That Awkward Moment…

That Awkward Moment…

That awkward moment when you can see over the toilet stall and changing room doors… First of all, public restrooms are revolting. Even though the word “public” is in there doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be some degree of privacy. Then the place always tries to mask the odor with fruity or flowery scents sprayed from an aerosol can. No one tells the nice cleaning lady that it does nothing for the place (it’s probably just for her benefit…. keeps her from passing out as she cleans). They’re also putting couches, armchairs, and fake baskets of flowers in the bathrooms these days. Nope, it’s no longer those 5 star city restaurants that get the special treatment. We’re ALL special now! Isn’t that exciting?? As if an armchair is going to change the entire ambience of a bathroom.

Now that I’ve said my piece, on to the moment(s): I was walking through the changing rooms at my place of work the other day when I saw WAY more of an older woman than I ever cared to. I mean, kudos to those older people who don’t care about showing what they got, but really, spare me. Please.

At my other job the stalls are at least 5 inches shorter than I am. You can imagine the first time I went in there…. “Uhh, hi…..*cough*…I think someone took the rest of your door….” Door 5 – Allyssa 0.

I’m tall to begin with, so as the general population gets shorter, so do bathroom stalls. Yay for me. When I stand I just pop right up over the door. It’s even more terrifying (or embarrassing) when the mirror is on the wall just opposite. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just photobomb that selfie you were going to put on Facebook. Enjoy those comments.” Yes, I have attained the status of ultimate creeper. I feel like it’s sort of an accomplishment. Anyone want to give me a cookie? Or something…?

As for the changing rooms, you can only hope that the doors are tall enough to cover your upper half. Good luck to all you taller beings, it’s a tough, cruel (and short) world out there.

That Moment When…

That moment when everyone thinks you a different age. People typically think I am older than I really am. Now, I don’t know why this happens…but it does….A LOT. Just in the past week I have counted 17 instances where people have tacked extra years onto my life. Maybe I just exude and ooze maturity. It’s a maturity glow instead of a maternity glow. New thing, just made it up. When these occurrences happen I’m not always sure how to respond. I’m at the point in my life that is between “adult” and “being-legally-allowed-to-drink-adult” which can be dangerous if you assume incorrectly. But no worries, I am a responsible individual that actually has a moral compass and some semblance of self respect. 

But after the wearying 18th time of being mistaken for a 20-something woman, forgive me for being a little annoyed. I know, all those out there that would have loved the opportunity to go to a bar and not be carded under the age of 21 are shunning me. By all means, shun away! Because my idea of a good time is curling up in a fluffy blanket with a cup of earl grey tea and my laptop watching Sherlock. 

Maybe when I am in my thirties I will react differently. As long as they think I am in my early twenties. If I STILL look older then I will for sure have a problem. But like I said, I am nowhere near that point in my life. So at this time, I would greatly appreciate people not adding those extra years onto my life. I like feeling semi-accomplished for my age. 

But age is just a number, right? And birthdays are just another day. We humans are so time consumed. It’s all about making it to practice on time and finishing that paper by deadline. We always look at our calendars and watches like our lives are dependent upon our next appointment. Maybe the Europeans have it right: stop and enjoy life every once in a while. Or maybe, just maybe, we will miss it. 

So tonight, look up at the sky. The millions of stars sparkling on a black canvas. If you live in the city, just step outside, look at the thousands of people rushing here and there and just stop. Right in the middle of the crowd. Take a deep breath of that putrid city air, but enjoy each second of it. Every. Single. Second. 

That Moment When…

That moment when you are a poor college kid.

Here it is! Welcome to “real life”! (Because we’ve all been living an imaginary life up until we walk on a college campus or through corporate’s revolving doors.)

You know  you are a poor college kid when:

1) You use napkins from a fast food restaurant as toilet paper. Go ahead, grab an extra hundred or so. I think these particular places should just throw in those nifty silver napkin holders, just out of pure love…..or pity.

2) You find yourself walking everywhere. If this is you, you might as well go get a cheap bike. But either way, the exercise is a positive thing! And your new hot and fit body will get guys to ask you out and you know what that means…..FREE food! Get him to take you to a steak restaurant, you deserve it. (Sorry guys, you luck out on this one.)

3) One day you look in the mirror and see that you are at McDonald’s using their hand dryer as a hair dryer. Don’t judge.

