Deadly Plagues

As I have mentioned before about my immune system... I apparently don't have one. That or it has, like Amanda Bynes, taken all that it can and retired.

Monday: Severe allergies.

• I went through a roll and a half of toilet paper and finished up a box of Kleenex. By severe I mean perma nose faucet and continual sneezing from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. (which was about the time I ate dinner, took a healthy dose of Benadryl, and peaced out to the world for about the next 14 hours). 

Tuesday: Food poisoning.

• Dear Joe Banditos restaurant,
         
                  I hate you. I hate you with the passion of a thousand suns. Not only did you make me throw up 7 times yesterday (one of which was in Walmart. WALMART! Worst place ever to have to throw up fyi), but also for the fever, dehydration, and 12 minutes of sleep that I got last night.
  
  

Wednesday (today): Migraine.

• Food Poisoning hangover.
  
  

Thursday (forecast for tomorrow): Locusts and/or all the water around me turning into blood.

• I'm fairly certain if things continue to go the way they have the past two days, I should have finished all the plagues by Saturday or Sunday.
  

 Bring it on.


Morals of Post:

• Amanda Bynes, really? Life sure is rough.
  
• Joe Banditos caused 5 people to have to call in sick to their work and think they were going to die. We ALL hate you.

Heartbreak Hoopers

So when I got to my friend's place in San Francisco the other week, I barely had time to say hello when we went to her favorite store because she had just bought her husband a jacket there and thought I would want one just like it, and I didn't have time to blink before we were in her car driving over.

We got there and walked through the door of the store only to be greeted by a girl in full half moon yoga position, which went into lion position, and then against the laws of nature... went into feathered peacock position.

I'm sorry, WHERE are we?!

The girl then hopped up and started chatting away with my friend as I snuck on over to the jackets in the corner. I was alone for no more than three minutes when I hear a, "Hi! I'm Arielle! So how do you two know each other?!" It was the incredibly perky yoga master from the front of the store; so I jumped in telling her how my friend and I knew each other.

Somehow (still not quite sure how...) we got talking about how she was an aerialist (which I find to be quite the irony/foreshadow that her name is Arielle and that she is an aerialist... that's kinda like if I end up being a Hawk handler for the rest of my life; good to know I have options). We then got talking about how she would love to join Cirque du Soleil but never could because they require you to speak french fluently to be in their troupe. I informed her that I too had some reasons why the good people of Cirque du Soleil would never let me join their troupe either.

Check out 'Empathy' in the dictionary... you'll see the picture of us in the jacket section commiserating together as their reference picture.

Our conversation from utter left field somehow got more interesting as she started telling me that she specializes in hula hoop. Now once conversation has reached hula hoop status, one will find themselves completely invested and completely out of 'casual chit-chat' bounds.

She told me about where she had learned it, and she also told me that she teaches hula hoop classes at night. Then, out of bloody nowhere, there was a HULA HOOP right in front of me that she somehow had in her hands?!! Magical.

She then informed me that she makes all of her own hula hoops and this is one of the ones that she had made. By now a lot of the coworkers had gathered around chanting for her to 'hula', meanwhile my friend was nowhere to be found?!

What is happening?!

Here is another blatant iPhone plug... you will never know when you will cross paths with a professional hula hooper and mark my words, when that day comes you had better have some kind of recording device with you to capture the moment.

  Behold...

She is incredible.

Now I'm not one to brag, but I have been known to win a shimmy contest or two in my day... but never did I know what I have been missing all these years!

Shimmy + Hula  =  Default Win.

She gave me one of her business cards and I would be really selfish to keep it all to myself... so here you go.

Heartbreak Hoopers
Heartbreakhoopers.com
Arielle (aka 'Hooperella')

Apparently you get a hooper name when you turn pro.

I have been thinking of what my hooper name would be should I decide to reconsider my career...

Hawkahoop...

Hoopahawker...

Ken-a-hoopa-hawk-anator...

Hooper-hamhawk-a-loogie....

