Starsucks

     Starbucks as a potential form of alien currency?  Big fan--think one of those huge fans that you can't help but to scream "Luke, I am your father" into.  Starbucks as a coffee company?  Complete opposite of fan--think like Bruce Jenner's earring or Lindsay Lohan's line of coke or the water that you run over your ring pop to make it taste better.  And it's okay if none of that made any sense to you because I'm not really sure either.

       The Starbucks Christmas cup recently came out, and as a female I feel morally obligated to tweet about it and Instagram pictures of me pushing it in a tiny stroller.  I don't like Starbucks or should I say Starsucks (pretend it's creative guys). Why, you ask? Oh, you didn't ask? I'll tell you anyway you goober, I mean you've gotten this far and all:

   1.  Small, medium, and large.  Large, medium, and small.  These three sizes have been the standard since Jesus (haha not true at all, but a very very long time).  I like small, medium, and large.  I'm comfortable with small, medium, and large.  Okay, fast food chains have had variations of those sizes in the past i.e. mighty kids meals and kids meals and that "super size" nonsense and biggie and great biggie (by the way never tweet a photo of a biggie fry on the anniversary of Notorious B.I.G.'s death because no one will favorite it or RT it--you have been warned).  Back to Starbucks.  What's this tall, grande, venti jazz?  I shouldn't be made to feel like a fool when I say small, ya know?

  2.  Why is everyone inside of Starbucks so much cooler than me?  Like cute little hipster couples with your cute little matching macs and cute little hipster glasses with your cute little hipster flannels, can I borrow your coolness?  I'll trade you a red L.L. Bean backpack with matching red hit clip for, like, 5 cool points.  I call these Starbucks regulars "cof-fiends" because they're like little evil demon creatures that give you a nasty look for ordering a hot chocolate in July.

  3.  Too many flavors, too many different items, and not enough cliffs nearby that us indecisive people can swan dive off of to put ourselves out of our misery.  I don't know about you guys, but I love making decisions probably as much as Smarterchild loves getting replaced by Siri.

    What's this coffee business?  Latte? Espresso? Macchiato? Cappucino?  Starbucks has tea?  Is that allowed?  I can get my coffee iced?  Should I get a vanilla iced coffee and tell the barista that it tastes "nice nice baby" and then nervously snort into my drink?  Why did I dance around my room with that life-sized barbie?  Will I ever learn how to braid?  Why is the life-span of that zebra rainbow-striped gum shorter than the infant in front of me? (These are all the thoughts that finger-dance through my head while in the Starbucks line).

     If you've ever seen a dog try and get peanut butter off its nose then you've seen me try to order a drink from the barista.  I usually make my friend go first, and then I mumble "I'll have what she's having" while cart-wheeling away.

   4.  Wait, I lied, I don't hate EVERYTHING about Starbucks.  I love that I can give the barista any name I want.  Kara, Melanie, Trisha, Mackenzie, David, Cher, Bon Iver, the undertaker, etc.  I mean I  usually just stick with my own God-given name, BUT it's cool to know I have options.

   5.  Christmas blend, huh?  The Christmas blend I had tasted nothing like my feigned interest in the collector's coins that my uncle gets me every year.

    6.  Crap, I lied again.  I love the little green mini jousting sticks that you put inside the coffee so it doesn't spill.  I picture little elves fighting each other to the death with those lances and I get the biggest, goofiest smile on my face and I swear I'm normal.

   7.  Maybe it's the lighting or the intimacy of the tiny tables, but when a friend wants to meet at Starbucks, I know some serious conversation is about to go down.  I can be serious, but I'd rather not SO why can't we discuss your recent break-up at a McDonalds where I can at least be distracted by the little children banging on the windows of the playland and the vanilla ice cream cone dripping down my hand?  I bet you guys love my run-on sentences, by the way.

     Let's just say that my first instinct when someone wants to meet at a Starbucks is to cut off my finger and tape it to my forehead and neigh like a unicorn until my friend checks me into the closest psych ward.  Starbucks and I go together like Hilary Duff and Lindsay Lohan circa 2003, so take that for what it is.

  Peace, love, and beat Michigan,

 Awkward Girl

SUP.

Dear girls, guys, and alien creatures that may be navigating the world wide web and stumbling across this blog post,

     I have many interactions everyday (an occupational hazard of having over 70k followers, I suppose) and they range from "be my friend" to "you're not even awkward" to "you're not funny" to "I'm a guy and I just retweeted @awkgrlprblms #awkward" to "OMG I'M NOT GETTING MARRIED FOREVER ALONE @awkgrlprblms" to "hey I just bought footie pajamas in your honor."  I will address all of these comments in a timely manner because I'm procrastinating and I MAKE THE RULES HERE (are you scared? haha you goof, don't be scared).

    First off, I would love to be your friend (or girlfriend if you promise to play N64 with me and never try to hold hands with me ever).  Though, being friends with me requires that you never take yourself too seriously.  We're young and alive and we get to follow hilarious comedians on Twitter so relax.  You'll end up at the college, job, whatever that's meant for you.  Maybe it's because adulthood is looming on the horizon, but I've recently adopted a "who gives a crap?" attitude. Not in the "I'm going to fail out of school and not care about anything but partying" way, but in a "yeah, I'll pass by a pet store and spontaneously decide to drop in and play with the puppies for an hour" way.  So if you're cool with forgoing all responsibility for an afternoon of puppies and ice cream and blaring crappy music with the windows down then hi we're best friends because that's what I did with my best friend today and it was glorious.

     I'm not awkward?  Okay, Mr. Awkward Police.  Let me tweet stuff like "OMG awkward eye contact! so embarrassed lol!" and the only thing that'll disappear faster than my followers would be my dignity.  Sometimes I do contemplate tweeting generic unoriginal stuff so as to get more retweets and gain more followers, but then I think I'd rather saw off my kitchen table leg and impale myself while singing Miracles Happen.  Yeah, that one "problems" account may have 200,000 something followers, but do I chuckle once when I look at their tweets?  My corny sense of humor aside, I enjoy making others laugh and coming up with original relatable material.  This account is my creative outlet--and not every electrical plug fits every outlet.  If your electrical plug has remnants of dried-up ice cream on it and is often found tangled up in your desk drawer next to a tattered Harry Potter book then hey, let's go to Starbucks and order a Naked smoothie thing together because we're too uncomfortable ordering a coffee.  If your electrical plug is carefully placed in your desk drawer next to a fresh pack of BIC pens and precise to-do list then you're probably the girl that brings her boyfriend into Victoria's Secret to help pick out underwear so unfollow promptly, please.  Maybe my tweets aren't "awkward" enough for you, but my hope is that while you're anxiously scrolling through your timeline in the corner of a crowded party or alone in line at Chipotle that at least one of my stupid poorly-executed tweets will  at least make you crack a smile.

