2K, Bitch. 2K

Holy shitsnacks, people!  We're at 2000 hits on this blog!!!
Y'all are the bomb.  Like, for real.  Keep on reading, and clicking on my page (theawkwardauthority.blogspot.com), and tell your friends to search the link also, and if they have Facebook, tell them to search for the Facebook page and like it, too, so that we can keep growing.  Like a cult.  Except, not scary. And one where people can feel whatever the hell they feel like feeling, because we're all chill here.  And normal. Well, ok, maybe not normal normal, but normal like a cult of awesomeness and friendship and obsessive-compulsive tendencies.
2K, you guys.  Seriously.  This is a goddamn milestone.  Picture me standing outside your window right now, holding up a boombox like John Cusack.  Except the boombox is playing the theme song from The Golden Girls.
Thank you for being a friend, yo.

One With The Sea

A conversation between me and my mom:

Me:  I denied that friend request from Facebook

Mom:  how come?

Me:  because I feel like it's a trap

Mom:  what?

Me:  yeah, a trap to spy on shit that I say and post

Mom:  uh huh

Me:  and then they'll see how much I cuss and all of the awesome inappropriate crap that I post

Mom:  uh huh

Me:  and then they'll tell the mother and she'll try to save me with Jesus

Mom:  save you with Jesus?

Me:  yeah, and then I'll have to tell them that that ship didn't even get to sail; it got taken down by a fucking kraken

Mom:  taken down by a kraken ...

Me:  yeah, like forever ago

Mom:  uh huh

Me:  and then they'll be all, what's a kraken? and I'll be like, uh, hello. the kraken. the monster. from the depths of the sea.  and they'll be all, you got taken down by a sea monster?  and I'll be like, no, not me. my ship.  and then they'll be all, your ship?  and I'll be like, yeah, my ship of morality and fortitude, yo. and then they'll be all, well that's why we want to save you.  and then I'll have to be like, you are too late, fair do-gooders. I've become one with the sea.

Mom:  one with the sea ... 

Me:  one with the sea

I know. I KNOW.

I know.  I've been a shitty-ass blogger the last couple of weeks.  Sorry, yo.  Life happened and shit.  But to make it up to you, I'm sharing the funniest thing I've seen all week.  Seriously.  I laughed way too hard.  Like, I had an Ursula moment with crazy laughter.  All that was missing was the tentacles and cauldron.

I have no idea who made this.  It's not mine.  I found it on Pinterest.  I have to say that because of copyright and stuff.  But whoever made it a freaking genius.  And hilarious.  And my hero.

Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day you crazy lovelies.   Just let it happen ...

You Can't Punch People In The Throat

I feel like I need to talk about what happened to me the other night.  It was kind of an awakening.  Maybe.  I don't know.  It might not qualify as an awakening.  More like an "aha!" moment.  But then it sounds like Oprah, and we ALL know I am really not as fucking eloquent as Oprah.  So maybe not an "aha!" moment either.  I don't know.  I'll just tell you and then you can decide what the hell it counts as.

**NOTE:  Dude, spell check totally recognizes and accepts "Oprah".  It's like what happened when I wrote the post that mentioned Sigourney Weaver.  I don't blame it.  I wouldn't want to provide alternative suggestions for those names, either.  Then I'd be the program that got its red-squiggly-line ass kicked by Alien and Oprah.  That doesn't look good on anybody's resume.

Anyway, so the other night.  The sun's already set, total darkness outside.  Dinner eaten.  Work clothes changed.  Normal, right?  Uh, so not normal.  Because that's when it happened.  As I was walking to my bedroom, ready to call it a night, hit the hay, get some shut-eye, I glanced at the clock and then stared at it in horror.  6:30pm.  SIX-FUCKING-THIRTY.  I didn't even realize that shit!  All I was thinking about at the time was how tired I was from dealing with the endless array of fucktards that seemed to surround my day, and how punching them in the throat would probably only make things worse the next day because shit like that is apparently "frowned upon" by upper management, and how I should probably stop laughing when people talk to me about anger management because people who manage their anger probably don't think about punching other people in the throat. 

