100 Happy Things

I recently took a screenshot of my friend's Snapchat story.

In case you didn't get all that, this person's shirt lists 100 things to be happy about. I took said screenshot so that I could peruse at my own leisure. Some of the items I agree with. Others? Not so much. Then I started thinking, what 100 items would I wear on my shirt? Alas, in no particular order, here are the 100 little things that make life kinda beautiful sometimes, make me crack a smile, give me an oozy gooey feeling, etc. etc. etc. 

1. The last little bit of melted ice at the bottom of a Fla-Vor-Ice 

2. Frozen Thin Mints

3. The sun on my face

4. Dogs with their head out the window

5. Sharing a smile and making eye contact with someone after they trip on the sidewalk 

6. Babies giggling

7. Puppies tripping over themselves as they run

8. Fast-forwarding through commercials and pressing play right when the show comes back on

9. The gentle pop of a Snapple lid 

10. Puns (DUH)

11. Getting lost in a good book

12. Bonding with waiters and waitresses

13. People that hold the door for me

14. Pressing the elevator button for other people

15. A good, much-needed cry

16. Funny graffiti on bathroom stall walls

17. Baby shoes

18. Reclining movie theater seats

19. Lightning bugs flickering in the night

20. The first untouched snowfall

21. Walking in a light rain

22. Kicking a stone down the sidewalk as far as I can 

23. The familiar streets of my hometown

24. Bitten pen caps

25. Becoming best friends with girls in the bathroom at a bar 

26. Miniature Mason jar shot glasses/salt & pepper shakers

27. Licking the icing off the spoon

28. The sound of ocean waves breaking on the shore

29. The final surprise fry at the bottom of the bag 

30. Hostels

31. Listening to a sad song while looking out the airplane window and pretending I am the star in a Lifetime movie

32. The shitty unrealistic and over-the-top college party scenes on Lifetime movies where there's always a guy handing out jello shots 

33. Alcohol-soaked fruit at the bottom of my drink

34. Lazy sundays with friends

35. Bugle fingertips

36. Packing for a trip

37. Pretending the shower head is a microphone

38. Blanket forts

39. People that are unapologetically themselves

40. Wedding reception dancing

41. Church songs from my childhood 

42. Replying to work emails with Taylor Swift GIFs

43. Iced skinny vanilla lattes (#basic)

44. Using big words appropriately 

45. Early 00's hip hop songs

46. Waking up earlier than usual and laying in bed waiting for my alarm to go off

47. Folding fresh out of the dryer clothing

48. Sitting on the heating vent in the winter

49. Shirts that don't wrinkle

50. Electrical outlets resembling faces

51. Antique-shopping/thrifting

52. Making a pointy dagger with a candy cane

53. Scissors gliding effortlessly through wrapping paper

54. Reese's easter eggs 

55. Burning a candle

56. Getting free samples at the food court

57. Finding forgotten cash in my jean pockets

58. Laughing until I can't breathe

59. Sweatshirts that smell like a bonfire

60. My grandma's perfume

61. Pringle duck beaks

62. Fancy bath salt in fancy restaurant bathrooms that make my skin feel fancy and soft

63. Wrap-around porches

64. Working from home

65. Seeing someone reading a book

66. Fireworks

67. The swish of the basketball net

68. People that don't take themselves too seriously

69. Putting my feet up on my desk

70. Sweet strawberries dipped in sugar in the summertime

71. Making up the words to songs

72. Cobblestone streets

73. British accents

74. The clinking of crushed ice as it falls into my glass

75. Head scratches

76. Rubbing my eyes after a long day and not having to worry about my makeup getting messed up

77. Bubble baths

78. Coming up with Instagram captions, dating app bios, Facebook event descriptions

79. The Parent Trap handshake

80. Biting pretzels in such a way that they form letters

81. The tiny corner pieces of a Donato's pizza

82. Arts & craft shows

83. Sitting in silence with someone and it not being weird

84. That initial taste of a Tic Tac 

85. Wandering aimlessly around Target 

86. The smell of a new book

87. Books whose pages have jagged edges and a built-in ribbon bookmark

88. Attentive bartenders

89. Deep conversations about religion/life in general 

90. Sticking one foot out of my comforter

91. The cool side of the pillow

92. Blowing bubbles

93. Abandoned Tootsie Rolls in the street after a parade

94. Throwing Pop-Its onto the sidewalk

95. Doing the air drum solo to In The Air Tonight 

96. Tracy Chapman's Fast Car

97. (Good) live music

98. French doors

99. Documentaries

100. Successfully writing a blog post after a hiatus

What would your 100 things be?

-MK

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.