Hmmm, starting to have to have some horrible junior high flashbacks. I'll have to work on the name...

Morals of the Post:

• I don't know if its the hippie in my blood talking, or the Native American connecting with ritual ring/rain dances... but either way, this is baller!! I endorse it! a lot.
  
•  If interested, and you live in the bay area... have Arielle teach you! She's pretty much the best thing to hit hula hoops since, well... ever.  Tell her Hawk sent you.

• If you own a company I HIGHLY recommend stationing yoga'ers, aerialists, and hoopers at every entrance... I felt guilty for getting a complete performance and not buying anything, so I bought the jacket. That my friends, is smart marketing.
  
  
• To all my Heartbreak Hoopers out there... Hoop on.

Mazda, Why?!

Things That Scare/Creep Me Out Beyond Reason Part I:

May I introduce you to the new Mazda 2010... aka Satan's Chariot.

The first time that I saw one of these at work I thought to myself,

"Wow, you kind of look familiar there little guy..."

Then I realized...

"Oh, because you are pretty much the identical twin of the Letters to Juliet girl... "

 
How is that possible?

Could it be the little slanty eyes that are approx. 3 feet apart? Or the large nervous ear to ear grin? Or maybe the button nose?

Kinda adorable? Sure.

Mostly Creepy? Absolutely.

So that was my first run in with the weird phenomenon... a safe distance away, and I was safely protected from it by a thick wall and a sturdy window.

I was safe.

Later that week I was driving down the road when, next thing I knew, one of them came zooming at me in the other lane... let me just tell you that the likeness and similarities of the funny blond girl in Mean Girls ended there...

As we passed each other it took on a new frighteningly similar resemblance to that of Jack McBrayer flying towards me.

Weird. Yes.

Luckily, I happen to love Kenneth the Page and found it kind of amusing as it passed by.

That was all until the other day when I was driving on the freeway, and I looked in my rear-view mirror only to see one of them CHASING ME DOWN! I sped up; but those stupid Mazdas are actually quite peppy and annoyingly fast. So there I was... each time I looked up in the rear-view mirror the clown car from hell just got closer and closer.

Funny Kenneth the Page Car quickly turned into Kenneth the Killer Car as it raced to catch up to me (and run me off the road no doubt).

(Snapshot from my rear-view mirror)

So... I made a power lane change across 3 lanes and took the next exit.

(Granted I was fairly distracted by trying to outmaneuver the the IT killer clown car that I nearly missed my own exit...) 

If I have learned anything from being a creeper myself, it is that if you take an exit abruptly you are most likely to loose the one chasing you and make it out alive. Barely.

Morals of the Post:

• If I had to choose between watching Trolls II again (shudder) or to be chased down by one of these again... well lets just say, Bust out the popcorn!
  
• I think this design may be Mazda's dying breath. No, really. When you see Bob Saget start doing commercials for them, welp... memba I toldja so! (tribute to Kevin)

Voice Search

We went to the movies last night, but our show was sold out.

So we had to find out if the same show was sold out at the other theater in the next city over before we drove clear over there just to have it be sold out again. I was given the task to call them and find out.

I am always itching for an excuse to use my Google voice search app so I gladly accepted the challenge.

The only problem was that I kind of had anxiety every time I had to talk and ask for the number; and since it is still a Google search I found myself stuttering out random keywords and phrases to try and be helpful but ultimately it made no sense when it all came staggering out.

Meanwhile the poor poor Google search app tried desperately to understand what it was I was telling it to do.

Each time I tried to explain and casually tell it what to search for I ended up sounding like some foreigner trying to explain the history of cinematography in broken english. 

Addi: Hawk, will you find out if its sold out at the other theater?

Me: Absolutely!

[Fumbling around to open Google App]

Roughly this is what came out:

Me: Movie Theater. Time Showings. Number. Phone. Center. Cinemark. Times shown. (Pause to breathe) row seat....

Frustrated and slightly embarrassed as Addi and Libby glance over trying to figure out what on earth I had just said; I went for attempt number two.

