Onward Awkward

Awkward Inquiry

2010-05-26T16:26:00.000-07:00

"Serena, what happened to your e-mail and your phone #?" --Cap cap.

Why You Shouldn't Pull Over to Poop In Mexico

2010-05-26T11:34:00.000-07:00

Never Pull off the road to poop!!

Pete | MySpace Video

(P.S. I swear we're not completely obsessed with poop.)

Mark Gonzales

2010-02-01T21:48:00.000-08:00

Something Is Not Right

2009-11-03T08:14:00.001-08:00

Does anyone else sense that something just isn't right? It's not one thing either, like massive debts, "global warming", or a war that doesn't make any sense. It's everything. As a member of the "What the FUCK Am I Doing?" generation, I don't know what to do about any of these problems I really have no part in. It's as if one day I became and adult and inherited a bunch of issues (Michael Moore is freaking me out and I owe the government eighty grand) that are way over my head. Remember when we were told that if we went to college we would get a decent job? What happened? Not only do I not have a decent job, I have negative money. College stole my life. It suckled too hard at the teats of my future. Should I just move to South America? Or should I allow myself to slave away just to pay back money that I took out so I could become a productive member of society? It's like I'm starting at square negative eighty thousand. Yep, it's time to get a passport.

I swear to God that poop is not mine!

2009-08-10T19:47:00.000-07:00

Do you know what's fucking awkward?

Explaining to your friends why you got dumped by your 19-year-old boy toy (you’re in your mid-20’s) when the reason is so that he could have more time to play video games.

Accidentally getting your coworker too high on Xanax at work because he “wanted to know what it would feel like” and you knew where to get some and now all the other employees are like “Brian, did you get enough sleep last night? You’re working at like 10% capacity today!”

When your friend starts crying because she asked you if your friend was into her and you said you didn’t think so, and now you’re sitting in the middle of a restaurant and she’s all “but I thought everyone thought I was hot! I mean aren't I hot?” but she's not at all and you have a horrible poker face so you try to save it by saying, “you have a boyfriend, you shouldn’t care” and the waiter looks like a deer caught in female hormonal headlights and he's like “do you guys need a minute”, but you’re secretly text messaging your friends to “drop by unexpectedly” and save you because you don’t know how to deal with weeping women even though you are one. There...just pat her on the back. Help will arrive soon.

When you’re the lunch lady at a cafeteria, and you have to wear that hair net and apron, and 14 year old boys from sports camps hit on you and you sort of play along but a part of you is seriously checking them out because they’re really buff and you’re honestly trying to picture what they’ll look like in 6 years, let’s not lie, 4 years, and your boss totally calls you out on it because you didn’t realize that while you were putting together this mental picture in your head you were staring inappropriately at young boys.

Having someone from your class poop on the floor of the girl’s private bathroom when you’re the next person in line, and you know it was her because there’s no other class going on in the building but she tries to pass it off as the person before her, but there was nobody before her and the poop is fresh. Then you go back to your class and she announces that someone “did something gross on the floor of the girl's private bathroom” and winks at you, thus incriminating you as the phantom pooper, when you know well that the pooper is no phantom.

Being publicly accused of being a racist by 6 black girls in your Linguistics and Hip Hop course during a class discussion and now you can’t participate at all because it’s a race and ethnicity class and all the questions are racially controversial. Is it really fair to pull out the race card when a poor white girl is just trying to get some goddamned class participation points? I mean, you guys definitely lowered my grade in that course.

When your “bros” walk in on you crying and listening to Bon Iver because you just got dumped by a 19-year old.

When you get caught shoveling piles of taco salad into your mouth while kneeling behind the counter at the cafeteria by your boss and she feels so bad for you that she lets you make a plate and eat it, but now you have to eat at the same table as your other co-workers who are on break because you’ll look like some weird aloof anti-social asshole if you don’t, but you just want to be that cool loner in the lunchroom because they all smell bad and weird you out. Can you still be a cool loner in the lunchroom?

Getting dumped by your boyfriend after accusing him of being gay. You realize in retrospect it was probably a sensitive subject. Now you have to explain to your friends that you’re an asshole

My room smells like Punjabi and I'm almost ok with it

2009-03-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

As I turned off Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gam and turned on my M.I.A CD, I peered over at my Indian roommate (in the PC sense, she’s actually from India) and realized that I have become obsessed with all the mystery that India has to offer me. Unfortunately I am not writing this to tell you how enticing the people and culture of India are. This is about how Bollywood films are solely responsible for transforming myself into an awkward recluse. I spend hours at the Ann Arbor public library watching movies about Indians who fall in love, find aliens, rob banks, and everything in between while performing randomly placed song and dance numbers. I don’t know what it is about these films but I can’t stop watching them. The people at the library think I’m taking a film class focusing on Hindi cinema. They think this because I told them I was after renting my eighth movie. Hey, better to be a liar than a creeper. Besides I don’t want them to cut me off, and they really might if they knew I was renting all these movies for my own personal enjoyment. My friends already call me “Bollywood” I don’t need some stranger thinking I have deep-seated issues and have decided to use Bollywood movies to escape from reality. Not that this is why I watch these movies. For myself, it’s as if I’ve wandered upon an untapped resource of entertainment, and I plan to use this resource until I can’t look at my roommate with out being overcome by the urge to throw rice all around the room while dancing in a Pashmina. Maybe she’d finally move out and stop stinking up the room with the damn scent of curry, the one thing I hate about India. Yes, the scent lingers and makes your room smell like ass and there’s nothing better than returning home after a long day of school and work to a room that smells like some dog farted in it and then ran away. But I really must say, if you are an awkward person who happens to also be bored I would not hesitate to look into Bollywood films.

Award City Award: Eugene, Oregon

2009-03-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

For those of you lucky bastards who have yet to experience the 'World's Greatest City of the Arts and Outdoors' (aka Eugene, Oregon) let me educate you on what I'm quite confident is the most awkward city in the United States.

How can a city be awkward you ask? Where to begin. Oh yes, there not actually being a city. Eugene, OR is composed of, let's say, sections. There's the school section where the University of Oregon is situated. There are two restaurants, a lot of beards, and more than enough dreaded trustifarians in VW Minibuses smoking bowls in the woods. The student body of Eugene sports uniforms of galoshes (yes, galoshes), flannel and Gore Tex windbreakers. Grimaces and mountain bikes are the common accessories. But this is to be expected of a PacNW college town. What isn't to be expected is, well, the rest of Eugene.

After some careful research, I learned that the glorious city of Eugene is plagued by an alarming amount of cancer cases. I think this could be attributed to the cough-syrup fumes emulating form the meth labs dotting the city near the train tracks. Should you wish to familiarize yourself with these chemical plants, take a drive parallel to the tracks and you will see well-constructed junkyards-cum-houses, equipped with roughly four or five twenty-something males wearing baggy sweatshirts and sporting severely vexed eyebrows, open facial wounds (on account of the scratching), petting a dog with a missing leg.

Which brings me to Eugene's deepest darkest, most awkward secret of all; the Bromance epidemic. That's right, next time you happen to drive through Eugene (probably because you missed it and/or decided against it thanks to a sturdy foundation of common sense), just notice the guy-to-girl ratio. And I'm not just saying there's an abundance of men (which there is), it's as if the city (town, village, commune) of Eugene is a large second grade. Men do not associate with women. It is likely for one to see upwards of seven guys hanging around, talking about going to the Men's Warehouse on the weekends, or tailgating to Palo Alto for an upcoming Frisbee Golf competition. Perhaps its the amount of marijuana smoking? THC does affect the libido after all...in any case, the gender separation is perplexing, frightening and absurd.

Not all of Eugene is bad. Well, the pizza is. But Hendrick's park, the small patch of woods (yes, where the bearded hippies park the VWs) is quintessential Northwest and should you be fortunate to live in this part of the city (which is about 1/20th), you'd probably be happy (assuming you wouldn't often journey into the other sections of Eugene).

Have you heard the rumor that Eugene, OR is the Anarchist Capital of the country? As did I, my friend. I think I can safely put this myth to rest. As the Eugenians present at the WTO protests, in actuality, numbered four. The primary origin of the lot being Salem, OR. Not only is this disappointing, but it says something about the city as a whole. This anarchist 'rumor' is not something that originated from anarchists. It's actually the product of some kind of tourist campaign, in which the mayor himself, at some point, commented on the growing number of anarchist residences living in the city. I might be wrong, but it does not seem advantageous for the mayor to boast about the number of anarchists residing in his city as a means of drawing other anarchists. Is the tourism this bad that a city government is attracting the people who would ultimately wish to end it? Perhaps. For the twenty-three hours I was there, I saw only two police cars, one of which had the driver's side window Sharpie-tagged. Which may indicate that the legitimacy of Eugene's police department is, lets say, overshadowed by their desire to house the nation's anarchists. And this should be rightly rewarded. If there were any living there.

Aside from the mythical anarchist community, there is a very real presence of runners in Eugene, OR. It's called Track Town, U.S.A. or something? Which does...not make it any more desirable to visit? If anything, this slick tag line brings to mind short shorts and gawky teenagers, bull-dozed fields and concrete, relay batons and hurtles--the whole lot. And while a lot of Eugene is this reality, its one of those things better kept mum. Though it seems the tourist department's going for that whole reverse-psychology thing, so perhaps its a lure tactic.

Head over to a restaurant where they serve French toast and pulled pork sandwiches. You'll here locals gripe about the communes taking over town. This frustration was vocalized by a waiter who was, lets say thoroughly disturbed, about the nature in which the commune residents live. Apparently there's an abundance of cats and more littler boxes than people. Which, honestly, struck me as one of the more amusing aspects of Eugene and I regret not having explored this phenomenon further.

Eugene is in a constant state of mist/rain which leaves everyone looking a little more squirrely than necessary. Die hard Eugenians can be deciphered from the out-of-towners by their refusal to wear a rain jacket or sport an umbrella in torrential downpours. That's right, there won't be so much as a bowing of the head. Heads held high, meth-rain is a merely a trivial part of daily existence. Some of the more sissy citizens opt to tie plastic bags onto the seats of their bikes or wear flaps of a scissored garbage bag over their faces to provide a slight salvation from the perpetually moist climate.

Should you be from Eugene, not only am I sorry, but I'm certain you may be growing upset with the nature of this post. This might be because I have never before experienced a place with such a complete disregard for sarcastic humor. That's right, there is no sarcasm. Not even a little smile, a slight laugh when someone slides from the slick of their garbage-bagged bike seat. And actually, this inevitably made communicating with Eugenians a bit daunting. Again, this could be chalked up to the amount of pot-smoking or the meth epidemic: so maybe people are in a constant state of being burnt or in the midst of tweak-rage, but it makes a good-natured visit difficult.

Still want to go to Eugene? Yes, it is something you should experience for yourself. Some advice: flannel and/or plaid, love for the outdoors (so you can appreciate it through the smoke-stained windows of your Mazda), an affinity for running (from the local gypsies who want to sell you 'collectibles' like femurs and gold teeth), a large fleece collection, an aversion to cigarette smoking (because the meth's safer...), a love of cats (as in one day your commune bed being replaced by a slew of litter boxes), a healthy immune system (to thwart the bizarrely hazardous toxin levels), and a car (so you can, after seeing the thirty minutes of Eugene there is to see, get the fuck out of there with some semblance to decency still in tact.)

I Just Couldn't Help Myself.

2009-02-14T15:03:00.000-08:00

Gxogle? I understand the concept. It's Valentine's Day. wow. How much money is this person making? The Google icon making man/woman? Is this considered a legitimate profession? Does he or she get benefits? Does his or her boss use Google on the days the designs are posted? Gxogle. Right.

Cute? Or Creepy.

2008-12-26T21:29:00.000-08:00

Ah when we’re awkward, there’s such a fine line between cute and creepy. Because 'cute' to awkwardists may mean 'creepy' to the average folk. So then at what point does cute become creepy? Some instances of definite line crossing found in the best cesspool of social deviance--the bar;

1.) The relator. We have everything in common. I mean, everything. At first, finding similarities is entertaining and comforting. You feel you have a special bond with Mr. Coors because he went to the same YMCA for swim lessons that you did. AND you were both minnows. Things, however, start to take a creepy turn when he literally has everything in common with you. Same dog name, same college major, same favorite artist, same double-jointed big toe. This is when you stop providing the information first and stop enabling Mr. Ripley.

2.) The name commenter. Your name’s Alice? My sister’s name is Alice, I love that name. Who doesn’t like their name to be complimented? It could go the other way when you introduce yourself and the belligerent dude behind you shrieks ALICE?! NOT ALICE. THAT’S A BAAAAAD NAME. Within seconds you are informed about some horrible Alice who tried to kill him, stole his projects in advertising school, was crazy, etc. As he’s grabbing your wrist and shaking you because of the PTSD that’s been triggered thanks to your name, you may want to tell him he hadn’t heard right. It’s Sally…yeah SALLY. And you can fake laugh until you track out an escape route.

3.) The drink buyer. Thanks, that’s so nice! A free drink! Especially with the economy, how great, generous, etc. Until he orders you another one and another one and another one. You’ve hardly taken a sip and you’re staring at a row of greyhounds. Maybe they’re for him (something in common?), but no, turns out he doesn’t drink. That’s right, he’s stone cold sober and you’re only a fifth as drunk as he likes ‘em. Declare you have to go to the bathroom as he pulls the five drinks in and “keeps them safe for you.’

4.) The fly. A guy pops up next to you. You smile, kind of blush and he smiles and kind of blushes. Cute. You make your way to the stage and you’re doing some kind of rabbit dance when you hit someone and….it’s him. What a coincidence. You move stage right and you’re pogoing and sway to your left and you say sorry! But it’s him and he just smiles. Soon you’re in the bathroom and he’s outside the door, you’re at the bar ordering RedBulls and he’s in the seat next to you. Smoking a cigarette, his hand juts out from no where, holding a steady flame. Yup, you got yourself a bar stalker, find fake mustache.

5.) The watcher. Dancing, you notice a guy across the audience watching you. You meet eyes, etc and it’s cute in a tragi-emo-hipster kind of way. But the next song, he’s still watching you and you shrug it off; you’re a pretty good dancer after all. But song after song, he keeps watching and you start to lose a bit of rythym. You keep looking over your shoulder paranoid that maybe this guy knows you from somewhere else. Maybe he’s the guy who prank called you a month ago and pretended to be a serial killer (that never really got resolved, afterall). What if he’s a narc and knows you’re holding? The music grows faint and your blood’s beating in your ears. Ditch the show before you panic-seizure the two grams out of your pocket and all over the dance floor.

6.) The drug guy. Sure why not? It’s been a while. You smoke a joint out back, do a line in the bathroom—whatever your forte. You thank him and part ways. How generous. But in fifteen minutes he’s back and wants another go around. You kindly turn down his offer but he won’t let up. He’s got you by the arm dragging you to the bathroom so he doesn’t feel pathetic doing it alone and he’s talking the whole time, going on and on, asking you questions, not caring if you answer. Soon you realize you’ve become the drug-guy’s babysitter and he’s quite an addict. P.S. There’s no such thing as free drugs.

7.) The DIY cell phone guy. He’s asking for your number and he’s, well, very attractive. You go to type it in. But he wants to see it, he’ll type it in. How nice. Until you notice him going through your text messages and taking a ridiculous amount of time to punch in ‘ROB.’ You ask for it back, but he’s not done yet. Finally, after a good five minutes of pestering, you get your phone back and immediately go to erase his name, but it seems as though he didn’t even get around to doing that. Five days later, you’ll be going through your contacts and find Mr. Big Cock. Erase.

And good God, this was only in twenty minutes of observation. Must. Rekindle. Faith. In. Mankind. Awk on.

Hipsters Welcome Ski Pants Into Wardrobe, No One Into Band

2008-12-26T21:26:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to a show in glorious downtown Costa Mesa, California. The bar was kind of dungeon like (in a cool way) and the clientele was, to be expected, hipster-esque. I say hipster-eque because while Orange County hipsters are full in force, they are a slightly unique hybrid—varying form the L.A. hipster and certainly from the hipster of New York origin. Of course, they all have two things in common: beards and fedoras. And there were plenty of both. However, the Orange county hipsters opt for more beachy-geekdom. Board shorts with a white button down (I swear) and, for the girls, a low-cut one-piece bathing suit under high-waist jeans. Interesting. And then there was the girl wearing full-fledged ski pants and I just really don’t know what to say about that one. Because, one, it’s Southern California and two, they were the bulky mom-ski pants. I mean they were actually legit for taking on Stowe or Okemo back east. Bizarre. But quirky. What I also found interesting was that there had been three different bands listed, yet the same members seemed to compose all three of the bands. There was one folky-twang girl who remained exclusively in the first, but the rest of the members just rotated instruments like those weird gym classes you used to have when the gym teacher was too hung-over to organize a softball game and would instead opt for ‘stations,’ while he did nothing and you jumped rope for three minutes before moving on to buddy-crunches. Is this the new hipster phase; pretend you’re in three bands when it’s really just one with a different name and some guy playing the fiddle instead of the bass? How confusing. It was good despite the videotaping that seems to be taking over hipster shows. Is it some kind of indie-folk-stage porn? It isn’t uncommon to see people videotaping live shows, but it is strange to see an old school video-camera (a la vintage typewriter) held by some little guy without shoes on. Also there was shushing. People actually sushed during the show. Wouldn’t it seem that a shush could be louder than hipster-mumble-judging? Wouldn’t it maybe irritate the band to perform to an audience that is relentlessly shushing? Let’s not do that, concert-shushing. Perhaps the ski-pants should be reconsidered as well.

Dog Talk and Other Trivial Things In Which I Find Myself Participating

2008-12-07T11:09:00.000-08:00

Small Talk. Just the phrase gives me anxiety. The blatant waste of time, intelligence, and self dignity just to feel more comfortable near the person you're stuck with in the elevator, neighboring bathroom stall, on line at the drug store, etc. Perhaps you've experienced the bountiful joy of working in retail or hosting at a restaurant where you are paid to spend six hours engaging in and striking up small talk.

Some of my favorites:

Dog Talk--So you have a dog. I don't, but I'm aware of dogs. I know enough to get by in the conversation. Because actually, this isn't really a conversation at all. You are talking at me about your rhodesian-pug-poo's latest romp through the neighbor's trash. Not cute, not funny, this conversation is officially utterly boring. Even though I've, for some reason, felt the need to bring up my childhood dog and continue marinating in the ennui of this conversation. Ed did this, Ed did that, Ed's the best. "Who's Ed?" I ask...oh, it's your dog, again, you're talking about your dog. Please let me go. (Also applies to people who revert to baby talk when speaking of or at their cat, hamster, or parrot, ARR!)

The Weather--Wait. I'm not blind! I can SEE! For the love of God, the world is clear! So approaching me with, 'beautiful day out yeah?' is almost grounds for a fist-fight. Perhaps I were blind. Perhaps I am colorblind and the sky always looks gray. I could be a manic-depressive who dwells in storms and lightning strikes. Thus making this 'beautiful day,' ugly to me or the same as every other day. Do you need clarification? Are you unsure if the day's beautiful? Is it sort of but not really? Are you longing for some sort of common human bond based on the weather outside? Well, to get out of this, I have to say yes, despite what I think because apparently you've failed to recognize the alternatives. Oh, it's supposed to rain tomorrow? What are you, some kind of Weather Channel Robot? Did you memorize the 7-day forecast so you can talk confidently to random people? Am I supposed to go, "Oh really? That's too bad," Is it bad? Is it? It's the weather and it changes and there's nothing you can do about it. Quit acting like you created this glorious day for all of us, you bastard! Try a pick up game of baseball for a more productive sense of camaraderie with your fellow man.

I really like that! Thanks. Although, I say this too sometimes. I say it when I really don't like something as well. Because it is socially unacceptable to say 'Good GOD! What the fuck are you wearing?!' I'll smile and say 'Wow, I really like your pants,' because I have to say something about them, I just can't keep quiet on the matter. But suppose you really do like that hat, scarf, balaclava, fake tooth. Your smug smile after announcing it shows that perhaps that was your charitable act of the day. At home, you will, before drifting off to a saintly sleep, congratulate yourself on being so selfless, so nice to that clerk at the new age store. You're just great. Keep it up. Oh, and then there's the people who make a whole big to-do about the thing. You like that! You have something just like that! Your grandmother gave it to you right before she rocked back too hard in her rocking chair and feel out her 3rd story bay window! Your grandmother was crazy! She was also a drunk! Maybe you're a drunk too! Maybe you need help! Maybe you should have stopped talking after "Here's your change, have a good day."

Politics. Ok, now wait. Small talk is supposed to be self-explanatory. It's talk about small, insignificant things. Who said you could talk politics to me while waiting for the bus? Why would you think I care? Please don't show me your Obama tattoo. Did you just tell me a statistic? Are you quoting things? Now wait. Wait just a minute. What do you do again? You work at TCBY? The fro-yo store that went out of business three years ago? You're high on PCP? Ok Mr-I-read-half-a-Wikipedia-article-on-Obama-and-now-I'm-more-educated-than-you. Just because you know about the same amount as our politicians doesn't exactly make you one. Let me off of your crazy-train of political misunderstandings. This is a bus-stop, after all. (Also applies to issues of religion, race, sexual orientation, abortion, or anything that you could get you potentially killed, or at the very least stabbed with the refill of a mechanical pencil, at any given intersection in Santa Ana.

Where are you from? Sensing an accent are we? Picking up a little telepathy of snow and hailstorms? Alaska maybe? The Arctic? BOSTON! Ah, you were close. Well, you have a fourth cousin who lives in Boston. Surely this random person knows him. What's his name again? Something McDonald. McDonald! Know anyone with the last name McDonald? Oh, well you're worthless to me. Unless I can remember anyone I've ever met being from Boston. First and last names would be a great help. Scottie? Was there a Scottie? SCOTTIE DOUGLAS! You just yelled that at the poor woman, but who cares! She could know someone you know! Wouldn't that be INSANE?! No, she doesn't know him. Who is this stupid bitch and why doesn't she know anyone from Boston? Wait, wait! You went there once. Yes, yes, you were three and a half and your mother got you frozen yogurt...if only you could remember the street? That frozen yogurt place by that statue? Kind of by the highway? There was a school nearby and dogs...she, naturally doesn't know (this woman is a moron). She starts guessing....no, no, wait a minute. That sounds right! That must be the frozen yogurt place! And if not, you feel better making some sort of connection with this poor woman who will say anything to get you to stop badgering her. Her finger is poised in her coat pocket ready to dial 9. Dude, you're a psycho; Boston isn't an Amish village with a pop. of 48.

