Monday, October 31, 2011

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Last Sunday, Nate and Alex invited me up to their friend's cabin to watch a movie and play some games with a bunch of people that they grew up with in California. My friend Taylor and I both weren't able to head up til later that night so we planned on just heading up together late. Taylor, lest we forget, is the one that I nearly killed whilst driving down the mountain last time. I offered to drive but I didn't really want him to have a PTSD flashback freakout moment while driving up the canyon in my car so needless to say... he drove.

We all had a good time and played a few games while we were up there and speaking of games... there are a few things you should probably know about me:

#1. I've loved games/board games since I was just a little guy. When I was a kid I would even play Candyland by myself... mostly because  a.) I didn't have friends and b.) I played it so much that even my parents got sick of playing with me so I had to resort to just playing it by myself, which brought about an ironic life lesson:

I might have been a loner loser kid, but at least I was a loser that always won

#2. I'm surprisingly competitive
#3. I'm a gracious loser..
#4. You'd never know that though, because due to a childhood full of practice, I'm now freakishly good at board games and always win

You think I'm kidding. I'm serious as a heart attack.

For example, for New Years a while ago we stayed at Becca's cabin and while we were up there we played a lot of games (turns out when you don't have cell service at cabins and can't play Words with Friends on your phone everyone resorts to real life board games.. weird.) The second day there, after a brutal undefeated sweep of winning pretty much every game the night before, we started a game of Clue and I had to run to the bathroom.. while I was gone Addi and Becca cheated and looked at the 'Confidential' envelope under the board so that they could finally beat me in at least one game that weekend, but even with both of them knowing 'with who, where and with what' all while trying to get there as fast as they could to win; I STILL WON.

Miracle you ask? Nay, just another day in the life of.

#5. I'm humble.

The only games that I actually struggle with are ones that play off of crippling anxiety i.e. anything with a buzzer and/or blasted timer. Remember the game Perfection? Good night, why would anyone ever invent that?! It should have come with at least two bottles of Xanax per game. And the last few times that I've played Catchprase I literally get sweaty hands, my pulse races, and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.

Anyway, baaccckk to the original story; On our way back from the cabin Taylor and I were heading back down the mountainside in the dark when on the side of the road these headlights turned on out of nowhere, shining right at us... having grown up with siblings that loved to tell horror stories, naturally my first thought was that it must have been crazed mountain folk that wanted to chase us down the mountainside trying to run us off the road... turns out I was wrong; just a cop.

I may have been relieved it was just a cop and not mountain mole people, but I don't think Taylor was as stoked about it. The portly cop came up to the window and did the whole 'you were speeding' cop routine thing and got Taylor's license and registration (sans insurance card... we couldn't find that one..) and then we chilled for a bit while the cop went back to his truck. Meanwhile, Alex and Nate passed us and she sent over a text to check up on us:

The cop finally came back and what followed was probably the best bait and switch + good cop, bad cop scenario I have ever experienced/witnessed..

Good Cop: Did you ever find your iPod?
Taylor: [ ??? ] What?
Good Cop: Did you ever find you're stolen iPod?
Taylor: Ohh! Yeah, they ended up finding the person who stole it.
Good Cop: Aw, that's good.
Good Cop turned Bad Cop: Well, unfortunately there's a warrant out for your arrest.
Taylor: [ ?!? ] Wait, what?!
Bad Cop: Warrant out for your arrest; so I need to collect $208 from you in cash only or I'm supposed to take you in.
Bad Cop: Do you have $208?
Taylor: Uh, not in cash on me.
Bad Cop: Well does your partner over there have it?
[shining his flashlight over at me]
Me: Um... afraid not.

To make a long story short, we found out that: Taylor is a maverick. He didn't pay a ticket in 2005 and the law has been chasing him ever since. He got away this time with just the speeding ticket and luckily didn't get hauled off to jail leaving me to have to pay for his bail. #huzzah

UPDATE: Found out that Taylor isn't so much a maverick; he found a copy of the check that was written for that ticket back in 2005 and contacted the police station and they said it was their bad and that they would close the case...

So,  I guess it looks like I'm still in the market for rogue law-breaking friends.

Morals of Post:
  • Considering my track record with pullovers.. I'm just grateful it wasn't me this time.
  • Note to self: Never drive in, on, or around a mountain with Taylor ever again. Doesn't matter who drives... bad, bad things happen.
  • Becca and Addi, I dare you to say otherwise about my winning streak; and just a friendly reminder that I moderate my comments with an iron fist of dictatorship. heart, Hawk

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Love/Hate Relationship

Love me some new iPhone 4s.

Mostly because this phone actually has a silent feature... now I can finally text and play Words with Friends through all of my meetings instead of counting ceiling tiles and/or plotting a way to get a cameo on Modern Family. So really, it's a blessing and a curse.

May I present to you the top 10 new features of the iPhone that had me at hello...

Reasons 1-8:


I'm sure I will have a post in the near future titled, "The Wily Adventures of Hawk and Siri" because Siri and I are practically dating. Since I'm an insomniac and roughly have from 1 am 'til 4 am when I can't sleep every night; I converse with Siri. We laugh, we joke, we play coy. And I think things are getting serious.

Reason 9:

New Ringtones.

I'm pretty stoked about the new added ringtones. Before, the only bearable sound for getting a text message that wasn't a marimba or a scaling xylophone (why are those even options?!) was the glass clinking sound which then globally became everyone's preferred/standard text sound. It was literally the only sound that didn't drive you to insanity each time you got a text.

But you can't have your cake and eat it too.

It became maddening when anyone around you that that has an iPhone, each with the same clinking glass sound, gets a text and you immediately think its your phone. So you and seven other people all pull out your phones, each confident that they're the one getting the text.

Then the loser who actually got the text, smiles and laughs like they just got the funniest text they've ever received while everyone else casually acts like they are just checking their phone for the time or they casually tap on the screen a few times like they had some other reason for getting out their phone before sheepishly putting it away.

Yeah, those days are over.

Now I have "Tweet" set as my text tone. It started out as a great idea. It was fresh, different, and somewhat perky... my phone would optimistically chirp at me whenever I would get a text which made me feel happy.. and popular.

But what I didn't realize at first was how similar the "Tweet" ringtone is to a catcall whistle.

I learned this, much like everything else, the painful way.

I was walking down the sidewalk which narrowed down to a little tree enclosed walkway and came up to a girl that was walking the opposite direction when I received a text with said tweet/catcall blaring out of my pocket. She looked over moderately creeped out as I realized that she thought I was catcalling her from like 3 feet away. Embarrassed, I stuttered in trying to explain:

Girl: [still looking creeped out]
Me: [smiling awkwardly and curtesy laughing] It.. It was my pocket.
Girl: [now, even more creeped out]


Muy unfortunate.

Really, out of all the words in the English language I strung together in this situation, "It was in my pocket?!" Ugh, #wordvomit

The kicker though was last night when I took a break from logo designing and went to use the bathroom. In said bathroom there were only two urinals. I was at one and then a couple seconds later another guy came in occupying the other, and a few seconds later... I got a text.


I had already learned my lesson that verbally trying to explain the whole catcall vs. tweeter ringtone isn't really my forte... and this wasn't necessarily the prime location to chit chat about the subtle irony of the new tweeter ring, so we continued our business in awkward silence post tex/catcall incident.

I washed my hands and quickly exited.