Me: Movie listing number show times, cinemark. hotline... uh... assistance number? movie number. times....

I sheepishly look over only to see in Addi and Libby's eyes the regret of giving me the assignment in the first place.

Fail.

Luckily I have friends that drop it and allow me some preservation of my pride and ego. Oh, wait....

Morals of Post:

• Stupid Google. Why don't you have mind reading apps yet?! C'mon, pull it together.
  
• I'm all about going green, don't get me wrong - but at least allow me the option to use paper towels in the bathroom. All air dryers prove is that I somehow still have soap on my hands after washing, and I will almost always end up with wet marks all over my back pocket and side of my pants no matter how long I stand in front of it.

WebMD

So my tongue kills.

It feels as if I just put an entire steaming cup of 7/11 hot chocolate into my mouth and gargled it... or lapped up the water used to make the the withered carrots in Cup'o'Noodles magically explode into vibrant (or really, just slightly less withered) carrot chunks.

That is the pain I have dealing with the past few days. I have NO recollection of eating anything hot or spicy and I am pretty sure that I don't have food allergies so here I am left. perplexed.

I have come to two conclusions: Either I am one of those people that do crazy things while they sleepwalk and somehow one night went downstairs, boiled me up some hot water, drank it, and repeated the process fourteen times - or - clearly this is  a mystery that only WebMD can solve.

In my pursuit of knowledge and how to get rid of this pain, I coincidentally have finally found a more dramatic writer than myself...

Meet WebMD.

Me: Hey WebMD whats up?

WebMD: Hey Hawk, not feeling so hot? Tell me a little about it...

Me: My tongue hurts.

WebMD: Can you be more specific?

Me: Its like I burned my whole tongue with scalding water or kinda like I have been sucking on a habenero like a cool Mentos on a hot summer's day... but I didn't; well at least I don't think I did.

WebMD: Ahhh, yup yup, u-huh, you came to the right place; I know excactly what that is... you either have

     A.   a vitamin deficiency or

     B.   YOU HAVE AIDS!!! O..M..G.. Y O U   H  A  V  E    A  I  D  S!!!

Me: SWEET MERCY!! SAY WHAAA?!!?!

WebMD: Yeah, you heard me... either A. You just need a few gummy vitamins and you'll be right as rain or B. Run, no, SPRINT to the hospital right now because YOU-HAVE-FREAKIN'-AIDS!!!

Me: [frightened and desperately clicking out of the browser that is now screaming at me]

---

Really, WebMD? There couldn't possibly be a couple steps in between the two?

You had me at hello when you diagnosed me with ADD and listed off everything that I do in life and how I think, but now I'm starting to think that you are just a wee bit dramatic.

Morals of Post:

•  If you want some SERIOUS paranoia I recommend hitting up WebMD and telling it how you are feeling today. Lets see what terminal illness you end up with.
  
  
• Update: I could no longer taste Coke and eating toast nearly brought me to tears so I thought to myself... Maybe its time for a real doctor. I went to the doc and my diagnosis: stress. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! So apparently everyone has different things that happen when they get really stressed; for some its headaches, for others its perma-fire-tongue - luckily, I get to experience both.
  
  
• I'm nearly positive I must have eaten kittens, puppies, and/or children in a past life.... that or had done something horrible to spark a chain of events that led to the Bieber epidemic. Either or, I think this is my punishment for whatever it was I did.
  

Get Your Own Digeridoo!

I have been fighting getting sick for the past week now. By all means I really should be put in a plastic bubble with limited human contact because my immune system is pretty much non-existent. I'm 96% sure it is because I'm the runt of the family.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have it as bad as some critters in the animal kingdom where the runt not only is the most likely to get sick and die (as if that weren't enough to have to deal with) but also has the biggest threat of being eaten by a sibling or their own mother... thanks a lot "Animal Planet/Wiki/Google 'runt' search" for that unsettling tidbit and graphic visual. I'm just saying that I'm the one that can catch a cold from watching someone sneeze on TV.

Its exhausting.

