Dim streetlights cast blurry shadows for your cold walk home.

Snow-packed mitts, floppy wool hat, and a drippy, sniffly nose cover your shuddery frame as you shuffle down empty side streets on your way to the cozy warmth of your waiting bed. Everything is an eerily pitch-perfect silence buried under a shadowy sheet of bright white. Pine trees sway softly, Christmas lights flicker, and the biting air ice-scrapes your frost-nipped nose.

Somehow the solid crunch of your winter boots against the packed road snow fills the night with a relaxing and familiar sound that marks tiny little progress towards cuddling up under warm blankets and falling deep asleep.

Like cracking frozen puddles, pushing soft drink lid buttons, or popping a spoon in a jar of peanut butter, the sound of snow crunching under your salty winter boots scratches a primal itch that just feels so satisfying.

So stuff your hands in your pockets, curl your head to your chest, and crunch loud and crunch proud deep into the dark, winter night.

AWESOME!

Photo from:  here

Brother, I’ve made a lot of macaroni.

Yes, for a four-year period back in college I became a regular kitchen whiz at cracking open that flimsy cardboard box of thin, rock-hard noodles, boiling them up to a perfect al dente, and stirring in that magical ratio of milk, butter, and pre-packed cheesy powder to get it jusssssssst right.

Now, everyone has their own slightly-altered recipe for boxed macaroni. Some like it thin and milky while others prefer it bright, radioactive orange. Some like butter, some margarine, and some toss in a handful of chopped up weenies.

However, no matter how you whip up your noodly batch, I’m guessing you love biting into a surprise flavor patch of undissolved cheesy powder hidden amongst the creamy deliciousness. Yes, every time I scarf down a bowl, no matter how much stirring I’ve done, there’s always that deliciously hidden flavor pocket waiting for me like an old friend.

Yes, flavor pockets are those delicious sweet spots in the middle of your meal that explode like surprising fireworks finales in your mouth.

If you’re with me here, then come on, let’s go nuts and count down five of the finest:

5. The fat glob of guacamole hiding in your burrito. When you’re sitting in the cramped corner of a dusty Mexican joint, slowly peeling the tin foil off your burrito, chomping at blackened chicken chunks, lime-seasoned rice, and salty pinto beans, it’s an amazing feeling when you unearth a treasure trove of chunky guacamole from the dark, inner folds at the back. Note that this also applies to surprise sour cream squirts.

4.That one bright red chip coated in seasoning. Clearly the factory foreman at the Dorito Plant fell asleep at his station and accidentally kicked an industrial-sized tin of zesty bold barbecue onto the assembly line. Sure, materials costs shot up, the line was shut down for maintenance, and several union grievances were filed, but it all ended with you savoring a deliciously bright red, salty and supersatured chip.

3. The spoonful of ice cream with the giant cookie dough chunk. Fancy ice cream is a frozen clump with swirling lumps of caramel ribbons, candy-coated pralines, and marshmallow globs. Yes, all those wacky tastes are stuck in there like Hans Solo in a slab of carbonite and it’s up to you, the Luke Skywalker of the bench in front of 7-Eleven, to grit your teeth, furrow your brow, and get digging to help them break free of their frozen shackles.

2.That one lettuce leaf completely drenched in Caesar dressing. Mmmm, girl. The best part about sliding a creamy leaf of Romaine down your throat is that the leafy green actually gets rid of some of the guilt. “I think this is what the doctor had in mind,” you say to your friends, while thick Caesar dressing drips down your chin onto the tablecloth. “High in fiber!” (Note: This also works while eating collared greens soaking in bacon broth or broccoli florets drowning in a giant lake of Cheez Whiz.)

1. The clump of brown sugar in anything home-baked. This rare find gets top spot. Sometimes there’s a secret glob of pure brown sugar in the peanut butter cookie, oatmeal muffin, or slice of banana bread at Grandma’s house. Remember: not even the oven could prevent this sugary jewel from succeeding in it’s lifelong quest to tantalize your tastebuds.

Yes, flavor pockets are a nice little highlight in the middle of your meal. When those random bites surprise and delight, just close your eyes, tip your head, and savor every single molecule of flavor coating all the cracks and corners of your mouth.