    I'm not funny?  Okay, no argument here, kinda.  I'm just a 20-year-old college gal trying to navigate the whirlwind that is exams, group projects, confusing boys, and overly-friendly squirrels.  Did I say I was an aspiring stand up comedian? No, mainly because why would I stand up when I could sit down?  Do I find myself funny? In a way, yes.  I'll be the first to tell my parents or friends when I tweet something that I find to be particularly humorous.  Do I make jokes that completely bomb? God yes. If I had a dime for every time I got the last (and first and only) laugh then I could deposit those dimes in a coin star to get, like, a billion Adam Levine clones.  See? See what I did there? Awful. Quite simply, if "I'm not funny anymore," then that implies I was funny at one point so thank you, I'm flattered.

     You're a guy and you follow me?  First off, hi marry me.  Second off, sweet.  Though my twitter handle is awkward girl problems, that doesn't mean you have to be a girl or a footie pajamas connoisseur to appreciate puns and whatever the hell else I tweet.  My twitter handle should be @thedesperateramblingsofanonhumorouscollegegirl, but I guess that was too long?  I can be awkward, I'm a girl, and I have problems.  I always second guess myself on multiple choice exams: problem #1.  My face gets red when I drink: problem #2.  I don't know what I want to do with my life: problem #3.  If you can relate to any of those problems then hey, following me is probably a great decision.  Own your masculinity, fellows and also for the love of God stop being tools and also hi, marry me.

    I know I joke about being single a lot, but honestly it's cool with me and I'm not actually that crazy and desperate.  I'm not the ugliest creature that ever walked the planet and I can talk about basketball for a couple minutes, so there's a glimmer of hope, maybe.  The right guy will present himself (with a pint of ice cream and hand-selected 90s throwback playlist, if he's smart) when the time is right.  I won't die alone.  You won't die alone.  We have friends, family, dogs, cats, gerbils, footie pajamas, online dating sites.  Everyone, relax, do you know how annoying it is to share a bag of popcorn anyway?!

    If you bought footie pajamas in my honor, bless your soul.  Welcome to the dark side, I'd love to awkwardly embrace you (via a light quick shoulder pat) and make shadow animals on the wall underneath a fort together.  I'll bring the popcorn, you bring Princess Diaries on DVD.

   If you're still here, I'm sorry.  OSU is 11-0, also. All right bye.

Peace, love, and I need to take a shower.
Awkward Girl
   

songs to beat the winter blues

Here's what I listen to on dreary days to get in a good mood. Judge away.

1. 22--T Swizzle and all of her other songs too
2. Every Other Time--LFO
3. Summer of 69--Bryan Adams
4. Don't Stop Believing--Journey
5.  Jessie's Girl--Rick Springfield
6. Stacy's Mom--Fountains of Wayne
7. Crush--David Archuleta (did I mention this isn't a judge-free zone?)
8. Teenage Dream--Kitty Purry
9. Who Says--Selena Gomez
10. A Thousand Miles--Vanessa Carlton
11. Bad For Me--Megan & Liz
12. Something More--Aly & AJ
13. This Kiss--Carly Rae Jepsen
14. Just The Girl--The Click Five
15. Beautiful Soul--Jesse McCartney (duh)
16. Welcome Back--Mase
17. Ignition (remix)--R Kelly
18. The Game of Love--Michelle Branch and Santana
19. Isn't She Lovely--Stevie Wonder
20. Signed, Sealed, Delivered--Stevie Wonder
21. Rollercoaster--B*Witched
22. Miracles Happen--Myra
23. Perfect Day--Hoku

Halloweiner

     I am dreaming about the day where I will finally hear the crunch of freshly fallen leaves under my boots as I walk home from class with visions of my glorious snuggie dancing in my head and pumpkin spice latte in hand (I don't really drink coffee, I feel like you guys like those so I just sort of threw that in there).  In short--I NEED FALL NOW GUYS.  I leave my apartment looking (but not really) all "Frank Ocean smooth," but after a minute in this humidity I look all "Frankenstein disgusting."  Plus I don't think my shorts got the memo that only elevators are supposed to ride up. Needless to say, fall a.k.a. Halloween has been on my mind a ton lately.  SO I thought I'd come up with some clever/funny/stupid Halloween costumes for you fine young people (actually these are all complete jokes so don't take these too seriously or seriously at all)

Error 400 (for all you iphone users). This is for all you lazy people out there. You can wink and say "tap to retry" and a guy might respond with "I'll tap that" but if he's smart, he'll pour a cup of tap water on your head and you'll both laugh. Oh wait, he'll laugh. Just him.

Subtweet. Roll your eyes at everyone and everything and make really vague passive aggressive statements. You could carry a sub around if you want because you'll probably get hungry and it could add a comedic element, maybe, I mean I don't know how these things work.

Twitter.  Only topics you can discuss are as follows: the weather, the election, your miseries and woes, veganism, and pumpkin spice lattes.  When you're full of food or beverage just yell "Twitter is over capacity!" in the middle of the party and you're bound to get like half a chuckle.

Kashi 7 whole grains on a mission: make those uber cute itsy bitsy teeny weeny duct tape dresses (green obvi) and put the kashi logo on them and grab six of your girlfriends and wah lah! You could also carry fake guns (unless you're particularly ripped in the "arm department") to add to the mission aspect. Also, I came up with this on my own so IF YOU ACTUALLY DO THIS I WANT @AWKGRLPRBLMS SOMEWHERE ON IT.

Ted parody account. Have three mindless jokes about alcohol and bacon on shuffle all night.

Kristen Stewart. Slip on the drabbest outfit in your closet and just say um a lot and rub your hands through you hair and have a vacant stare on your face at all times.

Bruce Jenner's earring. Wear all silver. You're done.

A lock of Shaun White's hair. Wear all red. You're done. 

The -itos twins. As in like beef and chicken taquitos. 

Ice cream. Wear everyday normal clothes and then when a guy asks what you are, yell "I scream!" and then scream bloody murder because I don't know just do it and don't ask questions. 

Kim Kardashian's marriage. This works for extremely short people. If you're a toddler, this is perfect for you! 

Kevin McCallister. Khakis and a red sweater. When people ask who you are, just do the classic Home Alone hands on the face scream and HAHA, you're the hit of the party!

I don't know those are just a few ideas, guys. Feel free to tweet me your funny halloween ideas and don't hesitate to send pictures on the actual day!  

PEACE LOVE AND ICE CREAM.

Awkward Girl

groovy tunezzzzz

Best 90s/oldies music playlist ever (in my opinion, which is worth nothing)/what I play at parties:

1) Do Woop (That Thing) - Lauryn Hill
2) Pony - Ginuwine
3) Can't Nobody Hold Me Down -P Diddy/Puff Daddy/Sean "Puffy" Combs
4) Ghetto Supastar - Pras ft. Mya
5) Party Up In Here - DMX
6) No Scrubs - TLC
7) Big Pimpin - Jay-Z
8) Are You That Somebody? - Aaliyah
9) Nuthin But A G Thang - Dr. Dre
10) Overnight Celebrity - Twista
11) What's Love? - Fat Joe ft. Ashanti and Ja Rule
12) Let's Get Married (remix) - Jagged Edge
13) Where the Party At - Jagged Edge ft. Nelly
14) If You Had My Love - JLO
15) Us Against the World - Play
16) All Falls Down - Kanye
17) Mambo No. 5 - Lou Bega
18) This Is How We Do It - Montell Jordan
19) Case of the Ex - Mya
20) Mo Money, Mo Problems - Notorious B.I.G. ft. Diddy and ma$e
21) Ms. Jackson - Outkast
22) Ignition (remix) - R.Kelly
23) California Love -Tupac
24) Stacy's Mom - Fountains of Wayne
25) Men In Black - Will Smith
26) Dirty Pop - NSync (DUH)
27) Country Grammar - Nelly
28) Family Affairs - Mary J. Blige


HAHA there's my horrible taste in music/what I listen to when I'm walking to class. Feel free to judge and look up these songzzzzz and lol at the fact that a lot of it is rap and that I suck.

