KABOOM

When The Mr picked me up from work today, I was just getting to the climax of my book, and I did NOT want to put it down, so I was naturally a little cranky about going to the gym. (Side note: I'm enjoying the gym way more than I thought I would, but that's another blog post for another time.) Me: Ugh, this is annoying because I want to finish my book, but I also don't want to be a slacker.

The Mr: Why don't you just hop on one of those loungy bikes and read while you do that then?

Me: OH MY GOD YOU'RE A GENIUS.

So I did. I hit the "Random workout" button, popped in my headphones so I could listen to the Stranger Things soundtrack while I read, and I stayed there for 45 minutes and finished my book/acquired the strongest legs in the world. It was amazing. In fact, I was just reading the epilogue when The Mr showed up to tell me that he was all done.

Me: THAT WAS INTENSE.

The Mr: The book or the workout?

Me: Both! I'm so sweaty!!

 

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On a related note, you guys should totally pick up a copy of Bonfire by Krysten Ritter (Yes! as in Jessica Jones!) when it comes out in November. It's a slow burn, but man, oh man, when that spark reaches the gunpowder, THINGS. GO. BOOM.

Another side note: titling this blog post was really hard because "Sweaty Books" sounds disgusting and "Books make me sweat sometimes" also sounded gross and all things involving sweat can just be gross, so... I went with KABOOM because that felt safer.


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Just doin' my job, sir.

Today a child totally called me out when I lied to him, but in my defense, he was hitting his father to an obnoxious degree (aren't all degrees obnoxious?) and using truth and reasoning wasn't helping. Me: Alright kid, this has gone on long enough. We have a very strict no-hitting policy here and if you don't stop it, I'm going to have to put you to work.

Kid: ....

Me: Cleaning our toilets.

Kid's Dad: Ooooo... that sounds rough, dude.

Kid: No. You're lying.

Me: What? I am not.

Kid: Yes you are.

And then we just stared at each other for a few moments until I turned my attention back to his dad.

Me: So anyway, you should totally read Ready, Player, One because it's amazing.

Dad: Awesome, thank you!

I would like it to be noted, though, that the kid did stop hitting his dad, so.... I'm kind of a hero - even if I didn't stay within the lines of morality to do it. I'm basically Batman.

 

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BUT WHAT ABOUT THE FISH.

A conversation I had with The Mr as we were getting into bed: Me: Do you think fish ever get headaches?

The Mr: I'm sorry, 'do fish get headaches?'

Me: Or any animals, I suppose. Do animals get headaches?

The Mr: I've never really thought about it.

Me: It must be so terrible to have a headache as an animal. I wonder what they do about it. Because it's not a life-or-death malady, is it? It's just an annoyance, but it can be so annoying that you can't do anything else... but I feel like animals don't really have that luxury, do they? They can't be like "Not tonight, I have a headache." or "I don't feel like hunting today, my head hurts," or on the flip side when one animal sees another animal out on the hunting grounds that isn't usually there, they're not like "Hey Steve, what are you doing out here today?" and then Steve has to be all "Oh, just seeking out some herbs for Julie. She's got a massive migraine," you know?

The Mr: I don't think that's how the animal kingdom works.

Me: Yeah, but you can't tell me that we're the only species that gets headaches.

The Mr: Well... most headaches are caused by dehydration, so... yeah, I'm sure animals get headaches.

Me: Okay, BUT WHAT ABOUT FISH?? They're never dehydrated.

The Mr: Good night, honey.

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I went to the gym and YES I AM OKAY.

Okay so last week I posted this on Instagram:  

Dear God, what has happened to me? #IHaveNoIdeaWhatImDoing #gym #workout

A post shared by Emelie Samuelson (@awkwardlyaliveblog) on

And I'm not going to lie, a number of concerned comments was... telling.

Everyone was all "WHY? ARE YOU OKAY? HAVE YOU BEEN BODY-SNATCHED? WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHO ARE YOU?"

Which, okay, fair enough, I'm not exactly the type of person who "works out" or is "physically fit," so maybe these comments were justified, but the sheer number of them was, like, breath-taking! Or maybe that was the cardio? I'm not sure.