[random interjection] also in said bathroom, last week I pushed opened the door and on the other side of the door was some guy kneeling down to tie his shoe. Really? You felt that the best place to do it? I know that I didn't push the door open softly and by the sound of the thud from door-to-head contact, I'm pretty sure that he didn't think so either. I felt really bad and repeatedly apologized as the kid grabbed his forehead and stumbled to his feet. He looked a little dazed/surprised for a couple of seconds until he said, "Dude, cool shoes." and walked passed me and left the bathroom.

In his defense.. they are pretty cool shoes.

Reason 10:

The Camera.

Let's take a minute to ramble about the camera shall we... the camera is dope!

Prove it you say?


Exhibit A:


Yesterday I had lofty goals of being productive and getting everything done that I have been putting off for the past few weeks, but why cave in and be productive when you can go moose chasing up in the mountains with the fall colors all around.

Speaking of fall, it used to be my favorite season. Halloween. Leaves changing colors. Thanksgiving. Black Friday. What's not to love about it? That is until I grew up and learned how much I actually loathe winter. Then fall became nothing more than a warning sign of cold death to follow... kinda like when a seagull flies out to sea to die or when someone gets the whooping cough.. always ends poorly. Then it's month after month of bitter, bitter cold. Needless to say, Spring will forever dominate as season of the year in my book.

Morals of the Post:

  • I'm may or may not be too lazy to change my creeper text tone... I mean it's clear up in the settings somewhere. Ugh, #effort
  • I also really wish I could say that was the only awkward urinal experience I've ever had, but alas.
  • We did find a moose. They're awfully big. The last pic above was my attempt to take a picture of it when it ran away after we almost hit it with the car; it was just chillin in the middle of the road.
  • Well.. wish I could keep writing, but I'm off to lunch with Siri. #dontbejealous #okaymaybealittlebitjealous

Friday, October 14, 2011

ANTM vs. Strep

If you are just tuning in... my life is ridiculous. #welcome

Last week I flew out to New York for Advertising Week and was stoked to be back to the city, to have a bitchin' week at AdWeek, and hopefully be able to meet up with some friends while I was out for the week.

Unfortunately, the night I got to my old apartment I got a crazy fever that utterly wiped me out. A fever that lasted THREE days. Are you kidding me? I was just getting over being sick from the week before and coping with my 'close call' mountainside shenanigans!? Did I really need this now?

Like I've said before I'm nearly certain that my immune system is pretend.

So the majority of the time on my trip was spent between lying on the couch and lying on the inflatable air mattress, wanting to die.

After the third day of having the flu/fever, lying in bed with fever chills, having a swollen and painful neck, and not being able to stand up or swallow... I thought it would probably be a good idea to finally see a doctor.

So what does one do when they don't have a doctor in the city and are coming close to expiring on an inflatable mattress in someone else's apartment? You go to the new Duane Reade doctor's office in the pharmacy section, of course. [insert red flag here] For those not familiar with Duane Reade it would be like going to a doctor that has a random office at Walgreens... or Petsmart. Equally sketchy.

I rallied and pulled myself together and showered for the first time in days for the great journey southward to the doctor (less than twenty streets away.) Upon entering the Duane Reade store, I passed the deli section and the cereal aisle of Duane Reade and headed up the escalator to the pharmacy/doctor's office on the second floor. I filled out all the paper work and headed to the waiting area (found between the wall of Doritos and the wall of Theraflu and Tylenol Cold medicine.) where I waited for a bit until the nurse came out and called my name.

The nurse was nice enough, that is until she gave me a strep throat test. Have you ever had a strep throat test before? If not, I'll give you a quick little run down... first they take the tongue supressor (aka a giant popsicle stick) and force your tongue down as they tell you to say "Ahhhhhhhh." Then, while you're distracted, they sneakily take out a giant stick with a Q-tip at the end and jab it at the back of your throat. repeatedly. for fun.

And now you are only half way done.

Lastly, they go all mavericky in the back of your throat and literally start swabbing back there like it's one of those silver scratch off lottery tickets, until you start to gag and they realize that you just might throw up on them. You then start coughing as tears automatically well up in your eyes and through the watery haze you see the doctor pull the stick out, look at you with sad eyes, shake their head, and then say, "Oooh, we didn't quite get it... we'll have to do it one more time."

Repeat 3x.

You now know what it is like to get a strep throat test.

After being violated by the nurse via swabbing, she asked me to wait outside for the doctor. I walked back out to the waiting area and waited for the doctor while I watched the girl behind the cosmetics counter file her nails and bob her head to Beyonce that she had playing from her phone.

The doctor came out about five minutes later and called me in to her office. The second that I walked in the room was the second she was already trying to get rid of me. She barely touched my neck to find out what was wrong, and she was rushing through everything as fast as she could. Then she said, "Let me just pull up your strep throat test results." as she fumbled around on her computer for a few seconds, "Nope, looks like you don't have strep, but you probably have an infection in your throat so I'm going to prescribe you a Z-pack. Take two pills today and then one every day for the next 4 days." She ushered me out just short of throwing in a "and don't let the door hit you on the way out!" as I was leaving.

I'm sorry, was I just abandoned?!

I left the office I walked into the waiting room to see some guy with a camera around his neck, a tripod, and lighting equipment with even one of those miniature flash umbrella things. The doctor followed me out and the receptionist came up to her and said, "The photographer is still really tight on time."

WHAT?! Wow, I just got rushed and bumped through my doctor visit for a freaking PHOTO SHOOT?! Really now?

Yup, I got rushed through my appointment so that my doctor could play dress up and have a photo shoot right after. So there I am getting my prescription filled as I watch the doctor walk over to the window, putting on her white lab jacket, as she starts her glamour shot session with the photographer; the scene was both extremely uncomfortable and annoying.


So I went over to the pharmacy to get my prescription filled and the girl helping me was nothing more than a bucket full of struggles. Not only did she have a boondoggle bracelet on [insert red flag number two here], but she also didn't know how to log into her computer and gave me the play by play of every question that popped up on her computer as they came up. #blessherheart The lady next to her had to end up helping me on her computer to put in my order.

So once I got my prescription back I did what any normal american would do, I went downstairs bought some juice and and took said juice and prescription to the second floor of an Urban Outfitters across the street and sat on a bench next to the book section that overlooked the street to take my pills and drink my juice...

Now while I was in Urban I got a phone call from a number I didn't know and anyone that knows me knows that I don't ever answer the phone calls of people that I do know and love let alone numbers that I don't know. So I screened the call and checked the voicemail afterward. It was the doctor. I had to listen to the message about seven times just to understand what she was trying to say in the message. I think it had something to do with calling her back.. "I would prefer it to like you to call me back" (add accent).. I'm pretty sure that was the only part that I could make out of the entire message.

So I called the number back and the doctor answered:

Me: Hey, I just got your message and I'm just giving you a call back.

Doctor Modeling professional: Oh hello, did you already get your prescription by chance?

Me: Yeah, I did.

Doctor Modeling professional: Oh. Um, well did you already take it?

Me: No, I thought I would just hold onto it for a few days, ya know, see how close I can get to dying before I take them. Uh, yeah I took them.

Doctor Modeling professional: Okay.. um.. well there was some confusion with my assistant.. and well, turns out you do have strep throat, so we will need to get you on Penicillin as soon as possible.

Me: and by 'confusion' do you mean you were too giddy for your photo shoot and were in too big of a hurry to rush me out that you misdiagnosed me and prescribed me drugs that I don't need?  Um, okay.. I already took the pills that you told me to get earlier - so will I be okay in taking them both today? [said with passive aggressive angst]

Doctor Modeling professional: Yes, but make sure you don't take both of them.