4) You hear the word “money” and your ears perk up, pupils dilate, and you look around frantically for that green paper. I don’t care if it’s a crisp dollar bill, I’ll take a wrinkly one!

5) People can smell you from a mile away because you only take a shower…mm…about once a week.

6) You search the dorm couches for spare change when no one is looking. A penny here, a dime there…hey, one day you will be thankful for that penny!

7) Instead of going to the laundromat, you just spray your dirty clothes with air freshener. Now inhale deeply…if it smells even remotely close to a flower or ocean it’s good enough!

People  know us by our 7 year old tshirts, cheap granola bars for breakfast, and the fork we use as a hairbrush (thank you Disney). Those are just a few, have any to add? Feel free to comment!

cooking at it’s finest

But hey, being broke really has it’s advantages. You become very thrifty and find absolutely ridiculous ways to manage everyday functions. Now, I am not saying I am on-the-streets poor, but I think “broke college kid” has a meaning that most understand these days. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Sadly, I have no tips on becoming independently wealthy or anything. I’m new to this whole walk of life to begin with. Let me just tell you that Dollar General, coupons, and generic brand food are your new best friends. Here’s to higher education!

That Awkward Moment…

That awkward moment when the dentist asks you questions when his hands are in your mouth.

It is “6-month” check-up time! You walk into the waiting room and the nauseating smell of fluoride fills your nostrils, giving you a sudden headache.(I often wonder if they just bottle that stuff up and use it as air freshener.) Walking up to the receptionist she has your paperwork all ready. She hands you a clipboard advertising a new clinical drug and holding at least a dozen pages all waiting to be filled out in your cramped handwriting.

Once your name is called, you stand and follow the hygienist into a room filled with shiny tools that look like they belong in the home of a serial killer. She goes through the motions, the typical, “How often do you floss? When was the last time you were at the dentist?” Who lies and says that they floss every single day? tsk tsk. Naughty, naughty! I just ask how bad my teeth look and when they tell me they’re looking good that’s when I drop the bomb. “I haven’t been to the dentists in over 7 years.” Take that. Thankfully they don’t turn on me and tell me I suddenly have 5 cavities that they “missed”. Actually most people aren’t even surprised by that number. Leave it to us unhealthy Americans to not go in for our regular check-ups.

Now it’s the dentist’s turn. And this is when our awkward moment comes into play. They smile their bright white smile, settle into their swivel chair, and pick up those sharp tools. He then says, “Open wide! No, wider. Wider….there you go!” And here come the questions. You know it’s going to happen. It’s inevitable. Whenever I used to attempt to answer I always ended up sounding like the adults in the Charlie Brown movies. To which he would reply with, “Oh that’s nice. So what grade are you in? Where do you go to school? Do you like it? What are your friends like? Is that your natural hair color?” Ya know what?…Let’s just play 20 questions! Instead I think, “I’m sorry…Allyssa can’t tell you her life story at the moment, please wait and ask her when your fist is not occupying her mouth. Thank you.” Now that I am older, I just ignore the poor man.

Also, when I sit back in that plastic chair, the  light beaming in my eyes, I always think to myself, “What do I do with my tongue?” It kind of has a mind of its own. It wraps around the hygienist’s tools, does a little jig, presses against the roof of my wide-open mouth, swims in the pool of my saliva… I just do not know what to do with my tongue! Does anyone else experience this dilemma at the dentist? Anyone?…no? Oh, well….forget I said anything, please.

Another thing: scraping my teeth with those hard, metal tools can’t be good for them. I feel like it’s a counterproductive practice. But then, we do go to the salon to dye our hair. And we are handed a lollipop when we’re done at the doctors office. We also go to politicians for economic help. All I can say is that the doctors do a good job of keeping the dentists in practice.

But when all is said and done, I am a happy person if I walk out with no cavities or other unforeseen problems. And after 7 years of not going to the dentist (shhh!), I can say that is a pretty good accomplishment. Thank God for Crest right?

That Awkward Moment…

That awkward moment when you are texting and not watching where you are going….and run into a pole in Walmart. To answer all of your questions at once, yes, this has happened to me. I didn’t just witness some idiot do it. I was the idiot.