Did you See American Idol Last Night? No. Actually, I'm a junkie and I sold my television some four months ago for dope. Or I live in poverty. Or I'm not a complete moron. Or I don't care what judge was drunk and who's an asshole and why you think it's so amazing that YOU have the power to CHOOSE America's next CELEBRITY! Newsflash; buy an mp3 of a song you like. It is ultimately the same thing, without the voluntary loss of your brain cells or the staggeringly expensive phone bill with all of those text update on what dumb-fuck-pinstripe-beret-wearing-girl-voice-loser is doing backstage RIGHT NOW! Or at least, don't drag me into it. I try hard enough to avoid that show.

Wait, I now have to urge to gauge out my eyeballs with a computer key (which seems both difficult and enticing). How about talking about something interesting? Have nothing interesting to say? Well then how about keeping your mouth shut instead of contributing to the intelligent decline of humanity.

Awkward Memoirs Make Great Gifts!

2008-12-06T18:31:00.000-08:00

I signed on here to post something about horrible Christmas songs and I was warmed to see someone had beat me to it. There should be, I believe, a world-wide Christmas music burning, along with; the drowning of carolers; the strangling of Salvation Army bell-ringer (I know that sounds horrible, but your stupid bell does not make me more charitable); and the snowball-pelting of old women wearing embroidered Santa Claus sweaters on December 6.

But alas, I'd rather not get hot and bothered about the ridiculousness of Christmas traditions. Instead, I've decided to delve into the frightening world of memoirs. I work at a bookstore and our biography section is quite popular. Perusing the shelves today for some man who "wanted a biography about someone from history" (very specific), I was surprised to find the talentless protagonists of these vain homages to self. Here's a list of some 'riveting' memoirs lining the shelves:

Alec Baldwin: A Promise to Ourselves; A Journey through Fatherhood and Divorce.
Ok. Now I'm assuming this 'promise' is not sobriety. What it is, quite fankly, I care not to know. Tips on fatherhood and divorce by Alec Baldwin....I'm sorry, I can't even comment seriously. Please do not give this book to any one with active reproductive organs.

Life with my Sister Madonna by Christopher Ciccone.
Who knew Madonna even had a brother? Who knew anyone would care?

Split: A Memoir of Divorce by Suzanne Finnamore.
Be sure to check out her next book; Memoirs of Fights with My Bastard Husband and Other Such Unenjoyable Parts of My Life. Can't wait!

Thin is the New Happy by Valerie Frankel
FINALLY. A positive book for women, can't wait.

Artie Lange: Too fat to fish by Artie Lange
Ok, so the Howard Stern show has that funny, unbridled misogynistic charm. Why? Uh, because of Howard Stern. Not that his lackies don't compliment the hilarious sexual harrassment of those witless, deranged girls fresh off the surgery table. But does this warrant a book? Do you like the Howard Stern show so much you want to read 'Artie's' memoir? MadTV had its moments, and so did...uh, what were those great movies he was in again? Don't forget the inscription on the back cover, "I'll explain this homo bullshit in Book Two," Homophobic and misogynistic--a bargain!

Maureen McCormick: Here's The Story; Surviving Marcia Brady and Finding My True Voice.
What.

Accidentally on Purpose: A One-Night Stand, my Unplanned Parenthood, and Loving the Best Mistake I Ever Made by Mary F. Pols
Mistake, eh? It's going to be hard to turn that around when she's fourteen. Save the royalties for therapy and ketamine, she'll need plenty of both.

Lynne Spears: Through the Storm
They ditched the title Lynne Spears: Through My Daughter's Wallet, I've Successfully Bribed Someone Into Publishing This 'Book.'

sTori Telling by Tori Spelling
I just sold one, I swear. And to a customer who asked about Tori Spelling's "new book. " Only book. Rest assured; there is only one.

Well Enough Alone: A Cultural History of My Hypochondria by Jennifer Traig.
Doesn't sound irritating at all. Destroyed by the blatant exasperation of her friends and family, she turns to the public to ask, "Do you think I have...?" A must read for sure.

Undiscovered by Debra Winger
Remember Debra Winger?! Wait, me either. Apparently (from the blurb on the inside flap)she is an "Oscar-caliber" performer who wasn't exactly the 'cool-kid' in the acting world. The flap continues, "As this beguiling book reveals, Winger is that rare star who dared to resist the all-consuming industry that is Hollywood becoming her entire reason for being." Despite the horrendous use of grammar in that sentence, it seems that, in the end, Debra Winger would (ironically) publish a tell-all called "Undiscovered" in a last-ditch effort to...um...be discovered. Yawn.

There are so many more, but as the list goes on, so does my dispair for society and not to mention, the trees that could've been used for much more productive things (toilet paper? tissues? those litter-enducing flier hand-outs at music festival exits?)

Deck The Halls With My Disapproval

2008-12-05T18:53:00.000-08:00

I know Christmas isn’t for another twenty days but I just can’t wait to listen to those good old traditional Christmas jingles I've been hearing for over twenty years now, so do you think we could all start playing them right now? In fact, I think we should all play Christmas songs as soon as Thanksgiving is over because I never know what to listen to repeatedly between Thanksgiving and Christmas. So... Is this what most people are thinking? No, seriously, I don’t understand why the Christmas music has already begun. It’s annoying enough to have to listen to these ridiculous songs that don’t make sense on the day of, but why does America start playing Christmas music so early? I know they bring back those sweet childhood memories of your mom screaming at your dad about where the tree should go and you’re dad telling her to shut the fuck up before they got that divorce, but these songs are really annoying. I mean, if someone wrote one of these songs today I think the record producer might slap them across the face just for making them listen to it. First we've got this reindeer named Rudolph, who’s got this huge shiny-ass red nose and everyone hates him and makes fun of him for it. And you know what? Santa doesn’t really seem to give a shit. We all know that he knows everything that goes on at the North Pole, so why doesn’t he stop this torment earlier? It’s probably because he’s making fun of Rudolph along with the other reindeer. Yeah, so everyone hates on Rudolph until he’s actually needed because no one can see on that foggy Christmas Eve. And they all try to act like nothing ever happened and Rudolph gladly accepts Santa’s request and guides the sleigh. Can you say pushover? What sort of a message is this for kids? If I were Rudolph I’d be pretty pissed off. I wouldn’t want to drive that sleigh. I’d tell Santa to go buy a fucking flashlight. And what’s the deal with Santa? He sees you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake? This is pretty fucking creepy, is he a stalker or something? Does he use his army of midget elves to spy on everyone in their homes? I don’t know how I feel about knowing that some old fat dude can see me every second of the day. Should I get some sort of harassment suit or restraining order?

And then there’s the twelve days of Christmas song. Not only do you have to keep repeating the song over and over in case you weren’t annoyed the first eleven times, but have you ever actually thought about these gifts? Seriously, these are actually the worst presents ever. You’ve got a partridge, two turtledoves, three French hens, four calling birds. What’s with all the birds? Do you think you could switch up the gifts, I’ve got all this bird shit on my carpet and these birds are going crazy in my tiny apartment? But no, there just aren't enough birds apparently. Next you get six geese a laying. So now I have to pick up all these eggs along with the bird droppings? Do I look like a fucking farmer to you? Apparently so because now I get seven swans a swimming. Swimming where? In my tiny bathtub? I think not. And as soon as you get used to all the damn birds, eight maids milking cows waltz in. I’m sorry, I don’t need any more milk, I got some at the grocery store and this isn't a dairy farm. But no one is listening to you because immediately nine ladies dance into your house uninvited at this point with about thirty dudes banging drums and piping (who pipes now-a-days?) and the police are knocking on your door because of all the noise complaints. They probably think you’re hosting some sort of illegal cockfighting tournament in your apartment, but instead they see all these birds and weird ladies dancing to horrible banging and they decide not to ask any questions and leave because they probably want to forget they ever saw this ridiculous Christmas spectacle that has forced itself into your apartment through your stereo. Can our generation please start some sort of new Christmas tradition? Or can we at least replace the old songs with new ones? I mean how many times do you want to have to sing "all I want for Christmas are my two front teeth?" I've had mine for about fifteen years now and I'm not a redneck or a meth addict so I think I'll be keeping them for quite a while. This song really only applies to a small group of children.

The Awkward Poetry Corner

2008-11-25T13:57:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time I bought a bottle of Jack
And when I opened it a tiny man jumped out
He said his name was Gary
And he had been held prisoner in this very bottle
By and evil old hag
Who cast a spell on him in a land where wishes are worthwhile
He told me I had set him free
And he would grant me one wish
So I told him I wanted a new bottle
But he said he couldn’t do that
So I left him and walked back to the liquor store
Cursing the Brothers Grimm for creating fairy tales

Another Awkward Co Op Experience

2008-11-24T23:52:00.000-08:00

Jonpaul is the house pervert. He is a small pudgy man who looks somewhat like an anemic mouse. He basically ignores all the men who live here and talks to all the girls like children. But as a girl you can tell that while he’s talking to you like a child he’s looking at you like he’s wondering what color your nipples are. He wore a mask at the last party our house had and took pictures of girls dancing all night. I forgot to mention that he’s about 40 years old and he has a really annoying child that he brings over the house all the time and it’s really awkward because you’re trying to drink your beer and say those inappropriate things that 20 year olds say and there’s this little girl in a tinker bell dress using all the house’s TV space to save episodes of Blues Clues and asking you how you hold your top on when there’s no straps on it. This is a house for people in their 20’s; it is a sanctuary for those who do not plan on having children right now and most likely feel really uncomfortable around them.

Our house is having this meeting; we do it every two weeks where we vote on silly things and bring up issues like who doesn’t flush the toilet or close the lid on the sugar. The bulimic girl just butted in when someone commented on the bathroom downstairs needing to be flushed. She didn’t seem to realize we were all talking about her. It’s disgusting when you go down there and find pasta in the toilet and cereal in the trash bin all releasing that barf aroma. It’s not how I like to start my mornings.

I peer across the room. Jon Paul is looking around the room like a predator. He stalks all the girls with the slits that are his eyes as he shovels spoonfuls of what looks like baby food or apple-sauce into his creepy face with baby hands. Yes, he has very tiny hands, similar in size and color to that of a baby’s. Some gay dude is going on about getting a subscription to entertainment weekly. I can’t understand what he’s saying because when someone talks with a gay accent I lose focus. There’s something about that high-pitched jabber that refuses to enter my ears. I’m not a homophobe. I just have trouble distinguishing the words over the fast paced banter. My roommate from India is sitting across from me. I secretly resent her because she constantly eats Indian food in our room making the room smell permanently like fart. When I’m alone in my room I always fear some hot guy is going to knock on my door and when I open it and they get a whiff of the room they will think I’ve been farting in their all day.

Jon Paul seductively shoots his hand into the air to show how strongly he agrees with some stupid issue I wasn’t paying attention to. He eyes me; I look away. He thinks we’re playing a game of eye fuck tag. I think I want to stand up in the middle of the meeting and call him a fucking creeper. Alas, this game will continue, but only in his mind.

The food steward just announced that they messed up the ordering of our food yet again. Everyone gets on her case. It’s a little vicious. The bulimic girl is ripping her a new asshole. Maybe there’d be enough food if you stopped eating it all and throwing it up. I won’t say that out loud but I’m sure that’s what the whole house is thinking. I look around the room. Everyone looks bored as shit. I look over all the strange and peculiar people that live here. There’s Santiago. He goes OCD on all the house chores, spending double the time. He never talks but sort or walks in robotic strides with his head down. He always has this backpack on that is so large I believe it holds the secrets to the universe. He carries the world on his back to and from wherever he goes; no one knows, but then again no one asks. He keeps to himself but he’s usually around. Then there’s Pat. I think he has Aspergers or some mild form of Autism. Once when my friend John tried to smoke weed in the basement, Pat attacked him. John said, “What the fuck, why would you do that?!” and Pat replied “because I hate myself”. He’s incredibly awkward, but in that way where even awkward people like myself feel uncomfortable around him. He’s definitely not from this planet. And it’s not in that, “oh you’re from this place and you’re into these hobbies and I just don’t get it, we’re so different” kinda way. It’s “whoa, I have no idea what you’re thinking right now your eyes are blanks” sorta way. Wow, the bulimic girls is still yelling at the food stewards. She’s so fucking angry about the food. You can almost tell she has an eating disorder because nobody cares this much about the meals. I really don’t give a shit about this. I’m only here because the house is angry that my stupid friend Jeff keeps eating here for free and they want to talk about it at this meeting. Jeff decided not to show up at the last minute so I have to speak on his behalf even though I’m not the one who always invites him over. The house president is making this an issue the house will have to vote on. She creeps me out because she’s super religious and looks exactly like me. People for a while didn’t even know we were two different people, like it was some weird doppelganger shit where half the time we seemed like a responsible Christian house president and then the other half of the time we were an awkward freak show. People probably thought we were severely bipolar or something. We’re supposed to talk about making a mural somewhere in the house. The house decides they like the idea of a Dr. Seuss mural above the kitchen. Great, now I can throw up when I stumble into the kitchen all hung over and have to look at some gay nursery picture. I mean we just discussed how annoying this guy’s kid is and now we’re turning our kitchen into a sanctuary for children. It’s such a Co Opy idea. Look at us, we’re funny and quirky, creative and we think outside the box. Well the Co Op is a box in its own way. It’s predictable. It’s members are of a few general types of hippies and nerds and we do annoying group activities. That’s a box. A group of 8 including myself protest the decision and call a recount. We lose. There’s going to be yet another lame symbol of cooperation to look at every morning when I’m most bitter about the world.

Finally we’ve reached the last topic of discussion. Jonpaul is asked to leave, indicating this is some issue that involves him and as a rule you can’t be in the room when the “council” is discussing you. After he has left, all the girls begin to talk about how he is a pervert and makes everyone uncomfortable. Most of the guys don’t like him because he’s a creepy asshole so as a house we vote that he can’t come back to live here next year. The house president tells him when he returns into the room. He seems to take it pretty well. Something in his face reminds me that he’s human and I actually feel bad that we all did this to him as a group. I don’t know why because he is such an annoying pervert, but it’s not like he was a bad person. I guess the world is a cruel place sometimes.

This News Really Shouldn't Be Breaking

2008-11-24T23:25:00.000-08:00

Do you know that annoying electronic band Justice who uses burning crosses as a form of identification? This really awkward friend of mine who's obsessed with conspiracy theories mentioned that they're totally Daft Punk in disguise. They tossed the motorcycle costumes and donned trendy outfits in their new project; to infiltrate the hipster mainstream scene and pass off as 20-year-olds in their 30's. I looked up pictures of both groups on the Internet and they really are the same people. Why hasn't anyone else noticed this obvious connection? Daft Punk is popular as fuck, you'd think some die hard fan would have spoiled this "secret" already. That is, if it actually is a "secret". I mean, is it really a "secret" or is it a conspiracy? It's a bit ridiculous how obvious this "secret" is when you look at the pictures. There are articles from notable magazines that discuss how the "new band" Justice has replaced Daft Punk, and Wikipedia mentions no relationship between the two bands. Is everyone really this blind in an age were people's pictures and information are way too easily accessible for comfort? I mean, I know they've been wearing motorcycle gear for the past few years so nobody knows how they've aged, but it's definitely Daft Punk plus about eight years. It must be some sort of French conspiracy, it's the only way I can make sense of this information slipping under the radar.

Breaking News, shitting in a CO OP is really fucking awkward

2008-10-22T22:36:00.000-07:00

Yes, it is 1:37 AM and I am sitting in the lounge of Truth, this Cooperative living house I reside in. It's kinda like applied socialism so you'd expect us all to be hippies and everything should just be chill, dude. Well, it's not. I haven't "gone to the bathroom" in about a week now. Communal living means communal restrooms and I know that most of the guys that live here have never heard a girl take a shit and I'm not about to be the one to give them that sick dose of reality. So I'm sitting here trying to decide which of the two private bathrooms to use. There's the one that exists right out in the entrance hallway, but this, my friend, is it's main flaw. For, when I make my grand exit everyone will be able to tell that I just shat, which defeats the purpose if you are trying to poop ninja-style. Then there's the bathroom in the basement. I would have already used this bathroom but there is this bulimic girl in our house who sort of unoffically claimed it. Every time you walk down there you can find last nights leftovers, or maybe some regurgitated cereal in the trash bin. Either way, it makes me feel like I'm shitting in the bathroom of a dingy, disgusting pub for alcoholics.

It doesn't matter, I can hold on for one more day. But seriously, home is where you can sit down to take a shit with out being judged. And the people that live here do a lot of that. There's also this really awkward Co-Op bathroom culture which I refuse to be a part of. I noticed it when I went to pee and happened across a fellow shitter in the middle of his business. I know this because the bathroom smelled and the person in the stall next to me became completely silent. It seems that if you are going to go "number 2" you hold off if someone else comes into the bathroom, even if you are in the middle of it. You wait for them to leave and then you continue. The consideration on the part of the pooper is returned by their stall-mate who will leave and not try to find out who was shitting next to them. Therefore everyone can poop in anonymity. Well, I refuse to be a part of this because I know that if this situation happened to me I would end up with that nosy kid who would wait outside to see who the pooper was, just out of sheer curiousity. When they discover my secret identity our relationship will be changed forever. It will be weeks before we could even make eye contact. Therefore I will continue to wait until tomorrow when I can use a public restroom in a place where nobody knows me.

Awkward Existential Crisis

2008-10-12T10:09:00.000-07:00

I wish I could scream and break everything in the the material world. I’m sick of having to placate this internal, spiritual part of me with material things. I’m so frustrated and defeated but what is kicking a wall going to do? Or breaking a computer? These are two separate entities we’re talking about. The material and spiritual world are two different things but we deal with one through the other. I feel empty so I break a lamp, but what is that really doing for my spirit? I wish I could slip across to the other side and deal with these feelings that I know have nothing to do with all the things around me. I know because nothing around me satisfies that hunger. I’m so fucking famished. But there’s no food. At least, not the kind that would fill me for more than an hour or two. I need to see things on the other side, I want to step across. I just need to find the signs. I don’t want to become a drone. I don’t want to become addicted to Time, becuase I’m so very terrified of it. It’s chasing me around and I can’t grab it, touch it, see it, feel it, I just know it’s there, stalking me. And I feel so helpless, because it doesn’t want to get me. It has no emotions, it’s just going to consume me. So I do crazy things to try and forget that time is there, with its empty arms stretched out, sucking the life out of me, but also putting some back in, but slowly sucking more out than it puts back, until I reach that day when it will take me away and lay me down, and fill me. Will I feel whole? I hope so. Let’s face it, Time is going to be the best fuck of my life. It will leave me breathless.

Start Mixing Your Fake Blood; It's Coming...

2008-10-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

Ok, so Halloween's right around the corner. Pumpkins are for sale, costumes are being sold, Halloween II is all rented out at Blockbuster. So why is Halloween so awkward?

1.) Screaming at the top of your lungs when the electric pumpkin says 'ahahaha!' is, well embarrassing if you aren't under the age of three. Especially if it sounds like you may be getting attacked. Or if you're a girl who can scream at an adult decible now and hasn't realized it. If your scream scares other people more than the thing you're screaming at, you might be a candidate. Beware.

2.) Costumes are especially limited if you are eighteen and over. No longer acceptable: fairies, ghosts, M&Ms, princesses. You could always settle on the staggeringly cliche costumes of being a witch if you're a female and something resembling Tarzan if you're a man. Otherwise, the more elaborate the better. However, let's say one goes overboard--overboard includes any sewing you are doing, a costume that costs more than your monthly health insurance bill, or anything with decadent body paint. If you tend to choose costumes like these, beware, it is a tad bit awkward that you are so excited for a holiday geared towards little kids that you're willing to compete with them despite the fact that you're thirty and well, it isn't much of a competition with anything when there's that big of an age gap. Chill out and have a beer, all that face paint'll smear anyway after your eighth turn at the beer bong.

3.) You're really going to go Trick or Treating? It's great motivation to imagine all the candy you could get now that you're twenty. You have all sorts of new schemes to get certain houses to give you double the snickers bars, but to actually go through with it? Hmm. There's nothing more awkward than opening your door for the hundredth time to tell the little snot nosed kids that your lights off for a reason and finding a fat man with a beer belly, shoddily covered with a dirty sheet moaning 'ooooooooo'. At this age, you will never be a ghost, you have dressed up, regardless fo your intention, as a creep. You know CVS sells candy really cheap during Halloween? Save everyone the pity they'll surely have for you and buy a big 'ol bag of mini chocolates. You can still wear the cape if you want, in the privacy of your own home (please).

4.) Scaring someone to the point of restraining order may signal a more severe deep seeded mental affliction. I had the pleasure of going to Knott's Scary Farm this past week and despite the embarrassment I now feel for how scared I actually was, it was generally fun. However, there were a few times when the fun turned into early signs of an ensuing panic attack. Whenever the process of holy-shit-did-he-just-say-that-I-forgot-my-Mace comes into your head, you've been scared beyond an appropriate amount. The 'Scaries' who walk around the amusement park take their job a little too seriously. Not satisfied with a meager scream and a laugh, there were Goblins who came up to your ear saying 'Aren't I pretty enough for you?' and 'Do you want to die?' and the surprisingly frightening, 'Bitch, I'm going to kill you,' This is the kind of scary that ends with chalk outlines and police-tape. If you get the urge to scare others in this way, mayabe it's for the best that you sit this year out and have a little one-on-one with the Therapist.

