Category: Awesome Things

You stand on that side. We’ll walk on this side.

AWESOME!

Photo: here

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Trouble bubbled at my friend Scott’s house the other night.

See, earlier in the week Scott found a used McDonald’s Chicken McNugget sauce container wedged between the car seat and the car door in the Honda Civic he shares with his wife. He dropped his keys in there, and when he slipped his hand down to fish them out, he came up with a sticky, crusty barbecue sauce container instead.

Yes, his wife Molly was caught grease-handed. In Scott’s mind their sturdy New Year’s pact to eat healthy suddenly dissolved into a dimly lit puddle of lies and deception.

Lucky for me, Scott decided to raise the issue on Monday night just before 24 started. Here’s how it all went down.

Scott: “Oh hey, I dropped my keys in that annoying spot between the car seat and the car door earlier today.”

Molly: (curious as to where this is going) “Okay … ”

Scott: “Yeah, but when I went to pull it out, I found something else instead.”

Molly: (slightly confused) “O-kay … ?”

Scott: (raises eyebrows slowly and smiles)

Molly: (scrunches eyebrow and turns head in confusion)

Scott: “A McDonald’s barbecue sauce container!”

Molly: (guiltily) “Oh! Nooo … ”

Then there was a tiny pause.

And then we all just burst out laughing.

Because seriously, we’ve all been there, man. Sneaking in those secret McDonald’s Drive-Thru trips and ditching the evidence. Yup, gotta make sure you’ve scooped all the fries off the bottom of the bag, wiped the salt off your lips, checked your shirt for ketchup spillage, and safely filed the excess napkins away in the glove compartment.

Just remember to roll down the windows, pay with cash, and play it safe out there.

And never ever order the nuggets.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here, and here

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Wedged tightly into dark corners in dusty attics are piles of old, worn out board games from years ago.

The corners of these old boxes are cracked and split open, the flashy prints on top long worn away, leaving only the dusty, corrugated bones behind. Pencils with broken leads, yellowed instructions, faded homemade scorecards, and assorted sub-ins for lost game pieces litter the box and make it look like that clattery kitchen drawer of assorted knick-knacks. Take a deep breath and you may sniff up a familiar musty scent that takes you way, way back.

For old time’s sake, let’s look fondly on thirteen of the greatest board games of all time:

13. Hungry Hungry Hippos. This game was invented for all the kids who were shooed into the basement to calm down and go play a board game. That’s when us sugar-rushing rugrats caused havoc by pulling out Hungry Hungry Hippos and started smacking plastic hippo mouths at a hundred marbles flying in all directions. Just what mom had in mind.

12. Mouse Trap. This game taught us the meaning of the slow, tantric crescendo. That’s because the first 99% of the game was a boring, play-by-numbers hopscotch. But then it got to mousetrap time, and it was allllllll worth it.

11. Connect Four. Despite the quick set up time, easy rules, and fun gameplay, Connect Four always seemed suspiciously educational. And now, be honest — did you ever realize your kid sister was just about to deliver a four-in-a-row knockout punch and then release the trap on the bottom, spilling all the pieces on the table and denying them their big crowning moment? Hey, I’m not proud of it, either.

10. Battleship. The best part of Battleship was those hard, plastic cases the game came in. It was like its own luggage set and it was hard not to feel important when you flipped one open and began fiddling with all the pieces inside. Kids, those are what we used to call laptops. Sure, no RAM, no hard drive, but check out the 3D graphics.

9. Uno. Now, Uno wasn’t really a board game, but whenever it was Board Game Time there was always that one whiny kid who begged everyone to play Uno instead. But no one would. That’s why it’s called Uno.

8. Mastermind. Was it just me or did that box cover look like an ad for exotic high-stakes infidelity? Either that or the people you final-round interview with to become a political assassin.

7. Risk. Turns out you can’t dominate the world in an hour. As a result, committing to a game of Risk was commiting to giving up your entire evening. Games could go until three, four, five in the morning, with the first person out at 9:00 pm sitting bored on the couch flipping channels for six hours. Too bad, man. Shouldn’t have challenged Siam.

6. Candyland. This game required no reading, no writing, no strategy, and no decision-making at all. You just flipped over a card, looked at the color, and moved your piece to that color. That’s it, really. Candyland ranks high because it’s a gateway board game and gets people interested in the harder stuff.

5. Trivial Pursuit. The hardest stuff of all. I’m talking about the original, heavy box Genus Edition here. You know you’re playing that one when the questions are impossible and everybody feels like an idiot without any pie pieces. Props to the first person who proposes ditching the board and just asking questions.

4. The Game of Life. If you can believe it, Milton Bradley himself created The Game of Life way back in 1861. Now, the game is more than a little preachy — I mean, if you don’t go to college, have lots of kids, and drive around in your station wagon buying insurance and suing for damages, then you probably won’t be able to end up a millionaire and buy that beautiful, white plastic mansion at the end. But there was something pretty cool about Life, too. There was the fact that you got to spin the big wheel on your turn, that every space had a little story to go with it, and that kids got to act grown up for an hour.

