It's official: I'm becoming my father.

My parents are lively and active people. The word 'retirement' is akin to the most offensive of curse words in their eyes, I think. Over drinks when my dad was in town, he said: "I hate that word." And I swear he was this close to spitting on the ground to show his disdain. All I know is that my parents never stop working, never stop moving, and never stop partying. My dad is in his seventies and he still travels for work all the time - not because he has to, but because he wants to.

And my mom is basically Wonder Woman. She's a very successful real estate agent, she teaches six jazzercise classes a week (the majority of them at 5:45 in the GD morning!), she has two horses that she trains and takes care of almost every day, and she cooks dinner every freaking night.

 

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And yet, I manage to be surprised if they don't answer the phone when I call.

Me: I think my parents find me dull.

The Mr: Why?

Me: Neither one of them is answering their phone! Do I call too often? Are they sick of me? You know, most parents would love it if their kid just called to say hi as often as I do, but they're totally ghosting me! Do they think I'm boring?

The Mr: Maybe they do.

Me: ...thanks, babe.

And then later that night, my dad called me. HE CALLED ME.

Me, too excitedly: Hi, Dad!

Dad: Hey, how are you?

Me: Great! How are you?

Dad: Well, I'm okay. Your mom is in Chicago visiting your sister and the new baby, so I'm just sitting in the parking lot of <LOCAL RESTAURANT>, trying to decide whether or not to go in and get dinner... there are a lot of cars here, so I don't know... or maybe I should call Nick and see if he wants to meet.... I don't know, we've been hanging out a lot this week since both of our wives are out of town... maybe he's sick of me.

The Mr: Did you see that apple just fall from that tree?

But maybe this is a good thing... because maybe it means that I'm also going to be a superhero who travels the world!

Or maybe this means my future just involves a closet full of leotards.

 

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Gym Drake is my Unicorn: A Sequel

Okay, so the last time I wrote about the gym, we all learned about my obsession with this guy at our gym who looks exactly like Drake. I was pretty excited to go back to the gym tonight, not because I wanted to get buff or anything (seriously, exercise is VERY boring), but because I haven't been able to capture this guy on camera yet and I feel like I owe it to us all to provide photographic evidence of his existence. And alas, we walked in to find that 1) There were more people than usual for this time of day and 2) NONE of those people were Drake.

To say that I was depressed about this fact might seem dramatic, but let's call a spade a spade. I lazily went through my workout. It became pretty clear that Gym Drake holds the power of my motivation.

So after 30 minutes of just meh-ing around, I went and stood by The Mr. While he did things that looked difficult yet physically rewarding, I hopped onto Instagram Stories:

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BUT THEN HE APPEARED.

Seriously, everyone, just as I hit "send" on that video, Gym Drake came down the staircase that I was standing next to and rounded the corner into my vision NOT TWO FEET FROM MY FACE.

So, naturally, I spun around frantically in small circles before running after him. Subtly.

 

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I needed that photo.

As luck would have it, he ended up going into the weightlifting room, and The Mr had ALSO gone there. Ignoring the fact that I never saw The Mr leave the room we were previously in, I knew that this. Was. My. Moment.

I walked over to The Mr with the expression you see in the above photo still on my face. He looked at me and sighed before nodding to confirm that yes, he had seen who just arrived and then he gave me a look like "I swear to God Emelie if you get us kicked out of this gym, I will divorce you."

Everything was set up so perfectly, though. The mirrors in the room were perfectly positioned so that I could pretend I was taking a picture of The Mr when I was really just getting a photo of Gym Drake in the background.

THIS. WAS. MY. MOMENT.

And then, just as I was raising my phone to make the capture, Gym Drake suddenly got up and quickly left the room.

It took everything in me not to fall to my knees screaming.

 

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And HE NEVER CAME BACK.

I swear to you that he does exist and that I have seen him MANY TIMES. I'm just pretty sure that he can sense when cameras are around and, like a unicorn, he must avoid them before his existence is revealed, because THE WORLD CANNOT HANDLE THE MAGIC.

Or maybe he's a vampire? And if I tried to photograph him, I would find out, and then he'd have to bite me or kill me, so maybe he's really just thinking of me because he wants me to live. Aw, Gym Drake... you're just the best.