5.) Carving pumpkins. There's a strange book out right now called Extreme Pumpkins. The title is fitting. Some guy has carved pumpkins into intricate designs. There's the radioactive pumpkin, equipped with broken glow sticks, the crime-scene pumpkin sporting an exit wound to the side of its gourd and even a pumpkin destroyer who has been menacingly propped up with sticks to give the impression that this pumpkin will fuck your pumpkins up. While my coworkers asked in awe, "How does he do that?!" the more appropriate question may be "But why?" Not only do the pumpkins look impossible to replicate, but the book is basically a how-to guide so you can make your own. If you have this much time to spend on carving pumpkins that will get smashed, rot, and go out of style in exactly three weeks, maybe you should start that novel you're always telling everyone you'll write. At least then you'll have something to show for those two weeks than some pumpkin pulp and cuts from the carver.

Coming Soon: Awkward, Mockward: Halloween Edition. Equipped with costumes and traditional (and some not so traditional) Halloween festivities. Awk-on.

A Poem About Babies

2008-10-01T22:10:00.000-07:00

Oh God, no, please no
don't ask me to hold the baby
I don't want your baby
you're all watching me
you want to see if I'll succeed
with this baby test drive
why don't you ask Uncle Victor to hold the baby?
Yeah, that fat dude without a shirt on
eating that burger and drinking that can of beer
God, I want to be that guy
no one ever asks him to hold the baby
damn family reunions

How About Those Old Folks...?

2008-08-20T17:26:00.000-07:00

Ah old people. They conjure to mind black and white photos, Goldbond itch powder and dentures...also, smells of soap, disinfectant and moth balls. At first thought, it would seem that geriatrics are quite possibly the most awkward of all age demographics. 8ut upon closer inspection, do the geezers have us all fooled? Onward Awkward investigates...

So today, I was grabbing brunch at a diner frequented by the more senile set. Glasses and walkers, dentures in cups of yellowing icewater (gross?) and silver blue tinted tresses dominated the scenery that lingered inches on top of cholesterol packed hashbrowns and concrete pancakes (which are apparently now referred to as hotcakes, which seems slightly redundant, but whatevs). Anyway, these two old guys grumpily ordered and their meal arrived within minutes while we sat, young and fully-toothed, waiting...and waiting...and waiting. Their order was fast, but not quite fast enough for the two old-timers who muttered bitter nothings and groggled death rattles from some dark mucus addled chamber within. Instead of the waitresses annoyed eyerolls that I've grown expectant of, the old folks received a sincere apology and an inquiry about the state of their french fries. Are they done well enough? The waitress asked fretfully. They both prodded their once-at-some-point potatoes wiyh gnarled fingers and grumbled yes. Their fries had been fried to perfection. The color of their french fries was mouthwatering and I grew envious as I watched them slowly eat a sixteenth of these impeccably produced frites. You could just tell these fries are just right...crispy on the outside, soft and warm within. Well what the fuck? Because they're old, the fryer at some dipshit 2 buck plate diner gets used properly? While the rest of us suffer for wilted, green strings of insta-tots that taste more like the plastic bag they came in than the potato treats they should be? I smell injustice and canola oil.

And then I remembered a story an exboyfriend told me about his crazy grandmother. He explained that she would frequently steal items from pharmacies, speed (? I know) and make insanely inappropriate comments all under the guise of being 'a little old lady'. And it hit me that maybe old people aren't that awkward afterall. If you can excuse the pants-shitting and phlegm tissue wads, the HUHS? And the stories that, like the Lambchop theme song, are literally unending, old people don't have it so bad. We, as a society, just seem to assume they are and so give them these ridiculous exceptions to rules that would never fly when applied to someone under the age of 60.

And so I sat eyeing the men's golden fries, wondering why it looked like my hashbrowns were sprouting, I realized that's why people don't kill themselves at 50. You see, you don't really live until you've got the world convinced your frail and weak and dreadfully old. No, that's where the fun begins. When you can make the Norms waitress your bitch, steal those new padded tube socks from aisle six and piss off that tattooed, speed loving 16 year old couple behind you by driving 26 on the 405. So next time you're asked to do some assinine thing for an old person, scope out the request. You feel like a jackass for asking staff to get that hemeroid cream for some old dude who just asked u, remember he's just old, not Helen Keller. And now you've got two irritated assholes.

I'm sorry but you really need to clean up that poop

2008-08-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

Parks rules. I'm at home in New York City just kicking back and enjoying the silly trends and past times that this city offers. If you're a dog owner in New York you have probably heard of the dog parks, which are everywhere. They're similar to those places for human children, but used by the dogs of rich and childless workaholics in order for them to feel like parents but with out the extreme full time commitment. They're not actually playgrounds, but fields of dirt enclosed by fences because dogs don't understand invisible boundary lines.

So here I am, walking dogs for rich old ladies (it's good pay) and putting myself in the most awkward of situations. I mean, we all try to be these civilized people, wearing respectable clothes and bringing our dogs to this park to feel like we're a part of something special. Only a minute later, we're bending over to pick up our dog's shit with our hands which are only protected by a plastic bag. How dignified is that? I bet parents at the playground a block away don't have to apologize because their kid won't stop humping another kid in the middle of the park. But in the dog park everyone laughs. It's just animal nature they say. I sit next to a stranger and we both comment on how well our dogs seem to be getting along as they sniff and lick each other's nut sacks. A woman in the corner yells at her dog because he keeps eating another dogs' shit. Alas, a fight breaks out among the humans because one woman's dog took a dump and she hasn't cleaned it up. She claims she didn't notice it, but I think she did.

Cheesy Joke=Slow Painful Death, Motherfucker.

2008-08-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

I dunno what it is about cheesy jokes. I work at this bookstore and a coworker of mine uses the cheesiest, corniest jokes I have ever heard. After each transaction, he'll say would you like a complimentary bag with that? Or someone will say rhetorically, There are so many books in here! To which he'll reply, well, "please buy them up, there's no limit here!" And I just sit there, wanting to join in in the unsolicited comments and say "Wow. You're a complete jackass." Now what gets me about cheesy jokes is that there is no end in sight. What I mean is that it is still politically incorrect to groan at a cheesy joke when someone who you aren't accquainted with recites one. Every time this goober says one, which is often, the customer always smiles and laughs. And I want to scream in bewilderment "Why are you laughing! You know that wasn't funny! Why are you perpetuating this horrifically un-funny (yes un-funny) dufus of a man? Just as it is in good form to tell someone when they have spinach or whatever-the-fuck in their teeth, one should be informed when someone is saying something that lacks any substantial humor. Plus, it's super fucking awkward! Not only do I feel umcomfortable after the joke's been said because uh, it's not funny? but also, I want to tell the customers that it wasn't funny either. I want to tell the douchebag who told it t never speak again. I want to rewind the scene and put the video on YouTube with subtitles encouraging everyone to NEVER EVER DO AS THIS MAN DOES! So maybe instead of laughing at the movie theater ticket ripper next time he says, "Time to get a watch!" after you breathlessly ask him the time because you fear you may have missed the opening of a movie, don't laugh the moron on. Why even give him the satisfaction of pretending that his 'funny' anecdote is, in fact, funny? Speak the truth. Be a good citizen. Look him dead in the eye and say "That was the corniest shit ever man. That was the opposite of funny and now I'm in a bad mood." Then maybe there could (finally) be an end to the cheesy joke as we know it.

Moving and Hans' Hairy Pits

2008-08-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

So. The blog's been a bit stagnant recently. If I were to break down the cause of this problem into a percentage, I'd have to chalk this up to 98% laziness and 2% stress because I've moved. That's the great thing about this blog because all of a sudden, you've got cellophane wrapped around your face and a drawer just fell on your right foot and you're like "holy shit! This is completely fucking awkward! I can't wait to blog about this." Well, kind of. In all seriousness (or as serious as one can be here), moving really sucks. Let's see....it has been a blast waiting a day and half without food or water for a mattress that was scheduled to arrive yesterday during a 'one to five hour window' which ended up being an impromtu, makeshift episode of Urban Survivor where I forged for crumbs and ate popcorn kernels left behind by my mattress-endowed roomate and tried not to be phased by the mild hallucinations I was having thanks to the fresh paint job and heavy-duty cleaning supply stench that seems to occupy every new apartment. But starving and slightly high, I ended up smoking a half pack of cigarettes, pacing the lot of my tiny abode roughly 40+ times, and actually jumped for joy when the mattress men showed up (that sounds a bit off, huh? mattress men...) a few minutes ago . Anyway, the 'mattress men' showed up and there are two guys, one of which I've presumed is named Joe, and the other looks like, get this, an over-sized Kiebler elf. Ok, I know you're thinking wow, who the fuck cares about this story, everyone hates moving, get over it. Or: Yeah, moving's awful so why would I want to relive it through you're snarky little opinionated rant? But the whole point of this story is this overgrown Kiebler Elf. He is by far, hands down, the hairiest fucking person I have ever seen. His hair is the color of a new penny and it's insanely frizzy. But it isn't the hair on his head that's got me thrown. He has the hairiest pits I have ever seen. It looks as if he's about to give a noogie to two ginger, friz headed toddlers. We're talking Don King-like hair. I mean, his pits are so hairy he could smuggle a small child across some illicit border in there. A kilo of coke, his stash of steroids. I just can't look away. With a twitch of his mandarin mustache, he smiled over my cheap mattress and said, "I'm Hans." I swear the bush under his arms reached out at me a little. Anyway, if I turn up missing, send help and check the pits.

On Jam Band Concerts: Is there such a thing as too awkward?

2008-07-19T15:08:00.002-07:00

A few days ago, I had the wonderful experience of seeing Rusted Root, a band of which I was not very familiar with pre-concert. Yeah, I checked out their MySpace, heard that Matilda song, but I figured what the hell, a live show is a live show right?

Unless it's a jam band.
Unless everyone there is wearing khaki shorts or pants or pants too short to be pants and too long to be shorts.
Unless the median age is 35 and everyone smells like patchouli and scalp.
Like I said, unless it's a jam band.

I mean, this was just definition awkward. There was the white people dancing moves--you know, the snapping fingers-stiff legs-planted feet-saying 'yeah', 'yeah' with your eyes closed-twisting hip-less hips-rythymless kind of dance. Instead of a mosh pit, there was a 'circle of love'. And beyond all of this, there was a severe lack of personal space. What I mean is that when one enters a jam band show, you forfeit your right to boundaries. I learned this pretty quickly when this hippy bitch hopped up on sun-grown bud came up to me, grabbed my hand and tried to drag me into her cultish, circle of love deal. And when, of course, I recoiled as I would from a hot flame, she gave me the dissapointed hippy look. This look, cleverly crafted, says 'you negative asshole, you're the reason peace doesn't work.' And I must say as horrible and boring as the show was (I actually had to stop myself from lying down in the middle of the desolate floor--where I'd nearly been killed months before at a much more exciting, energetic, and comfortingly black-clad Adicts show--because the band's jam sessions just wouldn't fucking stop.) My friend and I were the 'negatives' dressed entirely in funeral colors (worse yet, one of us wore a Highway to Hell shirt and a gun necklace.) Why we had to stay to the end I'm not sure, maybe it was the fact that we'd spent money to be spiritually assualted by middle-aged NGOers on a weekend night; stoned off ganja brownies and patting us to "move a little, man." Anyway, I'm sure someone somewhere likes Rusted Root and their shows, but the whole time I just couldn't get over the awkward scene. It was on another level. It is officially the first thing I have deemed as too awkward--who knew there was such a thing...

Yeah, yeah, it's been a while...

2008-07-19T15:08:00.001-07:00

Sorry.

Hipster Olympics

2008-07-10T10:55:00.001-07:00

Which brings us to the more important question: What do you call the people who make fun of and poke fun at the awkward or mockward societal demographics? 'Kward Anthropology? In either event, this is awesome.

Dear Onward Awkward, Am I?

2008-06-27T16:57:00.001-07:00

We've received a few question regarding this whole awkward business. Specifically, we've had quite a few inquiries as to whether or not the individual in question was awkward or 'mockward'. So we've decided to start a new column devoted to determining how awkward you are. Here's this week's Q&A:

Q: I'm crying at Starbucks. Awkward or Mockward?

A: I have to say that crying is definitely awkward. However, crying at Starbucks is another case. Hmm, I'd go with mockward...but old-school mockward, circa 1996 perhaps? Dust off a Nirvana record, break out some flannel and reminisce over your now soggy Turkey Bacon sammy.

More Mockward? Cruise to an independent coffeehouse for a chai and let the crying commence after perusing the oh-so-touching 'spread of capitalism' article in the latest Adbusters.

More Awkward? Turn to the guy behind you, sob and fall into him, snotting on his shirt and taking a sip of his grande nonfat cappucino. Tell him, "it's just so good what they're doing for water in 3rd world countries" while hugging a bottle of unopened Ethos. Steal his cap and hum 'Time' to yourself on the way out.

...........................

Have a bizarre situation? Hit us up and we'll tell you how awkward/mockward it is, plus how to make it more so. E-mail us at onwardawkward@gmail.com Awk-on.

Awkward. Why?

2008-06-26T10:17:00.000-07:00

Here's a pointless list of things that are awkward for reasons unbeknown to us. Things that are awkward but maybe shouldn't be, if you really thought about it:

1.) Wearing the band shirt to a concert of the same band. Made famous by Jeremy Piven in PCU, wearing the same shirt of the band your seeing is not cool. Why? Because when you're going to see the Decemberists, you gotta wear a New Pornographer's shirt because if you're a true fan, you should act as if you aren't (damn Mockwardists.) As Piven so succinctly put it, "don't be that guy" even if you aren't quite sure who or what 'that guy' is and why you shouldn't be him.

2.) Crying. Alright, crying's always awkward. Have you ever seen someone pull up next to you on the road and they're bawling, like really, really sobbing? You just have to look away right? It actually bothers me. It kills the whole driving buzz, makes you think outside of yourself, and suddenly you're caught in a web of your own rhetoric thoughts. What the fuck is that lady crying about? Is it a song on the radio? Did she just get dumped, found out she had a terminal illness? Are you an asshole for being annoyed by her crying? And what is there to say about someone crying. Hugs offer minimal consolement and the whole tears-on-your-shoulder-thing is gross--especially if it's a snot combo. But it's natural right? I mean, some people can't help shedding tears. But fuck it makes me uncomfortable. Also, crying has been made mockward by the emo-music movement, cocaine come-downs, and lame hipsters on the verge of mental collapse at the LACMA. Mockward or Awkward, crying is inexplicably creep-inducing.

3.) Working Out. Wow, you look great! I mean right now. Because when I saw you running on the treadmill an hour ago, I hid. Not that I didn't enjoy your mock-hurtle-jumping-routine. Or your deep breathing sequences. I even kind of liked the swamp-ass you had going on. But wow, working out in public is awkward. There's the sweat, that skinny guy trying to lift 3x his weight, some guy stretching his quads while you try to figure out how to work the fly machine. As humans, we should be intrinsically exercising our bodies, staying fit, etc. But fuck, the process is humiliating. And the whole mockward spin on workout just isn't, um, working. If you're at a bar in SOMA drinking a Pabst tall boy while wearing spandex around your beer gut and a headband made of terry cloth, the effect is something a bit worse than mockward. Only a loser would want to look like they're working out when they aren't and so obviously haven't--ever. Sorry, Dan Deacon, no one's buying the whole "I just came from the cool LES/Krispy Creme Gym" look.

4.) Tap Dancing. C'mon. Admit it. You tried it out when you were, say, 8. You had a whole routine you practiced to "Put on a Happy Face." You had the shoes, the cane, a tophat from Capezio and you had some quick-paced feet. So why did that stop being so cool? At what age is it decided that tap-dancing will no longer suffice as a socially acceptable extracurricular activity? Who decided that jazz hands and metal soles lose their cool at such a young age. Tap Dancing is so awkward that the mockward set can't even comment. I mean they've got the roller-skates-in-the-street-shoes thing, but not yet taps on the toes. I guess, like diapers, tapping is reserved solely for the extremely juvenile or outrageously senile demographic.

5.) Phone Conversations with Family. You're friends are yelling at you to throw some more lines on the table, you're roomate's going on about her "outrageous orgasm" she had last night, you're boyfriend's on the phone with his dealer begging for "just one sack, man." And there you are, cupping the phone, horrified by the wildly inappropriate company you keep. Or maybe you're hung-over and your mom just asked you a billion questions about your future. There's your senile aunt, who you have to scream at while ordering a double-shot over ice at Starfucks, while smiling apologetically to the wigged-out barista. Or the mundane run-down of who you're dating, how work's going, and enthusiastically concurring that Dancing With the Stars really is a great, great show. No mockward equivalent here, unless you're Jack White and you may or may not be married to your sister.

About the Awkward Poll: Maybe the Fairy Tales Had an Effect on us...

2008-06-18T13:40:00.000-07:00

Ok, so people have asked us about the new poll. "How can fairy tales be awkward?" they say. Wait, how are fairy tales not awkward? Here's a run down of some childhood classics that have earned a spot on the good ol' Onward Awkward blog.

Rumpelstiltskin--Whoa, this fairy tale is weird. Check it out on Wikipedia. Basically, this chick is ordered by the King to turn straw into gold in three nights or be executed (and according to WikiP, some versions go so far as to explain that she'd be skewered and skinned like a pig, wow.) Anyway, impossible right? So of course, she can't. But this dwarf (and dwarfs are always awkward, no offense) is kind of like a dealer or a loan shark and says he'll help her in exchange for her necklace the first night, her ring the second night and then on the third she's run out of jewelery and prostitution's a little heavy for three year olds, so he says he'll help her in exchange for her first born child. So thus, gold is spun. And the King's so pimpressed (that was an unintentional typo, but it works) that he has this woman marry his son. Everything is fine until they actually have a baby and the dwarf returns for his 'payment' of one fresh child. So he strikes up yet another deal so that the Queen can keep her granddaughter, she must guess his name, and she does. Rumpelstiltskin gets so upset he stomps his foot and opens up a chasm into which he fall into. What the fuck. What is supposed to be learned from this? Dwarfs are pimps. And newborn children make good payment.

Little Red Riding Hood--Why is a little girl dressed all in red confusing her grandmother for a wolf? Granny's either a man or a hobbit. Again, little children are appetizing/unimportant.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs--Again with the dwarfs. And why do they all live together in some kind of hippie commune and Dopey was drunk, right? I mean he burped bubbles for fuck's sake. The lesson to be learned? Only a grown man can wake a pasty drug addict up from a coma. Or, seven little men do not equal the resuscitation abilities of one tall one.

Princess and the Pea--Wait, how many mattresses? Wasn't it like 20 or something? Someone will feel a pea under 20 mattresses? The pea, obviously would be smushed and would rot. Way to teach boys that girls are high maintenance whores. Or, that she'll be lying when she asks "is it in yet?".

Rapunzel--um...this story's pretty wild also. According to WikiP, this couple wants a child real bad, but they live next to a witch. And so the the woman longs for these flowers found on the witches' property. Loyal husband that he is, he crosses over the threshold to retrieve the frivolous token of his love. So he gets caught and his punishment is that his wife will get pregnant, but that once the child is born, she must surrender her kin to the witch. Child's born, named Rapunzel, is locked in a tower. The only way to get up to the tower is by letting her hair down from the only window which they would then climb up and into. So some prince overhears and does the same thing. She lets him up, he proposes, she agrees. They plan an escape--she weaves silk hidden in her hair into a ladder. But, because she's a silly girl, she accidentally tells the witch about it (why is he heavier than you? insert origin of dumb-blond stereotype.) And witch hauls the prince up and tells him that he will never see the freakishly-long-haired woman again. Despair! He jumps from the tower and blinds himself on the thorns below. Anyway, he wanders around the forest while Rapunzel has twins (little hussy, eh?) The prince again hears her and they leave the place to live--that's right--happily ever after. Wait so this is why long hair is kind of creepy. I thought it was all Cher's fault. Perhaps true love is blind, but being in love will actually make you blind. Premarital sex is so good, you'll climb a rope of human hair for it. But, if you don't want twins, be sure to sew yourself some silk condoms. Also, blind people wander through forests.

Awkward.

Awkward Can Be Appetizing

2008-06-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

Let's say you're not really that awkward. Maybe you're dating this really awkward guy/girl and you want to impress them by being that dorky-awkward-cool-guy/girl. So how do you do it? Well, here are the ingredients for an awkward moment:

!. Make sure to say something that no one will understand (maybe an obscure book reference, or a one hit wonder nuwave band from the 80's)
2. Say your weird thing at a really inappropriate time (like during someone else's childhood story, or while someone's on the phone, or right after someone's told a joke and everyone's still laughing)
3. AFter you say the weird thing, say nevermind when everyone looks at you or just say nothing. Try staring at the floor or a crack on a far off wall.
4. Explain nothing.
5. When people ask questions about the weird thing you just said, say "forget it" or "I don't know." Throw in a "nevermind" too.
6. When everyone's moved on from your odd outburst and is on tot eh next subject (or just trying to get over your social ineptitude), explain what you meant. Do it right in the middle of someone else's sentence.
7. Say something that could be considered "wildly innapropriate" (more on this subject soon), maybe talk abotu how you haven't had sex in a year or how you sometimes get off on old people porn. Whatever, you get it, something real out there (stay away from things too out there like beastiality and necrophilia). Cough after you've said it.
7. When everyone looks back over at you, shrug your shoulders and head for the bathroom.

Congratulations, you've just concocted yourself an awkward-moment cocktail. Shake, stir gently and serve over ice. Enjoy. (And don't blame us if you lose a couple friends/potential date, you're the one who has to follow instructions on how to be awkward--which, I guess is awkward in itself, so maybe this whole post was pointless. Maybe they all are. Um...yeah, bye.)

Awkward Tribute: Be Your Own Pet

2008-06-18T13:14:00.000-07:00

Because we're awkward and you probably are too if you're reading this, we've decided to hand out awkward awards. But, we've never really received awards for anything (actually no, that's not true...I think I got a manager award in high school for running Cross Country, but that was only because they were trying to ease the blow of firing me from the team because I'd go smoke bowls in the woods during those '6-mile warms-ups'. Back-handed award maybe, but an award none the less.) Anyway, we've got mild resentments against awards so we'll just call them awkward tributes. Basically, you get one if we like your awkwardness. So today, we're tributing Be Your Own Pet with their amazingly-titled second album, 'Get Awkward.' Fuck yeah. Also, that Kelly Affair song's pretty cool (and absolutely mockward.) Check it out.