So I found a few things from the last time that I was sick to motivate me to keep popping vitamin C's like sixlets. If you don't know what a sixlet is I am literally mourning over the fact that you had no childhood.

The last time I got sick I was pummeled to the ground by Strep Throat. Hell. Pure Hell. There is no adequate way to describe how horrible strep throat is; a picture is worth a thousand words and well... I think this pretty much sums it up.

Meet my 'happy place' basket.

The only time that I would crawl out of bed with comatose swagger was to visit this little guy. Which also happened to be the reason behind the crazy dreams I was having when I actually did catch some z's.

I also found a tribute that I had written while home sick:
  
My "Pro and Con" Ode to Strep Throat...

CON
Spending Valentines at an InstaCare with someone shoving a tongue depressor down my throat. Not quite the kind of action I was looking for on Valentines Day...

PRO
15 ml of LORTAB Elixir every 4-6 Hours

CON
Five Day Fever.

PRO
15 ml of LORTAB Elixir every 4-6 Hours

CON
Waking up at 12:33 a.m., 1:45 a.m., 3:27 a.m.,  4:13 a.m.,
6:00 a.m.,  etc... every day.

PRO
15 ml of LORTAB Elixir every 4-6 Hours

CON
Having the Angel of Death as a new roommate.

PRO
15 ml of LORTAB Elixir every 4-6 Hours

CON
Spending a three day weekend curled
up in bed.

PRO
15 ml of LORTAB Elixir every 4-6 Hours

CON
50 bones donated to Theraflu, Nyquill,
and prescriptions...

PRO
15 ml of LORTAB Elixir every 4-6 Hours

Moral of Post:

• When you wake up in a cold sweat wondering if Angelina Jolie really did just steal a digeridoo from you in the middle of an IKEA parking lot, maybe you should cut back on the frequency of visits to your happy basket. Hypothetically speaking of course.

Once a Carni... Always a Carni

The other night we went to Cirque du Soliel's Alegria show.

I have two words: Incredible and Depressing.

Don't get me wrong; that's not to be mistaken with 'incredibly depressing'

May I expound...

Incredible:

This was my first ever Cirque du Soleil experience; and that's exactly what it was... a complete experience. My mind was blown.

They were doing things up there that:

      A. I wouldn't do even if I had a safety net beneath me.
      B. My body probably couldn't  do even if I wanted to try.
      C. Gave me anxiety just watching.

So, I learned that in order to actually be in Cirque du Soleil you must:

1. Have impeccable balance. You must be able to balance all of your body weight upside down while on one hand and moving your legs from side to side making it seem like it is easiest thing to come along since the hot pocket.
   
   
2. Have a nineteen pack. Yeah, you heard me. These people were frighteningly in shape.
   
   
3. Be able to do acrobatic moves on the ground and in the air without running into the person who coincidentally is headed straight for you also flipping and turning while somehow knowing exactly whats in front of them. Unnatural. Unnerving.

Depressing:

When you walk away from the show, this is what you realize:

1. I count it a success and a good balance day when I don't accidentally run into a wall; or when I'm walking next to someone and they don't ask me to walk at least two feet away from them so I don't keep bumping into them.
   
   
2. I may be in shape; but where on earth do you get a nineteen pack?! Do you have to apply for one?
   
   
3. My gymnast friend Jacob once tried to teach me how to do flips in the air... the only thing stopping me however was the fact that my fluidity and coordination is akin to that of seahorse in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Lots of room for improvement. So as a break from the big stuff he tried to teach me how to do a ninja flip (a cartwheel with no hands [I'm well aware that this maneuver has a real name, but 'ninja flip' sounds a lot more butch... so I'm sticking with it]).
   
   So there I was in the middle of the air executing the stealthy (yet deadly) ninja flip when I hear a alamingly loud riiiiiiippppp ....pppppp ...ppp ..pppppp ....ipipipip ...ppppp ...... thud! Only to have landed on the ground (side first) becoming fully aware that not only have I completely failed my ninja kick attempt but have simultaneously blown out the crotch of my pants. A continual tare that starts at the zipper and continues about 6-8 inches on both sides of each pant leg.
   
