Nothing worse than a wobbler.
Water glasses start spilling, silverware starts clattering, and conversations get the bump-off when the table goes thumping and your dinner plate gets jumping. That’s when it’s time to quadruple-fold a napkin and get your hands dirty in those tiny pebbles and sand by the table legs.
Now wedge it right in there, brush your hands off, and give the table a test shake.
How does that feel?
AWESOME!
Here’s one for you.
Did you know that pockets and purses are distant cousins? Well, sure enough, grandma, it’s true!
See, there were once no pockets. Before the 1500s everyone presumably stuffed cell phones into socks and stored minivan keyless remotes under top hats. But eventually folks starting carrying around little bags to hold their things and the family tree eventually split into pants pockets and big purses.
These days pockets are great for a few big reasons:
1. Man Purse Backups. Guys, you know the pain of lugging around your wallet, keys, and phone without a handy side satchel holding everything. Sure, sometimes you can count on a Purse Lady to hook you up, but more often than not it’s down to the pockets.
2. Instant hand warmers. Spending your money on gloves and mitts is fine, but even better is the cheapo method of deep-digging them into your jeans pockets for some hot, hot thigh loving.
3. Flexible like a gymnast. Pockets of air in rooms that are quickly filling with gushing water are life-saving and make for exciting movie scenes. And pockets of air bubbles can provide hours of amusement. Plus, let’s not forget that pizza pockets and pita pockets can be tasty and delicious.*
Oh sure, sure, I’m the same as you, mindlessly stuffing my hands in my pockets all day without really imagining the fairly recent world where they didn’t even exist. Nowadays we bell our bottoms, fade our jeans, and pre-wrinkle our T-shirts, but there was a day when we just wrapped ourselves in what we had and kept on trucking. Perhaps back then nobody could have predicted the long line of Clothing Technology that evolved over time to include zippers, Velcro, and Genera Hypercolor T-Shirts.
AWESOME!
Thank you for showing us the power of passion.
And thank you for being
AWESOME!
Stay hungry. Stay foolish.
It’s pretty simple.
A line of kids hold hands on one side of the playground while a kid from the other side runs at them with a head full of steam and tries to bust through.
The game’s not over until the field is littered with broken arms, bloody noses, and shattered glasses.
It’s one of the most dangerous playground games out there.
And one of the most fun.
AWESOME!
Photo from: here
Baby, you can drive my car.
At least sometimes I feel that way when I’m caught in a yellow-light staredown and suddenly find myself death-gripping the wheel while make that split-second decision to fly through or slam the brakes.
It’s very stressful.
If you’re like me sometimes you’re in the middle of the intersection when you suddenly think: “Oh shoot… I shouldn’t have gone.”
When that happens it’s always satisfying to see the car behind you come through the intersection, too. I mean, you thought you were pushing it, but just look at that guy. Suddenly your move is totally justified and police officer’s job is a whole lot easier.
AWESOME!
Photo from: here
My friend Chad doesn’t run.
Sure, he does a lot of things well, like teach, be a great friend, and write a blog, but the man doesn’t run, doesn’t enjoy running, and doesn’t think about running. Nope, he’s no bib-wearing, calf-stretching, fancy-shoe-buying runner, and you know what? He’s cool with that.
That’s why I was surprised when Chad told me recently that he and his wife Kristen were visiting her brother in Florida when they decided to go for a run. “Go for a run?,” I asked. “Go for a run,” he said, eyebrows popped up and nodding, like he hardly believed it himself. But he’s also a man who says yes a lot so he decided to throw caution into the wind and just go with the flow.
Chad told me it was his first time running outside with other people. He wasn’t sure how to pace himself so he suddenly raced to the front of their three-person pack. Sun was beaming down on him, wind was blowing in his face, and another runner was racing up to him coming the other way.
Since Chad wasn’t familiar with Running Protocol he let instinct take over and put his hand up for a high five as he approached the other runner. The other guy got a huge smile on his face and gave a loud, cracking high five back, before high fiving Chad’s wife and brother-in-law, too.
And it was a beautiful moment.
Because there’s something special about the stranger-to-stranger high five.
Whether it’s screaming fans outside the stadium after a big comeback win, a smiling stranger high-fiving a smiling baby on the subway, or a group of cyclists at the finish line of a long charity ride, it’s always great when emotions bubble up and insecurities fade away in favor of enjoying a cracking high five moment and living for the day.
AWESOME!
Do you remember wearing a diaper?
Well, you did, you did, and you looked good in it, too. You crawled around hallways, yanked the dog’s tail, and screamed like a banshee in that diaper-padded butt. Chances are good someone took pictures of you doing it. Chances are good the camera kept clicking through your grass-stain-and-pimple-filled childhood, too.
The evidence exists.
Coming across those old photos of your boyfriend or girlfriend these days is great … for a few big reasons:
1. Coloring in the lines. When you’re falling head over heels for somebody, you just can’t get enough of them. If you’ve ever said “I wish I knew you before!” or “Where have you been all my life?”, then old photos are your best way into their past.*
2. Awkwardness Anonymous. At the start of the relationship everyone’s on their best behavior. New pants, muted farts, and deodorant double-swiping is the norm. Which is why sharing old photos builds so much trust. We get to see into your geeky past, when metal mouths, Coke-bottle glasses, and gap-toothed grins were the norm.
3. They’re just plain ol’ cute. Because you were a chubby-cheeked one-year-old with wide eyes and a button nose at some point. We won’t ask what happened.
When you see those old photos of your boyfriend or girlfriend it’s like your pasts and your futures start slowly twisting together. Stories pop out of birthday cake blowouts, histories bloom out of family reunions, and long lives lived seem to fill in before your eyes as you finger flip through dog-eared albums on the old basement couch.
AWESOME!
I went to the airport yesterday.
Obviously, I got jacked on parking and my little pick up trip turned into a twelve-dollar fine for swerving around the maze-like lot for twenty minutes. On my way out I stopped at the Pay For Parking machines and, sure enough, all of them were packed with people.
I tapped my foot like Sonic The Hedgehog for a minute before noticing a woman spoon-feeding her baby in a stroller near one of the machines. I moseyed on up and softly said, “Sorry ma’am, are you… using this?” to which she replied “Oh, no, not yet, go ahead.”
Who feeds their baby in front of a parking machine?
Well maybe I’ll never know the answer to that.
But I’m so glad I asked.
Because it put me on the fast track.
AWESOME!
Photos from: here
It’s the center of all taste.
First off, icing that was smeared or drizzled on top a few hours ago is guaranteed to hit the cinnamon roll bulls eye which means your last doughy bite is loaded with that sweet white gold. If you’re lucky the icing will have crisped just slightly so your teeth sort of puncture it into tiny sugary shards, revealing the softer, more liquidy layer of icing below. On top of that, the core of the cinnamon roll is the tallest part of the roll, which means you’ve got a larger variety of textures to choose from. Do you bite off the sticky sweet top, slowly twist apart its fresh-bready innards, or maybe chomp away at that sticky flat bottom. And hey — let’s not forget about the cinnamon itself! We’re talking sugary brown powdered sweetness wrapped delicately around the nucleus of this entire bite.
Eating the core of a cinnamon roll means you just ate an entire cinnamon roll. Let’s stop and appreciate that for a second. You didn’t split it with somebody, you didn’t just have a bite, and you didn’t walk by the stand in the train station and enjoy the fumes. Nope, in one big move, in five big minutes, you just scarfed it all and told vegetable juice diets, pilates sweat-a-thons, and full-length mirrors to shove it.
AWESOME!
