It doesn’t matter whether you’re on clean up duty at your niece’s wedding reception, throwing in for a third poker tournament with the boys, trying to defeat every level of Bubble Bobble, or last to get dropped off after the bachelorette party downtown. All that matters is if you stumble over tomorrow’s newspaper sitting on the stoop on your way up to bed, it means your excellent evening out just got a little extra party cred.
AWESOME!
Illustration from: here
As old school assignments, half-downloaded mp3s, and duplicate photos crumple and disappear from your hard drive, you settle back into your office chair, slap your hands together, and smile at finishing up The World’s Easiest Chore.
AWESOME!
Illustration from: here
Spin the dial to the left and you’re drowning under a frozen glacier waterfall. Spin it to the right and you’re stinging under some sharp second degree burns.
We all know your perfect temperature lies somewhere between these dangerous extremes so every time you strip down to scrub up you’re playing detective. Oh, you know that perfect temperature is out there, but there are so just many problems.
First off, there’s the tale of the tank. See, we all know hot water is made not born. Chances are good that a fat clunky water heater sits somewhere in the basement under piles of rust, cobwebs, and Christmas tree ornaments, and each morning you’re crunching numbers to figure out what she’s got left to give. Bubbling to the top, you’re fine, but if you’re the last to go, it’s time to crank it.
Secondly there’s The You Factor. Yes, you and your temperature fussiness. After all, if you live somewhere chilly winter mornings are marked by running from your sheet cave across ice-cold linoleum floors to the bathroom, then your perfect temperature could be hotter than normal. And on sweaty summer mornings, you might make do with a slightly cool rinse. And if you just finished a basketball game, just got out of the pool, or are aching with a sore neck, you could have all kinds of different shower plans.
Point is: there’s one or two dials max, without numbers or letters on them, that you’ve got to spin around in your groggy half-asleep state, to find the perfect shower temperature. Sometimes you stick your hand in to test, sometimes you jump in there in your birthday suit ready for anything.
When you step into the shower and it’s at the exact right temperature, you’re absolutely loving it. Bring on the shampoo afros, lathery bellies, and nose blowing as you get ready for ten hot minutes of
AWESOME!
My apartment looks over a busy downtown intersection.
Shredded bird feathers, swirling dust funnels, and car exhaust fumes cover my balcony in a thick layer of city grime.
If you come over and go out there, I’ll tell you to put shoes on or suffer shocking sockicide. Don’t believe me and your white socks will suffer a case of career-ending blackfoot. It’s a toxic and sad way to go and generally results in grabbing a new pair on the way home.
The worst part isn’t the balcony floor, though. It’s the table and chairs. They get slimed too, but are harder to cover up. I can’t just say “Oh, before you sit down, grab a plastic bag from under the sink and tuck it into your jeans. Thanks!”
No, I can’t do that, I won’t do that, I don’t do that. Instead, I grab a hunk of wet paper towels and slide them all over the chairs and tables while my guests watch with jaw-dropping disgust. The thick mat quickly turns the blackest black you’ve ever seen and I sort of smile and wave it in their face before going inside to throw it out.
And you know why I smile? You know why I wave it in their face? Besides the fact that I’m not a very nice person, I mean. Well, I’ll tell you why: because I’m proud of how much dirt came off. To me it’s a sense of accomplishment. It’s the same as showing your sister that Swiffer cloth with every square molecule covered in dust and cat hair. It’s the awe with which you stare at the McDonald’s napkin that just swabbed all that wet, yellowy grease off your forehead.
Looking at how much dirt came off something you just cleaned causes this big swelling inside you. It’s a few rich, satisfying feelings all swished together. It’s accomplishment, cleanliness, and most of all “I’m glad I’m not sitting in that.”
AWESOME!
Photo from: here
Illustration from: here
Home temperature is important.
Head in the freezer, hands in the oven, whatever your move, just make it. Pick a temp, baby, then bake it. Pump up the thermostat, bang on the rad, or crank up the air. If you’re hot, ditch the sweats, if you’re cold, slip on slippers.
Home temperature is important.
If you’re not feeling comfortable you just won’t be happy. Roommates want it hotter, spouses want it cooler, and you may want it jussssssssst right, so you’ll need to tweak dials and add layers until you figure it out.
And you eventually will. And you’ll think everything is great. And everything will be great.
Until it comes.
Bedtime.