   As a result I spent the rest of the time hiding my fair to moderately breezy pants behind a giant potted plant until everyone was ready to leave. Rest assured, my friends milked that one for all it was worth.

Morals of Post:

• Needless to say I wont be joining the Cirque du Soleil touring troupe any time soon.
  
  
• Hate to kick a dead horse, but nineteen pack?! Really?! How the..?!
  
  
• Word to the wise; never attempt anything that may look ninja-ish in your jeans. You will severely regret your decision. You have been warned.

Bra Secrets

Today Shannee covered herself in salsa while wearing a new white shirt. This is inevitable. She is the saddest/messiest eater I have ever known. This girl might as well put the food on her before she attempts to eat it, just to get that step out of the way. It truly is an incredible talent she possesses.

After the salsa incident...

Shannee: Dah, I'm going to invent one of those Tide Stain Remover stick thingies that you can hide in your bra...

[Silence as she stares down at her shirt.]

Shannee: (more agitated) for messy girls like me...

[Silence as she stares down at her shirt.]

Shannee: (louder and angrier) agh, this is  such b.s.

[Silence as she stares down at her shirt.]

Shannee: (defeated) Why does this always happen to me?! I AM A GOOD PERSON.

Morals of Post:

• Dear Shannee,
                            Maybe you're not.
  
  
•  I am perplexed at this 'hidden Tide stain removing pen in the bra' concept... Is this not the sole purpose of why girls have purses in the first place?! What are the qualifications for things being hidden in a bra as opposed to things which are demoted to being carried around in a regular ol' purse?
  
  Confused. Yet, intrigued.

Creepin' on the Freeway

So I'm a little ashamed to admit that I watched Aladdin tonight...

Don't get me wrong; I'm not ashamed that the movie was Aladdin - but more so ashamed of the fact that I watched it through the glass of an SUV on the freeway for about 30 minutes on my way home tonight.

There was a ton of construction on the freeway and as I was passing this SUV I noticed there was a movie playing in the backseat. When I got to the side of it I realized it was Aladdin, and if you are going to be stuck in construction traffic you might as well have something to keep you entertained; am I right or am I right?! So naturally, I pulled back and started following them.

The movie was great. Also, riddle me this... since when did they start installing HD televisions in cars?! Pretty sure that thing had a clearer picture than my TV at home. I was tempted to pull to the side and ask them to roll down the windows and turn up the sound so I could at least hear what was going on, but then I thought beggars can't be choosers so respectfully declined that urge. Instead, I played a little game... see what songs on my cd would match what was happening on the screen. I had a lot of misses until the fight seen with Aladdin and Jafar and Kids with Guns by the Gorillaz came on. I counted it as a moderate success...

I may or may not have gotten a little too invested in the movie because when we got out of the construction zone and everyone else was speeding up and passing by; I lagged behind the SUV clearly disobeying the 3 second distance rule to what some might call a creepy degree.

I upheld my creeper status as I would speed up when they would speed up and change lanes following them when they were obviously trying to loose me. I would have given a friendly flash of my brights to tell them gently to knock it off and let me enjoy my movie, had the memory of that urban legend of if you bright someone they come after you and run you off the road not popped into my head - I don't think it was paranoia - just playing it safe.

It was almost the end of the movie when Jafar is a Genie and by now I was completely into this thing... unfortunately the SUV made its way over to the exit lane and I had an internal conflict whether to follow them or not. I figured by this point the family had 9 and 1 already punched into their cellphone and were just waiting to see if I was going to follow them off the off-ramp before pressing the other 1. Since I have already maxed my ticket/pull over quota for the year, I reluctantly let them slip out of sight and into the darkness.

I still don't know if I made the right decision.

Morals of the Post:

• If you are going to distract everyone on the road with a clearly visible motion picture in your vehicle then don't be all creeped out when people get all up in your grill to get a good seat. Quit being selfish.