 

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In other news, this month's public episode of #SundaySupdate was last night and it might have been the greatest episode yet? Apparently, cracking eggs is my cooking superpower and my knife skills are "frightening," so... I HAVE SUPERPOWERS! I'm pretty sure that's the takeaway here. Anyway, if you missed it, here is the episode. If you're interested in joining us every week, sign up to be an Awkward Ambassador on Patreon! We have tons of fun.

 


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Just... keep me out of the kitchen.

So last night, The Mr and I were discussing our plan of attack for the evening. The dogs needed to go out, our thank you cards needed to be written from the wedding, dinner needed to be made and dishes needed to be done. The first step was easy: Take the dogs out. Done.

Then things got complicated. Neither one of us wanted to tackle the thank you cards alone and we were both hungry, but also... dishes.

So The Mr gave me two options: I could do dishes while he cooked or he could do dishes while I cooked.

We all know that I'm not a good cook at this point, but I really hate doing dishes, and The Mr really hates watching me do the dishes because he has "a system" for things and I prefer to function with... an air of spontaneity, simply just grabbing whatever dishes are closest and washing them, not at all thinking about what to wash first so that it can be used sooner or how to maximize the amount of space there is on the drying rack. Apparently this is irritating. I think it shows that I can handle whatever comes my way, but this isn't the point of the story.

I grabbed the recipe and set to work on making two personal quiches with a side salad.

Now, it should be noted that nothing actually went wrong during the cooking process, which I think is something that deserves attention. I did not cut myself with the knife (and I had to chop and dice many things!), the fire alarm never went off, I didn't add sugar instead of salt or anything! It was going just fine.

So remember that.

It wasn't until the quiches were out of the oven that things went downhill. Literally.

When they came out of the oven, they were obviously very hot, which I knew and yes I used oven mitts to take them out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool, so STOP MAKING ASSUMPTIONS. I'm usually very good about using my oven mitts because, as some of you may have noticed during Sunday Supdates, my oven mitts look like bear paws and they're amazing. PLUS, I can say that I took stuff out of the oven with my bear hands and it's hilarious while also making me sound like a badass.

So I using my bear hands, I removed the quiches from the oven and placed them on the counter and started making the salad, assuming they would be cold enough to handle by the time I was done.

They were not.

And here is where my logic falls apart. You see, I'm usually really good about using my oven mitts, but I was really hungry by this point and I just needed to transfer the quiches to their plates, which weren't that far away, so I was like "Instead of putting on my big, clunky bear hands again, I'll just slide them over with a spatula. I am so smart."

I am not smart, you guys. That quiche went down. Not only did it fall, but it, of course, landed upside-down and just splattered all over the floor, at which point I yelled "NOOOOOOOOOO" with great defiance at the universe.

The Mr: Why wouldn't you use a pot holder??

Me: Because I had the spatula!

The Mr: Yeah, but that spatula is way too small for the -- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

What I was doing, good sir, is proving that I could do this. Yeah. I went for it with the second quiche, because I "never learn" according to some people, but you know what, dear readers? That second quiche successfully made it to its intended plate. Because I WILL NOT BE BEATEN BY A SPATULA.

Wait. That sounded weird, right? Obviously I was being figurative here - actually, no, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm being literal here too. I do not want to be beaten by anything.

We've reached a strange space in my brain...

Anyway, I think we've all learned a very valuable lesson here and that lesson is that perseverance is key. And also that maybe I should really just let The Mr handle all kitchen things from now on? But then what would happen to Sunday Supdates?


Hey! Speaking of Sunday Supdates... This Sunday is episode 2 of Sunday Supdates, but it's only for those who sponsor me on Patreon, so if you want to participate in a fun, live Q&A with me while I cook dinner (which based on the above story, will be very entertaining), head over to the Patreon page now and sign yourself up! You can do this for as little as a dollar and in doing so, you help me continue making this stuff without needing to get advertisers or do paid content. Essentially, you help me create the things that you like that I create - and you get to chat with me, too! There's all sorts of fun perks involved, so what are you waiting for? Join me and all of the Awkward Ambassadors!

No episode, but still a #SundaySupdate

Hi! So..... I tried filming the first episode of #SundaySupdates last night and let's just say that things went TERRIBLY. A fire was almost started, I burned myself a whole lot, corn exploded, and hot oil went EVERYWHERE.

On top of that? The video stopped recording so there's not even hilarious content to show you.

BUT I AM NOT GIVING UP. Instead I'm tweaking.