Intrinsically Awkward

2008-06-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

Some things that are just awkward. You cannot talk your way out of these things, nor can you make them cool (or mockward). These things actually define awkward.

Losing your virginity. Drunk, high, or sober, it's just awkwardly quick if you're the guy and surreally dissapointing if you're the girl.
Getting your period/First wet dream. Ah, puberty. Both are gross and awkward to explain to your parents when the respective bodily fluids are present on your 12-year-old sheets.
Having to poop at inappropriate times. Like on a date, at work, or stuff in traffic (wear Depends)
Seizures. Drug-induce or biological, scary, period.
Boners. Dude, it's the eighty-year-old librarian, get a hold of yourself.
Talking to old people. You're yelling, making hand gestures, drinking beer out of coffee mugs and making elaborate facial expressions. You do realize you're doing this?
Talking to handicapped people. Ok, not in an offensive way. In the you're-trying-so-hard-not-to-look-at-the-dissability type way. Believe it or not, you're making the guy with no legs more uncomfortable, congratulations.
Buying drugs. You're asking for a slice of pizza, a piece of gum, a CD? You just want your fucking drugs and all the codewords are taking up the cellphone minutes you just sold your couch for.
Death. cricket, cricket...no explanation here.
Celebrities talking about politics. Sharon Stone get a hold of yourself.
Smelly feet. duh.
STDS. Whether it's in 8th grade health class or after last night's scary half-night stand, it's all pretty gross.
Child Actors When They're No Longer Children. Good God Daniel Bonaducci's unstable and midgetly-awkward looking.
Family Functions. Especially with crazy Aunt Irene who gets a little too close to naked after one too many at Grammy's.
Having An Offensive Friend. Yeah, you are the company you keep. "Those people" don't want to rob you....wait, no, now they do because you're ignorant BFF just got you "a cap in yo ass." (or at least, that's what he said)
Boundary-less Acquaintances. So you dropped your pen on the ground, not in my lap or down my shirt. Also, there's never really a "friendly" reason to touch inner thighs, creeper.
Overly Outgoing People. Whoa. Will you shut the fuck up? I'm not deaf and you're not that interesting.

It's Friday the FUCKIN 13th! (whoa, that was awkward...)

2008-06-13T19:30:00.000-07:00

So do you still get excited about Friday the 13th? Do ya, do ya? Well I do. Naturally, I bet i'll be stuffing my face with popcorn (speaking of which why are popcorn bags getting so much smaller? there's like two kernels a bag and it tastes like cardboard with ear wax topping, it's disgusting but I digress...) while I fevershly alternate the channels from Freddy to Jason. And actually, I didn't even realize what day it was until, like, 5 seconds ago. So I'm really psyched. This also brings me to another question. Why on earth doesn't Google have icon art for Friday the 13th? I half expected, when I checked Google five minutes ago, despite my having been to the search engine's homepage a bajillion times today (sorry, short term memory loss, I used to live in SF), I expected there to be...I dunno, like Wes Craven's knife-hand or something? perhaps Google spelled out in blood-drops? hell, even just a stupid little ghost or something. But no, of course not. Want to know why? Because Google's retarded. Because Google spends so much time trying to look smart with their Velasquez-holidays (wtf?) and documenting the obscure anniversary of some dude who invented the laser (who cares!), that have very little time for the things that matter like Friday the 13th and May Day. Screw you, Google, I notice.

Turns Out Not Having Friends Has an Up-Side if You're a Creep

2008-06-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to see The Strangers...solo. Alright, a lot of people see movies by themselves--especially if you happen to live in a booming metropolis. But these movies are usually artsy, or long, or so obscure you can't pay your friends enough money to tag along. However, it seems as though viewing a horror flick by yourself isn't as socially acceptable. This was evident by the fact that 3 out of 4 of the couples littered throughout the theater whisper-yelled; "is that girl here alone?!" And at first, naturally, I was slightly mortified. I even went through my bag to find a notebook to open as if I were a film reviewer. And I actually even said to myself, I write a blog! I'm doing research! But I wasn't. I was just bored and ditched by my friends. As the movie progressed, I realized that scary movies aren't that scary without people next to you. I laughed when some bitch got stabbed. I snickered when these masked freaks popped out of horribly obvious places (like the closet, the fornt door, a darkened window). And soon the couples began turning back and looking at me presumedly bewildered--presumedly because well, it was dark. But while the two people in front of me nearly severed their hands on each other's flies (jumping everytime a staged floorboard creaked, interrupting their heavy-petting matinee date--gross.) I sat there, in a dress mind-you, giggling like a creep. I became, in all essence, a part of the scary movie experience. Maybe I had even been the scariest part of the whole movie--that scary, creepy girl laughing like an idiot as two helpless movie victims get bludgeoned to death. Anyway, I suggest seeing a horror movie sans acquaintances. Nothing beats scaring boring yuppies on a random Thursday afternoon.

Awkward, Mockward: Summer Wear

2008-06-12T09:39:00.000-07:00

Awkward/Mockward

Thong swimsuits for men/short-short bathingsuit briefs for men (?)
XL-Disney spray-painted tank-top bathing suit cover ups/Mesh (why is this happening again?)
Corona-logoed string bikinis/American Apparel suspender bathing suits
Colored Zinc sunblock on nose/SPF 100
fake tans/pasty pale
Casino-logoed visors/'Blossom' hats (whoa.)
Tube Socks with long shorts/Those new shoes that came out with Kurt Cobain's fake blood on the tops of them (real classy)
Leather vests (uh, it's hot?)/Denim vests
TeVas/Jellies
Cowboy hats/Feathered Head-scarves.
Dock-Siders/Dock-Siders
Ponytail, if you're a man/Wearing a headband, if you're a man
goggles, flippers, or fins/fanny packs (yes, again, they're making quite a comeback)
Old lady dress-bathing suits/Those weird bathing suits with holes cut out of them that only look good on supermodels, and no one else. I mean, really. No one else.

Differentiating Awkward from Mockward

2008-06-11T21:58:00.000-07:00

So we've had more than a couple people ask us; "well which is better? Awkward or Mockward? And what the hell's the difference"? For clarification purposes, we've decided to explain these surprisingly vague terms. Ok, awkward can be good or bad. I mean, usually it's bad. Rollerblading is awkward. If you are a rollerblader, chances are you aren't the coolest guy on the block--and if you are, good for you because you must have some really great qualities to cancel-out the whole rollerbading bit. But mockward would be like wearing old-school 70s roller skates to a party pumping Elvis Costello (no pun intended) and serving PBR tallboys. So in terms of cool, mockward's where it's at. However, mockward can also be irritating and annoying, like what's her face from Juno or that horrible folk Kimya Dawson soundtrack that came with it. Awkward would be being an actual pregnant teen walking around an actual high school without having any actual emotions about it listening to actual Joann Newsom folk music. I think the lesson to be learned here is that like life, your relation to the awkward/mockward lists should be relatively balanced. If it's all on the mockward side, whatever: You're a wannabe with a sick Urban Outfitters wardrobe and maybe you really like Death Cab. But dare, you faux-weirdo you, to take a longer walk on the awkward side of life--the mountain man look might just suit that new tight, French-cuffed flannel shirt you copped over at Fred Segal's. And if it's all on the awkward side, I'm calling the cops. Awk-on.

What the Fuck.

2008-06-06T17:30:00.000-07:00

This is ridiculous. Is it boredom? Is there nothing to do over at Google headquarters? Does Google have a headquarters and if this is all they're doing there, why do they have a headquarters? This is just stupid. STUPID. Look at it. What. the. fuck.

(Velasquez, I'm sure, would be thrilled by Google's elaborate multi-colored, kindergarten finger-paint font colors. And the missing O is not clever, it's illegible...I didn't think it could get worse after the laser-logo. Congrats Google, it just did.)

...And So Are Amusement Parks...

2008-06-05T14:59:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I had the privilege to participate in one of America's favorite pastimes; a day at the amusement park. I hadn't realized just how strange and surreal amusement parks were before going as a 23-year-old. And if you haven't gone since that middle-school field-trip where you frenched Johnny behind the cotton candy-machine, I suggest you read this before attempting another go-around as an adult.

First, smoking has been drastically reduced. Not only are there designated smoking areas, but these areas are not the cool/gross fish-tank fume ovens that can be found in Dulles airport, these smoking areas are merely sad benches with blue paint rectangled around them, containing haggard tourists spitting phlegm at your feet. My suggestion: bring your own paint and wear a raincoat.

Then there's this whole FlashPass business, a $20 rip off that you can purchase in order to jump ahead in line. This may actually be worth it mind you because the average wait-time on a Tuesday is an hour per ride. I can only imagine what the weekend wait-time is. So as you sit in the infinite snaking lines where there is no smoking, profanity, or drinking, you watch these rich SOBS literally run to the front of the line, dropping cash out of their designer slack pockets on the way. It's quite unnerving and wildly unjust. Bring a schizophrenic friend to entertain you, because the hour and half line will not be 'worth it' after the 45 second ride (yes, even if the ride is equipped with hot flames.)

Speaking of hot flames...new rides boast EXTREMENESS. The X2, which we were told was the "best ride in the park" by a buck-toothed beaver-looking employee, ended up being a 2 and a half hour wait for a ride in which you actually thought you might die. Not in the fun I-kind-of-want-to-test-fate way, but in the -wait-they-spend-so-much-damn-time-trying-to-make-these- rides-look-cool-that-they-may-have-overlooked-safety- kind of fear. Yes, there were smoke and flames and mist, but it ended promptly after I prayed that I get off this ride before it kills me (though I could hardly hear my own life-pleas over the horrible Guns-N-Roses remix blasting from the "cool new speakers for an Xtreme sound experience!") I think the ride was actually 15 seconds. And as it ended, I wondered if it had, in fact, happened at all. The X2 should be called the FUCK YOU! for actually waiting 2 hours to ride it.

Also, the rides have gotten strangely sexual. By this, I mean that the positions people are put in to enjoy a little thrill are very, how do I say, explicit. This one ride, the Tatsu, actually puts people in the doggy-style position and while I enjoyed the ride, I had this sinking feeling that perhaps I was about to endure more of a thrill than I'd signed up for. Another ride had you flat on your back, with your legs splayed out spread-eagle style. For the secret exhibitionist: wear a dress? For everyone else: bring Mace and for the love of GOD wear shorts (see previous blog Shorts Are Scary for more info about the proper use of this garment.)

Also, everyone who works at an amusement park looks like a creature from the Amphibian exhibit at the San Diego Zoo. And the carnie dialect, I have learned, is quite possibly, more difficult to decipher than Greek. Also, fanny packs seem to be a requirement. What else...oh yeah, make sure you buy a cape, T-shirt, bottle-opener, jock-strap, etc. sporting the name of your favorite ride, it's all the rage. And Funnel cakes, it turns out are a rare delicacy--get yours early quick because it will be the longest line you stand in. There's nothing like the deep-fried, sugar-coated, fat ride to make you feel like a true American. Awk-on.

Awkward Activities?

2008-06-01T17:43:00.001-07:00

Ok it's a stretch right--it seems as though we've just started tagging 'awkward' before everything in order to have something to blog about. Well, if you haven't noticed, that's the premise of the blog, so get over it. As for awkward activities? We may or may not suggest any or all of these. Also, we do not not like doing these things.

1.) Mentalism. Yes, this is an actual activity. Check out the Mentalist's Handbook at booksense.com. Supposedly, if you meditate long enough, you can start visualizing gnomes and spirits like poltergeists (yeah, actually it does sound kind of cool.)

2.) Singles Hikes via Sierra Club.It's bad enough that you're one of those Sierra Club people (don't worry I am too, it'll be our little secret). But not only are you shelling out half your paycheck so that old, bored geriatric women can pick up the soggy pack of smokes you left in Laguna Beach while you went skinny-dippy last night, you now want to put yourself in a position to meet the next Unabomber. Singles hike? That's like wearing a shirt that says rape me while jogging in Central Park at 3 am. Scary. Scarier, they'll all have beards; look out for snotcicles on the early morning treks.

3.) Roller-Skating for the over 5 set. So have you been to a roller skating rink since middle school? Because it's frightening. Not only is everyone there under the age of 12, but they're all so much better than you. They'll skate backwards, in circles, on their heads. And you'll be the loser clutching the wall while keeping your toupee in place at the same time. Get out of the rink old man, you might throw your back out.

4.) Participating in Church-sponsored rock bands. Yes, you read that right. I met this guy at Starbucks and he said he was in a band. After piquing my interest he so generously let it down with, 'yeah it's sponsored by my church.' What? Does this actually exist? I've heard of Christian rock, but I had no idea it was an extracurricular activity for 30 year old baristas. Awkward.

5.) Bird Watching. If you own the Sibley Guide and can immitate more than one bird call, you can rest well tonight because you are definitely awkward. Birds have to be the least interesting animals that exist. And while you're strapping on your sun hat and dressing yourself in camo, please, just take a look in the mirror. The birds should be watching you, psycho.

6.) Knitting During Class. Is this a new craze? I majored in philosophy in college (once awkward, now mockward) and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why all the girls would whip out their knitting needles and start making blankets smack dab in the middle of Kant's Critique on Pure Reason. And not the lame I-made-cookies-for-the-class kind of girls, but the I-wear-big-boots-beacuse-I-don't-like-boys, feminist type girls. Feminist Knitting for some reason just doesn't sit right.

7.) Renaissance Festivals. Does this need to be explained? It's 2008. There's never an excuse to say 'ye' and 'art thou.' I don't care how many daisies and twigs you've got wrapped around your braids. Also, velvet in the summer smells like cooked squirrel.

8.) Touring Random Protests. It's awesome if you have a cause. Whether it be prison abolition (shameless plug) or legalizing marijuana, causes are a great way to express yourself and try to change injustices. BUT if you are just 'that protest guy' (you know who you are)--that guy who hits up every major cause, is at every freaking rally maybe only so he can feel better about his habitual pot smoking, you gotta quit. If you have a shirt that says Pro-Choice on one side and Young Republicans on the other, it's time to retire the sharpie and the spray paint.

9.) Scrap booking for the under 80 set. Grandmas scrap booking? Aw cute! 20-year-olds scrap booking? ...cricket, cricket... What are you doing? What memories are you even putting down there? Your 'shroom trip in Palm Beach? The date rape scare on the Upper East side? The Exotic Erotic Ball in San Francisco (God knows, I do not want to see the stickers for that) Save the serrated scissors for when you actually have nothing better to do and your memories are a little bit more G rated because you've got age-induced (not acid induced) dementia.

10.) Drum Circles. Really, they're awkward even if you are a hippie. I mean hippies can pull it off way more than the average Joe, but nothing is worse than having a nice picnic in the park (awkward or mockward?) and being interrupted by a homeless guy banging on a trashcan, a Trustifarian slamming on an African tribal drum and a business man jangling his keys, slapping his knee, dancing saying 'oh yeah'. Please. Stop. It's disturbing.

Awkward Date is an Oxymoron Like Jumbo Shrimp

2008-06-01T17:30:00.000-07:00

I think I'm just too awkward to date. Really. This guy comes into work today asking for a book on break-ups (yes, bad sign already, but still, he was hot.) And he's the lingering type--lingering stare, leaning on the counter, etc., etc. We have an awkward conversation about a multitude of things (various cities we've traveled to, books we've read, mountain biking? whoa, mockward.) And then, as I'm ringing him up and stepping abruptly back into the customer/merchant role-play, he asks for my number. I'm pretty sure a normal person, at this juncture, would flash a smile, say sure and get on with the day. Ah, but the curse of being awkward. I look at him as if someone just asked me the meaning of life and blurt out, "I don't know." And then I keep looking at him, trying to come up with something cool to say, but instead I tell him to read the book I've recommended and come back and tell me how it is. That's right, I've given him a homework assignment. Maybe if he actually comes back to tell me how it is, I'll have him write a little about the religious symbolism contained within Jesus' Son. Real romantic.

Holy Wow, That Was a Long Pause.

2008-06-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

So sorry we haven't been keeping up with the blog for the last week. I'd love to say that we'd been doing really fun things in honor of Memorial Day or some other asinine faux-patriotic holiday, but no, we're just lazy. Also, I'm reading House of Leaves and I have become stuck within Danielewski's strange, frightening, kind of mediocre-ly written world. But By-Prozac, we're back!! And like Metamucil, we're going to stay regular. Awk-On.

Awkward-ature: The Pornographer's Poem

2008-05-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

Ah, liberty. This book is hands down, impossible to put down for a slew of reasons. For one, the premise of the book is about some 7th graders who are given film instruction by a liberal teacher in the 70's. Sounds harmless, right? Except it's not at all. The narrator at the onset of the book is being interviewed by detectives for producing home-made porn. Awesome. This book is grotesque, sexual, explicit, amazing. It explores different sexualities, societal norms (for one the liberal teacher is black in an all-white public school and another teacher mentioned is an alleged child-molester who may or may not be an innocent homosexual.) The narrator of this book is extremely cool. Like, I kind of want to be him. He listens to awesome music, smokes a lot of pot, and dun-dun-dun--makes porn! Also, he fucks with the detectives a la Kevin Spacey in Usual Suspects. Dude, just read it. And talk about awkward--travelling with this guy (who never actually reveals his name) as he has sex for the first time, receives his first blow-job, has his first sam-sex hook up, and eventually tapes an older married couple having sex with an animal--sending him into a srot of seedy, avant-garde lifestyle of porn, drugs, and thugs. What what. A-mazing. Read, read, read. (Oh yeah, also hard to get...check out softskullpress.com) And as usual, check out some of the text that will literally fuck you up. First, background to paragraph--narrator is talking about rich kids in Vancouver.

"I sell them drugs because I enjoy the fact that these rich kids are getting all fucked up. And do you want to know something else? I've got a theory about this. I've got it in my head that if I get these rich kids all fucked up on drugs, then I'm doing humanity a service. D'ya know what I'm saying? Do you ever think about what a better world this might be if a whole generation of rich people got so fucked up on drugs they stopped spending all their time being greedy? And do you ever wonder how decent the world might be without all those rich people fucking things up? I mean, we could have a little equality for a change? Whaddaya think of that? Doesn't that sound good? Sounds pretty good to me. The rich are pimps as far as I'm concerned. And you already know my position on pimps."

What's not to love.

Awkward Survival: Saving Awkward Face. (Also Known As Lying.)

2008-05-25T16:27:00.000-07:00

Ok, ok. So we go on and on about awkward moments, movies, foods, laughs, etc. But maybe it's about time we had a post for how to be less awkward--that is, if you can help it. Like the DARE program, we're going to set up some awkward scenarios (about once a week, no promises) that you can hopefully bypass should they ever happen to you (And no, unfortunately we won't be bringing in the K-9s and the thinly granulated sugar that looks like coke for in-class demonstration. I know, I always thought the stuff was real, too.)

Awkward Scenario of the Week: Don't you know ANYTHING? (feigning intelligence)

Snarker: Of course, you've read Orwell's essays right? (condescending look)

You: (nervous, flushed, possible ball sweat) Um. Yeah (Of course, you haven't.)

Snarker: Really? Which ones? (skeptical)

You: (FUCK!) [pretend to struggle here remembering which ones] It was soo long ago. Like national...? (Only an idiot doesn't know who Orwell is, so go with what you know. State, government, writing would have also worked--and if something doesn't just feign can't-rememberance)

Snarker: (Can't hold back his snarking) Notes on Nationalism?! (pleased with himself for being so smart, maybe a little ticked that you are too.)

You: Yeah. (don't try to elaborate here. Maybe throw in a That's it! I knew it was national something, but do not try to pretend to know the content)

Snarker: I mean, he was so smart, all that stuff with Vietnam going on. He educated me, you know? And that was 50 years ago...(blah blah blah). [Just say yes and when snarker gets all worked up about something be like YEAH! as if you knew what the hell was going on. Check your watch--you're late!] Oh man, I'm so sorry I totally have to go _________. Let's talk about this tomorrow. [Go home and read the essay before tomorrow--look up key criticisms and metaphors on SparkNotes or something so you can Snark the Snarker. And now, just because you have read the essay, doesn't mean you can go and Snark to someone else. Instead of being an ashole, why don't you just recommend it to someone and give yourself a good pat on the back? Also, our gold-star stock is running low, apologies.]

Awkward Observations

2008-05-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

Wow...So I'm from New York City and I will not deny that people can be racist there. On the train, the street or in the bars I've overheard my fair share of racist comments. Sometimes people will laugh along (if everyone in the crowd is of the same racial profile which is almost never), but most of the time the people who overheard the comment will look at each other and say "Did he really just say that?" I feel like I can say that if I were to appear at a bar or a public place looking like I was from the KKK or the Aryan Brotherhood people would not be well receptive. In fact I would probably have to leave after getting numerous what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-this-is-2008 glances.

So I've recently moved to Orange County California believing that the west coast was this open-minded, ahead of their time, laid back utopia of surfers and spiritual organic bike riders. But alas! I have discovered a huge population of Neo-Nazi's that I assumed died out after the 90's. All I know about this culture is what I have learned from World War II history class and movies such as "American History X" and "Romper Stomper", and these movies did not glorify Nazi's but taught Americans (who should have already known) that we are all equal when it comes down to the core of it. We all want freedom, a job, a home, money, and companionship. So there's no need to kill each other over the small differences.