Either way, The Mr and I have willingly joined a gym and tonight I had my introductory body assessment and personal training session. I went in expecting to embarrass myself, and if you must know, I delivered.

The body assessment was interesting. I'm shorter than I thought I was, which either means I'm shrinking or I've been lied to. I also learned that my legs are jacked, but my arms are disturbingly weak. This was demonstrated when my trainer had me go from a plank position on my hands down to my forearms and then back up again. I imagine it was like watching a baby giraffe try and get up for the first time, but with less success.

Before we started working out, though, my trainer asked me a few questions:

Her: Okay, so I just want to have a quick chat before we get started. What is your experience with being in a gym?

Me: Basically zero. I was in marching band and I read a lot.... but I'm enthusiastic and totally not afraid to look like an idiot!

Her: Awesome! I can work with that! So, what are your goals here?

Me: To still be able to move when I'm 85, like Dick Van Dyke, but also I'd like to become a superhero, like Wonder Woman.

Her: ....Alright. Whatever it takes to keep you motivated, I guess.

Me: I suppose the Wonder Woman one is self-explanitory, but have you seen Dick Van Dyke lately? He can still do a good chunk of that physical comedy he is so well known for, and in an interview, someone was all "How do you still do it?" and he was all "I've just always worked out since I was in my twenties." I admire that.

Her: That actually makes sense.

Me: Sorry. I'm a bit of a dork.

It was then that I remembered I was wearing a tank top that read "My name isn't Luna, but I can Love Good," so this statement was probably unnecessary.

In the end, I think she liked me, and I actually kind of know what I'm doing now. I learned that I'm good at squatting, but also that the way that I sometimes stand with my toes turned inward is bad for my hips, so... I can squat, but I can't stand? I'm a positive person, though, so I chose to focus on the successful squatting, which led me to shout "I CAN SQUAT!" at The Mr when he and his trainer walked into the room. People stared at me. The Mr gave me a high five. He's nice.

And I actually taught her something too! She had no idea that there were games on the rowing machine, which there totally are. You can chase fish on the screen and everything. Honestly, what did she think that machine was for?

 


In other news, the very first episode of Sunday Supdates happened last night and it was AWESOME!!! I only set off the fire alarm once!

I mention in the video that all episodes after this will only be open to my Patreon supporters (and then broadcast afterward publicly), but I think I'm going to do a public episode one Sunday a month. Anyway, here is the first episode. Enjoy (and then go sign up to be an Awkward Ambassador on Patreon!)

 


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Grocery Store Anxiety

My mom and I were on our way to get our nails done before my wedding and as we were driving along, we were listening to the radio. We weren't talking much, but I didn't particularly find it to be an uncomfortable silence. My mother, however, did not feel the same way. Mom: For the love of God, say something.

Me: Um... sorry?

Mom: Why are you so quiet?

Me: I don't know! We're listening to music! I didn't have anything to say!

Mom: You always have something to say.

Me: Not always.

Mom: Well, the silence is weird.

Me: Alright... what are you going to do after we get our nails done?

Mom: I need to go to the grocery store.

Me: Oh... do you want me to go with you?

Mom: No, I like going by myself.

Me: Oh, thank God. I hate grocery stores.

Mom: ...what?

Me: I hate grocery stores. They give me anxiety.

Mom: How can a grocery store give you anxiety? It's just a grocery store.

Me: I don't know. I get overwhelmed. There are so many options.

Mom: Yeah, but just buy what you want. You don't need to get everything.

Me: Well, yeah, but I don't know what I want. Take bread for example, have you seen how many different types of bread there are? There's whole grain, all grain, 7-grain, whole wheat - what is the difference between whole grain and whole wheat, by the way, and which seven grains are in the bread, are those the seven grains that I want? - and then there's white bread, which I know isn't the one I should get, and then there's organic and all natural and so many different brands, you know? Oh man, and then I go to the produce aisle and I get so afraid of how to tell what's ripe and what stage do you buy certain things, and why is always SO COLD? I hate going through those freezer aisles. It's the worst --

Mom: --OH  MY GOD, STOP TALKING.

Me: YOU ASKED FOR THIS!

Mom: WELL I FORGOT WHO I WAS IN THE CAR WITH, OKAY?

Me: ....

