Awkward Girl's Guide to Gift-Giving

I don't know about you guys, but lately I've been suckered into attending housewarming parties, Christmas parties, and secret santa exchanges. Buying presents is hard and buying presents people will actually like is even harder. Luckily for you, I've compiled a list of items that no one but a select few people will appreciate, but really I am just hoping that my mom sees this list and it serves as inspiration for a potential gift.

ALL RIGHT, EVERYONE WHO IS NOT MY MOM, SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH. Mom--this should help spark ideas and make shopping a little less painful. Also, is it okay if I bring home my laundry again for Christmas? You're just so much better at it than me and I still think a mouse lives in my basement. And I know I reenacted that whole "I'M NOT AFRAID ANYMORE! DID YOU HEAR ME? I'M NOT AFRAID ANYMORE" bit from Home Alone last night when I was down there, but I am actually still terrified and it's all bravado. LYLAS.

All right, let's get down to the Christmas gift ideas. Because that's really what it's all about. Or was that the hokey pokey? Side note: I am actually not qualified at all to give people advice on gift-giving, so let's pretend that I am. Okay, carry on.

1. http://etsy.me/1NapCCr

Because who doesn't want to wake up to Kate Sanders' sneering face judging you for your wardrobe choices? Might be a good change of pace from your cat.

2. http://bit.ly/1XUlnDf

This Christmas sweater* is perfect for the Miley h8r/pop-culture enthusiast in your life.

*Not an actual sweater, is a sweatshirt made to look like a sweater. You have been warned.

3. http://etsy.me/1NF9J8F

This artwork is badass and gets me all pumped to be a woman and I actually just love everything in this Etsy store and want to buy all of it. 

4. http://bit.ly/1TzQDkz

Kind of upset there isn't an Even Stevens floor plan, but, hey. You can't win 'em all. Michelle Tanner's humble abode will do. I also apparently love random pieces of art, who knew?

5. http://etsy.me/1HTO1xs

They'll tell you I'm insane for owning this, but it'll never go out of style. Perfect for the blank space on your mantle.

6. http://amzn.to/1M232If

I wear this sweater year-round. You should buy it too just so I don't feel alone. This might be a cry for help. I also look approximately 12-13x happier wearing it than the chick in this photo does. Why does she look like that? Why is she so sad? Is it because she's modeling a Christmas sweater on Amazon? Did she just remember that the Kardashians exist? What is going on, girl?

7. http://amzn.to/1R8PvXh

Self-explanatory. Puns > Life. I honestly hate that stupid board game, though. Not really sure if that's the best thing to compare puns to. Oh, well.

8. http://bit.ly/1M23uGz

Ooooh, I think that I found myself a cheerleader...clock. Or something. Let's be honest, we all get tripped up on these clocks anyway, might as well get one that is actually useless. 

9. http://etsy.me/1QusRa7

See also: A vast majority of those wanderers are hunting down the free samples at Costco. There's some funny de-motivational stuff in this girl's store. Check it out. Or don't. Live your life. Spread your wings. Throw away your inhibitions (just make sure you don't accidentally throw away your retainer with them, we've all been there before).

10. http://bit.ly/1G6XLmH 

One of my followers is actually an ambassador for "Love your melon." I'd never heard of it, but it's pretty cool. The goal is to give a hat to every kid battling cancer in America and 50% of net-proceeds are donated to foundations dedicated to cancer research and family programs. And the hats are super cute, so it's basically a win-win.

11. http://etsy.me/1m9qcri

May your hands never be as cold as your heart <3 <3 <3

LATER HATERS. 

-MK

An Ode To Twitter

Twitter (n): a means of expressing one's self in 140 characters or less. A creative outlet. A poor man's source of news. A safe haven for grammar nazis to congregate and correct your typos. A social channel.

Over the past four years (OMG, WHAT?), I have had an awesome time on this microblog. This site was Xanga 2.0 for me. It was a way to express myself in a concise statement. A way to communicate with those that I never would've connected with otherwise. A journal that I didn't have to worry about my brother breaking into. One of those electronic early 2000's voice-automated journals that I didn't have to worry about forgetting the password to. See below for a pixelated photo of said journal.

Eventually, I gained followers. No doubt due to my handle, dancing GIF, and the ever-growing popularity of generic "problems" Twitter accounts such as #whitegirlproblems. SIDE NOTE: I'd also like to think that people fell in <3 with my original content and rambling, but a girl can dream, right?

With each new follower, I got a little more self-conscious. More people means more eyes, more criticism, more opportunities for embarrassment, more pressure. I'm working on it, but I tend to care a little bit what people think of me. Especially thousands upon thousands of strangers. My friends and family started to tell people and before I knew it, there were way too many friends of friends coming up to me at parties (okay, it was probably 2 parties) talking to me about my Twitter.