LIFE UPDATE

Hey guys. How are you? Just dropping in because I realized it's been 6 FREAKING MONTHS since I wrote in this thing. I don't even know where to begin. I think that's why I haven't written since April. Graduation has happened. The real world has happened. Me being a future aunt has happened. Europe has happened. My sudden liking for country music has happened. My post-grad life has happened???!?!?!?!

I am going to attempt to recount the last 6 months, but this does not mean you have to read it. This is merely an exercise to see if my life is actually as boring as I think it is (spoiler alert: it is). Anyway, graduation is weird. Just don't do it. Your cap won't fit and your hair will blow into your mouth and you'll start sweating and have to take off your gown halfway through the ceremony.

This brings us into May. What's that saying? April showers bring May flowers? Well, in my travel companion's case, it brought mono. YES, MONO. MONONUCLEOSIS. AKA THE REASON MY EURO POST-GRAD TRIP OF A LIFETIME WAS CANCELLED. I wasn't going to ride around the streets of Paris in a bicycle with a wicker basket full of baguettes alone, so my start date for work was pushed up (did I mention I'm a copywriter?) and I was thrown into the real world three weeks sooner. Turns out the real world isn't so bad. There's crushed ice at the office and free food (if you hover outside of client meetings long enough). Also, dogs.

May wasn't all that bad though. Found out that my brother is going to be a dad, which is cool because I've been wanting a cute little niece for 22 years now. And babies smell good. Like, what is it about their little baby head that smells so good? Add that to life's greatest mysteries, along with "who stole the great Hope Diamond?" and "what killed the dinosaurs?" and "who makes the finest pizza?" and "what's in your brother's dresser drawers?" Anyway, babies are all right in my book. Expect plenty of baby-related pictures December 25th! For now, please enjoy this generic baby photo I found on Google images!

Remember when I was super dramatic earlier and complained about my Europe trip getting cancelled? My roommate's 6-week incubation period ended early July just in time for us to hop on a plane and spend a pretty penne on fine Italian cuisine in Rome! Okay, maybe we didn't make it to Italy, but I really wanted to use that pun. SUE ME. We did make it to:

• Dublin
• London
• Amsterdam
• Brussels
• Paris
• Barcelona

Dublin was one of my favorite places. Everyone was super nice and we took a day trip to the coast, which was beautiful. A Czech guy at the hostel kicked me out of my bed claiming that it was his, while an Irish guy at the bar thought I was a lesbian because I was wearing jeans. So, needless to say, I WAS KILLIN' IT OVER THERE.

Next up was London on 4th of July. My roommate and I somehow found ourselves at an alternative rock concert in Camden. We made friends with a 19-year-old in a bear shirt, who subsequently tried to make out with me on the dance floor. Not going to go into details, but there were a plethora of 19-year-olds that tried to make out with me during those two weeks. Not because I was a hot young thang (quite the opposite, I didn't do laundry for two weeks and was living out of a backpack), but because people are just so aggressive and young in Europe. One Australian guy literally walked up to me, asked where I was from, and proceeded straight to "Australian-American kiss?" Everyone was so horny and hormonal. Kill me. 

Anyway, London was cool. It rained majority of the time, but at least I got this sweet photo from the 4th of July backdrop at the alternative concert! Yes, that is Ronald McDonald dancing. If only I had captured the American flag flying gloriously in the background.

I did get Big Ben in all his glory though!

After three nights of going out in Dublin and London, two nights in Amsterdam was all I could handle. Did I mention that I already had to call my mom and ask her to put emergency money into my bank account? Getting drunk and eating excessively is expensive in other countries, apparently. We took it easy in Amsterdam. Well, as easy as stumbling upon the Red Light District totally unprepared can be. It was kind of weird and sad. Mostly just sad. It kind of reminded me of when Dudley taps on the snake glass case at the zoo. 

Anyway, have you guys ever had an edible marijuana baked good thingy? Getting high off an Amsterdam edible should be on everyone's bucket list. Imagine being tickled so hard that you can't stop laughing, but for two hours straight. Everything was hilarious. And, I mean everything. I couldn't stop laughing and was talking straight up gibberish. I thought I lost my new watch and mumbled "the lord giveth and the lord taketh" before eating half a pizza and then stealing my roommate's other half. I then passed out for three hours, Doritos bag in hand. Amsterdam was so cute though with all of the bikers and canals and cheese everywhere. Not all who wander are lost, some are just trying to hit up all the cheese samples in Amsterdam.

Brussels/Paris were merely pit stops for us to break up our journey to Barcelona. We stayed in Brussels for one night, where we splurged on a 2-person room. All of our other hostel living situations were at least 6 or more to a room. We then made our way to Paris where we were there for a mere 6 hours in order to catch a night train to Barcelona. Don't worry, we did squeeze in a Belgian waffle and awful touristy pic or two. ACT LIKE YOU KNOW ME. What is that? You don't? Oh, haha. 