Apparently it has taken longer than I thought for people to get out of this mentality. I guess 200 years is just not enough time. I see these Nazi's everywhere and it bothers me because almost everyone in Orange County is white so it's not like these people really know the people they have decided to hate. This fucked up sort of racism only exists in places where everyone is white because they can still deny the truth because they don't have to see it. Does anyone else find this ridiculous? It's 2008 and there are Nazi's living in California. This is a hard pill for me to swallow. In fact I don't want to take this pill I want to do something about this but I don't really know how to change someones opinion that has been shaped since birth. There's even Nazi fashion. I started to become paranoid that everyone was a Nazi so I spoke to my friend about the ways to tell if someone is a Nazi and not just a punk rocker. The easy give away is the shaved head and the swastika tattoos. If the person has hair and their tattoos are hidden they might wear bomber jackets with buttons all over them, but the buttons are all Nazi bands, not just regular punk bands and catchy phrases. They will also thread their boots with white or red laces, to represent blood on their shoes from stomping a minority's head in. Yes, I know this is revolting, but now that you know this you can avoid these people who are 200 years behind their time.

Sexy Semicolon! ( Awkward Crushes)

2008-05-25T15:35:00.000-07:00

Check this out. Hot/dorky guys getting off on grammar! Awkward in this case is pretty much a given. I wish we could have come up with this idea, but all we've got thus far is this blog. Grab your sharpies and your Elements of Style and hit the streets like our new heroes. Awk-on.
(p.s. man pictured is not our crush, nor the subject of this post.)

He's Just Not That Into Your Awkwardness

2008-05-24T18:48:00.001-07:00

Haha. Ok, I know the title. Lame. BUT, I just wanted to write a little post on the bloggitty about something that just happened to me. This person made it pretty obvious that I was boring him. Not only was he yawning, avoiding eye-contact, saying 'yes' to questions I hadn't asked him, he even actually said, "wow, I'm bored" and walked away. Does this happen to anyone else? Do you ever get so awkward that you actually cannot speak? What about this unnecessary list of things I've come up with to determine how awkward you are so I won't feel alone?:

1.) When you talk, do people have to ask "what" a lot...but in a kind of annoyed way, like 'what.' instead of 'what?!!?!'

2.) Do people laugh when you tell stories, but your stories aren't very funny? Like maybe you're talking about your best friend who has this serious meth problem and might die and the other person laughed--really inappropriately, mind you--right before you got to the part where you say that your friend actually did survive her overdoes and everything's ok now? (wait, did you laugh too?)

3.) Have you ever been asked a question right in the middle of saying something that has absolutely nothing to do with what you're talking about? Say for instance, you're upset about politics and the person you're talking at just asks you, "Do you like licorice? I mean, like good licorice?" (and despite your pride, do you answer?)

4.) Have you ever had to add unnecessary theatrics to a story or segment of something you're telling someone just to get their attention back? An example might be shouting REALLY LOUDLY something your co-worker never actually shouted, but you fear ignorance if you don't add emphasis? Do you use a lot of hand-gestures when telling the story so that even if people aren't listening, they can follow your hands, as if they were blind? Have you ever concocted a song out of events so that people will at least laugh because why are you singing (?) oh and they obviously aren't listening? (have you ever juggled random items from your coffe table to pique interest? Or better yet, done some sort of 'lighter-trick' that has actually resulted in a painful burn?)

5.) Have you ever lied to make what you're saying more interesting? Obviously your boss did not get naked and prance around the office after having a few too many drinks, but her blouse was misbuttoned and you've just taken off running with this story. Do you feel guilty after telling stories because so much of its false you fear you may be a pathological liar, but you just really wanted people to like you and your lie-story? (are you a pathological liar? would you answer that honestly?)

Congratulations. We're awkward. So awkward, that to normal people this translates as boring. If they only knew the dark confines of our minds... (that was an unintentional rhyme, but I'm not changing it.) RAR.

Tell Me Your Sign So I Can Judge You

2008-05-23T11:44:00.000-07:00

Are you ever becoming acquainted with someone and they ask you when your birthday is? You answer, perhaps secretly hoping that they want to get you a birthday gift because the date is actually coming up quite soon and you're not really sure if your own friends are going to remember even though you slipped it into casual conversation a few times already. But a part of you already knows what's going to follow your answer. "Oh, so you're a Scorpio? That's very interesting. You're mysterious and secretive, and you have a very intense dark side. I better be careful because you become jealous very easily." You're in the middle of telling the person that you work with animals at a pet hospital and you are taking care of your mother who is suffering from Alzheimer's, but none of that matters. That's just what you do. You have shared your likes and dislikes, but the person still isn't sure who you really are. They have to know your sign and then it will all make sense. You're really an evil bitch because the date you were born on determines more about you than all the things you have done during your actual life. Maybe the person is beginning to think that you two probably shouldn't be friends because they are an Aries and they have read in countless Astrology books written by "experts" that these two signs just aren't very compatible. They don't want you telling them what to do and bossing them around. You are confused, the person seems to have doubts about your friendship. You should have made up a birthday, one with a sign that was friendly, outgoing and loyal. But you know nothing about astrology so you don't even know which sign that would be.

Does anyone else think that this is insane? I mean, mankind has been trying to prove that astrology is a reliable way to predict people and future events for centuries yet it has never been found to actually work in any way. It's all a gimmick, like how the ancient Greek priests would open up animals and study their organs during wartime (which was basically all the time) to predict if the war would be won and if important people would die. People thought that worked, but it doesn't and neither does astrology. Yes, I can be jealous and sometimes I do think shitty things about people but who the fuck doesn't? It's called human nature, get a book on psychology and stop trying to use sun and moon signs to tell me who I am. I think we need to stop looking for outside sources to tell us what to do and start looking with in ourselves. Let the revolution begin!

Awkward, Mockward

2008-05-23T11:25:00.000-07:00

Round 2 kids. If you're awkward and you know it clap your unusually small hands! If you're mockward and you know it, point and laugh!

Awkward/Mockward

War Supporters/War Inc.
Hula-Hooping if over the age of 5/Bikhram Yoga
Methadone Maintenance/Herbal Supplement Substance Abuse Recovery
Palm Readers/Life Coaches
Fanny Packs/Designer Fanny Packs
Hysterectomy/Louis Vuitton designer Birth Control Cases
Knitting your own clothes/DIY wardrobes
Old Man Blackout Glasses/Heart-shaped glasses if over the age of 5
Necrophilia/Social Anxiety
Ms. Magazine/Bust Magazine
Anarchists/Socialists
Warm Milk/Triple Caramel Latte with 1 pump hazelnut, 1 pump vanilla, nonfat milk.
Security Guard at Concerts/Getting paid $200 a night to play your I-Pod at bars
Christopher Walken/Christopher Walken
Finnigan's Wake/Ulysses
Prince Albert piercings/Dermal Anchors
David Brent/Steve Carell
Cannibalism/Veganism
Following Nostradamus/Following Eckert Tolle
Writing your suicide note in blood/Posting your suicide note on your blog
Wearing red laces in your Doc Martens/Confederate Flag belt buckles
racism/elitism
atheist/agnostic

How To Break the Awkward News Gently

2008-05-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

You've got a situation on your hands. Maybe your friend refuses to cross her legs when sitting in a dress. Perhaps you have a roommate who 'scratches' his nose too much in public. Whatever the case, it's always awkward telling someone you love (or like enough) to correct their socially unacceptable behavior. And we're not talking cool socially-unacceptable behavior--I mean the kind of thing that actually troubles you...that makes you go into the bathroom and dry heave or takes up multiple pages in your journal. So here's how I'd do it: (warning: please attempt at your own risk).

"Ok. The farting thing was funny that time in college, like when it was an accident. But actually it smells really bad. And farting on command isn't a talent, it's actually kind of gross. I'm not crying with laughter, my tear ducts are trying to filter themselves out from the toxic odor emitting from your ass. Maybe you can save it for 'you-time' ya know? I'm tired of smelling your daily carb intake."
"Hey your sniffling's getting a little out of control. At first, I was like 'how cute!' you have alittle sniffling cold. But it's gotten really bad. It sounds like you're trying to suck your nsoe into your brain. I can actually hear your mucus hit the sides of your nasal cavity. Quite honestly, I've started to grow weary of being around you because I fear one day I might get sucked up through your nose. And the worst is when I can hear you swallow it or see you chew on it. Dude, it's called Tylencol Cold and Flu. I mean, I'll buy it for you, for all of us who have to suffer."
"I dig that you really like your food. I mean, that's totally cool--go food! I just get kind of nauseous when I can hear you mushing in your mouth. It sounds like something horrible. It's ok to swallow before you've mashed the thing in your mouth. I know CPR. Honestly, it sounds like masturbation--but it's coming from your mouth and it's completely unappetizing. Please close it up or force it down."
"So I was walking into the abode today and I almost broke my face. Yeah! I kind of slipped on this substance right out on our walkway. Except it was goopish and green. And then I realized it most likely came from you beacuse you kind of have this annoying habit of emptying your sinuses on our front stoop. One, you should get out for an infection, two, you need to find a better receptacle or else I'm suing your ass when I end up a quadrapalegic becuase you're sliming the place up."
"Ok, listen. Some things warrant high-fives. But not everything. You've become the high-five guy who everyone ignores because a high-five's just not appropriate at a funeral, at the opera. When I say something funny, I don't need your little high-five confirmation. If I see the hand again, looming there, waiting to be hit, I will fracture it. I'm just warning you before it happens."

Return of the Awkward Crazyman Quote Cantina!

2008-05-19T16:08:00.000-07:00

He's back. Fuck yeah! And he's got a doozy today.

"What I remember when I was your age, there was the first woman to pull her baby behind her on a bicycle and the baby was killed and we're like that's not a very smart idea! And we're all surfers and stuff and we got the message right away on that one. They'll kill him or someone will be killed."

(?) I am going....to...close...the...computer...slowly...andrunbye.

Top 10 Awkward Comments of the Week

2008-05-19T16:04:00.001-07:00

1.) "That little kid totally just checked you out"
2.) "You know, rehab was a lot more enjoyable than the psych ward"
3.) "I like guys until the story I've constructed about them is proven false"
4.) "What about a bicycle built for one and a half people? Disabled people need to get behind that"
5.) "You have abnormally short arm hair. You should get that checked out."
6.) "Barbara Streisand was the first woman to make four million dollars"
7.) "I wish I could blog, I'm sick of pretending God is talking to me"
8.) "In the event that the world comes to an end, I won't blow the mailman."
9.) "No, it was just me and a homoerotic book. And some guy with tatooey arms. Wait, that sounds bad."
10.) "My cats. They are going to kill me."

Kind of eh on the awkward scale. Send us some if you've got better. onwardawkward@gmail.com

Sadly, Awkward-Commenter Man Was Right: We Are Obsessed With Google Icon Art.

2008-05-19T15:50:00.001-07:00

Check this out! It's like buildings and shit! And even better, it's shaped like G-O-O-G-L-E! Wait, when did Google start doing this so often? I mean, there's a new google-a-con every week. Well keep it coming Google. I think they're atrocious, but without them we'd have at least three less posts. So thank you Google, for giving us something to blog about. (side note: Who the hell is Walter Gropius?)

UPDATE: Well, we've Googled Walter Gropius and he's an architect (we didn't care to know much mroe than this, and yes, it was obvious from the logo that this is what he was, but we just couldn't understand why Google cared.)

2nd UPDATE: We still can't figure out why Google cares.

So, How Awkward Are You? (Dining Experiences)

2008-05-19T14:54:00.000-07:00

1.) You haven't got the cash! Imagine saying that with a silly British accent and a Hugh Grant wince-smile. Except you aren't British and you helplessly resemble an unattractive Howard Stern. You're a bum and now you have to run. But of course the date you paid to eat with you is wearing those plastic-soled heels within which are dead fake plastic fish. And she's still got that deposit. You can (a) offer to wash dishes like you learned how to in juvie (b) risk a credit identity theft and leave the fish or (c) Excuse yourself, tell your 'date' to excuse herself and swap clothes in the handicapped bathroom, instructing her (now him) to duck outside, while u traipse back on your sea creatures to your table and feign being stood-up (shake the goldies as you push out some mascara tear tracks).

2.) Oh you're a vegetarian? Well why the hell would you try my ground pork hummus? But he's sophisticated and normal and your vegan ways (which you recently figured out has also just been an extension of your irrational OCD/eating order) will surely not translate well. So you either gotta barf, freak or pass out. But you're a loving, compassionate, possible-bestiality-experimenting type gal. Shaking in your patchouli-infused-hemp-dress you must make a move. You can (a) politely spit whatever pig ass you just ate into your napkin and cough like 'oops!' (b) let all the crazy hippy-shit get to your head and pull out your PETA pamphlets on slaughter houses in mid-California, while grabbing the extra supply of Kambuchi you brought along just in case something so 'tragic' and 'insensitive' happened on account of yet another 'mid-west-murderer' or (c) You can shove the rest of the food into your mouth, like all of it from his plate, smile big with bits of food falling out, maybe even bit a piece of it on your nose and make an animal noise akin to the one you're eating and swallow it all down with a shot of Jim Bean because you're so experimental and "open to new things" (run quick to the bathroom, like the endangered whales in Alaska, you're about to blow a lot more than hot air).

3.) Dining with Humpty Dumpty. You just can't keep it together, you old sailor you. You've got pasta sauce on your pants, your date is drenched in red-wine and the waiter has referred to your plate as the Battle of Mignon. Except you laughed so hard at that that you knocked your glass over and shards are everywhere. Getting out of this awkward mess is like a mine-field of potential mishaps. But you're a good guy! You just couldn't accentuate that over all the shattering, breaking and spilling. You've either gotta save face or save your date from severing her pulmonary artery. You can (a) dab at her dress in inappropriate places like you did the last time this happened and hope she enjoys being groped by short, bald clumsy men (b) shoot yourself in the foot and tell her about all the other horrible dates, assume that she thinks this is a horrible date (which she by now has because she's checking her phone and her watch and asking the waiter for the check and looking to see if anyone has noticed the two of you together) and deem yourself "Humpty Dumpty," which she will surely later tell her friends and you will forever be that 'Humpty Dumpty' guy she went to dinner with that one time and ruined her favorite dress or (c) You can take her water glass (which has miraculously been left unscathed and standing despite all the flailing you've done with the rest of the tableware) and throw it clear across the room. Avoid people who might be in the way (no need for an unnecessary law-suit), give her a big wink and say as raspily as you can, that you live for thrills. Grab her hand, throw some hundreds on the table and skip out into the street (steal a motorcycle for extra effect but ditch it as soon as the wine wears off unless you want someone else to be behind you later tonight, like maybe in a cell bunk with some guy named Stevie. Being cool has its limits. And you know how the old saying goes: no need getting butt raped over spilt wine.)

If you picked (c) for any of these, we worship you and wish you'd blog for us or at least tell us an awkward story (you're like the cool guy of the awkward set and I'd totally let you have my seat at the next D&D game). If we had any gold-stars, we'd award one to you. If you picked the others, you can at least stick around to laugh at the rest of us. Awk on.

Help, I've Got Awkward Tourette's!

2008-05-19T14:22:00.001-07:00

Old man vein legs. Empty coffee pot on wall ledge (no coffee shop in sight). 30 year olds with backpacks (school's out....for. ever.). Butt-hair toupees. People who say Roight?! with a British accent but they're from Riverside. Dog on a flat-bed being towed by a bicycle. big fat man with tiny little cappuccino cup (fat guy with a little cu-up.) Hairy feet with toe jam. Heroin addicts with Red Bulls. Hipsters with army caps (is being patriot cool again? confusing). Eight year olds with Blue-Tooths (new-rave robots). Scooters (vroom, vroom, little tool). Text-messaging callouses (get non-virtual friends). Flannel in heat. Vitamin bottle caps in ears (are you gonna drink that?) Old men with chucks (punk-STOP!) Giving Middle-American things French accented consonants (KF-Ce). Energy drinks named after genitalia (Bawls.) Buying generic Viagra at 7-11 (2-for-1 stamina and rat sausage.) Bitches on bikes (yes, I mean males). Palm trees in San Francisco (a la- FUCK ITS COLD-bamba.) Emo Music (bring the tissues, hide the knives.) Magenta cars (Purple Petrol-Eater). Blogging in a crowded room (postmodern wallflower.) Smoking in Malibu (ashtray=your face.) Referring to marijuana as if it were your date (She fucks you up real nice huh? Real friends won't give you cotton mouth.) calling art 'exquisite.' Throwing up in inanimate objects other than a trashcan or a toilet bowl (gentle suggestion: detox). Twenty year olds who call their girlfriends 'the old-lady' (oedipal-washed-up-hippy- complex). Snot rockets (You're 25. This is a Kleenex). Bike helmets (skull fractures=street cred). Abbreviating stupid things (Man, this is a comf. pil. Dyslexia is not sexia.) Wearing napkins as bibs (I promise the lobster will not be mashed and thrown at you). Pointing out the awkwardness of things when it really wasn't, you just didn't have anything interesting to say (oops, now it is.)

Oh Google, We Almost Forgot.

2008-05-17T11:57:00.000-07:00

So I'm sure you saw the logo. Because the laser was invented. And Google's gotta let you that they know. But you probably didn't know, nor did you give a fuck. God Bless Google's creative department. (Kind of resembles a game of cat's cradle, way to go.)

Awk Word

2008-05-14T20:00:00.000-07:00

There are so many awkward words, but today I stumbled across this;

sesquipedalian--a writer who uses long words. How fitting! Use this to make everyone feel awkward and maybe a little dirty (the word sounds kind of sexy, no?) Like maybe I'd want to have sex with a sesquipedalian.

In a sentence: The sesquipedalian would use words akin to his likeness because he's a douche.

Snark on that.

Examining Awkward Language

2008-05-14T17:53:00.000-07:00

Here are some phrases most of use frequently and automatically without really considering how nonsensical or at least awkward they really are.

"He/She/This is nuts." Why are nuts used in this expression? When I eat nuts I don't feel like I'm particularly living on the edge. Sometimes when I eat hardboiled eggs I think, "how weird it is to be eating and enjoying a chicken embryo." One girl the other day said "Eww...I'm sorry, I just get really grossed out and nauseous when I see people eating hard-boiled eggs..." You never see people scowling and going pale because you're eating a handful of pistachios, and that is why I think this is a misguided expression.

"He's on top of his shit." When someone is being extra-responsible or efficient, we say that she's on "top of her shit." Personally, if I'm on top of my shit, I don't expect praise, I merely expect not to be institutionalized. If my shit was for any reason above me, I assume and hope I would be unconscious and in critical condition.

Furthermore, I am frequently disturbed by the number of fully grown people who say "rad," "gnarly," or worse yet, "gnar gnar." It's pathetic, repulsive, unenlightened California nonsense and the next time some guy in a business suit uses the word "gnarly" he's getting slammed in the face with a surfboard.

"Wanna Hang Out?" Awkward Excuses Not To.

2008-05-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

1.) "If I hung out with you, then I'd have to hang out with everyone I didn't want to. I have to draw the line somewhere."
2.) "I get along better with animals, so if you have a cat..."
3.) "I have to go get drunk first. Call me in an hour, I'll be down for anything by then."
4.) "I TiVo'd this thing on the History Channel about Hitler...wait, I'm not a nazi. I just like history. No, really, I can't hang out."
5.) "I have to wax something"
6.) "I can't. I'm depressed. I can't do anything, actually."
7.) "I have other plans, it just might take me a minute to remember them."
8.) "I have to go to a meeting" (and it's 9 p.m.)
9.) "I'm working on saying no, so maybe next week?"
10.) "Can't. I've got a wicked bout of staph"
11.) "On weekdays, I just like to hang out naked and eat ice-cream, sorry"
12.) "Ah, no. Warcraft Wednesdays."
13.) "I have to finish my E-Harmony personality test."
14.) "My P.O.'s coming over tonight actually"
15.) "I just came down. Hang out? yeah right."
16.) "I've got to get right with God."
17.) "I'm practicing magic tricks. I've almost got em down."
18.) "My WebCam show airs tonight. Cross your fingers!"
19.) "I'm actually trying to have sex with my neighbor tonight"
20.) "I have to feed my mother"

Creatures at the Cafe

2008-05-14T16:41:00.000-07:00

He works at the counter. He is so awkward yet it is in much a beautiful way. I am blown away by his magnificence. I want to touch him. A man nearby strums on his guitar while peering around to see if anyone notices and admires him for this ability. He looks as if he just sat down and there was a guitar and he just picked it up casually and now he's just playing this guitar that he found by his feet. Play me a melody conjurer of guitars. A group of rambling old regulars argue over who should be able to speak next, even though they sit there all day every day and it doesn't really matter who speaks next because everyone will get a turn when you're dealing with forever. Two judgemental girls with dogs talk about judgemental people in their high chairs, looking down on all the people in their lives except each other. One of them leaves and the girl that's left makes a phone call and starts talking about the girl who had just departed. I strain to overhear the conversation that a crazy old man has with himself. It's funny though because he has his facts straight. I know this because I check them out on Google as he speaks with out telling him. Lawrence Nightingale did discover the importance of soap. How interesting, I think I will go wash my hands. A man sitting with a dog yells at the creature for barking. The dog begins to attack him at the Cafe in front of everyone. He drags his pet away. A moment later I see him riding by on his bike which is dragging a platform on wheels where his dog sits barking at him. It almost looks like dog sledding but the dog is riding the sled and the guy is pulling the dog. I can almost hear the dog yelling "faster, faster you idiot!" The man has let the dog control him. The beautiful man at the counter comes over to pick up a piece of trash by the feet of a beautiful girl. He plays it off as him just doing his job, but there is plenty of trash everywhere and he only picks up this tiny piece. I want to hug him and tell him I understand. I am unable to because I accidentally throw up in my mouth a little bit. I swallow it back down and pull out a cigarette. I stare at an old man sitting by himself at a table. I notice he is staring back so I smile at him. He smiles back. I look away. When I look back at him he's still staring at me and smiling. I realize I have given off the wrong message. He is too old for me. If I slept with him I would know death.