But I am the idiot quite often, if I’m being completely honest. It’s rather a specialty of mine…I should put it on my resume. I am the reason they have the “no texting and driving” laws. Because I can’t even walk and text. I obviously need both eyes on where I am going and two hands clasped behind my back being absolutely still.

I don’t even remember if the conversation was thrilling or intellectual, probably not. All the same, I still walked right into that pole. And I had a bruise to prove it. I had a lot of fun making up tales of how I got that remarkable and colorful bruise on my forehead:

“I was slaying a dragon, and he didn’t much like it.”
“Oh, I just got into a bar fight…with five big hulking dudes. It was awesome! You should see those other guys, they got it way worse. Did I mention Bruce Willis was there?”
“I was just out playing tennis with Serena Williams and I swear, that ball came outta nowhere!”

But the real story, the Walmart version of the accident, is the one people tended to believe. I can’t imagine why. But I say, if you’re going to be a klutz, you might as well stand proud! Go ahead and trip over that flat ground…. claim it, own it. It’s just about all you got. And remember, being an awkward klutz takes some real talent.

That Moment When…

That moment when you have a one-man dance party in your house….and then someone walks in or sees you. That’s right, you aren’t the only one out there! Although, I tend to do it regardless of the fact that someone may walk in. Can anyone blame me?
You hear a beat and your foot starts tapping..
your head starts bobbing…
and next thing you know it’s a full-body spasm.

This is particularly relevant since I dubbed today as “80’s Dance Party Day”. I have a special playlist on Spotify and everything. I pull out the moves to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and pretend like my life is a stereotypical 1980’s music video. It’s really quite enjoyable. And you know what? The strange looks make it even better. So embrace the fact that someone may see you. Don’t be ashamed! Own that chicken dance. Work that sprinkler move.

Seriously, go ahead. Scroll to your favorite tune on your iPod and blast your speakers. Rock that air guitar, let your hair down, and pull out those special dance moves that no one has been allowed to see.

I think, no matter how horrible or uncoordinated, dancing is good for everyone. It’s not only the best work out but it makes you smile. I would like to meet the person that dances with a straight face. And don’t send me Kristen Stewart… I’ll just end up in jail.

Now, click on the link and pull out your living room routine. It’s time to dance ladies and gentlemen 🙂

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8ORHVdTxbg

P.S. Just a final piece of advice: do not wear those overalls from the video. Don’t get THAT crazy.

Moment of Addiction

Quite recently I have been able to trick Netflix yet again into a free month trial. It’s not really even a trick. But only clever people can come up with it. Are you ordinary?

I know that I am not. Now hold on, I am not egotistical or anything…..I am, by every definition of the word, a nerd. Due to my Netflix invasion I have re-watched the BBC show “Sherlock”. And let me tell you, I have been “Sherlocked”. As cheesy and nutty as it is for me to say. I can not get enough. I need a real person to be this witty, this clever with me in every day life. All gay implications aside (and there are quite a few in the series), I have fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes. I mean, who couldn’t? And yes, he looks rather dashing in that Death Frisbee too.

So tell me, how does one overcome an obsession like this? Once the series were over I sat back, unable to think of what I should do.
Watch them all again?
Try and separate myself?
Focus my mind on reality rather than the illusion of reality through watching fantasy?
What is a poor, addicted girl to do?

Have you had these moments before? Where you read a book series or watch multiple seasons of a show and don’t seem to want to leave that blissful paradise of fiction….it’s a problem. It’s a real problem. And instead of telling the entirety of the internet I should probably be laying on an uncomfortable leather sofa talking about these obsessions to a therapist. Although let’s call them a counselor instead (therapist is too….well, creepy). I’ll talk to a doctor…as long as it is Dr. Watson. And of course if Sherlock happens to be following him (as usual).

So much feels.

Moment of Disappointment

I must hang my head now. Maybe do a couple facepalms. Because I have disappointed myself. Hopefully all those that read this are not as horribly terrified as I am with myself.

You see, when I first started this blog I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to post like mad but held myself back. I have been telling myself to start back up again. I want to post once a week, maybe more, but at least have a routine of sorts. But every time, I tell myself that I’ll do it later. I know many of you have done this before, right? It’s a part of our human nature. I hate it. But tell me, should I continue to blog or be forever lost in the world wide web oblivion?

Coffee Moment

That moment when you wait forever and ever and ever for your coffee……

But then you get it and it was totally worth the long, grueling 5 minutes.