I'M BACK (cue groans and eye rolls)

Hah, how bout that ride in?  Kinda forgot about this shindig I got going on over here (that's a lie, I just didn't know what to write about and I'm very meticulous about my writing and I was too busy doing absolutely nothing). BUT the people have spoken (I think maybe 2 since last April, maybe) and they wanted more blog posts so I'm just going to write a post reminiscent of previous xanga "omg today was so fun with mah besties!"posts.

    Today was the first day of classes which was fun in the way that lying in the middle of the street on a bed of nails while toddlers run over you in those little red fisher price cars is fun. I'm the girl who awkwardly stays standing at the crosswalk when the "don't walk" sign is up while a whole sea of people walks anyway (because I'm the tag that sticks out on the "t shirt of life"). Also, can we talk about the wind for a hot sec? Seriously, not okay.  Let's just say that I now know what it's like to have a clingy boyfriend, except my boyfriend came in the form of a cotton v-neck.

   Kinda cool that every class roster gets my name wrong though, right? Oh and I forgot to tell you--we were allowed to ask our professor any question so I asked my professor if he prefers creamy or crunchy peanut butter (he prefers creamy, but he'll take crunchy too), which garnered a few laughs from my classmates, which in turn made me turn red, which in turn just made everyone feel uncomfortable.

     BUT 50,000 YOU GUYS! WOW. Odd. Very odd, actually.  You should probably unfollow. But thanks. Oh and hats off to Avril for kissing her happy ending goodbye and ending up with the Nickelback frontrunner, Chad Kroeger (maybe she can find out what the hell was on Joey's head for us).  Oh and hats on to Miley because I'm sorry but she is looking way too "Draco Malfoy meets Peter Pan" for my liking thanks to her new 'do!

    Well, I want to write on this thing more mainly because my dad keeps telling everyone I have a blog with 20,000 followers, which isn't true (ugh parentz), so I'll be around, or something.

A dolla makes me holla, honey boo boo!

Peace, love, and Sugar Bear's missing teeth (which could make a really fun necklace, I bet)

Awkward Girl 

     

Awkward Girl Interactions

      Hey awkward girls. Just wanted to let everyone know that I get tickled pink when people interact with me because I'm a huge creep/procrastinating student who will do ANYTHING to put off that English paper--so if you ever tweet at me and I find it humorous, I might follow you, RT you, favorite you, or awkwardly DM you (yes, I have done this before--NOTHING is off limits because, as previously stated, I'm a creep who sings to myself in the car and passes it off as a "phone conversation").  Also, I secretly really want to randomly follow my followers for shits n gigs, so like if I follow you one day for no particular reason, don't be alarmed because it really is for no particular reason. Hmmnn what else...oh and if you "hate tweet" me (is this the proper terminology?) odds are I'll favorite/RT it because I genuinely think it's hilarious when people call me out for sucking (That's what she said HAHA RIGHT? No? Anyone? Anyone? I'm not talking).  So, yeah, if you ever wanna email me an awkward story or whatever, don't be shy (though I would never do this myself, so I can't really talk) and shoot me an email to awkgrlprblms@gmail.com.  Also, for all you prepubescent h8rs out there, a "I hate you, you're not funny or awkward and I should take over this twitter because I'm ssOoOOOooo much more awkward!!!" note would be so much more fun over email because there is no 140 character limit on that puppy. So, by all means, take advantage of my high tech email service.

P.S. if you unfollow me after this blog post for fear I'm going to awkwardly interact with you--there will be no hard feelings.  Though if you're mean to me, I'll probably still interact with you. I'm like Taylor Swift (though I don't write songs, sing, have boyfriends, or are extremely pretty and successful--so actually this comparison is totally inapplicable) of Twitter--MEsS WiTh MeEe, I'LL MeSSSss YooUU uPpPp!!!

P.P.S. If you can't tell I was joking right there, then we will never be friends.

P.P.P.S. Basically I'm asking for you socially inadequate specimens to interact with me more so I can practice my social skills and occupy my time in class and feel like people are actually reading my tweets (because I have this huge fear that 5 of my closest friends just randomly made 15,000 twitter accounts with the sole purpose of following me in order to make me feel relevant).

Peace, love, and insomnia
Awkward Girl

13 Year Old Awkward Girl

Dear 13 year old awkward girl,

    

     Let me start off by saying that you are one gawky, gangly, awkward creature, but I love ya nonetheless.  You will gain some weight and realize how skinny you were at this age--so FOR THE LOVE OF GOD cherish your size zero jeans because you seriously don't know what you have until it's gone (though there is a light at the end of the tunnel in that the whopping 10 bucks you get from selling them to Plato's Closet will go towards the purchase of some bigger, yet less embarrassing non Aeropostale jeans).  Don't fret that you don't have all the cool Abercrombie moose skin tight shirts or a Myspace complete with mirror pics because it allows 20 year old you to make fun all of her friends that did without feeling guilty--SO YOU'RE DOING SOMETHING RIGHT!

     Ummm, you should probably chill out on the whole AIM scene, for in a few years no one is going to care if they were under your "*beSt FrIEnds* or "AnNoying PPL" group.  OH.  You should definitely never mention the fact that your screen name is supergirl (after that song in Princess Diaries of course) to your future friends because it's seriously not okay and kinda makes 20 year old you wanna super HURL.  OH.  Never post that "surfing the Internet, oh NO here comes a huge wave!" away message ever again.  Don't try and be cool and post your new cell phone number as your away message because your braces, slicked back ponytail, and Target red bikini complete with monkeys that you begged your mom to buy you kinda negate any coolness you think you possess.  Lastly--if you think SmarterChild is the bomb.com, just wait till you meet Siri my friend ;)

    Your xanga is actually probably not funny at all to the general public (though 20 year old you still has that god awful, corny, is-she-really-laughing-at-her-own-jokes sense of humor and frequently reads said xanga for shits n gigs), but keep on writing because some weird Twitter website will be invented that is essentially a xanga reduced to 140 characters or less.  And you'll like randomly have a blog--so it's all good practice.     

   
    You'll never enjoy grinding or "freak dancing" as you so lovingly call it (?), so just continue to dwell in the shadows mouthing the words to "Get Out" at those junior high dances because I really don't want you to become THAT girl seriously dancing in the middle of a party that everyone stares at.  But you should maybe consider wearing a drop of makeup, taking your hair out of its ponytail, and wearing anything but that jean ruffled skirt.  Trust me, you'll thank me later.