Yes, before you flick out the lights and slip into golden slumbers, you must first guess your Sleep Comfort Zone (SCZ or “See-Zee” for short). And See-Zee’s ain’t easy. If you’ve ever woken up with the shivers or the sweats, then you added too many blankets or slept too nude.
If you’re on your own, there are ceiling fans, heating vents, and your general sweatiness to consider. If you’re with a pet or a partner, you’ve got double the hot-breath factor and a lot more sweaty legs under the covers.
If you’re like me then your eyes might blink open in the middle of the night as you realize that you’re uncomfortable. And if this happens, then just hook yourself a solid and toss one leg out of the covers and one leg under them.
Also known as the Toe Vent.
AWESOME!
Photos from: here, here, and here
Illustration from: here
Warm Sunday dinners with family, late nights drinking with friends, studying with a group in your basement.
All of these are high odds scenes for scoring a blessing after you sneeze. Chances are good that if you explode in a loud bang of spit and phlegm at the dinner table, at least one of your aunts will say “Bless you” and there’s a good shot everyone will chime in. Same when you’re grabbing wings or cramming for biology.
But when you’re on your own it’s a whole different story.
Tapping on a laptop at the coffee shop, washing your hands in the restaurant bathroom, double-stepping up the escalator on your way to work.
These are low odds scenes for netting a blessing. The people around you don’t know you and maybe don’t notice you. But when you sneeze and there’s just silence it’s a bit awkward. I always feel a little lonely in those situations. “Didn’t anyone just hear me sneeze?” I want to ask. But instead I just finish washing my hands and wonder if my released spirit is now floating around the urinals.
This is why there’s something cool about a stranger saying bless you. It’s even better when you say nothing before the free blessing and they say nothing afterwards. Like a friendly smile on passing escalator or an empathetic laugh behind you in line, it’s just a momentary little politeness blip.
AWESOME!
Illustrations from: here
Get a move on.
Hot popcorn isn’t going to be hot forever. It’s time to chow down by stuffing big, spilly handfuls of salty buttery goodness in your mouth as fast as you can.
Because hey, popcorn’s the perfect snack for non-stop shoving. Silverware isn’t needed and a scoopful of the bumpy corn pops fit easily into anybody’s hand. And popcorn’s soft and chewy which makes it ideal for the quick bite-bite-swallow technique. Lastly, popcorn’s often a shared food. If you don’t shove it in really fast you might get stuck with the broken burnt pieces at the bottom.
So just keep on shoving and shoving and shoving some more. And after each big swallow make sure to drop your jaw open slowly like a trash compacter, with popcorn bones and oily kernal shards stuck to your lips and tongue, and wait for the next big delivery.
Should be any second now.
AWESOME!
Illustrations from: here
I don’t know how to tie my shoes.
I know, I know, it’s terrible, it’s embarrassing, but I seriously can’t tie my shoes the way most people do. I just — my fingers don’t slide the right way. When I try the loop-around-and-pull-through move I end up with a limp and loose version of the finished product. As a result, I’m stuck with The Bunny-Ears Method also known as The Double Loop or Grandma Knot. Yes, I make a loop with my right hand, a loop with my left, and then I tie them together. It’s a tiny bit slower, but that’s not the worst of it.
The worst of it is that it often results in massive, tightly wound knots that take forever to untie.
As a result, I try to avoid tying my shoes altogether. Instead, I spend one or two minutes wedging and banging my foot into them each time I leave the house. Although this technique results in completely squashing the back of my shoe, I find it preferable than sorting out the grandaddy knot waiting for me down there.
But sometimes there is no choice.
See at some point my scraggly knot will lay lazily on the side of my shoe staring up at me with its sad, dusty face. And I can only smile wearily, shake my head, and sit down on the step, and get ready to slog away in the five-minute heavyweight title card of Me Vs The Knot.
I’m not going to lie: I often lose this battle, choosing instead to throw on a pair of sandals or stay home and order pizza. But there are also days where I come out on top. There are days where I stick my fingernail in there as hard as I can and pick and pick and pick until the lace finally starts to give. And then I start pulling it this way and that way until I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, the moment of truth, the dream becoming a reality.
Those final few seconds of untangling a really big knot happen in a hazy slow-motion. A twisted lace becomes loose, and then another, and then there is some frantic untying as it all comes undone.
Yes, whether it’s headphone wires, Nintendo controllers, phone cables, or skipping rope, it sure feels great during the last few seconds of untangling that tightly tied mess.
AWESOME!
Photos from: here, here, and here
Illustration from: here