Next week I'm going to try again, but with a small change, possibly two:

  1. I'm making it a Q&A.
  2. I'm thinking of maybe making it a livestream?

This is where you come in! Leave a comment below if you think I should livestream it, and if you have a question, either post it as a comment here or send it to me on Twitter using the hashtag #SundaySupdate.

Oh, and to make up for it, here is a picture of our adorable new puppy just being the cutest: 

See you tomorrow, loves!

Sometimes I Make Things Weird - A Guest Blog Post by Breann Griffin

Hello, friends! Over the next few weeks, I am away for my wedding and honeymoon, so I've invited some of my favorite writers to keep you entertained in my absence! Enjoy!! 


The other day I was going home and I got into the elevator at the same time as one of our more serious security guards. We stood in silence for a few seconds. Then I tried to strike up a conversation, because not doing that felt too awkward. Me: Thank goodness it's 5 o'clock. Are you headed home soon too? Security Guard: I'm on the clock until 11 tonight, actually. Me: Ah, bummer. SG: At least someone's going home, right? Me: Yeah. True. Then I stared ahead at the doors. Staring at elevator doors to open is like looking down the street for the bus to come. It makes no sense and doesn't make anything happen faster, but it makes me feel better. When I felt the elevator do its little dip and recovery, which announces our arrival at the floor before the little voice does, I turned toward the security guard to say goodbye. SG: *raises his hand* Have a good... And then I high-fived him. This is how I imagine it played out internally: Eyes: Hey Brain, there's a hand being raised, palm forward, shoulder height, no movement. What do you make of it? Brain: Seems like a high-five situation to me. Hey Hand, you better get up there and return it. Hand obeys because Hand does what he's told. Ears: Brain, he just said “Have a good”... Brain: “...night.” Hmm. OH! No Hand, NO HAND! STOP! Hand high-fives. Brain: *sighs* Not again. But you know who waves at me every time I see him? That's right, the SG.


About Breann:

I don’t like waiting for the crosswalk signal and only run if I’m late for the bus. I buy myself flowers every week because they make me happy. I have a terrible habit of putting two spaces after a period.

I have an irrational fear of spiders, but not snakes. I really dislike the feeling of velvet and the texture of oysters. I try my absolute best to focus on the positive, smile at drivers who let me cross the crosswalk and say good morning to the door guys at my office building.

Basically just trying to always be the best person I can be, while covering up the weird quirks until the 3rd date. At least.

Does that sound like an Okcupid profile? That’s because I copied and pasted it from my Okcupid profile.

Does it sum me up pretty well? Yep, this baby has gotten me about 25 bad dates and 2 good ones. That’s an 8% success rate, for those counting, and if that doesn’t scream “This person is an excellent judge of character”, then I don’t know what does.

More of Breann's work can be found at https://myoldstumblinggrounds.wordpress.com/


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An Acetone Intervention

Okay, soo..... We all know that I can't be trusted with anything even remotely involving risk, right? I mean, this is sort of all Fiancé's fault for casually thinking that I understood the dangers here. Allow me to explain.

Fiancé and I are getting married a week from tomorrow (AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!) and we've been very DIY with this whole wedding thing. Many people have had to convince me that I cannot, in fact, do everything myself. Hiring people to do things is worth it, and while those people are correct and I am relieved that I won't be spending the morning of my wedding panicking about making flower crowns, there are still plenty of things that we are willing to do ourselves.

Things like... staining and painting the wooden signs that will be directing people toward parking and other wedding-related shenanigans.

It all seemed like a very good idea at the time and perhaps for normal, more stable and steady-handed people it still would be considered a good idea.

And let me be clear about the fact that I wasn't a complete idiot about this process. I made plenty of good decisions!

Smart choices made by me include:

  1. Doing this outside.
  2. Wearing clothes that I was prepared to ruin.
  3. Bringing beer to the space. (Fun fact: Grammarly was all "this should be Bringing beer to space" and ummm... STOP READING MY DIARY, GRAMMARLY.)
  4. Playing awesome tunes.

See? Already you're more confident in me than you thought you would be.

But let's return to one of those smart choices I mentioned: the clothes. Choice number 2. I was totally prepared to sacrifice my jean shorts and my Guns & Roses crop top. A few stain stains would only make them cooler, in my opinion. And I would like to take this opportunity to point out that Fiancé said nothing. He did not warn me, NOR DID HE TELL ME HOW AWESOME I LOOKED.