3. Scrabble. So apparently they’ve sold over 100 million copies of Scrabble in 29 languages. They sell dictionaries, they have tournaments, the factories are still pumping them out. Not bad for a handful of cheap wood tiles.

2. Clue. This dark and bloody board game about mansion murder was always a winner with happy-go-lucky kids on Saturday afternoon. Yes, Clue was a tense and quiet hour of private note-taking, raised eyebrows, and suspicious glances. A nice break from running around the backyard with untied shoelaces and runny noses, anyway.

1. Monopoly. There were some classic moments in most Monopoly games. First off, who’s going to be the banker? Either you have an excited kid around who wants to do it or somebody caves in and reluctantly does the job. Reluctant Bankers are no good, though. You’ll be reminding them to pay you $200 for passing GO the whole time. Next, what’s the rule with Free Parking? We going with the official rules where it means nothing, popping a big $500 in there, or doing something completely different? Also, every game has the late-inning game-changing trade at some point. It’s the three-way deal that gives the richest player all the railroads to seal everybody’s fate or the tired person who gives up at midnight and just trades away Boardwalk for $100 to meet the rent on Park Place. Whatever your Monopoly quirks, there’s no denying that it’s a classic.

Huddled around the kitchen table waiting on a long pause in Scrabble, sitting in a friend’s basement late at night waging merciless war in Risk, or gathering the family together for a classic Saturday night game of Monopoly, whatever your style — there’s just something about those old, classic board games. They bring us together for some laughs, some ups, some downs, and some plain old good times.

AWESOME!

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

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What do you picture doing when you retire?

Lounging amongst big umbrellas on sunny beaches, taking the grandkids to the zoo, cropping a serious vegetable garden, or turning your wood carving hobby into a lucrative craft fair business?

Well, whatever you choose, can I just recommend that you also make time to just sit on your porch, sip some lemonade, and look up to smile and wave at people when they walk by?

Because other than cutting the little wedge of your neighbor’s lawn, lending out your snowblower, or collecting someone’s mail while they’re away, I tell you — nothing says friendly neighbor more than a couple old folks sitting on their rockers and just flashing those gums and waving those palms when you walk on by.

AWESOME!

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Girl, you used to fit in a shoebox.

Back when you were all-nude, all-the-time, you were crunched up real fine in your mom’s tum. Yes, your head was bowed down, your back was bent forward, your legs were pulled to your chest, and everything was in order.

The fetal position is the medical term used to describe your Totally Comfy Pre-Born Position. You’re all curled up into a comfy little ball in there and while mom may notice you rattling around a bit, you’re actually pretty chilled out and relaxed.

I mean, there’s a reason La-Z-Boy doesn’t make a womb-sized version, and brother, it ain’t because they can’t. No, it’s because there’s just no demand. Pre-born babies are already living the life of leisure and no amount of built-in cup-holders, pillowy-soft headrests, or swing-out footrests can improve that.

Now, the fetal position has many post-pop uses as well.

First of all, some people sleep this way after they’re born. They find it a safe and comfy way to ferry into Dreamland each evening. And this isn’t just hearsay, people. Yes, I used to be a fetal position junkie myself as a kid, sleeping on my side and somewhat resembling a pajama-clad jelly-roll.

Secondly, what’s up with all those bears and heroin? It’s true — drug users curl up into the safe and warm fetal position when they’re experiencing withdrawal and studies suggest that playing dead in the fetal position is a good strategy to ward off further pawing from a friendly bear.

Lastly, it just feels like home. The fetal position is the best way to keep warm if you find yourself tentless in Nunavut or crashing on a pal’s basement floor without copious blanketing. It literally warms the heart (liver, lungs, and kidneys.)

And hey, isn’t the fetal position just one more way to turn back the clock? After all, your body knows the fetal position, your body lived the fetal position, and so when you’re coming down off an acid trip on the cold floor of a bear-infested forest, I think you know what to do.

Curl right up, baby.

For me and you.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here, here, and here

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Nothing.

No rain.

No birds.

No wind.

No waves.

No buzzing.

No beeping.

No blinking.

No haze.

When there’s no office hum.

And no kitchen clatter.

When there are no idling cars.

And no distant chatter.

When there’s absolute, perfect silence and really nothing else.

When your ears strain for sound, and just meet silence itself.

Well, that beautiful rare moment is so sweet.

And so perfectly

AWESOME!

Hanging out with friends late, late, late the other night, dim music on in the background, splayed haphazardly on a fat, squishy couch, my brother-in-law Dee suddenly started waxing nostalgic about his family’s big, old 1991 white Chevy Suburban.

He just broke into it, too.

