Author: Neil Pasricha

Thin, flimsy plastic sheets propped up on wobbly rods shudder in the wind as the sleet shoots sideways and you shiver and shake in the dark and lonely bus shelter.

Wrapped in thin gloves and a thick, wet scarf, you stand patiently as your book-filled backpack silently jabs your spine and strains your shoulders. Fingers freezing, knees shaking, you wince and hug yourself as you keep looking way up the street, wishing, hoping, praying that you’ll please please see the bus heading right for you.

Folks, we’ve all been there and it’s not a pretty scene.

But hey, that’s what makes it so great when you hit one of those magic moments where you arrive at the bus stop just as the bus peels out from around the corner.

Pupils dilate, eyebrows rise, and a clown-faced smile curls onto your face as you realize you just hit the Public Transportation Jackpot.

Yes, in those perfect scenes you’re suddenly a Bus Fleet Fatcat, swimming in tickets and tokens, commanding your private army of Sugar Rollers around town to pick you up and drop you off as you see fit. Baby, if you’re feeling this buzz, then there’s no reason you can’t get right into it, too — whistling with both pinkies just before it stops or clapping your hands beside your ear twice as if you’re hailing it for real.

And how perfect is it when this dream scene ends with the bus stopping right in front of you, the door swinging open, and the bright, round-faced driver flashing you a big toothy smile and a tip of the cap as you walk in the door.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here, and here

Whip by the seats near the bathroom, skip past the table in the middle of the floor, and score that nice private pad in the corner. Plump, squishy boothseat on one side and hard, plastic chair on the other.

You know what to do.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here

Treat your feet.

Come on, just look at them laying there in front of you as you relax in the backseat of the car. Sure, you’re just loving it back there, your shaggy locks whipping with the wind, your hand sailing carelessly out the window, and your head lightly bopping to the faint beat from the Buddy Holly tune on the radio.

But your feet, they are not fine, they are not carefree, and they ain’t bopping to no beat. No, they’re slippery, salty, and sweaty, wrapped tightly in a hot pocket of suffocating socks and shoes. Yes, buried deep under dense layers of cotton, wool, and leather, your aching soles are itching for some sweet release and a breath of fresh air.

So just let them out, friend.

Yes, when the car slips onto the sideroads, the bus hits the interstate, or the plane tips up for liftoff, it’s time to tug those laces and pull your paws right out of the Sweatcave.

Sock removal is optional, but what’s not optional is rubbing your feet against that little bar thing that’s hanging down from the seat in front of you on the bus or airplane to give your stiff, aching soles The Massage Of Their Life.

How good does that feel?

So next time, you’re goin’ to the grocer, goin’ faster than a roller coaster, remember that breaks like this will, rarely come your way. A-hey, a-hey-hey.

‘Cause everyday, life seems a little faster, things slip up, plans turn into disaster, so ditch your kicks and find a little escape. A-hey, a-hey-hey.

AWESOME!

Photos from: hereand here

All they know is everybody’s snapping photos of them in a party hat and there’s a slice of cake in the food dish.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Hey, now instead of a sharp, dangerous mess on your kitchen tiles, you’ve got a couple bruised toes, a complete drink set, and a giant, swelling feeling of

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

That thick, smoky barbecue smell floats through the yard and everybody starts salivating for dinner.

Yes, sizzling sides of beef and black-burnt weiners are coming right up when the sun’s dropping, the party’s hopping, and your friends are all chilling with ice-clinking drinks on your backyard patio. And if you’re in charge of grilling up dinner, then there aren’t many things that scream I’m Serious About This more than really, really selling it to all your friends. Oh sure, some things come close such as:

• owning a shiny, oversized nine-piece barbecue tool set and having it folded open on the picnic table
• not leaving the barbecue area at any point and even holding onto the handle when the lid is down to make sure nobody attempts to flip burgers when you aren’t looking
• wearing a giant apron with your name on it
• asking everybody constant questions at all times such as “Did you say medium or medium-well?” and  “You’re toasted, you’re toasted, you’re untoasted, right?”

Yeah, don’t get me wrong, all those things shout I’m Serious About This, too. But nothing quite screams it like really selling it to the crowd. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve ever hammed it up with any of these classic moves:

• “Dog up, I gotta dog up, who wants a dog?!”
• “Come on Andrew, you’re not eating salad, are you? Come on, how many more can I sign you up for? Two at least?”
• (walking around the deck with raised eyebrows holding a cold cheeseburger on your BBQ flipper and occasionally waggling it in someone’s face)
• “Okay, I got a slightly burnt one. Who likes them nice and crispy? Nice and crispy one here, everybody. Niiiiiice and crispy.”