Awkward Laughs (Haha)

2008-05-14T16:27:00.000-07:00

Because it was funny, until that laugh started. Some of the basics:

1.) The Are-You-Dying-Laugh. Sounds like choking, barfing, swallowing toxic waste. All of a sudden there is a lot less humor and a lot more concern for laugher's well being.
2.) The Too-Loud Laugh. Holy Shit. Keep it down. We're at a restaurant and everyone is having a good time except someone has called the police per noise complaint. Everyone is looking over, but not because of the witty comment, because of the unreal noise coming from your mouth. Eardrums hurt, please be quiet.
3.) The Burst Laugh. Whoa, did you just hiccup, have a little mental break? Because the laugh so loud and quick and unexpected that you're not even sure if that really happened now and you're inching...inching...toward the door and away from the closet-psychotic person.
4.) The Honking Laugh. Like a goose, but you're a person. (?)
5.) The Non-Laugh Laugh. Um, that was actually funny--what was just said. Like really funny. Everyone is rolling and cool guy over here makes a little noise in his throat and a tight smile. Totally killed the joke and the mood and now nothing's funny, just awkward. Awkward.
6.) The Are-You-Crying-Laugh. Need tissues? Wait, you're actually shedding tears, but your laugh really sounds like sobbing. And everyone else has stopped laughing to see if you're alright, if something terrible happened. Great. Now everyone is uneasy because no one likes being a bully.
7.) The Not-Laughing-And-Just-Saying-That's-Funny-Not-Laugh. If it was so funny, maybe you should have laughed. But saying 'that's funny' makes things really not-funny. Because funny things usually are followed by bouts of laughter, not verbal confirmations that a funny thing was said. Stop up on Prozac, you're weirding everyone out with your robotic communication skills.
8.) The-This-Laugh-Will-Never-End-Laugh. Ok, ok it was funny. You're right. It was funny, but now you're laughing at me, trying to get me to laugh more and I'm good, really. I've laughed all I can laugh, but you're egging me on with your constant laughing and now I'm just pissed because I'm over it and I wish you would be too.
9.) The Phony-Car-Salesman-Laugh. If you didn't think it was funny, how about just not laughing? The fake laugh, like yelling is irritating and weird. And don't take that extra step to hold your stomach and wipe your eyes that aren't tearing. Don't look at me to make you actually laugh because I'm looking at you bewildered that you'd even think anyone would buy that lame laugh you're passing off as authentic. Especially when I know for a fact you hate that guy.
10.) The Silent Laugh. Like you're shaking, convulsing even, but there isn't a sound. No, we aren't at the library, we're at a comedy show and you're sitting there gyrating like an epileptic in strobe lights. Actually, you're kind of turning blue and I wish you'd make a sound because who knows if you kicked that heroin habit and it's kind of embarrassing because surely, you're about to explode, implode, or retch all over somebody. It's cool buddy, release the beast.
11.) The Ho-Ho-Ho-Laugh. It's July and you can replace all your 'ha's' with 'ho's'. You aren't jolly even, you're a 23 year old guy bordering on emaciated. So why are you laughing like you have jowls and a spectacle? Please stop, you're scaring the kids.
12.) The Wow-That-Was-Inappropriate-Laugh. Laughing to someone's 'I've got cancer' joke isn't cool because it, um, wasn't a joke, Ace. If you find yourself laughing when those around you are either crying or glancing at you horrified, you're probably an unappropriated laugher. Just so you know, it's not really ok to laugh at funerals or ICU wings.

Awkward Relationships 101

2008-05-14T15:50:00.001-07:00

Have you ever found yourself in one of these:

1.) Junkie Love. Except you're not a junkie, he is. And yes it is kind of weird that he almost turned purple at the movies last night. Or that you only see him beofre 6pm--and after 5pm. Where's all his furniture gone? "I don't need it" he says but now you can't call him because his phone's gone too, and no he doesn't know what communism is. Does the sex last for more than an hour? Does he kind of smell? Be honest. Do you think he may be narcoleptic? Has he ever asked you if you were CPR certified? Has he all of a sudden 'contracted diabetes' but still drinks Slurpees? Congratulations you are in a junkie-love-awkward-as-hell relationship. Wear condoms if he can get it up.

2.) Emotional Carcass Love. Were you the first to say I love you, initiate a date, follow up with a second date, make all of the calls, write the e-mails and talk about marriage? Does your girlfriend eye fuck your best friends? Have you told your girlfriend that you want to kill yourself and she smiles at you and says "you're always so serious." Do you find yourself asking your girlfriend about her feelings, but you're a guy and you hate feelings already and this is what it's come to? Have you created a drunken scene because your girlfriend looks at you like you're a creep who's hitting on her when you've been dating for three years? Did your friend, relative, enemy, die and your girlfriend called you a 'Debbie Downer'? When you have sex, does she say someone else's name or put an 'I hate you' before your own name? You're dating an emotional carcass and its awkward because you've turned into a pansy bitch. Get out before you do something crazy, like carry pieces of her hair around in your back pocket (If you're already doing this, refer to #3, because this is what you are and should stop before the restraining order is issued).

3.) CoDependent-Creepy-Stalker-Obsession Love. Pretty much the opposite of #2. Does your boyfriend cry more than you do? Does he wear your old high school sweatshirt with your last name on it, but you never gave it to him, he just "found it"? Does he dry hump random body parts of yours in public? Do you ever have to apologize to the people around you because he's got his hand on your crotch? Does he make you say 'I love you" exactly five times before he can let you go to sleep? Do you wake up in a headlock? Do you know where your friends are? Do you know who your friends are? Have your heads dissappeared from all of your pictures? Has he ever claimed to have been suicidal 'because of you'? Does he say he knows you better than you know yourself? Does his cutting your name into his chest scare you? For God's sake I hope so. RUN.

4.) The Manic-Depressive Love. Does she jump for joy when you come home on Mondays? On Tuesdays does she refer to you as the 'bane of her existence?' Have you ever taken her to Disney Land because she was about to jump off the roof of your building? Did she end up enjoying Disney Land too much (did she buy the Minnie ears?) Do you hold your breath when you open the door to your aprtment? Have you ever been hit by her thrown shoe? Does she mention her therapist in most conversations? Has she ever placed Holy Water on you while you were sleeping? Have you woken up to her having sex with you and it was creepy because you had a mjor fight last night and she was sleeping on the couch? Has your landline telephone been broken more than twice? When she writes in her journal does she ever rip the paper with her pen? Has she made you breakfast in bed and then cried because you asked for salt? Do you constantly have to defend her sanity to your friends, her friend, the neighbors? Does she tell her dog how angry she is at you in a cute voice while you're right there in the room? Sleep with one eye open.

5.) The I'm-Better-Than-You,-You-Awkward-Freak-Love. Has your boyfriend ever scoffed at you because you said a band name wrong? Have you told a joke and when you've finished he apologizes to his friends? Does he know anything about you beside your hair color? Are his eyebrow arches constantly set at extra high? Have you had to lie about knowing something because he looks at you bewildered when you start to say"No, I've never heard..." Does he check out other girls while out? Does he ask them if they like Kierkegaard? Have you used Wikipedia more than the bathroom since you've started dating? Does he talk about himself in the third person? Do all of his sentences start with "I was checking out this new _______"? Does he have mother issues? Is he usually in a blazer? Does he wear shoes without socks? Do strangers cry after conversations with him and is he laughing? Burn his easel, nothing not-awkward will come from this.

Give us others. (one-minute man? yoga-freak chick?) onwardawkward@gmail.com

On Awkward Abuse

2008-05-14T15:23:00.000-07:00

Yes, you read that right. Awkward Abuse. One can define this as an act that actually qualifies as abuse, but is done in such an awkward way that the abuser at hand rarely comprehends the act as abusive, despite your blatant bruise or bleeding kidney. Think of Elaine from Seinfeld. You know that whole , "GET OUT!" shtick where she's so shocked that she pushes whatever unsuspecting character clear across the room out of her amazement at the situation. Insert laugh track and you have a great sitcom, but in real-life, it's not always so funny. I have a friend (I always write about a friend I have, so it seems like I have many, but I don't. The ones I have are just very, um, multi-dimensional and perhaps insane.). Anyway. This friend. She gets really excited about things. Today, she's going on a date with this guy. But the excitement she has about this event, is, less than cool. Because she comes barrelling in the door and pounces on whomever is seated helplessly on the couch watching DrugYears on VH1. Great, she's excited! But my liver's been punctured and I need a doctor. The most frustrating aspect of this behavior is that she isn't even aware of the pain she's inflicted. What are you to do in this situation?

Or there's that roommate who hasn't quite learned that punching you in the arm actually hurts, that you know it's like a tough-pound-we're-tight kind of thing, but you leave wincing like a little bitch, almost crying in the confine of your room. Or the little drunk bitch who's a friend of a friend of a friend who's always there when you don't want her to be and she smacks you everytime you tell a joke and by default, you've stopped telling jokes because you're afraid of the abuse that will surely come your way if you're funny and so you sit there like a somber asshole because you don't want this little 'technically-a-midget-girl' to come at you with her smack-happy hand. But what are you to do because she's doing it with a smile on her face like what you just said was so funny it hurts her and now she wants you to feel that pain you've unintentionally placed on her intentionally by her.

Then there is the awkward verbal and emotional abuse. That friend who says funny things that hurt your feelings. I had a friend who always said "Oh my God, kill yourself!" if you said something kind of stupid. And it was funny! Until we ran into someone who was actually depressed and then it was, uh, not so funny. She also said things like "No Friends!" and "Wow, you suck!" but in funny kind of ways. She'd say it and everyone laughs, except you, the person she's said it to, because you're looking for a window to jump out of. Are you too sensitive? Can you not take a joke? No. You have just been a victim of awkward abuse. Check the warning signs:

1.) Has a friend ever hurt you for saying something nice or funny?
2.) When going to a bar with the suspected awkward abuser, do you leave feeling like you just watched 'Scared Straight'?
3.) Do you worry when your friend comes out of the bathroom that she will flick her water all over you after she's watched her hands because she thinks its funny but its annoying and now you look a lot drunker than you are because you're wet at a bar?
4.) Do you flinch after you say something 'shocking' in the presence of this friend?
5.) Do you intentionally cower when your friend is excited about things, starts yelling things and comes hurriedly up to you? And are you cowering to protect your internal organs?
6.) After hanging out with friend for a little while, must you go into the bathroom and recite the positive affirmations to yourself that your therapist has had you tape to your mirror?
7.) Do you have bruises in the shapes of happy faces or exclamation marks?
8.) Does this friend burp and blow it on you?
9.) Do you wake up in the morning with scratches on your legs and arms and you were not drunk the night before?
10.) Has friend ever given you a 'noogie sandwich' that actually made your scalp bleed?

If so, I'm sure there's a hotline. Awkward abuse is real. And real annoying.

Awkward-ature: Jamestown

2008-05-14T14:37:00.000-07:00

Awkward-ature: Literature that may be written about or in the style of the awkwardist cultural movement. Passages may make one laugh out of embarrassment or uncomfortableness. Sentences may induce pleasurable cringing and a deep-rooted connection between the awkward writing style of the author as well as his or her awkward readers. In reference to OnwardAwkward, Awkward-ature attempts to seek out the best and most enjoyable awkward literature around.

This week: Matthew Sharpe's Jamestown

Talk about awkward literature. First, this book is premised on America's favorite story, the settling of Jamestown. Except it's not that at all. All the characters are there; Pocahontas, 'Johnny Rolffe', John Smith. But before you yawn like I did prior to reading the back cover, hear me out. The world is basically at an apocalypse. The island of Manhattan, which is seemingly a horrible, nuclear wasteland, has run out of oil and its the Virginia Settlers who must find oil in the Native American territory of Jamestown. Sharpe resurrects William S. Burroughs in his depictions of violence and crude humor/language. And of course there is plenty of social commentary in the inhumane ways the white settlers enter and attempt to seize Jamestown. This book is a wild, violent, hilarious and ultimately fucked-up explosion of literacy, black humor and biting sarcasm. Pocahontas, for one, is an ultimate feminist, trying to figure out the peculiar white culture while simultaneously 'playing' both Johnny Rolffe and John Smith. She is a complete character, one that stays with you long after the book ends because of her forth-right nature and her philosophical jargon that seems to baffle the rest of the male characters in the book. The clash of tradition, culture, history and technology is worth the read alone. Not only does Pocahontas curse like a fuckin sailor, but she text messages, IMs, even reads minds. The writing is the first thing that got me.

Check out this paragraph:
"The road dead-ended in a field. That was it. We'd arrived. The only thing worse than the journey is the destination. I looked out the window at the tall bulbous stalks we were surrounded by. Beyond them lay dark woods, like the ones in my dream of the dog. The predatory sun devoured the field and had begun to eat my eyes, so I turned my head, bent down in my seat, pressed my knees into my eyes, and tried to let myself be soothed by the black behind my lids. I vaguely sensed the bus door open and the men who represented us stepped down to what awaited them. Maybe they'd be killed. I often think that death would bring relief but, fearing change, haven't sought it out."

Whoa. Sharpe's got a serious eye and tongue for slick descriptions and dialogue. With alternating chapters of aforementioned characters, you see how intentionally the male characters are left rather undeveloped, giving Pocahontas this omnipotent place in the novel that is almost, dare-say, chilling? But hilarious. She's perhaps one of my favorite characters I have read in many years. Like Kathy Acker, Pocahontas has no qualms about her sexuality and struggles throughout the book to understand who she is apart from the prejudices put upon her by her father Powhatan and her brutish suitors. She is a character to love--if you're a woman, you'll want to be her and if you're a man, you'll want to do her (despite the long descriptions about her pock-mocked face and her less than attractive appearance.) Awkward, right? This book is fucking great, if you can handle violence, Ebonics, Algonquin, and snarky dialogue (and really, isn't that what you look for in a good read anyway?) Please read this. It is completely--no-- utterly entertaining, interesting, and delightfully awkward.

When Awkward Shit Hits the Normal Fan

2008-05-12T17:18:00.000-07:00

So you've just said/done/ate something awkward and it was um, less than well-received. Here's some suggestions to rectify the sitch (yes, as in situation):

"You know, I used to smoke PCP. I was really crazy then."
"I just did that to see what you would do. And you gave me a weird look. That's good. Like, you're not weird because you thought that what I just did was weird. But it was supposed to be, get it?"
"My parents were drug addicts."
"I'm an only child. And I was home-schooled. By my aunt. She was home-schooled too."
"Yeah, I did that. And I liked it. A lot. Stop looking at me."
"My friends actually appreciate my quirkiness. You know, I have friends."
"When the log rolls over, we'll all be dead."
"You're looking at me like 'how could I do that' but I think the look you should be giving me is 'why did I do that.' It's the whys in life that matter, kiddo. The hows are just so ordinary."
"Whatever, I saw you pick your nose yesterday and eat it. Checkmate."
"Haha! Tell me honestly, was that a scary-weird thing I did or like kind-of-cool-in-a-strange-way thing I did? My acting coach says I need to work on awkward moments. Thought I'd just try it out on you. So? Feedback, feedback!"
"If we were in the future and you were blind, that wouldn't have really happened...I mean in a philosophical sense, you know?"
"You have cat hair all over you and I didn't look at you like that when you walked in this morning."
"I was hired to do things like that. Office comic-relief. Laugh all you want, I get more benefits and I just heard you were getting canned. No, but actually, you're fired. I can do that. I just did."
"Or I could be boring like you, thumbs-up!"
"If I pay you $10 bucks, can you not tell anyone about that?"
"Wow. So much for Casual Fridays, eh? Loosen up Warden."
"Wait. Mulligan!"
"I'm originally from Canada, humor doesn't translate well."
"In office-life, I smile at you and pretend to like you. In real-life, it's hate. Get away from me, I have boundary issues."
"That was really weird. I'm hoping that because I'm letting you know that I think what I just did was weird that you'll excuse it, because at least I'm aware. I can't be all nuts if I know I'm nuts, right?"
"I'm sure it wasn't as awkward for you to watch that as it was for me to do. Don't judge."
"It was people like you in high school that make me do things like that now. Thanks. Life's been hard, but I manage pretty well, wouldn't you say?"
"I might be crazy, but you're dumb and you can't pass that off as art."

Awkward IceBreakers

2008-05-12T16:39:00.000-07:00

"It takes me a long time to pee, too" (public restroom)
"The espresso here is so authentic" (Starbucks)
"You get a DUI too?" (at DMV)
"Who is Trader Joe, really?"
"I love watching other people wash my car"
"This elevator's pretty spacious, I could sleep in here, right?"
"I wish I could work at a bookstore so I could just roll around in all these books"
"What are you in for?" (at the doctor's office)
"You know, the New York Times just panned this movie, but fuck 'em right?" (before the movie's started)
"Whoa! Ha, that Downy bear always freaks me the fuck out." (laundromat)
"I love the smell of gas" (gas station)
"I'm always nervous that someone's going to come and shoot up the place, ya know?" (bank)
"That's a large package!" (post office)

Others? Put it on us. (onwardawkward@gmail.com)

Some People Need Help Ordering Pizza (Awkward Moment in Action)

2008-05-11T20:09:00.000-07:00

So this is an awkward situation; ordering pizza. Doesn't sound too bad right? But with five people, ordering pizza is an ordeal. As I blog, right this moment, there is a Pizza Brain Storm going on. Mushrooms? Onions? Pepperoni? Who cares. But wait, it's a really big deal. I'm going to transcribe the convo:

"I dunno, let's just get a large...I dunno...well, there's only 3 of us ordering a pizza?...I only want 2 slices...I want a lot...Ok, let's get the large...it's going to be $20 each...but with all the toppings it's going to be like a lot each...who's ordering...you order...no you order...I want some figgy pudding...Whatever...Do you want me to do the ordering or do you want to do the ordering...Ok, fine, I'll talk to the people, as usual, because I'm the adult...I'm an oldie but goodie...But then we're watching Death and a Funeral, it's so funny...what's with this 2-for-1 Six Flags thing, it's been going on forever?...wait, what's the number?...my computer's about to die of batteries...OompaLoompa dobadeedoo....quickly, quickly...if you don't give me the number (sung)...these fruit snacks are dusty...where is everyone....are we ordering?....wait what pizza are we getting?...what's the number?...I'm trying to find that out right now (sung)...locations! locations!....Ready 1-?...(numbers)...ooh....ring it bitch...where does it say that?...sizes..toppings...hi, id like to place an order for delivery, yes, (number), yes, (name), (address), I want to do an Olive Garden Commercial...we're getting a large pizza with?...I dunno...Pepperoni?...Mushrooms...Onions on all of it. What else do we want, spinach? Roasted Peppers? No let's just get that...sundried tomatoes? yes. Can I have a side of extra tomato sauce, just on the size, or extra pizza sauce or whatever? I think that'll do it...any drinks? Diet coke...lots of diet coke..I can't afford all of that...(silence)...yes, yes, yes, I bet it's going to be $28 dollars...what's the total? $28.52?...that's awesome, my friend just guessed that $28 would be the total? thanks (sexy)...why do I always flirt with the pizza guys?...Wait, do u think u could call back and order ranch?...(dialing)....We have popcorn!..Hi, I just placed an order for delivery and I just want to add a side of ranch, (name), 2, thank you, bye (kiss). Oh no, I kissed her good bye. Alright, do you guys want to watch this movie? Wait, do you want to smoke a cigarette first?"

Break.

Awkwardography!

2008-05-11T19:18:00.001-07:00

(?).

Awkward Noir

2008-05-11T18:51:00.000-07:00

These are the most awkward romantic films that I have ever seen. Romantic films usually make me feel fairly uncomfortable but these movies made me never want to go on a date or be in a relationship ever again. No, I am not talking about romantic comedies where the romance is supposed to be awkward yet funny and we all laugh and everyone ends up loving the movie and how the characters ended up together at the end. I'm talking about the movies that lead to a night of awkward silences between you and your date because you want to be alone tonight. James Spader seems to be the king of awkward sex noir. I made some additions so this is the edited version.

1. Crash
2. The Dreamers
3. The Blue Lagoon
4. The Other Sister
5. The Piano Teacher
6. Secretary
7. Spanking the Monkey
8. Exotica
9. Punch Drunk Love
10. Buffalo 66
11. Pumpkin
12. Hedwig and the Angry Inch

13. The Crying Game

14. Strictly Ballroom

15. Sex, Lies & Videotape

16. The Piano Teacher

17. Milk Money

18. Ladybugs

19. Pretty In Pink

20. Boys Don't Cry

21. The Rules of Attraction

22. Fatal Attraction

23. Twin Falls Idaho

24. True Romance

Wasting Away In Mockwardville, Quotes From the Abyss of Trying-To-Be-Cool

2008-05-11T16:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we find ourselves in odd situations here at this kind-of-too-trendy-cafe. A herd of hipsters just rolled in and I can't help eavesdropping. They've already covered the hipster-racism they've faced (people yelling at them while they're on their I-Phones, "Die Hipster Die!"--which makes me think of Cartman and how great that episode was "Yep, just as I suspected. You;ve a drum circle in your backyard" Whoa, A.D.D., sorry). And then they moved onto their frustrations with the anti-hipsterites who've been giving them "a wicked hard time." This is a quote,

"The docuhebags have been tagging Yosemite. Yeah! Like fucking graffiti. Don't they know it's a national park? Like it's natural wildlife, man. Probably the same assholes who started fights at Coachella."

Probably. Don't they know that tagging's only cool ion $150 shirts? FUCK man.

YES! Another Google Holiday: For Mother Birds

2008-05-11T16:47:00.001-07:00

Fuck yes, Google. You rock because you're so very lame. It's Mother's Day! So if you're a goose and have duck kids, Google wants to honor you with a stupid little icon (as usual, it's aesthetically wretched). Happy regurgitation!

Nature Lashes Out, Makes Us Awkward

2008-05-11T16:24:00.000-07:00

Global Warming's got nothing on nature (oh wait, well yeah, I guess it does), but it's got nothing to do with this post. Awkward Moments as caused by Mother Nature:

1.)Wind. You walk out of the house (after spending an unreal amount of time getting ready, you narcissist.) And there it is, at your hair, at your skirt hemline, revealing granny panties to the world. With your umbrella. Actually, why even explain this, when there's a German Ad on YouTube that's kind of entertaining (except that their trying to sell the wind or something?) Anyway, this explains it. Wind=Awkward. And the guy who plays the wind in this video is horribly awkward-looking, so maybe just check it out for that.

