I should be hurt or flattered. Damn it, Google. That’s strike two.
adventures in awkward

I have a tendency to Google things that I shouldn’t and scaring the shit out myself. You know, like when you have a headache and runny nose, and instead of blaming it on the common cold, you get ballsy and look it up only to be told you’re suddenly having a stroke, massive bowel blockage, and you’re two skips and a jump away from keeling over and landing face first into your morning bowl of Cheerios. If you don’t use Google as a health consultant already, don’t start. You’re treading into dangerous territory. Just say no.

Here in North Carolina, I feel like my house has been under siege from hordes of bugs. Even after an exterminator came by, and after the hundred+ I’ve killed, (or I’ve told my husband to kill as I scream in bloody terror, rocking back forth on the couch in the fetal position in tears,) they don’t stop! It’s insanity. So, I thought I’d take to Google to figure out what type of bug was trying to become my new roommate and… lover. (I mean, I did wake up in bed with one on my lip the other day… so I’m only assuming it wants to be.)

It’s simply called a ‘house centipede.’ Okay. That’s fine… at least they are common and not coming around because of my terrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win, right? My cats are entertained for hours playing with them when they’re bored, so it’s a bit of a win in my book.

Then I scrolled through Google pictures and found this:

House centipedes can GET. THIS. BIG. And in some places in Asia people keep them as pets. A pet. Like the cuddly dog you curl up on the couch with at night to share your ice cream cone with. (Can you imagine the creepy crawling sensation when this monster walks across your neck? I’m gagging.) There is absolutely nothing okay with this. Nothing. It’s safe to say I will never be stepping on the Asian continent.

Just say no to Google. Some things are better left unknown.

adventures in awkward, guest posts

 

 

Sometimes it’s completely justifiable to drink wine straight from the bottle and spend the day on the couch hiding under a pile of cats. Maybe even necessary. Doctors really should prescribe things like that. Of course, issues might arise if you don’t have a cat, but you could always just borrow your neighbor’s. Forget what the Bible said – get over there and covet your neighbor’s pussy. Guaranteed to make everyone involved feel better. 

This weekend has been dubbed sit-on-your-ass-and-do-nothing in my house. I feel like I deserve it after having such a stressful vacation. You know, a vacation from my vacation. It makes sense in my mind at least. So, instead of writing my own post, I’m going to share a guest post from a kickass blogger here – Becca Barracuda. She cracks me up. Plus, she shares an extreme love for cats and Harry Potter. She’s my spirit animal. Check her out here : The Married Cat Lady

My boyfriend and I had only been dating for about a month (if that) when we went to Panera Bread one morning after a night of drinking. (He has weird eating habits.) I had spent the night at his house, so I was wearing last night’s makeup and clothing, and I had a massive zit on my chin. And I mean massive. One of the women at work had asked me, “What happened to your face? Did you fall?”

“No, my face just hates me,” I told her, because of course, I couldn’t just leave the fucker alone. I had to mess with it. I had angered the beast.

My boyfriend and I were sitting at a small table, eating our bread bowls and minding our own business when an elderly man walked up to our table. He was at least 80 years old and came hobbling over with a cane and one of those newspaper boy hats on.

He was standing over us and said to Boyfriend, “Oh my! Are you the lucky man with this woman?”

I looked around to see what woman he was talking about. There was no way it could be me, not right now.

It had to be me, though, because there wasn’t really anyone else around (probably because most people don’t go to Panera for breakfast), and this man was hovering at our table, looking right at me.

I laughed. Boyfriend chuckled nervously.

“Stevie Wonder could see she’s a knock-out!” the elderly man continued, gesturing to me.

“Aw, that’s so nice. Thank you, sir,” I said both flattered and uncomfortable. I could feel my cheeks heating up.

“You know you’re a lucky man,” he said to Boyfriend in a slightly creepy, grandfatherly way.

“Yes sir. I do,” Boyfriend said, nodding.

Our new elderly friend turned back to me, “Are you from Tennessee?” he asked.

“What?” I looked at Boyfriend. He looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. “No…” I chuckled to cover my discomfort.

“Oh, well I thought you might be because you’re the only Ten-I-see!” He started laughing, a solid belly-laugh. Boyfriend and I chuckled along.

“Ha, ha, that’s funny! Thank you.” I then took a bite of my soup, hoping he’d notice that I wanted him to leave. (I do this often. You’d be surprised how many people don’t get this social cue. If I go back to doing whatever I was doing before you started talking to me, I am no longer interested in the conversation.)

He lingered for another couple of seconds. “Take care of her now,” he told Boyfriend.

“Yes, I will, thanks,” Boyfriend said.

“She’s a catch,” the elderly man said, nodding and looking at me.“She is,” Boyfriend smiled and looked over at me. I was pleading with my eyes, “Please make this stop.”

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said, pointing at me.

“Thank you!” I smiled and waved as he hobbled away. “Oh my God!” I said to Boyfriend as he practically spit out his soup laughing. “That is possibly one of the most awkward encounters I’ve ever had! Look at me!” I gestured to my old makeup and wrinkled clothes.

“You’re a catch,” Boyfriend said, and then he winked.

When I got back home to my parents’ house, I immediately told my mom about it. Her response?

“And you looked like that?”

Clearly only the elderly Panera man understands true beauty.

 

 

adventures in awkward

 

There is no better way to start off the summer than being trapped in the same house as your entire family for a week. Well, as long as you’re willing to have zero alone time, be bombarded by whiny kids, and have your mother nag you from the moment you take your first sip of coffee until you finally decide to sneak off to bed at 8 pm to find solace from some boring TV show. Learn from me, friends… don’t share a big house with a bunch of adult family members and little kids. The insanity is enough to make you want to rip your hair out and weave them into intricate dolls just to watch them burst into flames when you try to saute them on the stove. It’s maddening.

For the most part… we had a good time at the beach. (Even though I got so burned the first day out I had to spend the next three days in hiding.) Since I have a sun allergy, my entire body ended up covered in red bumpy scales and I was doomed to look like an albino cobra the rest of the trip. It was unsightly. Seriously.  I’m thankful to have a husband that is never embarrassed to be seen with me. Because, wow… it was disturbing. My face looked like it was half blistered and melting off. I can only imagine how many kids I’ve scarred for life.

Anyways, I’m happy to finally be back. Ready to start catching up and reading everyone’s blogs.

Happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans. Hope you all still have your arms and didn’t blow them up from a fireworks mishap.

Also, I have another trip in August coming up where we will be sharing a house with Alex’s entire family this time. I’m going to need everyone to form a prayer circle for me. Please keep me in your thoughts. I will need all the strength and support I can get.

(Am I the only one that finds a sick satisfaction in peeling off the skin after a sunburn? I’m like a snake molting. Ah…)