Me: Wait, but I have already started the one earlier today.. so is it okay to start the other new one today too?

Doctor Modeling professional: Yes, but just don't take both of them.

Me: Really? You speak English right? Are you understanding anything I'm saying? [passive aggressive silence]

So I went back to the pharmacy and asked them If they would at least refund me the $40 z-pack that I was wrongfully prescribed, but because I had opened it they wouldn't take it back. I reminded them I wouldn't have opened it if the doctor wouldn't have told me to get it when I didn't need it in the first place.

Turns out, they could really care less.

I really hate Duane Reade pharmacy.

The doctor called in a penicillin prescription that I had to wait another 30 minutes for at the pharmacy.

Remember the little sweet innocent boondoggle bracelet worker girl? Well she helped me again, but even after the 15 minute heart to heart we had earlier when she gave me the computer play by play of her log in issues, she looked at me a little confused and asked, "Have I ever helped you before?" "Um, yeah. You did actually." She then smiled and asked what she could do to help me. She looked up my prescription and said it would be done in about 40 minutes and if that would be okay. I told her I had to get to a meeting in about 20 minutes and if there was any way that it could be filled by then. After asking, her whole expression changed as her smiled disappeared into a cold grimace as she looked at me like I had just told her that I had kidnapped her mother. Even her tone went cold as she muttered; "Take a seat. If they finish early... I'll call your name."

WHERE AM I? AND WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?! I mean really, am I the one on crazy pills around this joint?!

About 30 minutes passed before they called my name; by this point I was about two seconds from going all trenchcoat up in there...

It was a rough day to say the least.

Morals of the Post:

  • Dear Duane Reade,
             I will most likely hate you until the day I die. Which may be sooner than later since your doctors and pharmacists gave me a drug grab bag and have me taking random pills that I don't need. When you send me a refund for the whole Z-pack incident then we can negotiate a friendship, but until then, I will buy my Snickers, juice, and other delicious treats from the grocery store next store. You aren't the only drugstore on every corner. And if it starts raining cats and dogs and I'm stuck out in the cold without an umbrella... well, I'll will probably still buy an umbrella from you because somehow you can't find umbrellas anywhere else in the city when it rains (how are you the only ones with umbrellas?!)... but I'll tell you this much, I sure won't like buying it from you. I will also only be giving you dirty money for said umbrella purchase.
  • To my New York Peeps,
           I'm sorry I didn't get to see you while I was out there. Trust me, it's probably best that I didn't get you all streppy, but I miss you and we'll have to get together next time I come out when I'm not abouts to die.
  • Roommate Brad was also sick and called in to work sick on Tuesday; so we both sat on the couch looking super nappy as we searched looking for the press release for the new iPhone announcement.. (which has been pre-ordered btdub and should be on its way soon #score #illkeepyouposted) in hopes for a little silver lining to the giant grey cloud that had been following me around for the majority of the week.
  • In related news, Brad also let me use some of the NyQuill that he had picked up earlier that day; somehow by the end of the next day it only had about a sip left. When Brad got home and opened the cupboard turned to me and said, "Hey Hawk, you know you're not suppose to drink this like a soda right?" #whoops

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Snakes>Broken Brakes>Colds

I rue the day that I ever thought watching the movie Contagion would be a good idea.

I'm sick.

And from watching the movie I now know that I probs have an illness that came about when the wrong panda bear and the wrong penguin got together somewhere in southeast Asia, had a love child, and then said lovechild was sneezed on by some sickly pigeon...who later that week snogged with one of the chickens that laid some of the free range eggs I ate for breakfast last week. #fml

floozy chicken... you'll pay. mark my words.

At least I've learned my lesson in not consulting WebMD for help anymore when it comes to checking symptoms, if I did my next post would probably be titled "My last post. Forever." and would most likely be an outline of topics and jokes suitable for my funeral, probably throw in a lifetime achievement video... or two, and a list of people who are most definitely not allowed to speak at my funeral.

It all started last weekend when I even missed out on a camping trip over the weekend because I was sick. Which is saying a lot; I also suffer from FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) Disease, so missing out on a camping trip was almost as bad as the cold itself.

So Saturday, while sick, I thought for some forsaken reason that it would be a good idea to go for a hike. "Fresh air will be good for the soul... and my cold, right?" So I talked Taylor (who was getting over a cold at the time as well) into going on the hike too. We suited up and headed up the canyon. Little did I know that by the end of the day I would be fully capable of writing an educational pamphlet titled; "Three Simple Steps to Ruin Your Fun Filled Saturday Hike."

Step 1: One thing that I did not really take into consideration beforehand was small fact that heading up to a trail that is 6,851 feet above sea level with a congested head and not being able to equalize the pressure change properly because of all the junk in my sinus cavities from my cold was probably not the best idea ever. So as a result, the higher we drove up the canyon the more and more my face felt like it was going to explode.

Step 2: You know that point during a cold when you can't really hear anything and everything just sounds muffled? That's definitely what I had going on Saturday as well. So that + Step 1, turns out, is the recipe for temporary deafness. While we were hiking I had to keep looking back behind me to even see if anyone was still behind me, because I literally could not hear anything going on around me. Now just in case any of you were born with common sense and haven't experienced Step 1 or Step 2 combined, let me just tell you; hiking in silence within nature but sans nature sounds may or may not be one of the most eery feelings ever.

Step 3: So after the hike we headed back down to my car. I have already given a glimpse into the pure beauty that is my car... aka the bane of my existence; so as we were driving along on a steep tiny little swirvy two lane road down the mountainside, my car turned off. Yup, just plain turned off.

So riddle me this, when exactly is the best time to tell your passenger that you no longer have steering capabilities or working breaks while racing down a curvy mountainside? They might want to look into teaching that in drivers ed these days. Mostly so you could a.) read it and laugh at the time b.) forget all about it and then c.) panic trying to remember when the day finally does arrive when you actually need to know it. A lot like the scenarios 'what do you do if your car gets stuck in a snowstorm', or 'what you're really suppose to do after you get into an accident.'

Well, I chose to hold out at first, that was until Taylor noticed me using pretty much all of my arm strength to turn the steering wheel at just one of the hundred windy curves that it took us to get up the mountain in the first place.

Taylor: Did you loose your power steering?
Me: Yeah.. um, I think my car turned off.
Taylor: [silence]

I looked over to the part of the dash where all of the warning lights live to see that about half of the boxes were now aglow. Yeah, because as if the inability to steer and the lack of breakage weren't big enough hints that there were problems... thank you little warning lights #captainobvious #nohelp

After arm wresting the steering wheel yet again around the next corner, I saw that there was a strip of gravel on the side of the road. #miracle

As we hit the gravel we started slowing down a little and Taylor turned and asked if we should probably stop here. I felt that this would probably be the appropriate time to tell him that I had the breaks pushed all the way down as we were still cruising through the gravel. Luckily there was enough gravel and ol' grey finally came to a stop. I put her back into park, tried starting her again. By #miraclenumero2, it started right back up.