Honestly, typing out this blog post is so tiring. Sucks that my favorite city in the entire universe had to come at the end. I don't know if I can do the beautiful beaches sangria justice. I might be a little biased since it was easily the sunniest destination of the whole trip and "Unwritten" started playing on the train ride in, but actually I think it was just that great. Our living situation was the best we'd had all trip. It was my roommate and I (along with our friend from school who was an au pair in Madrid for the summer), two British girls that we really connected with over butt sweat, and two optometry students from New York that hated us all. Did I forget to mention that the World Cup was going on this whole time? Cue the butt sweat. Everyone gathered at the bar in our hostel lobby to watch the game + no air conditioning = puddles. 

I was obnoxiously fanning myself with a map the majority of my time in Barcelona. At least when I wasn't averting my gaze at the TOPLESS BEACH. Ah, so scary and terrifying. Basically, we stayed out every night until the clubs closed at 5ish because of course we did. To tapa (puns are everything) it all off, a Barcelonian waiter said I had pretty eyes. So, naturally it was my favorite city. 

Here I am covering my face with my two friends from Britain England the land of the Spice Girls.

This Latvian chick in the braided bleach blonde hair from our hostel literally wore a bathing suit to the bar.

All in all, post-grad life is treating me well. I even went on a few dates with the same guy! If I can do it, you can do it. Unless the "it" we're referring to is this weird foot trick. You actually probably can't do this. But I can:

P.S. I am super fun to travel with!

P.P.S. Mono did this to my roommate's eyes. It's probably a good thing we pushed that trip back after all.

MEXI, CAN I?

Let me start off this post by saying that those tanned legs are not my own and I had to steal all the photos in this post from my roommate.  Apparently I missed out on the whole "loves to take photos" gene that every other girl on the universe has.  What can I say? My genetic makeup is from the Target clearance bin not MAC.

I figured the only remedy to this post-vacation blues was to take a pigeon-toed stroll down memory lane into the abyss of salty air and even saltier margarita rims that was Cancun.  Literally, one of the best weeks of my life.  There is no such thing as a bad question--UNLESS that question is "should I go somewhere for my senior spring break?"  

The trip started out like any other--I was up until 4 A.M the night before searching for my iPhone in the confines of my house, afraid to alert Find My iPhone for fear I'd wake my roommates.  One upgrade to first class and lecture from the flight attendant on drinking too much alcohol later, I arrived in Cancun with phone safely in hand and guacamole on my mind.  I had set three fairly simple goals for myself:

1. Get tan(ish).
2. Eat guacamole.
3. Become friends with British or Australian boys (though I'd settle for a conversation or eye contact or a simple "excuse me, do you know where the snack bar is?")

I am proud and shocked to say that all three were accomplished by the end of the week minus the whole tan thing, but whatever.  Other items to check off include the following: 

• Witnessing two German boys take a selfie on my friend's camera.
• Attending a $100 Snoop Dogg concert free of charge, thanks to my new Aussie friend/minor crush for four days. RIGHT? CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? I MADE A FRIEND...who I talked to about my love for finger dancing and general disregard for touching and who also visited Columbus with his friends the following week. Very odd.

• Guess which one is me.
• Uncomfortably having to ask a random British guy in the hallway to tie the bow in the back of my dress because I couldn't do it myself and my friends were all waiting for me in the lobby.  Side note: Asking "where ya from, love?" is only okay if one has a British accent.

• Being able to look awkward from a long distance.
• Waking up with a swollen Angelina Jolie lip on steroids. Turn down for strong Cancun sun and blisters on my lip for four days.

• Obligatory balloon hat photo obstructing my face? Check.

• Leaving Senor Frogs with minimal scarring and pretty nifty photo-dodging sombrero-wearing skills.
• I feel like I should have two bullet points underneath each photo, but I am running out of things to say.

• Did I mention that I am, like, really good at dodging photos?

• The only thing worse than Croc tanlines.

• Getting to work in my whole "do you shop at Sharker Image?" pun.

• CROWD SURFING. And by crowd surfing, I mean navigating the edges of the dance floor wishing that I could drink a Capri Sun in order to liquify myself and seep underneath the crack of the exit door to the nearest quesadilla stand. 

This post brought to you in loving memory of all the people that stopped reading half-way through.  I'd applaud those of you still reading if I didn't have to eat directly out of this pint of ice cream.  Did you know that once you open it, you have to finish it all in one sitting?  Rules are rules, folks.

Anyway, that's my spring break in a nutshell or shall I say seashell? HAHA.  Next stop: Europe. But first, probably the pantry or something.

Peace, love, and queso,

Awkward Girl

P.S. If you plan to ever drink in Mexico, you better...WAIT FOR IT...WAIT FOR IT...peso yourself okay it's been real.