2.) Rain. If you're wearing flipflops and now you have old-flip-flop-slime, which you'll probably trip and fall on, or slide into someone outside your office. Also, ruins makeup, hair, clothes, life (for you melodramatics). Rain also makes driving unbearable in Southern California (and yes, Albert Hammond, it does rain in Southern California, citizens of which just blackout every time it does.). Makes everyone into a foul, rodent-looking creature. Also, makes stinky things stinkier (stinky's an awkward word).

3.) Snow. Break out the ugliest clothes ever! Got your gloves, your hat, earmuffs? Congratulations you are a big, dumb five year old. Just because it snows doesn't mean you have to ask for marshmallows in your hot chocolate, you're still a grownup.

4.) Sleet. Awkward because what the hell is it? Is it raining? Snowing? Icing? All you know is you're wearing a baliklava and you're face is still all cut up like a Krugger victim. You try to walk to work carefully, carefully, but you slip and fall because that's what happens unless you wear cleats (and why would you wear cleats?) Also, makes sound on windshield like diahrea.

5.) Unbearably Hot Weather. Work is only three blocks away, but apparently you just ran the New York City Marathon. You're sweaty and you stink and so does everyone else. Women sport sweat 'staches, men have swamp ass, and you smell like the city sewer because the world is decomposing at bionic speed. Ick.

6.) Dust Storm. Because why are you anywhere where there would be a dust storm? Are you a hitchiker? A shaman? Anne Heche? You can't see and you're dirty and maybe you just reenacted a scene from the Bible. Find Shelter and a shower.

7.) Humidity. It's hot, or not. It's not windy, not really anything, except you're the swamp thing. Your hair has been styled by Tina Turner, you just got into an accident because you can't see shit while you're driving and are you sweaty or clammy? Both are awkward because you're gross and tired, swimming through your day.

8.) Fog. Fog's just an awkward setting period. Take San Francisco for instance, the Flagship Awkward City. Living here is like living in a bong. Everyone talks about the fog like it's the boogie man ("I bet the fog'll roll in later", "I just hope the fog burns off before noon", "Oh the Fog just settles in on the city in the summer, you know like Mark Twain said") Fog is creepy, thus awkward. Will you run into Jack the Ripper? Will you get hit by a bus? Are you going to kill yourself today? Or maybe just smoke a joint because going outside feels too apolocalyptic to handle. And you stoned is awkward enough for everyone.

At Least the Washington Post Thinks We're Cool.

2008-05-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

Check this out. For those of you who thought this was a stupid idea for a blog (or wait, maybe that was just us). Well, anyway. The Washington Post has published an article this weekend on all things awkward and why everyone's so damn intrigued by this shit. Although, the more awkward issue at hand is why the Washington Post has any claim to what's cool now and what's not. If you're bored read it, we didn't.

"I've Got SOMETHIN To Say!" Strangers With Candy IS Awkward

2008-05-11T16:13:00.001-07:00

Well, duh. I know, it was kind of a amateurish poll, but we're, uh, kind of amateurs so thanks all six of you, for voting for this week-and-a-half's Most Awkward Television Show. Strangers With Candy (as predicted) won by a landslide (are there landslides with six-person polls?), followed by Flight of the Conchords and The Whitest Kids You Know. So. Um. Cool to know?

But Onward Awkward, What's Dick Lit?

2008-05-11T15:49:00.000-07:00

Well kids, I'm sure everyone knows what Chick Lit is. Actually, maybe those of you who (gasp) read Chick Lit aren't aware of this genre of literature, otherwise I hope you'd stop reading it. Chick Lit is the mainstream genre sweeping American Literature with titles like the Devil Wears Prada, Eat Pray Love, etc. etc. Anything with Sassy in the title qualifies. Sex in the City is the TV version of Chick Lit. If you're reading something that makes you giggle and want to buy a new handbag, it's Chick Lit. So then, you're probably wondering, thanks to the snarky headline above, what the hell Dick Lit is. But you're probably not a moron and can infer that Dick Lit is the male version of Chick Lit and it is (scarily) growing in popularity. Ever heard of Chris Martin? Check out his website here. He is at the foreground of this new literary (?) movement. Any male writer who focuses more on the "rippling waves" or the "sun-gilded hair" than the actual plot of the story at hand can be assuredly categorized into this genre. Take Chris Martin's new book, Where the River Ends. I happen to work at an independent bookstore (mockward) and they send you all this free shwag (like advanced reader copies, etc.). Well, this guy's book came in a bow-tied-box with a glued on notecard that read "This book will break your heart." Oh, it doesn't stop there. Inside this box, was his nauseously titled book, a pack of tissues (that so succinctly said, "Cry me a river? You will.") and an enlarged pseudo-'snap-shot' of the frat-tastic author (what are you supposed to do with this photo? put it on your dorm bulletin board? laminate it for tub-time? talk to it? pray to it?) Chris Martin has thus written a book who's sole purpose is to make the reader cry. Marketing genius or Dick Lit Connoisseur? I say the latter. This must be put to an end. It's already bad enough that women are starting to ruin literature with their shallow pedantic lives working at Barneys and trying to con Mr. Big into marrying the well-dressed, idiotic hags that they are, but men are now cashing in? Creepy emotional, God-loving men? Please. Please stop this. Or I'm afraid Dick Lit will stop us all, or at least make crying more accessible (and really, hasn't Death Cab achieved that?). And good God, crying is so awkward (SO AWKWARD!). When someone cries on the bus, like a blubbering idiot, over a book with a hand sifting sand through its appendages printed on the cover? Creeps. Kill Chris Martin with well-learned emotional apathy, indifference, and a solid cold heart. Fuck DickLit.

Awkward Ailments

2008-05-11T15:45:00.000-07:00

The common cold or fever can arouse some awkward and embarrassing situations. Runny noses, delirium, funky bathroom situations, you name it we've been there. But what about those really strange and bizarre ailments that you read about in the news or the DSM manual? What would it be like to suffer from a mental disorder or disease that you seem insane or freaked out people who spoke to you or who were just merely within your vicinity? Well, here I will mention some of the strangest disorders I've ever heard of. Ailments even your doctor would probably feel uncomfortable diagnosing.

Couvade is a syndrome where about-to-be father's experience some of the same symptoms as their wives near the time of childbirth. A type to Phantom Pregnancy, this can include diarrhea, weight gain, mood changes and cramps in mild cases. In some severe cases men have come to look like a 7 month pregnant women with 30 pound weight gains, breast augmentation (they have actually breasts), insane pregnant food cravings and hormonal changes. Some of them even get the pregnant belly! This debated topic is awkward to explain if you suffer from it. Imagine being at work with breasts and a pregnant belly and people are like, "didn't you say your wife was pregnant?" And your like "yeah, I'm just really stressed out. That's why I have breasts and an invisible fetus in my stomach."

Art attacks occur in people who become ill in the presence of great works of art. Also known as Stendhal Syndrome this ailment causes heart palpitations, dizziness, confusion and paranoia due to the person being overwhelmed by beauty. This occurs mostly in people viewing Florentine art and was actually discovered in Italy (I'm surprised it wasn't France). Imagine being at the Sistine Chapel and having the person next to you fainting because they couldn't take a world with so much beauty in it? No, Kevin Spacey this isn't American Beauty it's the Louvre.

Foreign Accent Syndrome occurs in people who suffer a head injury or go through a coma. When they wake up they adopt a different accent from the one they had been born with. A Norwegian woman who fell into a coma after an air raid in 1941 adopted a thick German accent when she awoke. She was then horribly ostracized by her friends and neighbors. Imagine if your friend got in a car accident and when he awoke in the hospital he started speaking in a thick Scottish rogue and you thought it was weird but that it was probably just a phase, but then he did it for the rest of his life even picking up the slang of the place using words like "bloody" and "bloomers" even though he had never really been into Scottish culture? Awkward.

Dr. Strangelove Syndrome aka Alien Hand Syndrome is pretty much described as it sounds. It's a neurological disease where one of the person's hands takes a life and mind of it's own. Kind of like that movie Idle Hands but your hand isn't possessed by another person who is a serial killer. The person merely can't control the actions of that hand but it is still a part of them, so when they accidentally grope the dude next to them or slap the cashier across the face it is them who's doing it and they really just look like an asshole. And it's probably better to just say "I'm sorry I have problems" because actually sounds more sane that saying "I'm sorry I don't have any control over my hand. It does things with out me telling it to. I think it's possessed."

Munchausen Syndrome is a psychiatric disorder where those afflicted fake illness, disease or psychological trauma to get attention. It's different from hypochondria (which is also pretty awkward) because those who suffer from it know they are making up their symptoms or exaggerating them. The women who regularly poisons her kid and brings them to hospitals in order to get attention for having a sick kid are severe cases of this. There are those people who like the attention they get at hospitals so they consistently get themselves sick or injured because they want to go back. "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name..and they're always glad you came", but not really because it's just kinda awkward and suspicious because you've been there 20 times already and it's always something different. Either you're a walking disaster or you have no friends and are dealing with it in a really sad and creepy way.

Ganser syndrome is a factitious disorder (one that's only in your head you crazy psycho!) where in reaction to extreme stress the person gives extreme answers to simple questions. If one were to ask " how many letters in the alphabet" the person would say "fifty". Imagine trying to have a conversation with that person? It would be the most pointless conversation in the history of conversations and then you would leave agitated and confused because you would think the person was an asshole or they were trying to fuck with you as part of some sick joke. But you would never figure out why they were doing thins and you would end up confused wondering why the world is testing you today and why everyone can't just be honest.

Awkward, Annoying Habits!!! (Like Exclamation Points In Headlines)

2008-05-08T12:32:00.001-07:00

Of course, this list is infinite, but here are some of the top offenders:

Making a sound when you yawn (What's up with this? Like a sneeze, does this require an "I'm sorry you're tired?" Are you bored? Seeking attention? Also, makes awkward silences way more awkward.)
Sucking your teeth (Not only is this loud and pretty gross, it usually warrants an offering of a toothpick or that person who carries floss in their bag to throw the box at you. It's just the sound, that loud sucking sound, what is that--are you calling your dog or trying to whistle at a chick on the bus? Gross, stop.)
Picking your split ends (Awkward because the person cannot comprehend that once you pick your split ends, you're left with little hairs all over the place. Also, driving with split-end pickers is the worst as you will commonly miss green lights, swerve into traffic, get annoyed at their cross-eyed face and precise little fingers)
Cracking anything (Whether it be your jaw or your knuckles or your face, cracking body parts is jarring and disturbing. The worst is when a person proceeds to crack every inch of their body in a quiet setting. Back cracking at the bank is scary.)
Whistling (Unless you're a serial-killer or a pedophile, whistling really freaks people the fuck out. Especially if you're whistling "Time" or the theme song from the children of the corn. Even if you're a professional whistler, keep it to a minimum lest you wish to scare the rest of the subway car. Unless of course, you want to remind people of that creepy old guy from the Poltergeist.)
Clearing your throat (This usually comes after saying something that you may think had been a completely awkward statement. But this classic move of insecurity also signals, "Wait! I have something important to say!" But when you don't and you just sit there, people look at you...waiting....waiting...and then they just assume you've got a really bad sinus infection and are swamped down with mucus and to top that off you're an idiot because you could have said something important or witty or funny, but no, no you're just insecure and contagious.)
Picking your feet (This sound really gross, but I have come across a surprisingly large amount of people who will simply pick their feet anywhere--at a movie, on my couch, in my car, on the bus. This move is especially frequent among those all-season-flip-flop-wearers who sport pretty wicked callouses and rough skin they must pick off right now, on your new carpet, sprinkling their foot-dust like Tinkerbell's smelly, degenerate cousin.)
Snarking (If you aren't familiar with this term, it basically means being a pretentious jackass. You casually mention this new book you're reading, Jamestown (which is REALLY fucking good) and the next, that irritating Snarker has not only interrupted your conversation, but has begun giving a dissertation on his or her opinion about the book, the quality of literature today and the Masters he just obtained in experimental fiction. Wow, asshole no one cares. But you look at him and he does, with that smug little grin, he does. Now there you sit, belittled and resentful, mired in the Snarker's arrogant intelligence.)

Got any others? Sure you do, fill us in. Comment or e-mail us at onwardawkward@gmail.com.

It's Pretty Bad When Eating Is Awkward.

2008-05-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

Things that are awkward to eat:

Any kind of hamburger with more than one patty (dislocating jaw with each bite)
Tacos (more taco on your plate than in your stomach)
Falafels (refer to tacos)
Burritos (true life: I have a friend who will only eat burritos when alone)
Hot Dogs (abnormally phallic)
Muffins (no crumb control)
Pizza with extra cheese (or gigantic pieces)
Asparagus (only because everyone's looking at you like they know your pee's gonna smell funny)
Pomegranates (get a bib)
Avocado (kind of looks like snot)
Lychees (eyeballs)
Ethipian food (wash your hands)
Sushi (especially if you're like me and still have to request the children-spring-chopsticks)
Corn on the Cob (break out the floss)
Popsicles (everyone always has to make a comment)
Ice Cream cones (Lolita)
Fried Chicken (release your inner beast)
Spare Ribs with extra BBQ sauce (finger-lickin good)
Cherry Slurpees (Ozzy Osbourne mouth)
Dippin Dots (little ice cream dots all over the floor that later turn into just ice cream spills and people always saying things like "Dippin DOTS! Ice Cream of the FUTURE!" Also, you're porbably at Disney World, enough said.)
Spinach salad (get a knife to cut off weird long leaf stems)
Doughnuts (skinny or large, everyone will look at you like you're a fatass)
Beef Jerkey (dog treat? also, smells like hamster cage)
Peanut Butter (especially from spoon while you hold your saliva-coated PB in front of your face.)
Banana (phallic AND makes a mush-sound that sort of sounds like sex)

Analyzing the Awkward Silence: Cricket, Cricket.

2008-05-07T12:50:00.001-07:00

We've all experienced it before, that uncomfortable, unbearable silence that comes either right before saying or having said something strange. Maybe you're just coming down and you realized that the guy you're getting high with isn't as funny as he was 20 minutes ago. Maybe you're sober and no one is funny because they're all high and your not. Maybe you hate drugs and if we were talking right now, you and I, and I brought up the topic of drugs, you'd be forced to retort with a throat-clearing, and uneasy shift in your glance and a rearranging of your pants-crease and we'd both just sit here looking not at each other, but at the other things around us because of the tension between us. Whatever the case, surely you get what I'm referring to. It's that moment when someone makes fun of a name and it turns out to be your mother's name or when you comment on how you think eating disorders are disgusting and the girl you say it to looks up at you with hatred because she just upchucked her BLT an hour ago. Let's take a closer look at these awkward silences and the various forms they take on:

Awkward Silence #1: Boring People Attract Boring Silences. This is quite possibly the most common form of awkward silence. Maybe it's your first one-on-one with the person. You've already discussed the weather, maybe a song that just came on the radio while on your way to the coffee place for your impromptu date. But now you're at the coffee place and although there's a whole realm of things to talk about, you can't for the life of you, think of a damn thing. So you stir your coffee with the stupid wood stick and despite the fact that you've stirred it so hard there are actual wood shavings in your grande wet cappucino, you stir on because even if your brain can't think like it should and carry this conversation a beat further, your coffee will be well-blended (and perhaps a little painful). So there you two sit, catching each other's eyes because you're like c'mon you fucking idiot, speak--but he's doing that too--and you both raise your eyebrows like 'wow, isn't this awkward' but you can't even say that because the silence has taken over and you two are its sorry little victims. There won't be a second date, but there will be 20 more unbearable minutes of this awful silence before your friend comes in, unknowingly rescuing you from the confines of your own silent thoughts (and those exceptionally hairy and notably flexible eyebrows of his.)

Awkward Silence #2: Jinx! Silence. This is that awkward silence that comes after you and an over-excited friend say the same thing at the same time and it's not that funny. It's not like haha buy me a coke! It's like wait, why did you say that too, did you say that? And maybe you aren't even really good friends and now both of your over exuberance has cancelled each other out so there you sit, you and your like-minded not-friend in a bog of sameness, confused by how to pick the conversation back up from where you've both exploded it. And then you start to examine the other person quietly; wow, that was stupid of him to get so worked up about that, but this hyper-criticism slowly begins turning inward because you said the same thing, remember? And now you sit in silence because you think that you're just as big of a moron as he is and you're rightfully assuming that he's thinking you're as a big of an idiot as he had just been. And really, Albert Hammond Jr.'s solo CD wasn't really that good and now you feel like maybe you were just overly mockward and it wasn't actually this big of a deal, but you've let the silence continue for so long (or has he?) and now things are just genuinely awkward and you must suffer the consequences.

Awkward Silence #3: Text Silence. "Lol....?" C'mon. This has happened to you. You'll be in a furious text convo with someone--maybe you're going off about that smelly roommate and you either 1) cross the line ("like wht, doez he hav anal fish or somethn?") or 2.) just say something lame ("I luv txtin u bout smelly, im so glad were frendz dude"). And now that you've sent the stupid message into the world, the response is unbearably awkward because there, um, isn't one. And you sit there all of sudden analyzing every little thing you texted him, cursing your stupid little fingers for typing that message out and compulsively checking your phone on minute-and-a-half-increments to which you find your text mailbox empty. This silence is also conniving because you think 'whatever man, fuck him, that was funny,' and laugh and decide to get over it, enjoy the rest of your day--but you can't. You try, oh you try! to ignore your phone, stick it in your pocket or leave it in your car. But the second you're near it, in the vicinity of the evil electric little device, the compulsion takes over and there you are scrolling through your texts like a madman before finally mustering up an awkward text that goes something like, 'what u up 2?" And you pray for a response.

Awkward Silence #4: Uh...you're really fucking high. Ah, college (nostalgic, isn't it?). This silence happens when you and your friend or some homeless guy in the LES decide to smoke yourselves stupid. There you are packing and repacking the bowl, hitting it until you can hardly see because this is gonna be so much fun! You're gonna get fucked up! But then--all of a sudden--you just feel really, really awkward and maybe you're too high to be alive or in the company of other people and here you are stuck with this gross old man on a park bench and you want to run away but he's holding your stash, repacking the bowl for you again and again and you were always taught to hold your own when it comes to drugs, but OMFG this is awkward. Everything you say doesn't make sense ("Like sometimes, I just want to do somethings, you know, like read a book in the snow, or eat pizza for breakfast and...) and you just trail off in all of your mid-sentences because you forgot what the hell you were talking about and why can't you say anything how you meant to say it in your head and why can't you get out of your head and would this fucking guy stop packing the bowl? So you sit there high as fuck and just hope it passes soon, because you're either going to pass out or get really depressed in thirty seconds if someone doesn't say something that doesn't scare you.

Awkward Silence #5: Wow, did you really just say that? You aren't a racist or homophobic or an elitist. Maybe your gay, Indian, and poor, but what you just said was so ignorant, stupid and out-of-nowhere that you sit there stunned yourself after you blurt it out at happy hour. Everyone else is obviously disgusted by your comment and sits there silently fuming that they would even be around a guy who says things like that. Maybe even one of them whipped their cell-phone out and began furiously texting one of their friends ("like who sys tht?"). And your consequence, you pseudo-arrogant asshole, is to sit in your own ignorance. The worst part is there's no telling how long this silence could stretch on--it'll feel like forever, that's for sure. But people say stupid things and it'll blow over as soon as someone else pulls a 'you.' Depending on what you said, police could be called, you could get hit, a bar fight might ensue, and other threats to your physical well-being may be prevalent, so just hope the awkward silence of it will be the worst you get. And think. Think. Before talking next time.

Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce que c'est?

2008-05-07T12:18:00.000-07:00

Serials killers are an interesting topic because they are both revolting and fascinating. While I should be disturbed when I read about Jeffrey Dahmer or Jack the Ripper I can't help becoming addicted. Instead of closing the book in horror I find myself online or at the library obsessively reading about these people and their gruesome misadventures. Sometimes I feel like I get high off of just knowing what these people have done, the wave of panic, disgust, excitement and cruel enjoyment makes serial killers a guilty pleasure in my book. And arriving at the topic of this blog these unassuming celebrities are pretty fucking awkward. To tie up children in your closet and slowly eat them does make one seem frightening and mentally unstable. But aside from that, imagine how awkward their lives are, living alone with 20 bodies under their porch. It must be incredibly uncomfortable when a person comes over to their house for tea and they have a human head in their fridge or when they get pulled over by a police officer for speeding and there's a dead body in their trunk. I wonder how that conversation goes... they probably feel pretty awkward. Yes, there are many other words to describe this situation, but awkward is definitely one of them as well.

So here I have decided to write about some of the most awkward serial killers in history. If anyone likes this blog I can regularly write about some strange psycho killers.

Richard Trenton Chase, also know as "The Vampire of Sacramento" killed people, puppies and rabbits. He drank their blood and organs after putting them in a blender because he thought that it would prevent his brain from shrinking. Imagine what that smoothie tasted like! He was committed after a brief hospitalization for blood poisoning because he injected rabbit's blood into his veins. He also thought he had to drink blood to prevent the Nazis from turning his blood into powder through a soap dish. Sounds like an awkward explanation to me. Imagine saying that to someone who asks "why did you do it"? "Well, I did it to escape the Nazi's". Dude, it's like 1996 that explanation ceased to be viable about fifty years ago. Interesting fact, he is also known as the "Werewolf of Wisconsin" due to a person he killed in Wisconsin.

Eddie Gein is the Godfather of serial killers. His story has birthed such famous characters as Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs and Psycho's Norman Bates. His domineering mother arrested his emotional development leaving him to become a quiet bachelor who killed women and created plates, clothing and furniture out of their skin. He was caught when police searched his house and found a vest made out of human skin. Numerous bodies were found buried under his back porch.

Robert Hansen was an Alaskan serial killer who despite his pockmarked face and scrawny physique, somehow got women to come to his secluded cabin in the woods. Once there, he would bind and torture them. I mean come on Robert! Gosh, if she's going to come to your secluded cabin in the woods it's probably a sure thing, there's no reason to take out your repressed anger on the few women who would have actually slept with you. So after this brief torture session he would then release the women into the woods, giving them the chance to escape. They never did though because he would mercilessly hunt them down like wild animals. Sounds like every Redneck horror movie I've ever seen.