    I understand you can't formulate sentences in the presence of adults/attractive boys/anyone but your close family and friends, but high school and college will (somewhat) help you at least carry on a conversation that doesn't leave the other person wondering if you're actually human.  You'll grow out of your American Eagle graphic tees (both literally and metaphorically) which is always a glimmer of hope on the horizon.  Oh and apparently Mission Impossible is about your thousands of failed attempts at learning to dive, so, yeah, just accept defeat now and save yourself a few years of humiliation.

   You'll get your license at age 18 for the anxiety you face while playing Mario Kart on n64 translates into anxiety behind the wheel of a real car.  Your friends will begrudgingly drive you everywhere, but HEY you find out who your true friends are!  You'll go through this stage where you randomly laugh every time you see a guy your age.  Not sure why--just go with it.  The Facebook website that your older brother has (and that you creep on 24/7) becomes public, which is kinda cool for the first 4 years.  But Facebook will never compare to the cool snuggie that is a blanket with sleeves. Your favorite movie will still be Princess Diaries, favorite color will still be blue, you'll still cringe at sexual parts in movies and you'll randomly have a twitter account with 14,000 followers.  Weird. Awkward. Fun. Toodles.

WITH LOVE AND HUGS AND KISSES AND AWKWARD MOMENTS GALORE,

20 year old awkward girl

P.S. Where the hell did you stash Hilary Duff's Metamorphosis cd?!?!?!

    

YOLO

     I've gotten a lot of requests to do a blog post about the ever popular overused YOLO (this is actually 100% entirely false, I just wanted to feel important for a hot second, don't mind me).  Anywho, for those of you who have been living under a rock or have had your nose buried in The Hunger Games in an effort to finish them all before the premiere, YOLO=You Only Live Once (such a revelation).  As Drake thoughtfully points out in The Motto, "You Only Live Once, that's the motto."  So yeah, if it has Drake's stamp of approval, it's all right in my book.

    As any other awkward girl, I have personally embraced YOLO.  It's kinda cool that I can basically get away with murder, but I'm golden as long as I yell "YOLO!"  "YOLO!" would be appropriate to shout whilst retrieving the newspaper in one's fuzzy pink Limited Too robe that is ten sizes too small, playing Call Me Maybe at ear-shattering volume levels (still have an unhealthy obsession, but I'm okay with it), or YouTube-ing old Disney Channel Original Movies in class (or is that last one just me?). Needless to say, YOLO is our friend because now all the weird, awkward things we do are TOTALLY justified by casually tossing out a YOLO (this is actually completely untrue but it couldn't hurt right?)

P.S. Did I mention it's super fun to pull the whole "YOLO rhymes with (insert word that rhymes with YOLO here)" tweet which is always a good time.  A few examples are as follows:

"There's a reason fro-yo rhymes with YOLO" (this would be appropriate to say/tweet whilst, ya know, eating frozen yogurt).
"There's a reason Frodo rhymes with YOLO" (for all those Lord of the Rings enthusiasts, wherever you are).
"There's a reason solo rhymes with YOLO" (this is perfect for those single gals out there who are SiNgLe n ReaDy 2 MinGLe).
"There's a reason SOLO rhymes with YOLO" (for all those party animals are who planning on getting plastered and coming up with secret handshakes with complete strangers).
"There's a reason Rolo rhymes with YOLO" (okay okay this one's a stretch, but I'm sure someone somewhere who enjoys Rolos is reading this post).
"There's a reason airflow rhymes with YOLO" (hahaha because we can't breathe without air! ...so so sorry)
ETC.

So yeah, I'm gonna go dust off my old scooter and casually ride off into the night as my whispys blow gently in the wind because YOLO (actually I would probably never do that but, like, one could if one wanted to because YOLO!!.!!..!!!)

Peace, love, and my YOLO shirt that I ordered off Ebay (seriously, unfollow me)
Awkward Girl

Torture Chambers On Wheels

     There's no denying the importance of cars.  I mean, let's face it, there's a movie where the whole storyline centers around these torture chambers on wheels.  In fact, I'd venture to say Cars is the best movie featuring inanimate objects (although, keep in mind, I haven't yet seen that Radio movie about all those radios).  Oh, and cars like help us get from point A to point B in the fastest way possible--which is always nice considering the fact that us awkward girls have to mentally prepare ourselves before any walk outside.  

     So, yeah, cars are cool, great, fun--UNLESS you cringe at the sight of acquaintances, wore those spiral no tie shoe laces in 2nd grade, and have permanent lines on your shins due to the habitual wearing of long Hanes socks.  In the "recipe for awkwardness," awkward girls are the dough--with the automobile serving as the yeast that causes us to rise to our optimum level of awkwardness.  Simply put, driving is not an awkward girl's cup of tea (and if you consider yourself a good driver and awkward, then you are living a lie and should stop reading this post now, seriously).  Also, let's face it, no matter how hard we tried to master Rainbow Road on Mario Kart, we always ended up getting lapped every game/throwing the controller at the TV.  What about automobiles is so painstakingly awkward, you ask? 

1) Parking lots are hell on earth to every awkward girl.  We either park so far away that our destination looks like a dot on the horizon, accidentally pull up next to a car where the passengers were just about to get out (yikes!), or park so close to the car next to us that we have to exit via the passenger side.  I'm not even going to mention parallel parking, for a simple blog post could never accurately depict the looks of horror on people's faces as they watch our 50th attempt at essentially the same back and forth motion that is getting us absolutely nowhere. 

2) Stoplights. Ha. We always forget that we share the road with normal people who know fully well that they can't sing "Set Fire To The Rain" at the top of their lungs and sound good.  Oh, and the person in the car next to you watching your American Idol audition is ALWAYS an attractive male who is a mix of Ryan Gosling, Ryan Reynolds, Zac Efron, Ed Westwick, Adam Levine, and Channing Tatum--ALWAYS.

3) For some illogical reason, we delude ourselves into thinking we can compete with the other cars in the fast lane.  Think again.

4) Gas stations.  We never pay with cash because, duh, that requires human interaction.  Instead it takes us 50 times to swipe our credit card the right way and standing there filling up our tank (as millions of cars go whizzing by) almost makes us feel more self-conscious than walking past a crowded bus stop does (key word being almost).

5)  It's a proven fact that on the 7th day, God created the green arrow so that awkward girls would have a reason to get up in the morning.  Without the green arrow, making a left turn causes our heart to beat faster than any presentation ever has or ever will.  Venturing out into the intersection is like throwing ourselves into the lion's den--wearing Lady Gaga's meat dress--donning a sign that says "Eat me, I taste better than any hyena you've ever had!"  Needless to say, it's the scariest part of our day/life.


Remember, friends, ya can't spell automobile without bile (I hope this makes sense......)!!!!