• I swear I don't know how a Gorillaz song got on my cd; so stop judging me.

How to Grow Old in Style

I saw this the other night; after searching high and low, I finally found it so I could share it with ya'll. (And yes, it paused at a really awkward frame... so just push play already.)



Is it just me or is silver streamer somewhat anti-climatic after having an elf spring at you going top speeds?! I think they digressed a little on that one.

I beleive there are a whole lot of other things that they could have launched to make Betty White flinch for sure. You know what I think they should have shot out of that cannon... Justin Bieber.  Really.  I think they could have killed two birds with one stone had they gone that route (moderate pun intended) - but hey, that's just me. 

Morals of Post:

• Betty White makes getting old seem bearable.  I have a legitimate fear of growing old but I figure if I can somehow end up on commercials, movies, TV shows, and making A LOT of money while I'm at it when I get that old... I will be just fine.
  
  
• If anyone was offended by the Bieber comment, maybe you should be shot out of the cannon next. Just sayin.
  
  
• If anyone knows how to adopt this woman as a grandma please contact me.

Series of Unfortunate Events

I went to a dinner party last night at Addison's where Amy, Addi's childhood friend from Minnesota, started telling us about her 16th birthday party. It was a Fear Factor themed party. She had invited her closest friends to her birthday party to compete in a series of challenges Fear Factor style. The winner would be awarded 50 bucks, "and when you are sixteen, 50 bucks is like a million dollars!" so everyone was in it to win it.

So here is a run down of the events:

The first challenge - Peep Madness! Each person had a minute to eat as many marshmallow peeps as they possibly could without water. Mostly everyone could only handle 11 or 12 peeps but the winner somehow downed 25 peeps - Meanwhile, Amy's friend Cassie turned to her and dramatically told her that she would never eat another peep again....   5 minutes later (and throughout the rest of the night) Cassie could be found popping down all the left over peeps like they were Tic Tacs or skittles.

After a series of other Fear Factor challenges and running around doing obstacle courses, the final challenge was to eat a piece of cold boiled pig's brain on a saltine cracker. Whoever could do it would be the the new proud owner of 50 bones.

Beforehand, Amy and Addi hatched some horrible plan to not eat anything before or at the party so they wouldn't get too full. Their logic, "The peeps are going to expand in our stomachs so we can't eat anything or else we'll be too full to eat for the other challenges."

So it is Amy's turn to eat the pig brain, who mind you, has been running around all day long doing obstacle courses and jumping on the trampoline with nothing more than a few shots of soda and about 12 peeps in her system. Needless to say Amy's logic ended up being her demise as she threw up a saltine cracker and pig brains all over the table in front of 45 of her closest friends.

Now if you thought that was a good story,  you are in for a treat -  That was just the intro! Our real story is about Cassie; and follows her home from the party.

When Cassie got home that night from the party she was struggling with cramps and popped a Midol to try and get rid of the pain. A little while later she still hurt really bad and took a couple Tylenol. She still didn't feel any better and took a few Ibuprofen, a while later - two more of something else. It was at this point that she actually started feeling a lot worse and realized that she may have actually just overdosed. So she told her parents about the situation and her dad rushed her to the emergency room where they had to pump her stomach.

For those of you unfamiliar with the standard stomach pump procedure; they are required to sort through content and list it all on a form. So while Cassie and her dad were waiting in one of the rooms the doctor came in and turned to Cassie's dad and told him she would be okay but he wanted to make the father aware of stomach content that he had discovered,

"Well, it looks like there were about 4 slices of pizza, 48 peeps, and... " The doctor turned to Cassie,

"...was that cow's brain?!"  - Wide-eyed, the dad turned to Cassie and asked, "W-h-a-t  were you doing at the Wilson's?!"

The kicker of the whole episode was that Cassie went home with a pamphlet that the doctor gave her about the dangers of Mad Cow Disease...

I would have paid good money to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.  I can only imagine the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that peeps now play in Cassie's life.  She must have a fairly large bottle of Xanax just to get through Easter.

Poor thing.

