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