Peace, love, and tire marks on your friend's lawn because you couldn't back out of her driveway!
Awkward Girl

To (P)infinity and Beyond

    I finally gave in a few months ago and did it (no, I'm not referring to the ceremonial burning of all my old Aeropostale/AE/old navy sweatshirts)--oh, no, no, I joined 2.2 million of my closest friends and officially became a member of the exclusive Pinterest community.  The way I see it, I'm basically in a sorority since 99.9% of my fellow Pinterest users share a common affinity for Adam Levine (the other .1% probably do too, actually) and there's "pinning" involved--so yeah I'm, like, in a sorority, sorta.

     Anywho, as a college aged female of moderate coolness (and by moderate coolness, I mean extreme awkwardness) I felt I should step into this century/out of my oversized snuggie and see what all the hubub was about (yes, I did just use the word hubub--feel free to add my name to the registered sex offender list).  For all those who don't have a Pinterest--plain and simple, you're missing out.  Pinterest is a wonderful procrastination tool that should be in every awkward girl's tool kit--alongside economy sized hand sanitizer (an awkward girl essential), the coveted beer bottle opener (that also serves as a magnet, was purchased in Florida, and has a crab on it, cleverly exclaiming "I'm not crabby"), and car cassette adaptor (because that's the only way you can jam to your nano in your '96 station wagon).  Also, did I mention it's really fun to rewrite words that start with "in" by using "pin"?  Pinventing words is pretty cool--pindex cards, "Pinsane in the membrane," pinterracial relationship (okay, some are better than others--but you get the idea).  Little did you know, the person who created the word "pink" was employing this same technique.

      Out of the goodness of my heart (I can't even pretend to be serious as I type that), I'm going to share a few Pinterest tips--think, "Pinterest for Awkward Girls," or "Consumer Reports: Awkward Girl Edition," or "Awkward Girl's Guide to the Galaxy," or don't think at all--I understand how draining all those group projects and class presentations can be:

1. Pin all you want from LOLCats/awkwardfamilyphotos.com/your favorite funny website--but with caution.  Pinterest is where women go to look at trendy inspirational pictures/plan out their future wedding/marvel at Ryan Gosling's drool-worthy, god-like, chiseled, rock hard, defined abs.  No one wants to stare at your board with 100 captioned pictures of cats engaged in sexual acts (haha, sorry, really not funny/appropriate at all).

2.  That being said, google "best fashion tumblrs" and pin edgy outfits (which everyone and their brother/grandma/gym teacher/AA sponsor has already pinned 10x over) that your friends will admire, repin, and wanna know "OMG! Where is that outfit from? SoOoOo cool!"

3.  If you do pin anything that's edgy/trendy/not yoga pants and a sweatshirt, make sure the description is fitting.  When I pin something that I think is "sooo runway of Milan!" (but is actually "sooo Milania Guidice"), I always make sure to write "Wish I could pull this off!" or "So cool"

4.  Pinterest is great because it's the one place where being at a loss for words is totally fine--in these instances, a "." will suffice as an appropriate description (this is similar to the blank look you give when you're chosen to call in the order to Jimmy Johns).

5.  You must have some sort of "*~<3 Wedding Ideas <3~*" board because, well, let's be real--a girl can dream, right?  Plus, having a board where you plan out your dress, ring, bouquet, venue, place settings, bachelorette party, party favors, bridesmaid's dresses, husband's tux, cake, engagement pictures, invitations, save the dates, flower girl's dress etc (when the only vow you're probably going to take is one of silence) is so fun!!!

6.  FINALLY, be careful where you're pinning.  I suggest pinning from a secluded cubby in the library or in the privacy of your own home--because, trust me, nothing is more awkward than someone watching your "pintimate" pinning process (besides that awkward "pincident" when the questionable, on the verge of death, Betty White character commented on your most recent pin, "love it, but the clutch is too big!" ......)

Happy Pinning.


Peace, love, and Social (p)inadequacy.

Awkward Girl

#shitawkwardgirlssay

"I only like to joke dance."                                                                          

 "Wait, am I invited?"

 "No one knows me."

 "Why do I feel like I have toilet paper on my foot?"

 "Wait, can you hear my music?"

 "I want to die."

 "Is this normal?"

 "Am I the only one who watches Survivor?"

 "I'm just going to become a nun."

 "My sense of humor is too refined for them."

 "Can you tell I'm not wearing a bra?"

 "I just downloaded the best 90's music."

  "That makes me feel so uncomfortable."

  "This is making me sick to my stomach."

  "Is this real life?"

  "I miss Boy Meets World."

  "I'm not funny."

  "Can you wait for me?"

  "Please don't make me walk in first."

  "I hate windows down."

  "Hide me."

  "I know him, but he doesn't know me."

  "Pretend you're talking to me."

  "Where'd you get that beer?"

  "Don't worry, I'm gonna wear a tank top underneath this."

  "Wait, there's no toilet paper..."

  "Don't look."

  "I feel so slutty."

  "I can't walk in heels."

  "OMGOMGOMG GET ME OUT OF HERE."

  "This would happen to me."

I put the awk in "aquatic"

      Maybe it's because I'm fed up with this psycho Charlie Sheen weather (sunny and upwards of 60 degrees, then rainy and downwards of 20 degrees), but for whatever reason I find myself reflecting on summer--which naturally makes me grimace.  Don't get me wrong, I love summer just as much as the next girl.  What's not to love about a few months of peace and solitude--away from nagging professors, term papers, the dreaded group projects that seem to pop up in EVERY class, and, of course, the long "walk of shame" to class.  No, no, summer--I LOVE.  It's the whole "let's go to the pool, drown ourselves in so much tanning oil that we look artificial, and strut around in our newest ADORABLE Victoria's Secret bikini!" thing that makes me want to dive (okay, belly flop) into the deep end and never come up for air ever again.

     Why girls love being poolside is beyond me.  I guess it's something to add to my "things I loathe with a fiery passion that is only rivaled by the Kardashians' passion for insane amounts of eye makeup" list (hula hoop-ing, watching movie sex scenes, and interacting with people is also high up on that list, in case you were wondering).  WHY does a nice trip to the pool make me wish that I lived in that lonely cave with the abominable snowman from Monster's Inc?  Let me count the ways:

1) Simply put, this summer when you tell your mom you're "going to the Red Lobster's!" she'll know that you aren't going to an overpriced, mediocre wannabe seafood restaurant (though if you haven't tried their biscuits, you should probably just go back to whatever planet you hail from), but merely coming to my house for a Harry Potter movie marathon.

2) The only time I'll ever be comfortable wearing an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini is when national "wear an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini and get free Chipotle for life!" day comes around--until then, I'll pass.

3) "Do you wanna play with these diving sticks?"  Sure, why don't you just smother me in honey and direct me to the nearest bear-infested national park, while you're at it?  These pool games or "drool games" (as I lovingly refer to them) were more common in my neon star shaped sunglasses, tankini-wearing days, but, needless to say, I'm still scarred.  I put the AWK in "aquatic."  I can't dive, I flounce around like a mutant seahorse and call it "swimming," and I'm still semi-convinced a shark inhabits the bottom of the deep end.