Morals of the Post:

• Reason number 4,395 why I will never eat a peep.
  
  
• Themed birthday parties are nothing short of incredible. Why do we not have more of them!? I guess this gives me 352 days to plan my next one... Reality TV themes (as proven above) are GOLDEN...
  
  So I think my next party will be a Bachelor/SYTYCD/Biggest Loser/Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew/From G's to Gents/Hell's Kitchen/Survivor/Project Runway/ and Dancing With the Stars themed extravaganza with a dash of Jersey Shore...
  
  Granted, I would have to actually watch an episode of any of these shows to know anything of whats going on... so the details of how to pull it all together are a little hazy; but rest assured there is one thing I can say with confidence - It will be epic.
  
  You are all invited.

Cobra Upgrade

At work I had a ton of letters to open and I couldn't find the letter opener that I always use (correction: the letter opener was just out of reach and I was too lazy to get up and walk clear over to the other side of the counter to get it...) So, I looked around and found a new letter opener and thought I would just use that instead - thank you universe.

3 minutes pass...

If you put an envelope between a starved bear on meth and fresh salmon, I think that is a fairly accurate depiction of what the envelope and letter looked like when I was finished with it.

Jenn:   What are you doing?!
Me:      Do yo know how to use this letter opener? I can't figure it out.
Jenn:   [ look of disbelief ]
            Hawk, that's a staple remover.
       
... painful, painful silence


Last time I checked, staple removers looked like giant snapping cobra teeth not letter openers.

Dear staple remover manufacturers,
          I would like to subscribe to your newsletter; so that when you make such a radical (and unnecessary) change I wont feel like such an idiot when I'm apparently the only one unaware of the new design; and you can stop embarrassing me in front of my friends.

Morals of Post:

• Kids, stick with things you are good at. If you try new things you will most likely fail, be humiliated, and get laughed at. Simultaneously.
  
  
• "Laziness is a secret ingredient that goes into failure. But it’s only kept a secret from the person who fails.”
  –Robert Half
  Shut up, Rob.
  
  
• "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that wont work."
  - Thomas Edison
  I knew I liked him for a reason...

F Is For Full Frontal... And Friends

I am NOT a morning person...

In fact, that is an understatement - right when I wake up in the morning pretty much all I want to do is kill unicorns and suck the color out of rainbows until there is nothing left but cold gray arched carcasses...

I wish I were being dramatic.

I don't get it - every single morning it is the same routine; I wake up all sorts of confused and I have no idea where my body is; meanwhile, I am simultaneously faced with the panicked feeling of being slammed back into reality. Completely unable to tell what was part of my dream I just got ripped out of and what is real life. Bad news bears.

So, in an act to try and counterbalance morning me, the first thing I do is grab my phone, turn on some 'You Make My Dreams' by Hall and Oates music and search all my apps for something that will put me in a good mood.

Well ladies and gents, today I found the jackpot; finally a remedy for extreme morning anger... I may or may not have watched this 17 1/2 times before I even got out of bed this morning.



I don't know if it is:

• the inspiring message of hope and counsel for future generations
  
• the ultra feminine bass voice
  
• the mad dance break between I and J
• the neon alphabet ever-present in the background
  
• that dress
  
• the successful transplant of Mr. Ed's teeth into a human being
• the fact that 'sexy' is also similar to crouching down to scare someone, shoveling, or a beginners pilates stance.
  
• the realization that yes, x truly is mysterious
  
• the special way that claustrophobia gets her hands to dance
  
• or those sexy skeleton legs that just don't quit...
  

I think graphics were just being invented around this time so I really appreciate the effort of the floating/scrolling letters.

Also, I'm fairly certain that 1:30 - 2:00 is pretty much what it looks like right before the Grim Reaper comes to take you away...

I hope this changes lives. I know it has mine.

Morals of the Post:

• Naturally M is for me and N is for NEVER AGAIN!

• It is about quality not quantity, isn't it.

• If we learn anything from the 70's let it be that if you get tired in the middle of your music video... go ahead, lie down - you can shimmy just as well on the ground as you can standing up. Thank you Amanda Lear. Thank you.
  