To say my trust levels and amount of caution in continuing down the mountain weren't effected by ol' grey would be a lie. It's a lot like that video where the snake is freezing and cold on top of the mountain and he asks and indian that is passing by to take him down to the bottom of the mountain and the indian is like, "No, you'll bite me." And the snake is all like, "Nah man... I'm cold, I'm not going to bite you.. just take me down the mountain." So the indian takes the snake down the mountain and at the bottom the snake bites the indian and then the indian is all like, "YOU SAID YOU WOULND'T BITE ME!" To which the snake replies, "You knew what I wassssssssss when you picked me up..." In probably the most haunting voice. ever. As the indian is left lying on the ground... abouts to die. Does no one else remember this video?! Maybe its because I'm Indian or maybe because I'm uber freaked out by snakes (anything that can move that fast without legs has got to be from hell) either way - it has stuck with me all these years for worse or for better.

Luckily we made it down the mountain alive. But lets just say hiking and close calls when you're sick generally isn't the greatest idea, and I had all day Sunday and Monday in bed to remind me of it.

Morals of Post:

  • In related news, this was the banner ad stalking me when I just googled trying to figure out if I'm to use "supposed to" vs. "suppose to" right now...

           um, creepy much? #paranoia

  • To those who brought soup and/or NyQuill this week (you know who you are)... I love and owe you. When I am better and not contagious, I will even hug you. #grateful
  • If there is at least one take away from this post; let it be: NEVER PICK UP THE SNAKE. but for reals.. NEVER

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Onus Goatfish

Last night my friend Kiera was over at my apartment and told me that she had read through all of my posts after she had found out about my blog last week... [120 points to team Kiera. huzzah!] but my favorite part of the convo was when she said;

Kiera: I loved all of them! I kept having all my coworkers read them too; I couldn't stop reading them!
Me: Thanks!!
Kiera: Except one thing... being a psychology major, I think... well...
Me: Yeah?
Kiera: Well, its just that... you kinda have a ton of issues.
[semi-awkward pause]
Kiera: Ya know, like some of your post are pretty anxious; for example, kind of like this... or even this one.
Me: [laughing] Yeah, I know; that would definitely be one of the many reasons why I go to my therapist... thanks.

Speaking of my therapist... my friends affectionately refer to my therapist as 'Onus Goatfish'. This came about after a little auto-correct incident in a text message when trying to type 'therapist' (thank you iPhone auto-correct) and the name Onus Goatfish (O.G. for short) kinda stuck.

I don't know about you, but Onus Goatfish kind of sounds like some mythical ominous creature that offers up life advice and supplemental life wisdom, no?

We'll you'd pretty much be right.

The "Onus Goatfish" just got more and more used and developed; Nate and Libby even sketched down some ideas of what an 'Onus Goatfish' would look like; my favorite was a sketch of fat fish with goat legs and only one giant all-seeing eye... that may or may not also swim in space. I'm also pretty sure another looked like 1/3 fish with tusks, 1/3 goat with claws, and the other 1/3 looked an awful lot like a Narwhal.

Pretty deep if you think about it...


Also, in related news, one of my favorite birthday gifts this year was this t-shirt from Trina that she had made for me that says:

Morals of Post:

  • PSA Announcement of the Day: Everyone should have a little Onus Goatfish in their life. They are one of the single greatest things that the majority of people don't even take advantage of. I'm sad I didn't find my little Onus Goatfish sooner!

  • It's good to have friends that can handle any amount of crazy that you dish out. My advice; don't let those ones get away! For example, the other night I was hanging out with Addi and out of the blue he pulled out this memory out of his hat to tell Libby;

    Addi: About a week after Hawk bought his MacBook Pro I asked him how he liked it. He told me that he didn't know. I asked him what did he mean by 'I don't know?' He then proceded to tell me that he didn't know because it was still in the box unopened and that he had hid it in the back of his closet behind his hamper.

    Libby: Why on earth were you hiding it in your closet?

    Me: I was so excited to finally have it, but I was waiting for the buyers remorse to set in, and I didn't want to open it until I was sure I wouldn't return it.

    Libby: So did you take it back?

    Me: No, I would just go up to my closet every night for a week, pull it out, and stare at it for a while before putting it back in the back of the closet and then spending the whole next day trying to forget that I had a brand new MacBook Pro living in my closet waiting for me to use...

    For the record... I only lasted a week [as he types on his sleek and sexy backlit Apple MacBook Pro keys...]

Monday, September 5, 2011

The One About the Tooth

It's about to get real personal up in here.

First things first; I wasn't shot. So that is not the reason why I have been a little late in writing. To tell you the truth; my communication skills have decreased a solid 92% since I moved to New York. I blame the subway. No really. You know how some things bring out the best in people i.e. chocolate, avocados, puppies, DuckTales theme song, etc... and then you have things that bring out the worst in people i.e. the subway, stepping on nails, the subway, wet socks, the subway, etc..

Things I also attribute to my new decrease in communication:

1. My phone charger is on the other coast in someone else's possession and wont give it back... (you know who you are...) and I'm too stubborn to buy a new one #taurus
2. My phone has no 'silent' anymore, so I have to turn my phone completely off when I need it silenced. UPDATE: turns out someone saw me power off my phone and said, "why don't you just put it in airplane mode when you need it to be on silent?" Well that would just make too much sense..
3. Dear Apple, come out with the iPhone 5 already; I can't make it much longer..

Um, little interjection - (I have ADD, deal with it) - I'm at the laundry mat and there are these girls that are having a myspace photo shoot right behind me using the full length floor mirrors. I'm the only one back here and this desolate corner of the laundry mat has become extremely uncomfortable. I literally feel like I'm watching the photo shoot for some scary planned parenthood campaign #yikes

Where were we?

Oh, yeah - missing teeth.

Let me take you on a journey, so almost three years ago on Christmas day I was over at my sister-in-law's parent's house visiting and while I was there they offered some toffee of some sort (the kind that gets stuck to your teeth before you even put it in your mouth somehow and is only available once a year during the holidays) and when I started to chew on it, I felt the crown on one of my bottom molars come ripping off.

I pulled out the half chewed gloppy mess of caramel toffee and sure enough, there was my tooth.

Cue: panic and anxiety

I am fine with blood and things of that nature, but for some reason I am NOT cool with dental anything. So I stood there feeling light headed as I was holding my tooth thinking; great let me just hop on over to the dentist and get this taken care of on Christmas day, oh wait..

Cue: more panic, more anxiety

My now exposed tooth was incredibly sensitive and by this point I was freaking out a little (and by a little I mean a lot.) My parents saw the whole thing go down, and my mom tried to offer some advice;

Mom: We can just superglue it in and you can get it taken care of when the dentist is open again.
Me: Um, no thanks. We are not putting super glue in my mouth none the less on an exposed sensitive tooth. 
Mom: People used to do it all the time. 
Me: People used to drink and smoke when they were pregnant, was that a good idea?

Banter continued until I breathed in again and the air shot a shock down my tooth. 

So there I was asking my sister-in-law for superglue who in return went and asked her parents if they had any superglue at their house.

Sister in law: Do you guys have any super glue?
Sister-in-law's parents: Why do you need super glue?
Sister in law: Hawk's tooth fell out
Sister-in-law's parents: He's going to superglue it back in?!
Sister in law: Yeah, I think so.
Sister-in-law's parents: I don't think thats a good idea...

Yeah, thanks - let's go ahead and make this a family affair. Anyone else that we would like to get in on this; poll the neighbors? phone a friend? draw a diagram for group discussion? For the love.. just someone get me the damn superglue!

So a few minutes later after some rummaging, the mom found some superglue and gave it to me - I immediately set up camp in front of the bathroom mirror - paper towels, crown, superglue.. It was go time.  