Mom: ...your brain is really terrifying, you know that?

Me: Thanks, Mom.

And then it started to rain, but because we were in my brother's car, I couldn't figure out how to turn on the windshield wipers, so I started talking to the steering wheel and then I realized that the windshield wipers were activated by a lever that operated much like a Bop-It, so I started imitating the Bop-It, but I don't think my mom knows what a Bop-It is, so I can't really say that I helped ease her mind about me.

Needless to say, I did not end up having to go to the grocery store, so I still say the day was a massive success.


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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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There is a Disney movie playing inside of my brain at all times.

The other day, Fiancé was driving me to work with our dog, Gio, in the back seat. We take Gio with us because he loves the car rides and he can't be trusted when there is butter somewhere in the house, which there almost always is. Anyway, it was one of those rare times when all three of us were just kind of sitting quietly, which for some people is fine, but for me, never lasts too long because I inevitably make myself start laughing, which is what happened right before this conversation: Fiancé: What are you giggling at?

Me: Well, we're just sitting here not talking, and I was thinking about scenes like that in movies where everyone is just kind of sitting quietly and then the camera pans from person to person and you hear what's going on inside their head, you know?

Fiancé: Yeah...

Me: So I was thinking about what it would sound like if someone did that to us right now.

Fiancé: And?

Me: Well, it would go to Gio and he'd be all "OH MY GOD, THERE'S SNOW EVERYWHERE, LOOK AT THE SNOW! OH! WHAT'S THAT? DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT THING? HEY, YOUR FACE SMELLS GOOD. WAIT, TURN LEFT HERE, WE NEVER TURN LEFT HERE, I BET THERE'S SOMETHING FUN THAT WAY!" And then it would go to your head and it would be all "Numbers and math and what's on my to-do list, blah, blah blah or whatever it is that you think about."

Fiancé: Oh god... that's what I sound like?

Me: Shush, we're getting to the best one.

Fiancé: Right. What happens when we get to your head? Wait, let me guess.... Is it just the same as Gio's?

Me: No. It would get to my head and it would just be "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOONNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEE FIGHTS LIKE GASTON, NO ONE'S RIGHT LIKE GASTON, NO ONE'S NECK IS INCREDIBLY THICK LIKE GASTON'S! I USE ANTLERS IN ALL OF MY DEEEECOOORRRAAAATTTTING--"

Fiancé:  Oh wow.

Me: And that's when I started laughing. Except when you really think about it what would have happened when it got to my brain is that you would have heard me thinking about what was going on in everyone's brain and then it would have been an endless loop of what we were all thinking, which is crazy.

Fiancé: Like a thought bubble inside of a thought bubble.

Me: Exactly!

And then we returned to silence for the rest of the ride because I'm pretty sure it was too early for him to risk encouraging me. Plus, he would be spurring me on only to unleash me upon my co-workers and our customers, so really he was just doing his part to help keep the town safe. He's a good person.

In other news, I just saw Beauty and the Beast last night and I loved it so much!! Go see it and then tweet me. We'll talk.

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The Great British Rollercoaster of Emotions

Fiancé was out of town this past weekend, and I actually did pretty okay. I managed to make food for myself and everything, so I was feeling super successful. But then I got hit with the blues. I was sitting all alone in the house and feeling really sad because, you know, why not, right? So I decided to watch the Great British Baking Show because that show can only cheer people up. Seriously, the worst thing that ever happens is that someone's ice cream gets taken out of a freezer too soon - AND THEN THEY ALL HELP EACH OTHER FIX IT BECAUSE BAKING MAKES YOU LOVE EVERYONE. (This is not a reference to being high, although that might also be true. I'm not sure.) Seriously, this is a competition show, but they're all so nice to each other and then they eat cake. How could you possibly be upset by this? There's not even any money at stake! It's prize is just being called the best baker. I love it.

Anyway, I was all ready to cue up the only season that was available on Netflix when I discovered that IT WAS GONE. When did this happen? Why did it happen? WHAT THE F, NETFLIX? WHERE IS MY SOURCE OF JOY???

My sank deeper into my couch and my depression.

But then I found the PBS app on apple tv... and lo and behold THREE SEASONS WERE THERE. VICTORY WAS MINE.