“That monster seated nine people, I swear to you. Honestly, nine! There was a bench in the back, a bench in the middle, and a bench in the front. I remember when my parents bought it I said ‘Why not get the captain’s chairs in the front?’, and they were like ‘No, that’s just not practical.’ But I guess the benches did come in handy. My dad used to drive our entire baseball team around — that’s fourteen twelve-year-olds wedged in tight and twisted. I mean, we referred to it as The Team Tank. … Honestly man, I miss that old beast.”

His wistful, late-night rambles got me thinking.

For my sister Nina and I, nothing would beat sitting in the backseat of our old 1984 Pontiac Station Wagon with brown paint, brown interior, and a classy fake wood trim on the outside. The backseat in this Logmobile was about eight feet away from the driver, but a world apart really. You could talk and play games out of earshot, all the while looking and laughing straight out the back window, distracting the people behind you on the highway.

In the summer the metal belt buckles would grow red-hot and scald your skin when you tried to buckle up. The cup holders were always full of sticky remains from the half-dozen spilled Cokes that were never fully sponged up by the handful of McDonald’s napkins stuffed in there. The A/C was temperamental, the windows wouldn’t roll down all the way, and there were no DVD players entertaining you, no GPS voices guiding you. You’d just clamp up, invent your own fun, and sit patiently on the dark, fabric seats, deeply stained from that time somebody sat on a banana.

So — what was your car? Was it a 1969 Dodge Dart? A 1990 Chevette in Classic Dull Grey or 1995 Chevy Lumina van? Was it a monstrous 1968 Impala, a 1954 Desoto, or a 1991 Ford “Feel The Teal” Taurus?

Whatever it was, I bet it sure does give you a trip down memory lane when you see the car you grew up in, the same color, the same style, the same model, just driving around town like nobody’s business. Or maybe just fixed up real pretty at an antique car show. Or maybe just calmly coasting on cruise through your brain once in a while.

For old time’s sake.

AWESOME!

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

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Harsh fluorescent lighting, slushy wet floors, and the cloudy stench of raw fish welcome you into your friendly, neighborhood grocery store. After circling tables of green bananas, wobbly chick pea towers, and piles of day-old bagels, it’s kind of nice to stumble upon the coffee aisle and just take a big sniff.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

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We’ve all been there.

Staring nervously into the microglow at the fat, puffed up bag of popcorn calmly spiralling in the center of the dish like no big deal. But it is a big deal, and you know it’s a big deal, because despite the puffbag’s straightface, there’s a minute left, the bag looks full already, the pops are slowing down already, and you just don’t know when to pull the plug.

It’s tense.

Stop too soon and you’ll enjoy some well-popped corn, but be left with a few handfuls of greasy, unpopped kernals at the bottom of the bag. Your stomach will rumble and you’ll either remain hungry or pop a second bag and overeat. Not cool.

Stop too late and you’ll enjoy some well-popped corn, but many kernals will be black and burnt, the bag will be smoky, and your fire alarm could have a fit. Not cool, either.

Yes, that’s why it’s so great when your microwave pops microwave popcorn perfectly. Either you grow to trust your dependable Popcorn Button or you slowly master the perfect time yourself, after a few bad bags.

But either way — how does it feel when you pull out that perfect, steaming bag?

AWESOME!

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Pop quiz, hotshot.

A 2006 study in Scientific American Mind magazine said that on average men cry X times a month and women cry Y times a month. Take a guess on the numbers and see how close you are (answers below).

Now, whether you’re above or below average, consider crying a little bit more. When you feel the hot, salty tears coming, don’t hold back. Let them flood your eyes and pour down your cheeks, because while our egghead pals over at Wikipedia insist there are no conclusive studies showing why people cry, there really are a lot of reasons why crying is great. Hear me out:

• Share the tears. Crying brings us closer together. In these anonymous days of gated communities, big-box stores, and rampant Interneting, sometimes people just need the attention and care of a friend. I mean, when you see your pal crying, what happens? Maybe your eyes well up and you throw them a hug. And maybe that’s exactly what they need and why the tears poured out in the first place.

• Body buzz. Studies show that emotional crying (versus dry-eyes crying, onion crying, or eyelash-in-your-eye crying) actually releases a bunch of wacky hormones that relieve tension by balancing your body’s stress levels. If you’ve ever heard people say ‘I’m okay, I had a good cry,’ then it could be because crying helps straighten out your chemically crooked self right when you need it most. And let’s face it — that’s a lot better than holding it all in and shorting out all your inner circuitry.

• Hey, I just crapped my diaper. Babies cry before they talk, to let us all know when they’re tired, frustrated, scared, in pain, or when they really, really, really want their video back on. The point is that crying is a primal, universal way to communicate and sure does tell us when something’s up. Way to program that into us, God and/or evolution.

Yes, even though men only cry once a month on average and women let them pour five times or more, there’s room for tears plus, people. So don’t hold back because you think it’s embarassing or a sign of weakness, no. When memories of lost loved ones flood back or painful experiences hit you hard, I say just let those big, wet tears rain down without any guilt or shame.

Because we all need to let go sometimes.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here, here, and here

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