[Fast forward to the following monday after the 'incident' in my dentist's office]

Dentist: Well what can we do for ya?
Me: Um, well my crown came out on Christmas and I, well I, you see it was like..

I beat around the bush for at least a solid minute before I blurted out in panic/shame:

Me: I superglued my tooth back in, can you ever fix it?!

The dentist tried pulling out the tooth, got a few tools and tried again; each time more aggressive tugging and still no results.

Dentist: Hmm, looks like you did a PRETTY good job in there.
Me: um, thanks? 
Dentist: No really, excellent job. It is not coming off. It's not even budging. Ever think about going into dentistry?

really? now is NOT the time for dentist jokes..

Me: So what do I do?
Dentist: Just leave it in until it falls off again and then come in and we'll put it on the right way

He reassured me that the 'superglue was safe' and blah blah blah 'used to use it in the military' blah blah blah 'for surgeries' blah blah 'organs' blah blah blah 'you'll be fine'...

[Fast forward three years and on the opposite side of the country]

Every weekend I'd go to the beach, and going to the beach in New York is quite a bit different that what I'm used to. You have to take the subway to Penn Station and then take an hour long train to Long Beach and then you would have to pay to just get into the beach. I know right? 

Each week there would always be a group that would go down it was a big group of friends of friends of friends of friends so there were always like 20+ people that you didn't know until after spending a day at the beach together.

I had just put on 5 spf sunscreen and plopped down on my towel when my friend Kristen offered me one of her swedish fish. 

Swedish Fish. Saturday. Friends. Sun. Beach. #bliss

That was until mid chew the half masticated jolly red fish viciously attacked said molar/crown and ripped it out... again.

You have got to be kidding me. Here I am.. on the beach.. an hour away from Manhattan... and about 7 or 8 states between me and my dentist. 


But if we've learned anything from Ellen (#hereandnow #dvd #gobuyit) it is that pain takes a backseat to your pride and/or ego. always. So in a big group of people that I didn't know well enough to freak out to that my crown had just fallen out.. I had a silent anxiety attack as I casually and sneakily pulled out the fish that now consisted of Sugar, Red 40, and my crown. 

I dare any one of you to stealthily fiddle around with a half chewed swedish fish, with sandy hands, all while trying to get your tooth back in the way came and is supposed to go without anyone noticing. Yeah, about as easy as it sounds. 

At the train station on the way back I bought a pack of four little super glue packets... just in case. 

Dilemma; dih-(lem)-uh. noun: "When one looses their tooth in a gummy fish accident and is faced with the decision to wait two days with a loose crown until one can go to the dentist and get it fixed, or superglue it in again and hope for the best."

[Fast forward to the dentist office that Google search found for me in the Rockefeller tower]

New Dentist: Hi, so what can we do for you today?
Me: Um, well my crown came out at the beach this weekend because of a swedish fish.
New Dentist: What's a Swedish Fish
Me: Are you human? What rock have you been living under?   It's a candy.
Under-qualified Dentists Assistant: [chimes in] I love those!
Me: Yeah, I did too. 
New Dentist: So my [under-qualified] assistant said that it has come out before?
Me: Yes, once... but I super glued it back in. 
New Dentist: Wait, are you serious?
Me: Do people usually kid around about that?
New Dentist: Well no, I have heard of people doing that but have never actually seen it in real life before. Really? You really super glued it in? And how long ago was that?
Me: Yup, true story. Three years ago.
New Dentist: Wow.
Me: uh-huh.

The rest of the office visit gets a little hazy; what I do remember is how nervous I was that the [under-qualified] assistant kept doing the exact opposite of what the dentist asked her to do, and she made me hold the x-ray machine gun up to my face in place so it wouldn't fall down. Is that normal? That can't be normal. Please tell me that you have never had to hold an x-ray gun barehanded up to your face as she runs and hides behind a wall and hits the button from a safe distance!? Ugh, homegirl was buggin. 

[Fast forward to now] 

I have all my teeth. Huzzah. No more living in constant fear of chewing gum, See's candy, or anything of the like. 

Morals of Post:
  • Speaking of 'I should be a dentist'... I should. Lets talk about this for a minute a.) I have nimble hands b.) in a dimly lit bathroom I was able to successfully semi-permanently attach my own crown c.) one time I extracted someone's molar in the mountains of Peru #truestory (but that's a post for another day) and d.) I'm sure the whole phobia of all things dental would get better over time, right?
  • Not only did the [under-qualified] assistant make me hold my own x-ray gun aimed at my face, but she kept calling my crown the 'cover thingy' and she doubled as the receptionist/magazine reader #worrisome
  • Swedish Fish... still worth it.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Empire State of Mind

Oh heyyyy.

So here I am, sitting in Central Park, watching the sunset.

Oh, by the way – I moved to New York.

That’s why there has been a little bit of delay in getting some posts up, I have about three that I was working on before I left that are saved as drafts – so just to give you a heads up when you’re like ‘Wait? This doesn’t make sense - Isn’t he in New York?”

Actually, today was my first day.

It might sound really blissful, but I right now I have a migraine and am locked out of my friend Chad’s apartment that I’m staying at for the week.

I've been out here so long that I’m starting to ration my Smartwater. That’s when you know its ‘city’ bad.

Also, I haven’t even been here a full 24 hours and yet I’m convinced I’m a New Yorker already. The problem is New York apparently doesn’t think so, and it annoyingly keeps humbling me about every 25 minutes.

Things I’ve learned today:

Ignorance = bliss misery  (especially when it comes to the subway.)

For example: get on the 6 train, get off the 6 train. Easy right?

Yeah, that’s what I thought too.


Turns out you can’t just get on any ol’ 6 train, put in your headphones for 20 minutes, and then get off at the desired location, I guess you have to actually be pointed in the right direction or something like that to get where you want to go. Meh, minor details.

Figuring out the Subway system around this joint is like telling a turtle to translate the Bible into Finnish. Unless you’re talking about me, the most directionally challenged human being you’ll ever meet, then figuring out the subway system around this joint is like telling a crippled, blind, and French Canadian turtle to translate the Bible into Finnish. Odds, sadly, are not in my favor.

Something else I learned:

When you realize this and get off said 6 train going the opposite direction and then try to find the right one, you then enter the turnstiles to get into the subway and then see signs for 2 different end points and have to exit the turnstiles again to read the giant subway map that is past the exits, and when you try to get back in - turns out you have to wait 18 minutes before you can use your damn metro card again to get back in. WHO MAKES THESE RULES UP? It's like playing Monopoly with a 6 year old... you get told some ridiculous new rule after it's too late that makes no sense at all.

So now you get to watch as both trains pass as you are stuck on the opposite side of the gate watching your train leave through the bars. But at least you know where they are going, right?

Don’t get me wrong it wasn’t all bad experiences today, sometimes heaven knows when you need a little pick me up and usually it comes in random shapes and sizes. For me it came in the form of a tough guy wearing a vest going to get off at his stop but the buckle on the back of his vest got caught on the bag of the lady standing in front of me. When he tried to leave he thought someone was holding him back and trying to pick a fight while she thought someone was trying to rob her and steal her bag. Luckily, since the subway was so packed, this was pretty much unfolding on my lap, and I had courtside seats to watch the whole thing go down. They both turned toward each other with their New York ‘Imma gunna cuuuuut you’ faces until they realized what had happened. By that time the lady's friend was trying to help the guy get loose before the doors closed and he missed his stop. Everyone just stared in anticipation… some hoping he made it, and others secretly hoping he didn’t, just to see what would happen. Stop judging us the latter group.