Me: FIANCÉ.

Me: I HAVE ALL THE GREAT BRITISH BAKING SHOW

Me: ALL OF IT

Fiancé: How?

Me: I activated the PBS app on apple tv

Me: WHICH IS FREE.

Fiancé: O

Fiancé: M

Fiancé: G

Me: YEAH.

Me: ALL THREE SEASONS.

Me:ALL THREE

Fiancé: Don't forget to go to work tomorrow.

Me: Boooooo.Why would you bring that up at a time like this?

And then the worst thing ever happened: They weren't free, you guys. The PBS app had lulled me into a false sense of security. IT TRICKED ME.

Me: SON OF A BITCH I HAVE TO PAY FOR THESE EPISODES. I knew it was too good to be true...

Me: ....Can we donate $5 a month to PBS?

Fiancé: Can we write it off on our taxes?

Me: Yes. (It should be noted that I did absolutely zero looking into that fact. For all I know, this was not a tax-deductable thing, but at that moment, nothing was going to stop me. Oh, and upon further research, yes, it turns out that we can. I think. I don't really know how that stuff works.) And I can watch GBBO, which means I can stop texting you and bothering you while you're hanging out with your friends.

Fiancé: Sure.

See, friends, it's all about making offers they simply cannot refuse.

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TO THE ROOF!

This week Fiancé and I discovered the joys of furniture assembly and arrangement as a couple. There was a whole lot of "No, really, the couch should go here," followed by "Oh my god, you were so right, this is all wrong, let's put it back the way it was," and then "That looks awful, doesn't it? Maybe we should just put it all on the roof and call it a day?" The biggest issue is that we live in 200-year-old tiny farm house with tiny rooms and crooked walls and we bought a bunch of modern-sized furniture from Ikea that doesn't fit in said tiny farm house with tiny rooms and crooked walls. Plus, we have double the amount of stuff now that we're living together. So, I'm suggesting we put stuff on the roof.

Fiancé: You mean the attic?

Me: What? No! It's haunted up there. I mean the roof.

Fiancé: Why?

Me: Because we have too much furniture right now.

Fiancé: So you want to put it on the roof?

Me: Yes.

Fiancé: How are you going to get to the roof?

Me: A ladder. Or magic?

Fiancé: What furniture is going up there?

Me: At least some chairs. We have too many chairs.

Fiancé: Oh, like the designer chair you got from your sister?

Me: NO! I love that chair!

Fiancé: I have a feeling that you just mean my furniture.

Me: You said it, not me.

Fiancé: I think we can put the shoe trunk on the roof. I hate that thing. It's dangerous, it smells weird, and it's impossible to find any of our shoes in there.

Me: I agree. That furniture plan did not work out. It's going on the roof.

Fiancé: Great. Except... It has all of our shoes in it. I don't want to go up on the roof without any shoes.

Me: TOO BAD IT'S ALREADY DECIDED I'M GETTING THE LADDER!

Cohabitation is going really well, you guys.

***

In other news, I wrote a piece about Book Guilt and it's over on Books, Ink's Hamlet Hub. Go check it out, but only if you want to!

So... I'm screwed up, but in a cute way... right?

This week was a weird week and it involved a lot of panic attacks, which I won't dive into, but it also involved my friend, Sookie (not her real name, but she is the Sookie St James to my Lorelai Gilmore, so that is what she shall be called here), being lovely to me and wonderful in many ways, because last night, she felt the need to check in via text: Sookie: Mental health check.

Me: Me? I'm doing okay now. Watching Doctor Who with Mike. The dog seems back to his normal self (Did I tell you that I thought he was dying the other night?) and life feels good. You?

Sookie: I'm fine. What was wrong with Gio?

Me: I think he just had a bug. He wouldn't get off the couch or eat and I'm pretty sure he had a fever. And all the dogs that I've lost so far in my life have dropped very suddenly under similar circumstances, so I might have had a bit of a panic attack over the situation.... Thus proving that I'm not cut our for human children because I might care a little too furiously about the things I'm not biologically tied to.

Sookie: Oh that sounds awful!

Me: Yeah, it was fun. But I like to think that the level of screwed up I am is endearing.

Sookie: I completely agree. Your level of screwed up is very charming.