4) Disrobing myself at the pool is, without a doubt, THE most vulnerable I will EVER feel--EVER.  I always feel like some weird wannabe subpar stripper when I take off my shirt and shorts and reveal my milky pallor to the world (for this is before I reach lobster status, you see).  Bruno Mars should seriously change his lyrics to "when you strip down to your bathing suit, the whole world stops and stares for a while."  Seriously.

5)  Last, but not least--the DEATH CHAMBER, oops, I mean the bathroom.  If you don't wear shoes in there, good luck trying to get rid of the athlete's foot/herpes/fungi/mold/questionable new species that has now taken residence on your feet.  Not to mention, some people actually take real showers in there and there's like naked babies doing somersaults everywhere.  It's just a really messed up situation that I try to avoid at all costs (and no, I do not pee in the pool, don't worry).

Well, if you ever wondered why I always refer to a "pool" of awkwardness, there ya have it.  Too many awkward occurrences there, and not enough aloe in the WORLD to make ANY of it okay.

Peace, Love, and whistles (from the lifeguard because you keep hanging on the lane line).

Awkward Girl

(Awkward Girl) Walk of Shame

     For awkward girls, "walk of shame" has a whole different twisted meaning than the general population's.  Forget the classic "Snooki look-a-like strutting down the street still donning last night's guidette makeup, wearing hooker heels and a sweatshirt (if she's lucky) that the guy she shacked up with (is that even the proper use of that word?) was kind of enough to loan her."  No, no, no my friends--I'm talking a different, but no less shameful, "walk of shame" that awkward girls face EVERYDAY OF THEIR LIVES.

    You see, an awkward girl's walk of shame is worse in that she can have SEVERAL throughout her awkward-filled day.  An awkward girl's "walk of shame" can range from anything to carrying a Victoria's Secret bag around the mall (like, cool, I bought a bra but everyone probs thinks I bought lacy cheetah print thongs) to the dreaded walk down the dorm floor to the shower in a towel (which is more of a sprint than a walk due to the male specimens inhabiting the other half of the floor) to arriving late to class (because isn't the classroom door ALWAYS at the front of the room and isn't there ALWAYS backpacks in the aisle to trip on?!) to walking back from a night out on the town and getting cat calls from guys on their porches (kill me now).  But, there IS one "walk of shame" that is absolutely unavoidable/HORRIFIC, and yes, I AM referring to the long trek to class.

     On a scale of accidentally liking someone's profile picture from 3 years ago to Kristen Stewart, this "walk of shame" is off the charts--like accidentally playing footsie with the guy sitting across from you at the library but 1000x WORSE.  Why is such a simple everyday task so daunting for us awkward girls?  While putting one foot in front of the other sounds simple enough--YOU COULDN'T BE MORE WRONG.  For starters, we are severely pigeon toed (because, really, why wouldn't we be?) and if we aren't paying attention we often find ourselves veering off track into a building/tree/Ryan Gosling clone.  Throw some ice or snow into the equation and we'd probably be better off to just chop off our feet and drag ourselves to class using our knuckles (seriously).

    Then there's the whole eye contact issue.  Every human is like a basilisk to us awkward girls (sorry for all the Harry Potter references all the time, but actually, I'm really not) in that we feel we will die (of embarassment/awkwardness) if we look someone straight in the eyes.  Therefore, we employ many tactics to avoid this whole dilemma.  Earbuds in, iPod on, because we feel this eliminates any obligation to look at anyone, EVER, since DUH we're totally captivated with our music (though we do always make SURE that our iPod isn't so loud that others can hear because, honestly, we're a little ashamed about the fact that S Club Party is on our Top 25 Most Played playlist). 

    We also find ourselves staring pensievely off into the horizon at distant objects such as trees, birds or buildings (as if we care about nature/architecture/anything but our current Words with Friends game) so as to look deeply engrossed in our complex thoughts.  Cute group of guys approaching?  We just received a really long, intense "text message" that requires us to keep our eyes glued to our phone screen or possibly our we just became severely OCD about our nail polish  and suddenly need to chip it all off until the group passes.

    When we do make eye contact (however fleeting the second is) we give a little half-smile that often isn't reciprocated, causing us to shift our eyes to that object in that distant that we were staring at prior to the whole awkward situation.  Unfortunately, this just makes us look entirely creepy/mentally unstable as we stare into the distance with that god awful half-smile glued onto our face.

    Last, but CERTAINLY not least, we have the whole "what do I do with my arms/hands?" problem.  Honestly, we're jealous of Captain Hook.  His life must be so easy because, undoubtedly, the most awkward thing about us awkward girls are our lengthy, gangly limbs.  If we don't have pockets or a cell phone/ipod to latch onto we literally don't know how to handle ourselves.  It takes every awkward fiber of strength within us to fight the urge to go all apeshit and pull a "Britney Spears" and shave off all our hair.  Without something to preoccupy our hands with, they swing lifelessly/awkwardly at our sides--making us look like some creepy human orangutan hybrid that just escaped the local zoo (or, if you happen to live in Ohio, the nearest farm).

    So, Snooki look-a-likes of the world, we actually feel your pain (minus the whole "we can't walk in heels" thing).  We endure walks of shame every time we step out our door.  As a matter of fact, I'm about to embark on my own--the dreaded tampons purchase.  YIKES!


Peace, Love, and chia pets.


Awkward Girl

   

 

Compliment (n): Verbal Raping

     Kinda funny (but actually really tragic, so not funny at all) how a simple sentence such as "I LOVE your skirt, where did you get it?!" can make an awkward girl want to set herself on fire, pogo stick off the top of a mountain, and fall headfirst into a pile of Forever Lazys that are doused in gasoline and self loathing.  Put simply, no one wants to be that chick in Mean Girls who was rocking her mom's skirt from the 80's, got complimented by Regina George, and subsequently looked like a complete arse when the whole exchange was over.  AND, don't even get me started on those giggling, sweet talking, creepy starfish earrings that Aquamarine wore.  Those earrings would bring about an awkward girl's slow and painful demise in that they actually make water boarding look like a simple playful game of bobbing for apples.  ****But, seriously, on a side note, what could those starfish earrings have possibly whispered to JoJo?  Like, "Don't worry, you only looked like a pubescent boy in 95% of this movie?" (Wait, what? Who said that?)****

     Anywho, compliments are to awkward girls as Achilles' heel was to, well, Achilles (I'm all clever comparison-ed out).  Compliments are deadly, and nothing makes us blush/consider self-imposed exile/feel more verbally raped than receiving one.  We are ALWAYS caught off guard since our awkward ways (clumsiness, inability to formulate worthwhile sentences, and complete ignorance to social norms) don't readily lend ourselves to the receiving of them.  Consequently, everytime a compliment is thrown our way, we lament the fact that it doesn't come attached to a life jacket (which would at least help us to stay somewhat afloat in the whirlpool of awkwardness that we seem to be constantly flailing around in).