He made it. Barely.


Okay, I’m back.

It’s tomorrow. I’m in the park again… and locked out of the apartment again, but this time it’s sans headache. I have GOT to get a copy of that key.

Recap last night: When the ratio of crazy people with possible weapons to just normal crazy people with dogs began to dramatically increase in the park - I headed back to the lobby to wait for any of the roommates to get back. Meanwhile, my migraine just got worse and worse and of course my prescription was inside the apartment. So my new focus was shifted solely on trying not to throw up in the lobby.

The rest is a blur, but I woke up at 5:30 am the next morning bright eyed and bushy tailed; so something must have worked out okay.

I have also, after today, come to a realization that all of life’s lessons can be learned on the subway. I should have a segment just on that – as you can see from above I have already been exercising my subway learning curve.

So today’s subway lesson of the day:

I need tattoos on my neck… a lot of them.

No, hear me out. There is definitely a correlation between the number of tattoos on your neck and the percentage of people that don't want to mess with you.  Like get a couple of teardrops or something tattooed (somewhere between 7 and 9) to send the message that:

a.) this ain’t my first rodeo, son.  
b.) mess with me and you just might be the 10th tattoo mark on my neck and
c.) I’m not fresh meat nor a NY virgin, so don't even think about mugging me

Morals of the Post:
  • I was discussing the need for neck tattoos with my sister and since I am moderately terrified of needles she suggested that I get the temporary stick on tattoos. BRILLIANT, SISTER! brilliant.
  • Also, I went to the Food Festival in Times Square last night for Dinner. Which was incredible. I went with some friends and we somehow all got separated so it was just me and Edelisse to fend for ourselves. Turns out she was the best secret weapon EVER to take with you to a food festival. Guys would keep giving her free food or tons of extra food for regular price - it worked on everything from empenadas to bbq chicken wings. Homegirl knew how to work it! She became the literal bread winner as I would give her a ticket and she would go work her magic and come back with plates of food. Well done Edelisse, well done.
  • Hey Blogmother - I'm in NY... let's do lunch!
  • Everyday since I have been here I have heard the "New York" song in the most random of places each day - It must be a sign. Thank you @nataliedont for starting the tradition - and on future days that I don't actually hear it, I will whip open your voicemail and just have you sing/rap it to me. Still counts. 

Monday, May 16, 2011

One of Those Days...

Do you ever just have one of those days where you go to the eye doctor to pick up your new box of contacts and you go into the bathroom frantically excited to take out the new contacts from the box because you've been using the same old pair of contacts for the last six months and then you put in the new contacts only to find out that your vision is actually worse now and that they must have given you the wrong prescription so you freak out a little and you desperately rummage around blindly to try and find the old contacts you threw away because you can't see without those either, but then it dons on you that maybe you never actually took out your old contacts in the first place before you put the new ones in, and as you are left there blurry eyed, confused, and feeling slightly sheepish while you then proceed to take out the 4 contact lenses that you are now currently sporting?

oh, yeah... me neither.

Moral of the Post:

  • Emphasis on 'sheepish'

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


My friends and I were all hanging out one night when I looked down at my phone and it was 11:11 p.m.

"Hey, check it. It's 11:11."

Then Addi and I commented at the exact same time...

Simultaneous conversation:

Addi: Time to make a wish.
Me: Time to talk with the devil.

[dead silence]

Everyone in the room stopped and turned to me with confused and slightly creeped out faces.

Me: Um...

In my defense, I had a meso-american civilization class like 4 years ago and the teacher told us one day in class that there are two superstitious times/places that some people believe you can talk to the devil...

a.) at a crossroads and
b.) at 11:11

So once again, I think I should get some kind of props for even remembering that, let alone finding a place in everyday conversation to use it. But alas, judgement had already been passed and I was labeled as "the group Wiccan" for the night.

Morals of the Post:
  • Sure am glad I paid tuition for that.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Meet: Merl

For a while now I have really wanted to start doing segments called "Meet: ______ " to introduce to you some of the craziest, funniest, greatest, most ridiculous characters you'll ever meet and somehow I got lucky enough to have them all in my life.

Meet: Merl.

Alias: Mark
Trademark: Loudest snort/I-dont-know-what-to-call-it you'll ever hear.
Random Fact: Tiff, Merl, and Danny changed my life at probably one of the most critical times for me back in the day. A lot of who I am today has been because of the influence they had on me many, many moons ago. They will always be somewhat of heroes to me. [cue: Full House "inspirational moment" music...]

Tonight my friend Lanie and I had homemade pizza at Merl's house for dinner. Merl and I have been friends for about ten years now, but I haven't seen him in about 5 years with the exception of a wedding reception run-in or two over the past few years. Merl invited Mel and I over to his place for dinner and to finally catch up.

Mel and I swung over to his house and and as we walked in and into their living room Mel started laughing and told me to look over at the wall where all the the family pictures were hung on the wall. Mel pointed and could barely get out between laughing, "Look, you're in their family pictures!" I looked over and sure enough there my picture was in the corner of the family portrait collage and in the opposite corner was Mel. I pointed out laughing, "You are too!"

So there we were... our pictures (swiped from our Facebook profile pictures) immortalized among the pictures of Merl, his wife, and two awesome kids in a giant "Family" picture frame.

Merl turned to us and said, "Well yeah, we wanted you to feel like family here, so..."

[cue: slow power clap] Well done Merl, you may just have set the bar for expectations of all future dinners from this point out.


Tasha's (Merl's wife) homemade pizza's were bomb, and we had such a good time with Merl and his little family. As we chatted afterward they showed us another awesome picture framed on the wall, okay maybe a little more terrifying than 'awesome', which was someone's framed artwork. It was a portrait of either the corpse bride or... a burn victim; wasn't quite sure.  I thought it was the art that one of his daughters had drawn that they had framed and put up on the wall. I was wrong.

"That's a portrait that Mark drew of me." Tasha said as we sat in the living room.

"I'm sorry, say what?" ....

Merl told us that he was taking an art class and one night he went to class and he was super tired and had a hard time staying awake through the lesson. The homework for the class that night: draw a portrait, use only your non-dominant hand, with your eyes closed, and you can only use one continuous line.

When he brought the assignment home and explained it to Tasha (who is an artist), she was confused and asked, "Are you sure that's what the assignment was?" Merl told her that was what the teacher had said to do so he started drawing the portrait of his wife, with his eyes closed, left handed as he struggled to stay awake while Tasha, who on the other hand did not have her eyes closed, laughed as the portrait just got scarier and scarier the more he drew.

Meet: Tasha

I think it looked a wee bit more like a cross between Sporty Spice and Jocelyn Wildenstein, but hey.. that's just me.

When Merl took the assignment back to his class he looked around and saw that other student's portraits were actually really really good - he was amazed how people were able to pull off such good work with the crazy requirements for the assignment. That was until he asked around and found out that the only real requirement for the assignment was that you couldn't lift your pen off of the paper and that the line had to be continuous. I don't know what worried Merl's teacher more when he saw the drawing, the fact that this was actually his finished homework piece or the fact that it was supposedly a portrait of Merl's wife.

Oh my gosh. I was dying.

And then to top the night off, Merl busted out a VHS that he wanted to surprise us with - I leaned over to Mel and guessed exactly what he was going to put in. Nailed it. Even with a 5 year absence we still are kindred spirits. May I introduce you to a little gem, aka VHS gold, that will most likely change your life (while simultaneously erasing years off your face)...