And then I saw the clock.  And silently turned around to rejoin the land of the living, not quite sure how to process what had just happened.  And then later that night, much much later, I finally formed a thought about it, and whispered to myself, holy shit, self. you really need to pull your fucking life together. you CANNOT fall asleep at six-fucking-thirty. ever.  because normal people don't do that.  and because making people deal with a poorly-rested you the next day will be way more effective than a punch to the throat. 

Yo Waldorf, Put Popsicles On The Menu Please

Ok, you guys.  Can we all just agree that Woody Harrelson is fucking awesome as shit?
I've been watching True Detective on HBO, because HBO apparently knows a thing or two about how to make television series that are so beyond greatness that you would actually let yourself get killed by Tony Soprano just so you could say that you met the man.  Maybe we should all agree that HBO is fucking awesome as shit, too?  I don't know.  It's something to think about.

Anyway, one day while I was watching an episode, it really hit me how much I freaking love Woody Harrelson.   He's so fucking versatile.  Game Change, North Country ... serious as all hell.  The Hunger Games ... totally conflicted.  And then there's Pepper Lewis.  If y'all don't know who Pepper is, you need to stop reading this post right now, get your ass on Netflix, and rent The Cowboy Way.  Trust me.  You'll be better for it.  Because it's awesome.  And Woody Harrelson is the fucking Big Chief.  Let me put it this way ... If I ever get to New York City, my ass is going to dinner with Pepper.  And we'll be eating popsicles.  If the Waldorf has any.  I asked them in the title of this post to put popsicles on the menu.  And I said "please".  Because the Waldorf is classy as shit.  And you can't just ask them for stuff and forget your manners.  Because if you did, they'd probably be all, this is the Waldorf, yo. Remember where you are, bitch.  So I'm guessing if you actually make the effort to smile and say "please", they'd have a change of heart and be all, you got it, motherfucker. two popsicles coming right up.

Alcohol Magic

I feel like the very first person in the history of the world to invent alcohol fit for drinking was a dude somewhere in a shitty little beginning-of-time town who was like, "yo. you need to drink this. because it's magic."  And the people looked at him like he had lost his fucking mind, because how could a drink be magic, and he should just go back to his little corner of weirdness and stay of out everybody's way.  And then he was all, "fine. don't believe. more for me."  And then people slowly started to notice all the bullshit and stupidness around them and how the crazy dude never seemed to mind or be affected.  So then the representative of the people went to the dude, and was all, "hey, crazy dude, we want to try some of the magic. I will disperse it to the people."  And the dude smiled a lazy magic smile, and said, "make it so, number 1."  And so the magic was spread.  Because the dude knew what was up.  Amen.

Because Self-Esteem Is Important, Yo

Ok. So check it out.  I'm a shitty-ass driver, right.  I mean, like, if there's something for me to run into, I probably will.  Just saying.  I once turned the wrong way onto a one-way street, because I didn't see the "one-way" sign, because I was concentrating on the value deal posted on the Carl's Jr marquee across the street.  I was in college, and I was fucking excited about the buy-one-get-one-free Famous Star special.  Priorities, yo. 
Note: It totally turned out ok, though, you guys.  I bailed into a nearby parking lot before the herd of on-coming traffic could trample me because my years of Mario-Kart experience totally trained me for that moment.

I also backed into the corner of a building once.  Literally.  The building had a notable scar to prove it.  And the bumper of my then-bad-ass truck had the tiniest dent.  It took it like a champ.  I don't really remember why that one happened, though.  I can assume it was also because my ADD was being an asshole, but I can't really say for sure. Maybe I hit that shit harder than I thought.  Anyway, I digress ...

So, a couple of days ago, I watched a woman try to back a Ford Focus into a giant parking space 5 times before she finally gave up and drove away.  And even though my driving record is far from perfect, because my ADD apparently doesn't recognize heavy machinery as something that I should be whole-heartedly attentive to, I can honestly say that as of this day, I've never once had to give up trying to park a Ford Focus in an acre-sized parking lot.  Confidence builders, people.  Grab 'em when you can.