     Unfortunately, compliments, for 99.999% of the population, aren't interpreted as a ticking time bomb (crazy, right?!) and are actually cherished by the receivers--thus we encounter them more than we would like to.  WELL, needless to say, awkward girls are not like 99.999% of the population and, plain and simple, COMPLIMENTS SCARE THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF US.  Why, you may ask?  Well, let's see--we spend our days fuzzy socks on, hood up, head down, iPod in, hands in pockets, pretending that we are navigating the forests of Narnia when we're ACTUALLY just trying to get through the day by being as inconspicuous as possible.  Being the center of attention/really just getting ANY attention makes us slightly nauseous--hence the piercing glare we give to family and friends when they ask the waiters at TGI Friday's to sing us happy birthday.

    So, dear normal specimens of the world, try to think twice before you drunkenly go up to the awkward girl in the restroom at the bar and tell her "YOU'RE UBER PRETTY!" or "I LOVE THAT TOP ON YOU!!"  And, trust me, you will most definitely be able to discern this unique creature from all the rest of them.  She's the one who almost walked in on a girl ("Oooooops, sorry!!! I thought I knocked!!?!"), keeps using air quotes in casual conversation, and is about to have a mental breakdown because the only grinding she is comfortable with involves her teeth at night.

     All in all, if you wish to avoid witnessing an awkward girl self-destruct before your very eyes--keep the compliments to a minimum, or better yet, don't say anything at all.  You will save us awkward girls the embarassment of  accepting said compliment (which we somehow irrationally feel is tantamount to admitting that "HAHAHA I MAKE MEGAN FOX LOOK LIKE AN UGLY TROLL AND I'M SO TRENDY HAHAHA!") and having to come up with a compliment to give back to you (which will be less of a compliment and more like a creepy statement, a la "Your hair is really shiny today?.!?!") 

     It's best to adhere to Awkward Girl Commandment #362: "If you have something nice to say, it's better to not say anything at all." 


Peace, Love, and toe socks.


Awkward Girl

POC (Painfully Outgoing Chick)

     The POC or "the girl that pisses out whole unicorns" as I like to fondly refer to her is the bane of any awkward girl's existence.  Think the chubby "rainbows and butterflies" girl that "DOESN'T EVEN GO HERE," as Damien thoughtfully points out in Mean Girls.  Except this girl does attend your school, is in your classes, shares mutual friends with you, and pops up EVERYWHERE.  If you didn't know any better, you'd think she has her own personal Marauder's Map of your college campus and seeks you out--where ever you are, just to torture you endlessly.

     We all know her and have had the unpleasant task of interacting with her.  She will talk to ANYTHING and does not accept one word answers/grunts.  You're holding a chem book in your hand as you enter the elevator?  What a coinkydinc, because "OMG HER BF TOOK THAT CLASS LAST QUARTER AND SAID IT WAS SOOO HARD!"  You're drinking a coffee in class.  "IS THAT HAZELNUT I SMELL? SO JEAL, THAT'S MY FAV!"  You're a hungover, lethargic college student walking to class Friday morning at the crack of dawn and you pass her in your dormitory lobby "HI! GOOD MORNING!"  She's one of those people that you met at a party one time, yet she acts as if you used to take baths together as kids. 

     The whole time you converse with this Betty White clone, you are plotting your next move to flee the conversation.  She KNOWS you loathe small talk, yet she still tries to have meaningful, drawn out conversations at parties, in elevators, and at the library (garnering heart-shattering stares from your peers which subsequently makes you wish the silly bandz on your wrist had sharp spikes that you could use to claw this POC's eyes out with).  The POC's only redeeming quality is that she does always carry on the conversation (because God knows every conversation YOU'VE ever taken charge of seems to end in you awkwardly suggesting that "OMG WE SHOULD HANG!" even though just seconds before you were hiding behind a rack of clothes in the fetal position so as to avoid the wench), leaving you to simply nod, pity laugh, and spew an awkward sentence or two here and there.  However, you always still end up tongue tied and feeling violated when the conversation finally comes to an awkward, abrupt halt (because you had to conveniently hurry off to pick up your dry cleaning that you "forgot"). 

     POCs always grow up to be those annoying dentists that we all LOATHE who decide it'll be an AWESOME idea to ask the patient thought-provoking questions whilst their hands are flopping around lifelessly in the patient's mouth.  "Sorry, what's your major/life plan/hopes and dreams? I couldn't quite understand you."  No shit, Sherlock, it's hard to talk, let alone breathe, when your blocking my airway with your gorilla hands.  There's a reason POC and doc rhyme, my friends.  Yes, we have all encountered this painfully outgoing girl, whether it be in a dorm, office, class room, party, mall, parking garage, library, restaurant, chat room, animal shelter, etc.  Unfortunately there is no known cure for this chick's painful outgoing-ness (except for maybe a serving of humble pie in the form of this blog post i.e. YOU NEED TO TONE IT DOWN POCs OF THE WORLD BEFORE US AWKWARD GIRLS SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST!) as it has been nurtured from day one by equally annoying and self-absorbed parents whose minivan is easily spotted because of all the obnoxious, brightly colored bumper stickers, such as "My kid is an honor student" and "I love my basset hound." 

     The best thing you can do when you see this girl approaching you is to duck into the nearest alley/become suddenly engrossed in a "phone conversation"/run away screaming bloody murder because, believe me, this chick is like a dementor in that she will  slowly suck out your awkward soul with every word she utters.


Peace, love, and Snuggies.


Awkward Girl

American Horror Story

     It's a Friday night, lookin good, feelin better.  You're with your best girl friends (because apparently you own some sort of  'boy repellant' that hasn't been put on the shelves yet) "pregaming" (even though you made sure you were at least slightly drunk prior to their arrival JUST in case someone's hot boy cousin is visiting) to a really hip playlist from your 1st generation ipod nano that includes everything from old school Tupac (because you have older brothers and are SO musically cultured ) to Avril (just to relive your tie-wearing, "trendy" days) to insert the current song that is #1 on itunes here (because you're so relevant).  You have just finished taking your 8th shot (technically your 4th since you can only stomach halfsies) in the quiet solitude that is the pantry of your apartment--away from prying eyes.

    Then--you hear the dreaded 5 words that make your stomach turn and your heart to shatter into a million awkward pieces.  "Guys, let's get a picture!"  Shit.  You're about as photogenic as the midget with the buck teeth that lip syncs to Katy Perry on Youtube (which you, by the way, never fail to lol at in public, making things real awkward, real fast).  Your chest looks like a roadmap to Awkwardville with all of its intersecting splotchy lines/blobs/clusters that is an unfortunate direct result of your alcohol consumption.  Do I even have to mention your rosy cheeks that could also function as a potential stop light?  Backing out is not an option because the designated picture taker/girl who ALWAYS BRINGS HER CAMERA/Satan will not let you wiggle your way out of this one.  Also, your friends will be offended because they want to get a "BFFS PIC!!" and make cute little letters with their arms that honestly have no meaning/relevance to society along with other various cute picture poses.  Plus, as much as you hate to admit it, your facebook picture IS in some serious need of updating (you don't have one).