That moment when…

That moment when finals week is upon you.

So, here we are again. The most glorious, exciting, wonderful week of the year. ♪♫ It’s the most wonderful time of..♪♫ No, wait…that’s Christmas. Where you get gifts and spend time with family and wear your fat pants. Finals week is a time where you receive tests, bad grades, and feel like your brain might explode. Please, let’s not get those confused!

Honestly I don’t know how they sneak up on me every year. But each time, without fail, exams come around and I am still taken by surprise.

I hear ya, Cory

And during this final week of school I’m not spending my time studying or thinking about everything I’ve learned this year…I’m spending my time thinking about summer and how I won’t have to think anymore.

I always read about having better study habits and studying for weeks in advance…ain’t nobody got time for that! I know I don’t! And how can you possibly study for an exam weeks before you even finish learning the material? If I am missing this common logic…then how can anyone expect me to take a test covering all the material in the book?

And that’s another thing….whose brilliant idea was it to make exams cumulative? Don’t we all study just enough to spit it out for the test and then automatically throw it into the dust bin in our brains? Regardless of whether I should remember the stuff, I don’t. I wish my brain would just work with me a little and let me use all of it. But it’s selfish and only gives me 10%.

And sitting here, I know that we are all at our computers, scrolling through Pinterest and Facebook. You just keep on refreshing that feed. Anything to stay away from that Biology and History book calling your name. Deep down (not that deep) you know you should be studying. Your parents are telling you to, your teachers are telling you to, if you have really good friends they are telling you to (but if you have awesome friends…they are right beside you helping you procrastinate). Heck, even the Avengers are telling you to:
But if you’re anything like me, you like Loki and his philosophy better:

Now the hours are ticking by and I can feel my doom coming closer….and closer. And instead of buckling down and studying I am finding stuff to do in its place. Truly I know that this is all my fault. I really don’t procrastinate all the time, but it’s the end of the year. Do any of you blame me?

Who else is like me and waiting for the moment when you walk out of your last class, knowing full well you failed, but not even caring because you are free? FREEDOM! When you can breathe in the humid summer air and look forward to three stress-free months.

Now stop reading this blog! Shut your computer down and hit the books!…(who knows, you may get a little nap in if you hit them hard enough). And good luck everyone! And to all you girls out there:

That moment when…

That moment when WebMD diagnoses you with a horrible, even deadly, disease. You’re sitting there, clicking on your symptoms, searching for possible answers and all you can think is, “Well, that escalated quickly.” If you look on their website for answers, you are pretty much guaranteed death. That, or some outrageous disease that only they could contrive.

Oh, you have foot cramps? Then you also have peripheral neuropathy.

Stomach ache? You are experiencing kidney failure.

Pain in your leg? It’s broken. (What? You didn’t see the bone sticking out?)

Do you have watery eyes? Seizure.

Bloating and fullness? That’s not indigestion, it’s colon cancer.

Sore knee? Better get it replaced.

And their symptom options are ridiculous too:
• Coffee grounds colored vomit (who comes up with this stuff?)
• Blinking eyes (is this not…normal?)
• Frequent chewing
• Giddiness (it’s called excitement…or you had too much coffee. Which could lead to the first symptom listed)
• Fruity odor (Yeah, that’s called perfume)
• Fear of air (…I got nothin’)
• Short stature
• Eyelashes falling out
• Sense of impending doom (well no wonder! Look at what website you are on)

WebMD has a simply wonderful way of making it seem like your life is ending. So get out and enjoy those last few days of life! Go and cross as many things off of your Bucket List as you can! And then in the next week, when you are still alive, go out and get another job. You’re going to need it to pay for the trips to Hawaii and Paris. And also that little skydiving adventure.

So you have two options:
1) Do not take medical advice from WebMD, or
2) Go sort out your belongings, kiss your loved ones, and choose what kind of funeral you want.

Moments of Retaliation

That moment when karma strikes in full force because you said you didn’t believe in it. In psychology we talked about the “just-world phenomenon”; the idea that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. Well, let me tell you…I must have done something REALLY bad. Or it might simply be because I said I do not agree with that theory. Because bad things can happen to “good” people and good things can happen to “bad” people. Am I right? Yes, I am.

Karma Count 1: Got stuck in traffic for 10 miles on my way to school. This made me late for class. Yay.