You Don't Suck

Do you ever have one of those days when you are having a mild to moderately frustrating day and instead of getting a little sympathy from anyone, you just get slapped repeatedly in the face from the universe telling you to suck it up...

Case in point:

I was having such a day and thought I'd go emotionally eat lunch at my favorite pizza joint. I got a drink, grabbed a straw, and headed to work. When I got to work I unwrapped my straw and this is what I got...

Really?

Two things are happening here; anger and disappointment.

• Anger: What the?! My straw is actually sealed shut?! In all the straws that I have opened in my lifetime I have never been greeted by a defect before; you can't help but to take it personally. Especially when you are now nowhere near a backup straw - you are then forced to move the cup all the way to your mouth and have no choice but to pour the drink down your gullet like a Neanderthal... ugh, effort.
  

• Disappointment: If you are going to package me a straw that should belong on the island of misfit toys then don't add salt to the wound by making it look like a Pixy Stick that someone has sucked all the sugar out of... have I not suffered enough?
  

Moral of the Post:

• I feel an angry letter to the straw people coming on... so when ya'll see 'inspected by 26c' imprinted on your next straw and no longer have to hold your breath every time you open a straw wrapper to see if you get nothing more than a nub... you'll know who to thank.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

So there I am, walking down the sidewalk minding my business when I look up and see a giant gorilla running towards me.

Panic.

Most people are familiar with the fight or flight adrenaline rush; where, when a gorilla is running at you - you either are all pumped up to run away from the gorilla at high speeds or your brain sends you a surge of power to beat the gorilla down in a sudden-death showdown. I however fall under a slightly less recognized category which includes 'Fight, Flight, or Fade Out' where my adrenaline shot has more of a tense up and pass out effect.

I'll illustrate this for you - lets say I am walking in the woods alone and a ravenous pack of wolves appear out of nowhere... my brain assesses the situation:

a.) I could employ the flight mode and have this kid start running away, but who are we kidding - he has practically no legs and would probably make it to the next tree before the wolves eat him alive. Flight - Abort.

b.) I could employ the fight mode and give him super-strength, but there are like 48 wolves and really, what is he going to do? Bite back harder for every time he gets bitten? You can only bite so many wolves before the ultimate scenario is that of the previous point. Fight - Abort.

c.) Lets get real, this kid is going to be eaten alive no matter how we play this, so I might as well make him freeze up, pass out, and send him to a happy place while we get this over quick. He wont even know what hit him. Fade Out....

Thanks brain.

It is something that I've dealt with my whole life. Although its not the most conventional leap in evolution, I find some comfort in the fact that I am not the only who's emergency go-to strategy is 'fade out'.



There you have it. My closest link in evolution is a group of nervous stiff-legged fainting goats. How reassuring.

Anyways, back to the gorilla. There I am, walking all innocent-like down the sidewalk when the giant gorilla comes charging at me. True to form, I tense up and my feet and hands start to tingle and my brain is trying to decide if it should shut down now, or if it should wait til I can see the whites of its eyes before I pass out.

Meanwhile, the gorilla charged up to me, gave me a banana, and then ran right on past me.

?!?

Still in a little bit of shock, I look down to see the banana was attached to a brochure telling me how nice so and so apartments are. Wow. An apartment complex nearly got me to pass out in public via a giant gorilla. Yeah, don't worry - I'm still just as confused.

Here is a picture of said gorilla.


In my defense - this 'gorilla' looks more like something out of Predator than something you would find at San Diego Zoo... So I'm pretty sure you would've freaked out too.

Moral of the Post:

• Guerrilla Marketing - Definition: 'Type of marketing performed on a low budget and a lot of creativity to generate buzz to leave the consumer with the brand in mind.'

• Gorilla Marketing - LITERALLY having someone dress up as a gorilla and chase people down in an attempt to scare them into signing an apartment contract and causing an overwhelming sense of paranoia to follow them around for the rest of the day.