The Body Flex exercises.

This may be the greatest thing to hit VHS and the internet since the sultry Alphabet Song of '77

...and coming from me,  that's saying a lot.

Morals of the Post:

  • I found out tonight that it turns out Merl is a closeted blog follower (like most of you are) which I am finding to be quite the epidemic, so I will take the time in this moral of the post to schlap on a little guilt trip and tell y'all to follow with PRIDE. Come out of the shadows of Google Reader or worse yet... Anonymous Following (you know who you are) and click the follow button at the top of the blog. See, painless. Go ahead, make my day! I'll even spare you the "harassing you to leave comments" rant for a future post if you do... ya know, something to look forward to.

  • Tonights Body Flex Testimonial: "My sister said she's done it everyday and has gone down from three chins to two. Her words, not mine." - Merl

  • Also wanted to give a shout out to all y'all that have shared this blog with your friends, coworkers, and family. It makes my day when I hear that! Also, to those who have sent over e-mails and/or messages... a big thank you to ALL of you guys! You guys make blogging a good time.

  • I'd be a little more than disappointed if you guys didn't try out "The Lion" exercise at least 3 sets of 10 reps sometime today... trust me, you'll thank me twenty years down the road when you still radiate youth and all that is attractive. You're call.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Mom, Pops, and Popcorn

Perks of catching a saturday matinee movie with the parental unit:

a.) free movie
b.) good times and epic company
c.) free popcorn
d.) supplied with at least a weeks worth of one liners

Two things happened having been born of parentals consisting of a hippie and a native american...

1. Accepting the fact that my parents will always be infinitely cooler than me.
2. Hearing "I would marry you just to be part of your family..." more times than I'd like to mention.

I met my parents at the theater and even before I could get a 'hello' this was the conversation I was greeted with:

Dad:  Hey Hawk, go over to the counter and tell them that you lost a dollar.

Me: [blank stare] Um, what the... why?

Dad: Because I just returned a lost dollar to them... they'll think it's yours.

Mom: [turning to my dad] Why did you return the dollar if you were just going to work even harder to get it back?

Welcome to my life.

We made it into the theater as the movie was starting, I jetted out for a minute to get some napkins (for our 90% butter 10% popcorn) and when I came back my dad was gone. I leaned over to my mom, "Where's dad?" My mom looked over raised her eyebrows and pointed in front of us. My dad was just chilling by himself in the row in front of us.

I leaned forward and whispered to my dad,

"Um sir, you here by yourself? ... What on earth are you doing?"

He got up and came back and said,

"When some giant comes and sits in front of you or some lady with huge hair gets in your way for the entire movie... don't come complaining to me."

Brilliant pops.

No really, brilliant.

Afterward, I took my parents out to one of my favorite restaurants. Now my parents are getting ready to remodel one of their bathrooms and this just so happend to be restaurant where this happened... so I recommended that my dad check it out and see if that might be a direction he would want to go with for the remodel.

Unfortunately, Rihanna didn't make the cut.

Moral of Post:

  • Family is:  risking looking like a creeper to ensure your offspring get the best seats. 

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Muddy Buddies + Sweat + Cops

Where do I even start?

You know those movies that the whole time you are watching them you're all like, "Wow, I love this movie so much; I could watch this for forever." and then in the final stretch, out of nowhere, it somehow has the absolute worst ending you have ever seen in all movie-dom? All that build-up to what could have been something great is brutally massacred by a bad ending. Yeah, welcome to my day today.

This morning started out really good. I filed my taxes.

No, I don't think you understand how big of a deal this is for me.

It's March 23... and I filed my taxes.

Recap: I got 2009's tax return a few months ago in December when I finally filed for them. I know, I know... why on earth would I put off getting free money?! Well, I feel as though I would lack consistency if I didn't procrastinate in all aspects of my life (future employers: just gloss over that last sentence) so naturally, I had put it off... but not today... today was MY day!

So I filed all my forms (correction: some incredible girl did it for me) and now my return is en route and on it's way to me in two weeks. Score.

We're off to a good start, no?

Wait, it gets even better (before it gets horribly tragic.)

My friend Trina and I have been planning a Modern Family marathon night for quite some time now with a guest list consisting of: Muddy Buddies, sea salt dark chocolates, and even a little chocolate covered butter toffee thrown in for good measure... needless to say it was a crucial break from such a long week - and yes, I know it's only Tuesday.

After our little MF marathon, I decided I needed to run a real marathon just to work off the disturbingly large amount of treats I had just thrown down my gullet; so I hit up the gym afterward.

I ran longer than normal to try and compensate for the previous hours of nonstop snacking. As a result, I came off the treadmill looking like I had just gotten out of the pool. Too tired to lift, I jumped in my car and headed home.

As mentioned before, I don't handle dumb people driving on the road very well at all.  I was on the freeway with not a soul on the road when someone drifted in from the on-ramp and creeped right in front of me not even driving up to freeway speeds. I mean, really?! There are two other lanes completely vacant and you have to cut me off?!

I may or may not have tailgated the tinciest bit and then went around them and out of spite didn't use my blinkers as I whipped back in front of him to my rightful place on the freeway. Somehow I felt a little bit better about the situation, but want to know who didn't think it was as clever? How about the cop that had magically come out of stealth mode and was now vigorously tailgating me.

Bad news bears.

We all know how well I do with cops. Just look here, here, or here.

The cop turned on his lights and to make things worse was that the whole freeway was currently under construction so there were no shoulders to be had on the side of the freeway at all. So there I am cruising along, America's Most Wanted high speed chase style, because I had nowhere to pull off to the side of the road. Never a good thing.

After about a minute I finally come up to an emergency pull off area and pull over.

Okay, now is not the time nor the place to tell you about my current car situation... that's a blog entry all on it's own... but suffice it to say my car was created before I was, and bless it's heart, has had a real hard time trying to bring sexy back with its red felt interior.

So let me paint you a picture: There I am sitting in my car which is pulled off to the side of some makeshift emergency shoulder with semis screaming by and completely rattling my car as they go by. Not to mention I am sitting there absolutely drenched in sweat, and because of my sweatiness I have completely fogged up all of my car windows.

Things be lookin' bleak to say the least... bleak, and super shady.

Out of habit, in the spirit of being pulled over, I roll down my driver's side window and wait for the cop to come. Might I add, rolling down the window in my car is quite the feat. It literally averages about 12-13 seconds per 1/2 inch just to roll down. Oh, and let's not forget the sound that it makes as the window desperately tries to move up or down which sounds probably sounds like what would happen if you caught a leprechaun and gave it an indian rug burn until he started to cry.

The officer came to the passenger side instead and tapped on my window. So I hit the button and pathetically watch as the window creeps down uber slow as if it were trying to make this encounter as dramatic and awkward as possible. Success.

After probably twenty seconds and only having the window go down like an inch, I let up on the button as the cop peers in and suspiciously asks through the steamed up windows, "Can you roll down the window a little more." I chimed in with a, "Yeah, this might take a minute though." as I hit the button again and watched the window slowly, oh so slowly, creak past the cops eyes, to his nose, then to his mouth which probably took another minute to do.

The cop looked in and gave me the saddest look that I have ever received from a cop before, and he asked for my drivers license which coincidentally was in my trunk in my gym bag. I told him that it was in my wallet which was back in the trunk and that I just came from the gym (trying to elude to the reason of my sweatiness; two birds, one stone.) There was a long pause where I could tangibly feel his regret in pulling me over in the first place, then he asked, "Could you please get it?"