Yes, if you’re getting your barbecue groove on strong and you’re rocking the sales pitch long then kudos to you. Every deck party needs somebody to tell everybody else to eat more burgers. So today we salute you for embracing the job. You sold it. We bought it. And now we’re all feeling stuffed, bloated, and so completely

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here,and here

Hey, eating in the car is tough.

Weaving that big, bulky clunk of metal through highway traffic, off off-ramps, over speed bumps, and into parallel parking spots is no small feat. And you know what makes it even tougher? Having a hot, crumpled bag of steamy Drive-Thru riding shotgun, that’s what.

Yes, resisting the temptation is tough, but then again unwrapping a sloppy, mustard-dripping burger over the steering wheel probably isn’t good for anybody. So there’s really only one option to satisfy your urges to both eat and live.

That’s right: dip your hand into the crinkly paper well and squeeze it between the cool packs of ketchup, big wad of napkins, and waxy-wrapped burgers, until you find that little treasure trove of spilled fries at the bottom of the bag. It’s a bit like panning for gold and is known as the Pre-Lunch Munch in some circles.

Also, we can’t forget the Classic Afterburn maneuver. Yes, extra fries at the bottom of the bag star again, but this time they’re the cold, limp n’ salty chasers that follow your last slurp of bland, watered-down cola. Yes, we both know you’ve got to finish the meal off with a flavor-saving punch and the extra fries at the bottom of the bag will do the job just fine.

So dip that hand in deep, give it a swirl, and chomp on a nice little bite of

AWESOME!

Photos from: here and here

Somebody shushes, conversation hushes, and all eyes flicker with delight as you watch your sizzling, glistening meals cruise out of the kitchen and slowly descend in front of you.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

There’s something therapeutic about finger-peeling that dark-gray-with-red-flecks fuzz patch off the trap, rolling it into a ball, and tossing it in the trash. Yes, after you ditch that hot, furry blanket both you and your dryer can finally breathe again.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Sure, anybody can wake up with some serious bedhead.

Tangled dreads, pillow-dented part, static-flared bangs — whatever you got, we’ll take it. Much like rain hair, bedhead is your temporary ticket to Cowlick Country, a place where looks just don’t matter. It’s fun to take a trip and enjoy your citizenship before shampoo, hair straighteners, and sculpting clay step in to mess things up.

And hey, don’t look at me, I play the game, too. I shampoo, condition, and run Glue Stick over my head in the mornings. And sure, I check myself out in the mirror throughout the day to make sure I’m still going bald and double-checking that my sideburns remain extremely uneven.

But I guess that’s what makes getting away from it all so great. I mean, just look at babies of the world with their Always-On Bedhead, sometimes for years on end. Folks, it’s like I always say: we can learn much from the baby.

Now don’t get jaded in your old age. There are some classic ways you can still pull it off:

• No-Time Bedhead. This is where you wake up in a panic an hour late and barely have time to throw on jeans and grab your keys before bolting out the door for work. This is accidental bedhead that may result in some worried finger-combing on the bus or a splash of water from the bathroom sink later on. Still, you got bedhead all day and that’s what counts here. 5 points.

• Lazy Sunday Bedhead. You wake up at noon, throw on some sweats, have some good friends over and play video games all day. Or maybe you channel surf with your boyfriend on the futon or watch a golf tournament with Grandpa. Either way, no showering or leaving the house is involved so the bedhead lives long and lives strong. 10 points.

• Just Don’t Care Bedhead. Top of the charts right here. This is where your day actually involves going out and doing things, but you just don’t care about your sharp, sideways bedhead. If you can pull off grocery shopping, going to class, or hitting the mall with jagged, bent-up hair, then you win. Note that this is not the same as Fake Bedhead, which involves applying a series of creams and lotions in an attempt to give yourself bedhead-looking hair. No, we’re talking about cruising around town with the real thing here, people. 25 points.

Yes, bedhead is a temporary escape from that Hair Prison we all live in everyday. Freeing your hair is the first step to freeing your mind and freeing your life. When you get up and just let it go you sort of let yourself go for a moment, too.

Suddenly Juggling Jane relaxes into cool, casual Leg-Stubble-N-Sweatpants Babe who’s much more fun to cuddle up with under a warm blanket in front of a flickering television. And Suit-and-Tie Sam melts into our old pal Couch-Dent Sam, who laughs at all our jokes and doesn’t take himself so seriously.

Bedhead all day long, people.

Because sometimes it’s great to ditch the comb and just see what happens.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here, here, here, and here