    So, yeah, needless to say your appearance screams "Am I even human?" and you have no option to fade into the background on this one.  BUT THAT'S NOT EVEN THE WORST OF IT.  How the hell are you going to pose in said picture?  If you're stuck on the end, you have to deal with the whole "to put my hand on my hip or not to put my hand on my hip?" problem.  If you don't, the picture will look off balanced since you KNOW the girl on the other end is a classic "hand on the hip-er," but if you do you have to calculate a correct height for said hand.  Hip is a loose term.  Hand right on the bone, above, lower, diaphragm?!?!  Okay, you can NOT be on the end.

    Oh ho ho, but wait, that means you have to awkwardly stand in the middle and figure out arm placement relative to those on either side.  If you put your hand on their lower back, you run the risk of coming off as a rapist/Rosie O'Donnell, but putting your hand higher up on their back makes you look like you're hailing a taxi (which you would never do unless you were with someone else because you are NOT sitting next to the driver).  Clenched fist or open palm on their back?  Your heart is racing (this convoluted thought process has taken a maximum of 3 seconds) because your friends are starting to come together for "THE CUTEST PICTURE EVER OMG!"

    Oh, another minor detail, something's off with your smile.  Actually it's less of a smile and more like a creepy, half-toothed snarl.  What you hope is a perfect, flashy model smile that says "I'm so happy and I love life and I am basically Megan Fox!" is actually a sneer that screams "I just killed a man and hid his body under a pile of snuggies, HAHAHA!"  Time is ticking, your friends are assembling, and you want the floor to swallow you whole and teleport you to a calm, soothing place--Narnia, Harry Potter World, or the nearest Amish community.

    #awkwardgirlNIGHTMARE

    Peace, love, and Kristen Stewart

   
    Awkward Girl

   

Awkward Girl Hell.

I want to let everyone know I've personally experienced hell. You think having to roll a giant boulder up a hill for eternity is bad? You think having your liver eaten by vultures every day for eternity is painful? (These are references to mythology.... #awkwardgirlknowledge) Then you've never experienced PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. Nothing compares to that shit. Any awkward girl knows that she shouldn't mess with it. NEEDLESS to say, sitting across from strangers on a moving vehicle for an extended period of time is not our area of expertise. Seriously, when someone stares me in the face on the bus I usually half smile and when they don't smile back I don't know what to do with my eyes so I shift my gaze to the wall and keep half smiling. As a result I look like an invalid. SO, riding the bus is preeeetty far up there on the awkward scale... somewhere between your leg accidentally being groped by the boy sitting next to you in math lecture and the dude next to you in the library farting and having to pretend you didn't hear it.

There is one day in particular that I'd like to share with you.... a day when public transportation reached it's full potential for horror and humiliation. For me, at least.

The campus bus pulled up to the curb, right next to me. I looked at it, and this bus seemed to stare at me, taunting me, tempting me to get on and face the challenge. I could hear its engines revving, but to me it sounded like it was growling, "take a seat, ride me..." (I understand that quote has sexual undertones, and trust me, I feel more awkward typing it out than you do reading it...!!) The intelligent part of my brain told me, "Yes! ride that bus because you're late to class anyway! Face your fears you milquetoast!" But the awkward part of me (99.5% of me) told me "NO!!!!!!! Haha no offense but you shouldn't... sorry... but if you want to I mean... I don't know I'm bad at confrontation.." Seeing as the majority of my good judgment was telling me to just WALK to class, I'm not sure what drove me to board that god forsaken vehicle. But I did. Now here comes the good part.

I happened to be holding an empty styrofoam coffee cup in my right hand. I hadn't thrown it away yet because there was a group of people chatting by the trash can and I was NOT about to awkwardly interrupt their conversation to throw something away. If only I had known the trouble this would have saved me.... anyway, this cup was obviously very lightweight and hard to control if it were to fall from my hands. Understandable, right? Well, when I ambled onto this bus, I took said situation one step further. My left hand knocked this cup out of my right hand, causing it to arch into the air near some people's faces. As the cup left my grasp, I involuntarily yelled, "whooooop!" Not even "oops" or "whoops". Just think the first syllable of "hoopla" with a W and with the "o" extremely drawn out. It sounded like I was cheering for some sports team (but in reality I don't cheer in public so that comparison is inapplicable.) I attempted to catch this airborne saucer, but for some reason, every time I went to catch it, my hands had a mind of their own. I kept hitting the cup back into the air like a volleyball. It was like I was an act in a circus, prancing around juggling a coffee cup, and the group of passengers gawking at me were my audience. And the finale was just as awkward. When my hands finally agreed with my brain and I caught the damn thing, I started laughing uncontrollably. I looked around expectantly, but saw no one was sharing in my hysterics. So my laughter faded, and a feeling of disgrace and self-hatred replaced it. Haha! Oh. Needless to say, the remaining 4 minutes and 23 seconds of bus ride was absolute torture.

So, if you think you've gone to hell and back, remember this tale. Really nothing compares to it if you ask me. But if you're reading this you're probably an Awkward Girl too, so I think you can feel my pain and join me in basking in anxiety and insecurity. Now that I'm done writing my novella, I'm going to continue sitting in the corner of this library and staring at people who can't see me. (The perfect end to MLK day.)

Peace, Love, and Bowlcuts.

Awkward Girl

Hello Blog. Goodbye Any Sense of "I'm So Cool"

     I can't even say that creating this blog is a dive into the pool of awkwardness, because I can't dive/function in society--as evident in the fact that writing this post is proving to be extremely heart attack-provoking.  Safe to say that this blog creation is more of a lifeless flop into the vast world of social networking.  And something for me to do when *boredom hits me and I can't deal with myself (*the fact that Even Stevens is no longer on TV). 

    Twitter's always a good time, but the 140 character limit can be so restraining (much like my snuggie when I have to go to the bathroom, might I add).  My life is too complex (lame) to express all my sentiments in one measley tweet, hence this blog.  I'm hoping to chronicle, via this 2002-esque blog, all of the uncomfortable, cringe-worthy, blush-inducing happenings on this awkward, winding path that I'm traveling on/have been traveling on since birth.  Think Dora the Explorer.  Minus a map (because no awkward girl dares to venture out of her comfort zone), pale, and instead of Swiper I have to deal with annoying drunk guys at bars who would probably list grinding/groping as their favorite pasttime, irrelevant professors, acquaintenances, and the occasional squirrel that decides to taunt me on the way to class.

     I've definitely picked up a few things on this awkward voyage/my 20 odd years of existence (an obsession with Princess Diaries/Parent Trap/any Mary-Kate and Ashley movie, a student ID that makes Charlie Sheen's mugshot look tame, and an immense hatred for phone conversations/small talk/cameras--to name a few) and lost some things as well (my first two student IDs that honestly made me question whether I was human/not Godzilla, the hope that I'd grow out of my awkwardness, and any trace of dignity I had left). It's been fun(ny) though and my hope is that you chuckle, crack a smile, or AT LEAST  somewhat enjoy my dancing twit pic as you peruse the @awkgrlprblms twitter account and browse this blog.

     Didn't mean to write a novel. Peace, love, and Crocs.


      Awkward Girl