It started to become all about my follower count. I spent my time in class (sorry every Ohio State comm professor) thinking of the next tweet, the next witty remark. I know it sounds lame, but it was an integral part of my life. I finally got to 100,000 followers the summer of 2013, which was a pretty huge feat. HEADS UP: I also have pretty huge feet. SIZE 9ISH, WHADDDUPP.

Through Twitter, I learned that writing was one of my true passions. It led to my internship and now my full-time job. Working at an advertising agency has been challenging and fun, but I started to realize there's more to life than retweets and faves. Writing each day at work is fun, but coming home and feeling obligated to tweet for @awkgrlprblms didn't sound so fun anymore. I started to feel drained. Kind of like how you pour pasta into one of those strainers and the water seeps through into the sink. Except my noodle wasn't really working. So, I don't know if this pasta metaphor is as meaningful as I thought it was. UGH, NUTS.

Anywho, I started to see a decline in my followers. I pretended not to care, not to notice. UH, YEAH, RIGHT. I took it super personally, that's just who I am. My coping mechanism transformed into a moping mechanism. I stopped tweeting as much, fearful that whatever I wrote would cause a further decrease in followers. People clicked that pesky "unfollow" button anyway. I tried to surround myself with fans (see picture below) to lift my spirits, but it didn't work.

LOL, anyway. I guess the point of this blog post is to go a little behind-the-scenes/behind-the-laptop-screen. YOU GUYS ARE SCARY, OKAY. This has been such a fun account (and will continue to be), but if it feels like I stopped churning out tweets, that's true.  Turns out life is pretty crazy and busy and awesome. So, yeah, I've lost 10k followers over 2 years. That's okay. 

I am a 23-year-old normal(ish) young-fauxfessional. By the way, "fauxfessional" is a fun term I made up for anyone in the corporate world that still makes Pringle duck beaks. 

Truth is, I shouldn't have even 1,000 followers. There are way funnier, more intelligent people out there. So, it's cool that you guys have buckled in for the ride. Some were here from the start (when the dancing girl in my GIF was actually relevant) and others have jumped aboard later. Regardless, yeah, I've lost 10k the past two years. BUT, I've grown up a little since and now have a 401K. WUT, WUT?!

I am going to continue to "bring out the big puns" with each tweet. Do I tweet as regularly as I once did in between taking notes in Bio 101? Nah. BUT, you can bet that I will still say random awful things that will make you cringe a little from time to time. And hopefully write more blog posts, because this was fun...right? RIGHT?!?!

Just keep an eye out for my new memoir: -10K to 401K

-Awkward Girl/Mary Kate 

Is Mayonnaise An Instrument?

Hey guys, it's me. Remember me? I'm the girl who is proficient-ish in puns and cutting the crusts off of PB&J sandwiches.

I am going to try to blog more. Seems like a healthy outlet. Like, an outlet you could plug a lava lamp into without fear of getting electrocuted. Or something.

I've learned over the years that I do much better when given a writing prompt. And a time limit of some sort. Currently it is 902 PM, I am going to give myself until 933 to write a blog post on "Is Mayonnaise An Instrument?" (thanks @chewbacca__ for this beyond weird thought-starter).  

Instrument (n): a tool or implement, especially one for delicate or scientific work.

All right, let's break down mayonnaise here. It is a condiment, so one could argue that it carries out the function of making turkey sandwiches a little less boring. Coming from a girl who has a chronic Case of the Mundane, I need a little mayo in my life to keep things interesting. And let's be real--the perfect sandwich is kind of a scientific work.

When it comes to burgers, I like my mayonnaise like I like my men--ON THE SIDE. Haha, does that make sense? Probably not. And so I digress.

The more I think about it, a restaurant is kind of like a symphony of sorts--you've got forks scraping and clanking while A Thousand Miles plays faintly over the sound of impatient patrons tapping their feet anxiously while awaiting the arrival of their food. 

There's usually also a little kid leaning over the booth making weird faces at you while you're trying to enjoy your basket of chicken fingers. And an obnoxious wanna-be comedian loudly chronicling some lame story to his less-than-enthused friends.

This is where the "mayonnaise as instrument" weaves its way into the tapestry of weirdness that is this blog post.

Instruments (in the musical sense) produce noise. Next time you're annoyed at that wanna-be comedian, simply scoop up a spoonful of mayonnaise and fling it at the dude so that he yells in surprise. Yelling = noise. THEN point to the little demon kid doing handstands in the booth ahead of you and blame him. THERE YOU GO. Wanna-be comedian will lose story-telling steam as he goes to the bathroom to wash his face and the child will be reprimanded by his parents and taken outside. Or to the nearest McDonalds play land where he can get lost in the ball pit, hopefully.

But also, maybe don't fling that mayonnaise at the wanna-be comedian if she happens to be feverishly pretending to text during those awkward silences in which her friends don't laugh. Because she might be me. And it isn't fun jumping over the tumbleweeds bouncing past your table to run to a public restroom in order to wash mayonnaise out of your hair.