adventures in awkward

Random-As-Shit Thoughts on a Thursday

1. My dad always told me if you were able, you should always do things on your own. None of that hiring-other-people crap to paint a wall. You better strap on some raggedy old overalls, get your god damn paintbrush  and get to work. Never mind the fact that you’re trapped in a pressure cooker while the smell paint thinner and toxic fumes begin to amass a lethal attack on your precious brain cells. (Who needed those extra thousand cells anyway?) Well, I’m not usually like that. Honestly, I’m lazy as hell. If I can pay someone to screw a light bulb in for me, I’m gonna do it. (Yes, even a light bulb.)

Anyway, I decided to heed my dad’s advice and do something I’ve never done before. Cut my own hair.  I mean, why pay someone to cut my hair when there’s hundreds of videos on YouTube promising me I can do it beautifully on my own with a few easy steps? WHY? Why spend my $30 when I can step into my bathroom and walk out looking like a celebrity? It just makes no sense.

Ladies, listen to me and listen to me closely. Okay? OKAY? Those bitches on YouTube are lying.

2. I’m in the process of kind of “rebranding” (for lack of a better word) my blog. I’ll be changing the look, theme, colors, everything. It will still be humor-based, but with some other things added in. I love writing random humor stories, but I’ve been struggling to find things to write about. Not sure if I’m just getting old and boring or what’s going on. While humor stories will still be the main focus, I’ll be adding in other things that I’m interested in as well. This whole undertaking has been quite anxiety-inducing, so bear with me.

adventures in awkward

I’m having one of those days where I don’t feel like writing. Or talking. Or being awake and functioning at all. Depression… such a fickle bitch. Creeps up behind you when you least expect it and wraps its Voldemort-esque fingers around your neck and chokes you like a bad scene in one of those Fifty Shades of Grey movies. Except it’s a lot less pleasurable because at least the girl in that scenario is getting something fun out of it. Ya know? I’m forcing myself to write anyways, though, because isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Slap a smile on, pretend everything is great, and that unicorns are frolicking around your backyard farting out cupcakes? Cupcakes actually sound pretty good right now. Even if they are coming out of something’s ass.   I’m pretty sure if I could have any superpower, it would be farting out cupcakes.

I’m still trying to get into posting regularly. I feel like I’m already dropping the ball, but I’ll pick it up. I promise my first born child on it. Okay, not really.  Being in a funk makes me a risk-taking rebel. Who knows, maybe I’ll spring an extra shot of sugar-free syrup in my coffee later or eat more than half of a cookie for dessert. You never know what’s coming. I’m just so unpredictable.

Here’s a random silly poll for the week. Yay! Answer honestly – It’s anonymous. I mean, I’m sure I could somehow hunt down your IP and figure out who voted what, but I can barely get my email to work, so no worries. Your secrets will stay hidden!

Coming Soon
adventures in awkward

It seems strange to be writing here. Awkward almost. Like the time I had my first kiss in a movie theater and didn’t know where to put my hands so I tried to gently caress the boy’s face and poked him in the eye with my fake nail instead. If there’s one thing that’ll ruin a romantic/touching moment it’s impalement. Just take my word for it. I feel like that awkward teenager right now. A little shy because I haven’t been around, embarrassed because I have to come back and admit that I flaked out again, and ashamed because I’ve made some genuine connections with people and I’m a terrible friend.

So, if you’re still here – HI! I know there’s only so many times I can leave and come back without people giving up on me, so I’m sure not many are left and actually reading this. That’s okay, though. To the ones that ARE reading this, you kick ass.

I hope you had a holiday season full of drinks so strong they knocked you off your ass, cookies so sweet your teeth are rotting, and presents that made you squeal and wriggle like a little kid. I hope it was great few months for everyone.

I’m planning on posting again regularly. This isn’t the first time I’ve said this, but I’m making a blood oath this time. It’s true. IT’S TRUE, I swear!

It’s going to take me a long time to get caught back up. Thanks for sticking with me, guys.

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?


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.


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

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.


(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

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.