So come on and let’s give cracking high fives and throat-screeching cheers for these magic little moments of pure joy.

AWESOME!

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

They’re short and there’s nothing they can do about it except learn to live with their crazy shortness. For this reason, we respect them and think they’re cool.

If you’re really, really short, you feel it, because this is your life:

• Forget seeing anything at concerts. Sure, everybody loves being behind you, but at what price? The standing area is a bad scene and mosh pits are strictly off limits. No, you’re stuck sitting at the bar or watching from the balcony.

• You can’t reach anything. Kitchen cupboards and closest shelves are bad enough, but the worst is when you find yourself somewhere alone and stoolless. People, if you’ve ever found yourself climbing the hotel bar fridge to reach the coffee filters or stepping on the metal grocery store shelf to reach the hot sauce then you know what I’m talking about.

• Hard to date people. Well, not hard, but complicated. I mean, would you date someone really, really short? If not, you see the problem here. And don’t even get me started the short-guys-dancing-with-tall-girls things. Fellas, I been there, too. It’s not easy.

• You can forget about that pro-volleyball career. You might still make it as a referee, but that’s about it.

• You’re constantly adjusting driver’s seats and mirrors. On top of that, really, really tall people complain when they get in the car after you and have to adjust everything because they can’t fit.

• Some roller coasters are off limits. Minimum height requirements are clearly relics from a discriminatory society that inhabited this land before us.

It really is a tough life.

So next time you see a really, really short person, break out the empathy. Remember: they’re short and there’s nothing they can do except learn to live with their crazy shortness. Sure, they buy cheaper children’s clothes, find the best spots in Hide and Seek, sleep easier on couches, easily avoid walking into tree branches, are more comfortable at movies, and curl nicely into cramped spooning arrangements, but they also have to live life with a lot of limits. In this upside-down and inside-out world, that’s worth something.

So go on and throw them a smile and a nod, a cracking high five, and some quiet and humble respect.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here, and here

Pepperoni fumes fill the air as you swerve and curve your way home. Yes, that hot bulky square of cardboard filled with zesty sauce and bubbling mozzarella heats your legs and gets your stomach rumbling for a delicious dinner that nobody needs to cook.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Sure, sure, we’re all honest people here.

You and me, we’re driving the speed limit, crossing at crosswalks, and never double parking. But that doesn’t mean we don’t like bonus fries, extra-scoopy ice cream, or double cheese on our subs, people.

Yes, when the gal behind the smooth orange counter wearing the paper hat and pinstriped shirt is your pal from high school, it means it’s time for a little extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce on that drippy ice cream sundae.

It’s just the Fast Food Workers Pact.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Skip the shock.

People, we’ve chatted before about how bad your feet have it. Face it, they’ve been through a lot today so there’s no need to nail them with a blast of cold air before bed. Instead, just tuck them in tightly, tuck them in rightly, and peel off your socks using only your feet when you’re warm and comfy under the sheets.

Don’t worry — you can collect the sweaty sock mounds from the foot of your bed tomorrow.

Sweet dreams.

AWESOME!

(Thanks to PC Mag for voting us one of the best blogs of 2009!)

Photo from: here

Maybe a quiet haze drifts in your dorm as you worry about upcoming exams and patchy friendships. Maybe your heart just got flattened by a runaway relationship and the knots in your stomach are twisting and burning. Or maybe you’re trekking cross-country with a backpack and a dream and are suddenly sucker-punched with a jabby stab of loneliness.

When you’re pumped up, pumped down, shaken sideways or rattled around, it’s always comforting to share a moment with a song or lyric that perfectly reflects your mood. Sometimes it seems like they’re singing right to you.

So come on and smile along, nod quietly to the song, and push ahead, plow forward, and soldier right on.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here and here

With a dropped jaw, buggy eyes, and sweaty palms your hot, salty head pops up from your warm pillow in a heart-pounding state of emergency. After a second of massively intense panic where you zoom into brain-rushing, adrenaline-gushing overdrive, it just suddenly just dawns on you …

It was all just a dream.