So we stained, and it was all "La, la, la, staining, staining, staining, la la la" and then we had to wait for that coat to dry, so I sat down on the blanket I brought out (great choice number 5, thank you very much) and I looked down at my legs and I was all "Oh cool!! Look, honey, I'M ALL SPECKLY!!!"

Fiancé was not entertained.

Fiancé: Holy crap, Emelie, no!!

Me: What? How do you not think this is awesome? My legs look like a dinosaur egg.

Fiancé: Babe, that's going to stain your skin.

Me: Yeah, but it's not like I'm not going to shower.

Fiancé: Emelie, I got some wood stain on my hand like ten years ago and it only just started to fade.

Me: ....No... But we're getting married next week! And then we're going on a honeymoon! I can't have dinosaur egg legs and feet for all that!

Fiancé: I agree.

Me: What do we do?!?

Fiancé then threw a wet paper towel at me and said "Start scrubbing. I'll be right back."

And then, while I got to work, he ran inside and returned shortly with a giant bowl of soapy water, a rag, a bottle of lotion, and a giant jug of acetone, which for some weird reason I didn't think to ask where he found it or why we have it, but apparently we do and I'm weirdly grateful. I picture Fiancé at the hardware store one day and seeing that and thinking "Who would ever need such a thing?" and then thinking about me and quietly sighing while he placed it in the cart because he just knew that one day I would probably do something that would require an acetone intervention (new band name?). Good call, honey.

And then Fiancé handed me a paper towel soaked in acetone and said "this is going to burn" right before he took his own acetone-soaked rag and started washing my feet as though I were Jesus and he a lowly prostitute.

And that's love, I think, especially because he managed to keep my pedicure in perfect condition, which is impressive that this stuff is the main ingredient in nail polish remover.

Oh, and yes, it burned. A lot. Hence the lotion. He's such a smart guy. The yin to my yang.

In other news, this is my final blog post before I'm married, which is nuts!! I'll be gone from the blog for the next three weeks, but I have a series of guest blog posts from AMAZING people coming at you while I'm away, so stick around and give them your love!

I love you all, friends. Keep being amazing and embrace your awkwardness. Muah!


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We got a new oven! ...and I'm already banned from using it.

So, Fiance and I got a new oven installed in our apartment this morning, and if you follow me on Twitter, this is not news to you, but if you don't, let me catch you up:

This was super exciting because our oven was pretty old and temperamental (in a bad way) and while I loved that it had character, that character was a bit frustrating, so getting a new (used) oven was hopefully going to drastically improve things so that I could bake even more things, and pretend to be a cheeky British person in a tent on the grounds of some castle somewhere hoping to win a cake plate. A girl can dream...

So this morning, my mood was this:

 

Everything was going according to plan. Until I got hungry and decided to make a pot of macaroni and cheese (the lunch of adults) while simultaneously attempting to bake a lemon poppyseed bread loaf. I think it was the multitasking that was really the problem. That and the fridge magnets... Allow me to explain...

You see, we have these magnets on the fridge that double as chip clips, and they are very handy at holding cute pictures of nieces, but my cookbook wasn't staying open to the right page and I desperately needing something clippy to fix that. So there it was, the clip I needed, dutifully sitting on the fridge, holding an adorable photo of Fiance's niece. I needed the clip.

So I unclipped the picture and attempted to set it on top of the fridge temporarily, but then a breeze came in through the window or maybe I didn't actually set the picture far enough away from the edge of the fridge or something, but either way, the picture fell. We don't need to start pointing fingers as to who is responsible here.

It should be noted that the fridge is right next to our new oven that I was so excited to use, and the pot of water for the mac and cheese was boiling on the burner that is closest to the fridge.

So Fiance's little niece fell from atop the fridge and down to.... well...

Luckily, she did not land in the pot of boiling water. Unluckily, she did land in a way that her arm was maybe too close to the burner.

Okay, fine, her arm was touching the burner.

Me: AH!!!

Fiancé: (from the next room) What happened?

Me: Nothing... everything is fine!

Fiancé: ...I don't believe you.

Me: Don't come in here!

Fiancé: ...why?

Me: Because I may or may not have set your niece on fire!

Fiancé: What?! HOW?!?

Me: WHY DO YOU ALWAYS ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS?!

Needless to say... I don't think I'll be asked to babysit at his sister's house for a while...