I looked over to my right out the driver's window as a semi passed and shook my car again, I looked back at the cop with equally matched sad eyes and asked, "Um, like right now?!" I was tempted to just give him my keys and let him get it for me while he was out and about in the danger free zone, but no... what started as a little pull over now became a real life game of life or death Frogger. So with a little coaching from the peanut gallery and a lot of faith, I bolted out between cars passing and got him my stupid license and expired insurance card out of my trunk.

Also, in my trunk was a giant ziplock baggie of muddy buddy left overs from earlier, which in all honesty probably looked like a giant bag of cocaine conveniently hidden in my trunk.

The kicker? I don't think my car is currently registered. Whoops. So as he gets back into his car, and I maneuver back into mine with my mad Frogger skills, I sit and wait as I watched police car, after police car line up behind me. Each trying to move forward and make room for the other. "Oh swell, this is the day I go to jail.", I thought to myself while being blinded by at least two of the cop's spotlights behind me. I waited there for probably twenty minutes until the two other police cars drove away and then my officer came back to the door and gave me my license and expired insurance card and said, "I'm going to go easy on you tonight and let you off with a warning."

Excuse me?! A warning?!  What the?  Now don't get me wrong, I'm not downplaying the miracle of it all... but, I have been pulled over for a lot less (and not to mention in situations where it actually appeared that I owned and had not stolen the vehicle) and yet somehow ended up getting a ticket.

I think we can all agree on at least one thing... it's a spring equinox miracle!

Morals of Post:

  •  ______________________________________________.
     (Ad-lib your own moral of the post in the comments...)

     I'm still a little speechless. 

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Blog for a Year. Check.

Happy one year anniversary... um, to me.

My blog is a year old! 

One sunday, a year ago, I drove out to the lake for a couple of hours and while I was out there I discovered the wonderful world of blogging via my iPhone. 

I had always thought that blogs consisted of nothing more than picture after picture of infants (some cute, most not) documenting - in real time - every move they made. (Tiff this excludes you because I often blog stalk you to see your ridiculously cute kid, and kind of wish you had more pictures up... but to EVERYONE else... less is more.) 

Being infant-less and all, I didn't think that blogging was my steez nor really up my alley, but...

that all changed. 

I happened across two blogs that had me laughing and made me realize that even those sans offspring could be a good time.

They definitely inspired me to get my blog on, and they became my 'blogparents', if you will... kinda like real life godparents, except for the fact that they don't send money on my birthday. I'm working on that. 

So to my 'blogfather' Kevin and to my 'blogmother' Una... this one year shout out goes to you!
To highlight a year of Hawkward Moments, here's a a few to freshen up on or to check out if you're new around these parts:

1. Mazda, Why?     

2. Heartbreak Hoopers     

4. WebMD    

If any of these or any others have stood out to you, drop a comment; I would love to hear what ones you've liked!

Moral of Post:
  • I'm actually going to try and write more frequently without the lag between posts - so to all of you that are "closet followers"... knock it off.  It's time to prove your love (you know who you are) Go ahead and follow, spread the word, drop a comment... all of which will help me stick with my goal and hold me accountable to be on the ball and write more.
  • So what was my anniversary present to myself you ask? 


Not shown: the 3 other boxes of Samoas I bought... go ahead, judge. 

Monday, January 31, 2011

Will that be one Ka-Boob or two?

Eric sent me a rather aggressive email recently asking why I haven’t made a blog post in a while… I have no good answer.

I’m legally blind. My contacts prescription is -7.25 and -6.75.

Okay, that tidbit, or tad-bat (if you are Valerie while trying to say tid-bit as you are waiting in line for free chocolates from the geriatric ward… aka See’s Candy) was mostly two fold: 

A.) to make you feel bad for me and a little less angry for not writing for a while and... 

B.) as a diversion and/or procrastination tactic

Right now I am sitting in the passenger seat driving to Vegas. I am seeing how long it will take me before I get violently road sick while writing this post.

So far; so good.

I find it fitting that I write a memory involving Eric as he was the motivating factor to getting my blog on again; if you will.

Best friend Eric and I go way back. And I mean waaaay back… back to the days of floating down the river in an inner tube in our overalls. Well, at least that’s how long it feels. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure we actually met in a 9th grade gym class. He was the new kid on the block, and I thought I was too cool for school whilst wearing my pooka shell necklaces an all, so needless to say our friendship didn’t really start then either; obviously. (I promise I’m a better person now.) 

To tell you the truth I’m not rightly sure the point where we became best friends, our next attempt at friendship was also rocky. We had an English class together. Which I believe is a good time to interject that our teacher, I’m about 98.90% sure, was a underground Nazi cult leader or professional child snatcher. No joke, this woman had a complete bottom desk drawer full of knives. She also recommended me to read a book for a report and when I went to the library to check it out the librarian got all wide-eyed and asked why on earth I was looking for that book. I was then informed it was banned from all school libraries as “too pornographic”… yeah, thanks for that one teach.

Wow, tangent.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Eric and I round two.  So he sat in front of me in my class and after about a week into it, he made me sign a contract saying that I would not put my feet up on his desk, or sprawl out my arms onto his desk when I would take my post lunch nap during the Nazi propaganda lectures by said teacher.

Okay, I’m not making a strong case here, but suffice it to say - we are best friends now… and that’s all that matters.

Eric even got me a job at the restaurant he worked at. Which I’m not sure was the most productive decision ever made, putting us both in the same work environment and all, but none the less it made for some awesome stories along the way.

One night, a sassy lady (and not the good kind of sassy) came up to us asking for something as her son tagged along behind her while looking as white as a ghost. He was trying to get his mom’s attention but she kept ignoring him and insisted on assaulting us with request after request.

Then it happened.

The boy could be ignored no more… mostly because he began to vomit, and lets get real, vomiting gets anyone’s attention – which come to think of it, is probably the only reason why Mariah Carey is having a baby.  Twins nonetheless. That’s like twice the vomiting, and thus twice the attention. That makes more sense than the disturbing alternative like that she actually wants to have offspring. Something to ponder. 

Another random fact about me; I do not do well with smells and have frighteningly sensitive gag reflex. Eric looked over to me after the kid vomited right in front of us and the first words out of my mouth were, “Um yeah, you are going to want to clean that up unless you want to clean up mine as well as his.” Now I’m not going to say that that was the best thing to say as the mom is still standing right in front of us, but she just looked over with those annoyingly needy eyes as if to say, “Well what are you waiting for, clean that.”

Eric is a good man; he took care of it while I stayed at the opposite end off the restaurant while trying not to dry heave myself that evening as the event kept replaying in my head.

Another night that we were working and a sweet old lady was looking over the menu and looked up at me while Eric was next to me and asked, “Now what’s your chicken ka-boob?” Call it immaturity, but I dare any one of you to keep straight face if a grandma came up to you and starts asking you to describe, and question you about the quality of your ka-boobs,

 “… and is that one ka-boob or two?"

Nigh unto impossible.

Morals of Post:
  • Everyone should be Eric’s best friend. It’s kind of like having two drinks come out of the vending machine when you only pay for one, or kind of like finding a $20 bill in the gutter and having no one around watching, allowing you to not feel morally awkward taking it and spending it on two days worth of Chinese food in a row.  Yeah, it’s a lot like that.

Remember when..