It was all just a dream.

It was all just a dream.

AWESOME!

(There’s an update in the Book section)

Photo from: here

Do you remember your Worst Sleep Ever?

Man, I sure do. I tell you, it was back when I was in college and a few friends and I drove a skiddy van across a snowy highway in the middle of a blizzard to crash with my friend Chad. It was a cold weekend full of laughs and catching up with friends who had all been yanked apart after prom and high school gradumacation.

Now, it was late Friday night in this quiet college town when a few of us headed home to hit the sack. Of course, there were no fresh linens, soft pillows, or fluffy towels laying on pull-out beds there. Nope, all we had in that cold, dark basement were a couple ratty couches, a hollow wooden door to the blizzard outside, and a giant wall full of cheap ticking clocks all set to different timezones.

Well, what choice did we have?

We made little beds from couch cushions, used sweatshirts for pillows, and covered our shivering bodies with zippery, snow-smeared winter coats. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the clocks tick-tick-tick-ticked all night, and somebody got home really late and left the back door wide open. Nobody noticed until morning when all our teeth were chattering and there was a foot high snowdrift under the ping pong table.

It was a nightmare, but I know you’ve been there, too.

Power-napping on bumpy airplanes, crashing on a flabby futon or jabby mattress, sleeping in a rainy forest in a leaky tent, you’ve had your fair share. Bad sleeps, sad sleeps, sack-pillow heaps, weird alarm clock beeps, and through it all you enjoy long, fidgety nights of groggy pillow turns and fuzzy blanket burns.

But after those killer sleeps in nightmare paradise, it’s always a great feeling to return to the warm and cozy comfort of your sweet, heavenly bed. Yes, you’re like a bear scraping together filthy leaves and warm mud for a long winter of hibernation or a soaring eagle swooping home from the windy treetops to the twiggy goodness of your comfy nest.

Your dented pillow, warm flannel sheets, and preset alarm clock wait for you.

So welcome home, baby.

You made it.

AWESOME!

(There’s an update in the Book section)

Photos from: here, here, and here

Time is an illusion.

Baby, we’re all just spinning, gninnips, spinning.

Electrons spinning in our tall, fleshy bodies, spinning on our big, wet rock, spinning in our bright, white solar system, spinning in our deep, dark galaxy, spinning in our brain-bustingly big universe.

Listen, this never ending swirly-twirly headtrip can be a bit much sometimes, so we try to place some delicate order on our bumpy, chaotic lives. Yes, we tack calendars on our kitchen cabinets with organized checkerboards of days and weeks and months. We make plans for Saturday night, sleep in on Sunday, and head to work Monday morning. See, now instead of swirling and twirling, we’ve got minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years and lives.

Oh sure, maybe setting a calendar on the beautiful insanity of life is like placing a square of tissue paper on a hurricane. But without the structure and routine we’d just sort of wander around aimlessly forever, you know what I mean?

“Hey man, when you gonna finish college?”

“Dude, I dunno, maybe when my beard touches my knees?”

No, no, no, we need order, we want order, we crave order, we love order.

Order gives us birthdays, anniversaries, and hair appointments. Order gives us the recess bell, cake baking smell, and Christmas eves with the family. Order gives us company meetings, holiday greetings, and long weekends in the summer.

Order gives us a lot.

But people, sometimes it’s great to slow down and get swirly-twirly, anyway.

Sometimes it’s great to set up a crinkly tent on the damp edge of a gushing river and camp out under the stars with someone you love. Sometimes it’s great to shutter in and veg out on the pizza-sauce-stained corduroy couch during a snowy winter break at school. Sometimes it’s great to slap on baggy khaki shorts and a bright, flowery shirt and fly to a distant island just to lay on a hot, sandy beach in front of the blue, glittery ocean.

Sometimes it’s great to step back and stare at the clouds and trees.

Sometimes it’s great to let your thoughts float high and float free.

Sometimes it’s great to close your eyes and let it all just slip away.

Sometimes it’s great to forget the clock and dream a dream today.

AWESOME!

(There’s an update in the Book section)

Photos from: here, here, here, and here