Karma Count 2: Got out of classes and began to drive to orientation for my new job. And guess what? Traffic time! Again. Apparently there was a wreck and police cars and fire trucks were blocking the highway. So a friendly cop directed me right to a 15 mile detour. I really considered parking my car on the highway and walking to my destination…..it was literally right down the road. But I didn’t. I continued on in my un-air conditioned car in the 76 degree weather. Faced with following half the population of Springfield down a seemingly endless road.

Karma Count 3: Due to the traffic and detours, I was 30 minutes late to my orientation. That is one heck of a way to start a new job! Show up, nice and early; letting them know that you are a prompt and responsible individual. *rolls eyes*

Karma Count 4: After finishing orientation I headed home. As I get to the exit for my house (15 miles away) I get a call asking me to come back because they accidentally forgot to copy my driver’s license. Then I turn around and join the traffic, yet again. My luck? I get stuck next to a semi filled with horses. Anyone who knows me will tell you that animals, especially ones that smell anything like a farm, are NOT my thing. I had bad childhood experiences that I wish not to recount because they were just too traumatic.

Karma Count 5: Cut my hands open when my umbrella broke in the middle of a downpour. I didn’t even realize it until a profuse number of bandages were needed. -_-
Best. Day. Ever. Has “karma” ever come to bite you? Watch your back, everyone….very, very closely.

Moment of Procrastination

That moment when you should be studying….but you’re not. I have a psychology test in two hours. So why am I blogging instead of studying feverishly? I honestly do not know. Sad, right? I am hoping and crossing my fingers that recall will set in and all the information from class will come flooding into my brain. Here’s to optimism! Which I have very little of to begin with.

But really, how does one study for psychology? I believe that if I can explain the answers I provide I should get 100% for effort. I put forth my best mediocre attempt. That should be rewarded. Just kidding. That’s why America is in the state that it’s in……because of people like me. Still, if a psychology test asks how to react to a situation and my teacher counts it wrong…..what do I do? What if I would respond like that in real life? I am in an absurd state of confusion. I can see my future self, sitting in class over-thinking every question posed to me. Beads of sweat forming and me trying to keep anxiety at bay. Either way, I think I will go out with a bang. One where I see my passing grade and “bang!”, hit my head on the ground after fainting…..or “bang!”, hit my head against a wall when I see the red “F”. The way I see it, I will end up with a concussion both ways. It’s the best of both worlds everyone.

Glancing towards my notes I know that I cannot let procrastination have power over me….here’s to stu-dying.

That moment when….

that moment when you’d rather have your face burn and melt off than pay the ridiculous amount of $10.97 for face sunscreen. A little background: I am a lifeguard. And here in Missouri (affectionately pronounced as “misery”) it gets pretty dang hot in the summer. So as I’m sitting in my guard chair, blowing my whistle at a bunch of kids running like maniacs, I start to feel the sun beat down and my skin get hot. Literally, on fire. Obvious solution? Sunscreen of course! [I might mention that I also happen to have acne-prone skin. It’s a disease and I hate it. But you have to learn to live with it and figure out what is best for you and your skin type.] So the other day I went into Walmart to get prepared for the summer pool season and buy oil-free face sun block. Did they have any? Uh, duh, it’s Walmart for crying out loud. What do they not have on their shelves? Was it affordable? HECK NO! I’m just standing there and I don’t know if I want to laugh or knock the aisle over with one mad swipe of my arm. I opted for a mixture of the both (yes, I am 18 and throw tantrums in Walmart…gotta keep life entertaining somehow). But honestly, I am being punished for having oily and acne prone skin! I claim that to be a discriminatory act! It’s not something I can help…I can try to prevent it but those buggers are going to pop up anyway. $10.97 for a bottle of face sunscreen. TEN NINETY-SEVEN! And might I add that this is no “ordinary” sized bottle. It’s a mini wimpy sissy bottle. One that would last about 5 applications. I just shake my head at humanity and corporate America. Needless to say, I walked out of Walmart with NO sunscreen and drove away with less gas in my car. I have decided to let the sun have its way. Maybe I’ll buy a huge sun hat and be super fabulous looking. Please, anyone, tell me why it must come to this?

Quote

“Some moments are nice, some are nicer….some are even worth writing about.”
-Charles Bukowski