Awkward Issue of the Month: Prison Abolition

2008-05-07T10:41:00.001-07:00

I know. Sounds crazy right? Prison abolition? Like, what would you even do about all those psycho serial killers? But instead of being a closed-minded asshole, try to imagine the bigger issue here. What are prisons in our society really good for? Sure there are the child molesters, the rapists, the crazy murderers. But how much of society is actually made up of such people? And let's say it's a lot. Let's say a really big chunk of society is actually composed of people who need serious mental help. If so, it would appear that the rational response to this would be just that: mental help. Perhaps intensive therapy? But no. It seems that the response to every crime--whether it be not paying that parking ticket you got 5 months ago or murdering a guy who just slept with your girlfriend,--punishment is always the very real threat of incarceration. So what's up with this? Is prison really making our lives safer, more secure? Many social activists and philosophers seem to think otherwise.

Take Michel Foucault, influential French philosopher who has given a lot of attention to the issue of crime, punishment and discipline. In his book, Discipline and Punish, Foucault outlines the history of punishment in order to clearly show how jail has become the institution it has. In the old-days, punishment was in the streets, as a kind of theater if you will. If someone in the community stole something, they would be put in the barracks or stoned in the town-square. The reason for this was two-fold. First, people in the community would actually see justice at work and be able to comprehend the implications of doing things that the law prohibits. Ah! Jimbo stole something, I see. Well, that's just what happens when someone steals shit, I'm glad we're holding him accountable. Fucking asshole will steal anything he can touch. Second, the public humiliation or disciplining of guilty persons helped to prevent others from acting out of order. Fuck! They're getting rocks thrown at them! Rocks hurt! I don't want to get rocks thrown at me like that! So this public display of justice not only showed people that there would be retribution if they did something that was in opposition to the rules, but also showed what would happen if you were to do the same thing as those found guilty (and usually it wasn't very good.) Another aspect of this public penalty system allowed the guilty people to make amends to the community that they had 'wronged'. If someone did steal something, the village people were able to see the stealers paying back their debt to society. Oh look honey! Jimbo's come such a long way, he keeps the town square so dust free with all that sweeping, he must really feel bad about that whole stealing thing! I really think he's learned his lesson. Now of course this was flawed because of historical incidents and corruption (why only the villagers getting stoned while the King murders people everyday?), but justice was very much a part of society here, even if it wasn't administered as equally between classes as it should have been.

Today, however, our concept of justice is based on the right or the wrong on the act. Helping an old lady cross the street is right, Kicking an old lady in the shins is wrong. Once a jury of our peers (ha) has deemed the act in question as permissible or not permissible, a decision must then be made regarding punishment. If the crime was especially heinous (rape, murder, molestation, etc.), jail time will be ordered and assessed. Now this is when things get kind of weird. So let's say a mobster is put in jail. The case itself is huge--all over the papers and Internet--and everyone is so glad the judge ruled that the mobster is guilty (which he was). Mobster is given 15-to-life for murdering a person in cold blood. So Mobster goes to jail. While in jail, mobster realizes he's got a very serious drinking problem. Mobster starts going to AA, even gets sober. Mobster stays sober for the rest of his stint. While in prison, Mobster starts working on himself; taking Anger Management classes, starts going to individual counseling once a week, even takes classes so he can finally get that GED he's never had. He hits the gym everyday, starts calling his son, even patches things up with his wife. Who knows. Basically, Mobster makes the best of his situation and utilizes every possible resource the prison system has to offer. His scheduled parole date comes up and is consequently denied because of the "egregious nature of the commitment offense" (which is actually the number 1 reason prisoners are denied parole, especially in the state of California thanks to Schwarzenegger). Well, that's never gonna change and seemingly, if you received 15-to-life the crime you've commited is probably pretty egregious. SO the public catches wind of this--MOBSTER UP FOR PAROLE! And outrage explodes. The public was not about to see the changes that mobster had made. The public still has memories of the cold-blooded killing machine Mobster that had enraged them 15 years prior. But this is no fault of the public. They are not assured that mobster will be a productive member of society because they were prevented from seeing the rehabilitation that the mobster had partaken in. Thus is a lose-lose situation. Mobster will not be believed and society cannot trust. So what is just about this situation? Where is the actual justice? Jail it seems can not be synonymous with justice because the doling out of punishment and discipline can not be witnessed or evident by the society that must take in the offenders post-conviction. So why? Why jail?

This question is much more deep-rooted than asking meekly, 'Well, what are we going to do about all the bad people?' First off, who isn't bad? Second, the question is more of an intrinsic rights question than an immediate action one. Prison Abolitionist Angela Y. Davis in Are Prisons Obsolete? encourages skeptics to look at the abolition of slavery. It was hard for many to imagine the United States as a successful country without utilizing slavery as a profitable institution. But before people figured out what to do in the literal sense, they had to realize that the notion and the theory of slavery itself was wrong. And slavery and the prison system, as institutions, are very different. Slavery was just unjust, there weren't any implications about if someone had committed a crime and so forth. But Angela Davis asks us to look at our current prison system as a kind of modern day slavery insofar as prisons have been privatized (yes, privatized, meaning that there are actual people making money off prison stocks. Therefore, the more people in prison, the more money you'll make. Sick) and something she describes as the prison-industrial-complex. The PIC, similar to the military-industrial-complex, uses the prison population as a labor force for producing things like cellphones, credit cards, school furniture, etc. with something like 60 cents an hour at most. Thus, our country and our society benefits from the incarcerated, as it helps keep labor wages low and labor force steady. I know this all sounds crazy, I thought so too when I first learned about it. But then I researched it and started actually thinking about the problem of prison and incarceration.

So this is the awkward issue of the month. Awkward because it sounds insane but it really isn't. Try to imagine a world without prisons. Question jail as an institution and challenge it by coming up with different and diverse methods of punishment. Because even if prison is the best we can do at the moment, that isn't saying much, especially with a crime rate that has remained neutral since the 80s in proportion to the population increase, and the expansion of prisons so that California, as a state alone, now contains approximately 75% of the world's prisons. And whether jail is right or wrong, just or not, that's just plain crazy. So this is the first installment (Prison Abolition 101) and for the remainder of the month we will be citing different stats, listing ways you can get involved in the prison abolitionist movement (if you care to do so) or just raise other questions surrounding the integrity of justice and jail in our country and abroad.

Because even Awkwardists can be activists.

Have an awkward issue idea for next month? e-mail us at onwardawkward@gmail.com.

Holy Haiku!

2008-05-07T08:50:00.000-07:00

And nothing's more awkward than haikus about awkwardness.

Alone when not;
The party screams like coals,
I'm gone when drinks are.

Send your awkward haikus to onwardawkward@gmail.com.

Because Your Life Is Depressing and You're An Idiot, Drink This.

2008-05-06T20:38:00.000-07:00

Recently, it seems advertising's just awful. Between Starbucks' new 'we-told-our-eight-year-old-
son/daughter-to-come-up- with-our-new-ad-campaign,' to Nestle's 'be happy-drink-chocolate-milk-ads', advertising at the moment just sucks. I guess Starfucks doesn't really have to shell out too much on marketing now that anyone can get their burnt-coffee fix every 2.4 city blocks at the most. (I know, I know, love/hate relationship with Starbucks...I too freaked out when it was closed for an hour a couple weeks ago, freaked.)

Awkward, Mockward

2008-05-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

Introducing our newest segment; Awkward/Mockward. Feeling a bit nostalgic for those Hot/Not Hot lists we lived by when we were twelve, we've decided to bring the sentiment back. Because they're are a whole hell of a lot of awkward things out there, but there are also a lot of less-awkward, kind of really-fucking-normal things that pose as awkward, too. We call these things Mockward. And while deciphering between truly awkward things and their not-so-awkward counterparts can be tough, we'll make the process a bit easier by coming up with succinct lists in which we deem things 'awkward' or 'mockward.'

AWKWARD/MOCKWARD

Welcome to the Dollhouse/Juno
Intrepretative Dancing/Rabbit Dancing
Robert Downey Jr/Zach Braff
Hillary Clinton/Barrack Obama
Cleats/Crocs
Francis Bacon/Basquiat
San Francisco/New York City
Henry Miller/Chuck Pahlinick
Strangers With Candy/ Flight of the Conchords
Cassette Tape/Vinyl
Bob Saget/Sarah Silverman
Bowl-Cut/Mullets
Old Man Beard/Moustache
Las Vegas' Lance Burton/A&E's Criss Angel MindFreak
Mama Cass's Ham Sandwich Death/ Elliot Smith's Knife-Through-The-Heart Death
Soccer Mom Jeans/High-Waist Jeans
E-Harmony/MySpace
Cancer/Drug Addiction
Wesley Willis/Conor Oberst (of Bright Eyes)
Epilepsy/ODing
O'Douls/PBR
Naming your child Dweezer (Frank Zappa)/Naming your child Pilot Inspektor (Jason Lee)
NAMBLA/PETA
Pale Fire by Nobokov/ Franny & Zooey by Salinger

Introducing...Awkwardography!

2008-05-05T22:51:00.000-07:00

Because there are a lot of really fucking weird pictures out there. Like this one. (We don't understand either.)

Pick-Up Lines: Art Form of Awkward Freaks

2008-05-05T16:27:00.001-07:00

(noticing my lap-top ) "Oh, do they have wifi here?"
"You remind me so much of my mother"
"You've got your tongue pierced, maybe you could show me how it works?"
"Can I buy you a shot?" (at Jamba Juice)
"Well, aren't you a venti glass of water" (at Starbucks)
"You're a girl, right? Ok, good. Wanna fuck?"
"What high school do you go to?" (40-year-old-man)
"Can I use your phone?" (puts number in your phone under 'Hot Guy')
"What are you in for, sweets?" (middle-aged lady in drunk tank)
"Are you legal?"
"Hey, we look like we're related!"
"You don't look like an alcoholic."
"So, we've got the same car."
"I'm usually into pretty girls, but you're smart; I like that."
"Do you blog here often?"
"Can I use your chapstick?"
"You'd look great at church."
"You're rich, right?"
"You've got big teeth, great big teeth." (Little Red-Riding Hood Loser)
"Do you use curls-in-a-box?"
"What do you think about abortion?"
"Wanna fuck?"
"I'm impressed by how much you eat."
"I find drunk women intoxicating."
"What's your street address?"
"My mother was a whore, will you take care of me?"
"I've got a kid somewhere."
"I've been looking for someone to hook-up with all night!"
"Drink this"
"So, my grandmother's dead."
"You're pretty when you talk."
"Do you mind if I smell your hair?"
"Smell my feet! No really, smell my feet, they're awful!"
"Excuse me, can I borrow $5?"
"I'm miserable too."
"Your brother said I can ask you out" (your 'brother' being your boyfriend)
"I think your boyfriend's gay."
"If I wanted to, I could buy you."
"You look like my best friend" (who you later meet and learn is a dude)
"I bet you fuck better than your friend."
"You're beautiful." (later) "I'm blind in my left eye and only have 50% vision in my right. I have no peripheral vision."
"Are you attracted to attractive men?"
"Am I bothering you?" (while poking your arm repeatedly for 3 minutes)
"Didn't I meet you at StripFest?" (a comic book fair you've never heard of)
"Wanna go frollick in the garden?" (at Coachella, referring to the beer garden)
"I'm drunk."
"Wow you're really pale"
"Hey, do you like GHB?"
"You look like a cookie kinda girl."
"Will you talk to me so my girlfriend gets jealous?"
"I just paid your friend $5 to leave."

Please use with caution.

Existentialism is Philosophy's Awkward, Bastard Son: Dostoevsky

2008-05-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

In honor of our awkward heritage, we will be posting random bits of philosophic thought from some of the most isolated, exiled, awkward philosophers the world has seen (isn't that all of them, really?) Awkward words of advice from the Awkward Greats of Humanity.

From Dostoevsky's Notes from the Underground:

"I, for instance, have a great deal of amour propre. I am as suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. But upon my word I sometimes have had moments when if I had happened to be slapped in the face I should, perhaps, have been positively glad of it."

Rude-boy Dostoevsky, S&Min' it up in 1864. Awk-on man.

Follow That Car-kward!: Dating Your Dad

2008-05-05T15:29:00.001-07:00

So we've come up with a new idea to celebrate all things awkward. We're going to come up with an awkward situation or moment and ask you, our devoted awkward reader, to elaborate on the moment to make it even more awkward, as incredibly and unbearably awkward as you possibly can muster up in your little fingers. Sound strange? We hope so. We will put the prompt up at the start of the week and post the finished product at the beginning of next week (before the new prompt) Let's just try it out and see how things go...

You've just graduated college. Yay! You are a college graduate now. And in honor of this momentous occasion, your father has planned a special father-daughter dinner because hey! you just graduated fuckin' college! Except the waiter doesn't know that and he keeps giving your dad weird winks and he's brought over a complimentary bottle of champagne, whispering low to daddy-dearest; "for you and your beautiful wife."

(Please. Make this more awkward.)

Give me back my mullet A.C. Slater!

2008-05-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

So I'm seriously thinking about getting a mullet but every time I mention it to someone they laugh and seem to think I'm just trying to be funny. Perhaps the idea of a mullet provokes the image of Billy Ray Cyrus. Maybe they imagine my face attached to Michael Bolton's hair or they picture me strumming the guitar as Phil Collins back in his Genesis days. People seem to associate my mullet with me holding a bottle of Wild Turkey in a wife beater outside of a trailer park while I yell at my six crazy children. Even my children probably have chullets (children's mullets) because that's how people with mullets cut their offspring's hair.

This association with mullets is outrageous. I happen to think mullets are awesome and I think that it's about time they made a comeback. David Bowie had a mullet and isn't Ziggy Stardust just about the coolest most offbeat character in the history of Rock and Roll? Mullets have existed in our culture before the word mullet was even coined as a term. Ancient Egyptian Pharaohs sported this trendy hairstyle while sitting atop their thrones. Egyptian officials wore this style as well. Would Cleopatra have slept with someone who had a mullet if mullets weren't the epitome of sophistication? I think not. Huckleberry Finn is a character who was ahead of his time. He broke through societal boundaries and befriended a black slave in a time when that was considered wrong. And do you know what kind of hairstyle he had? You guessed it. And who wouldn't want a hairstyle that you can describe as "business in the front, a party in the back"? I'm not talking about a rattail here people, the mullet is perfectly acceptable and seems kind of fun to sport.

Down with the Mulletocracy, this is a Mulletopia! In my ideal society you should be able to have any hairstyle you want with out the worry of being made fun of and labeled as that type of person. In the 6th century BC the Greek youth sported mullets, and many native American tribes adhered to this trend as well. In Roman society mullet's were a protest to the gender boundaries that existed around hair. Women had to have long hair, men short. The mullet on the other hand was the place where masculine met feminine. Long and short hair joined forces to create the perfect balance for hair. Joan of Arc was a pioneer of feminism. She led an army at a time when women had no place in war other than to keep the children safe and fed. Many portrayals of Joan of Arc depict her sporting that glorious mullet mane. Did people have mullet's during the dark ages? I think not. But in the Renaissance, the rebirth of Western society the mullet came back loud and proud. And that's what the mullet should always say: "I'm comfortable with myself and I am proud to sport a hairstyle that has been an important feature since the dawn of human civilization!" What hairstyle does Australopithecus have? And that was before people even started talking about making hair into a style. You see, the mullet is as natural as wheatgrass shots at Jamba Juice.

I'm Used to People Not Liking Me. Mass-Holes Beware

2008-05-04T15:54:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have personal vehicles, I want to discuss driving and the implications of interactions between drivers. If you don't have a car, I envy you for either living in a metropolitan city (instead of the burbs), for not having to spend a trillion dollars on gas, or...or actually maybe I don't envy you because you could be homeless (living in SF perhaps with that free wireless? oh what? that never happened? but they've been talking about doing that for--oh. really? they still haven't? Oh, well thanks for using 1.50 in dimes and pennies to read this page. We apologize for having nothing of importance to say.) I'm driving down the PCH today when all of a sudden, this Mass-hole cuts me off. Not only was I upset about being cut-off, but I was upset that a Mass-hole came all the way from NY where I'm used to Mass-holes cutting me off to find me kindly cruising down the coastal highway here in California. Was he sent here? Is Google really that upset about that May 1st post (side note: it appears we've been dropped from the Internet because of such shinanigans--well, either that or because of the femanarchist article, or maybe we're just super fucking paranoid.) But who wouldn't be paranoid when getting cut of in CA by a Mass-hole who's completely out of his element? I digress. This isn't the point of the story, but I'm really getting heated about it now. Deep breaths. Ok, so he cuts me off (argh) and I do the whole fist pumping, angry-word-mouthing at him, gesturing my hands toward him as if I were just cast in a low-budge opera thing. I even do the old-Christian-lady-head-shake bit. A couple of cars start to scrunch in between it and sure enough, I've forgotten the whole event in about 13 minutes (isn't the ocean pretty! is that a dolphin, a dolphin! ahh..). Uh-oh: red light. And guess who's up next to me. That's right , Mr. Masshole. Talk about awkward. I roll up the window, listen to my music, but something catches me out of the corner of my eye. Is that Masshole? It is! And his face is literally gyrating, with middle fingers everywhere and saliva flicking at my window. Fuckingn awkward. What am I supposed to do. In this situation, what does a normal person do. Well, seeing as I am not normal, nor well-equipped to handle awkward situations, I roll down my window and scream, just scream. Five seconds of sheer scream at this man who is now bewildered and rightfully frightened. I'm still screaming as his tires peel out of the intersection and lurch forward, leaving me in my little car awkward, angry, and alone. Curse you, Mass-Hole! I will find you and your little accent too and I will cut you off like you so graciously did me.

I know I'm crazy but do you?

2008-05-03T18:34:00.000-07:00

I am at a dance party. I smoke a cigarette and watch him from the corner where everyone's bags are. As he starts walking towards me I can feel perspiration forming in my armpits, my palms are moist, my hands tremble. If we shake hands he will know I'm weak and nervous. He asks me a question and my mouth dries up while I answer him. White foam begins to form around the corners of my mouth. I can no longer speak, my cotton mouth makes me sound like an asshole. So I just inhale the fumes from my cigarette and hope this makes me look cool enough for him to forget that white spit is accumulating around my face. I am not a baby or a rabid dog, I am just so awkward that my body creates awkwardness with out the aid of my brain. I don't even have to worry about saying something weird because embarrassing things are happening to my body before I even open my mouth. A hot girl in a short skirt walks by and bends over to pick up her bag. I can draw a direct line from his eyes to her buttocks. She then proceeds to the dance floor where all the confident girls gyrate against each other with the exception of one girl who looks like she's having a seizure. All of a sudden he decides that he wants to dance even though he was just talking to me about how he doesn't like these sorts of gatherings because he hates dancing. I drink some water and try to look like I'm standing by myself because I'm too cool to socialize.

'Because You Need Someone to Help You Care': Women, Why You're Awkward

2008-05-03T11:50:00.000-07:00

Yes, we're talking about the F-word. Feminism. And if you don't feel awkward yet just reading that, check this 0ut. It's a really smart account of women's societal roles at present. Nothing like a little awkward activism on a Saturday morning.

From aainfos.ca:
"Women live isolated from each other but close to husbands, boyfriends, fathers etc who have the potential of harming them (all men have power over women, regardless of whether they chose to exercise that power or not.) ---- Victims of this type of violence react on the oppression in a string of seemingly illogical ways; they see themselves from the perspective of the batterer, see him as the victim and themselves as worthless, they put their hopes to being spared if they themselves are just loving and caring and obedient enough, and they experience this as loving the batterer. This is a pattern that can be transferred from an individual level to a societal level and explain women's way of relating to men as a group and as individuals, given that women as a group in this society live under the constant threat of male violence (strangers and intimates) throughout our lives. ---- Women's love as defined above is a patriarchal strategy to keep women tied to men and support men's power over women."

The article goes on to touch on sadomasochism, cutting, and men/women roles in intimate relationships. (ignore all the apostrophes and question marks. Even with crazy text glitches this piece is worth it, really.)

onward HO--er, wait, why feminism needs to make a comback...

Daily Dose of Debbie Commencement: Cherish Your Cat

2008-05-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of John S. Hall (yes, of King Missile, and by courtesy, I mean I'm just going to cite him, not that I actually know him or anything), Onward Awkward has stumbled across his book, Daily Negations, the ugly counterpart to Daily Affirmations and it's uh, fucking amazing. Always knowing when to steal a good idea, we've decided to start a new daily post succinctly called the "Daily Dose of Debbie" as in Downer.

Today's D-cubed is as follows:

"Do something different today: stop trying to be so different. Cool people listen to their I-pod more than they talk about it. People in the know do not say 'yeah' when asked if they're familiar with Borges' Garden of Forking Paths and they aren't; they say no, moron, because they actually don't know. Contrary to (semi) popular belief, plastic-slit-shades are not making a comeback nor are they cool, but there you are wearing them in the club like you're Kanye. Interesting people do not quote trendy movie lines and song lyrics without citing their source until someone calls you out because (shock!) other people also watch movies and listen to songs. Please stop saying 'yeah I know.' Because no, no you don't. Are you really as special and unique as you think you are? Don't you think if you were, something would have transpired by now? All signs point to mediocrity. Buy a cat, dude. This is it for you. :)"

For Some of Us, Shorts Are Scary

2008-05-02T12:56:00.000-07:00

Fuck. Spring's here. And after spring, comes summer. That's a whole half of the year in which skin must be bared and brazen, golden brown and taut. Well, that's just not us. Whether we be tubby or scrawny, rosacea-prone or pale, shorts are not appealing. The mere thought of pants being stolen from their length, of fabric hitting you right at that pale mid region of the calf, is not only awkward and ugly, but downright terrifying. Nothing's worse than accidentally brushing against someone's sweaty bare thigh as you clamor to get on the bus because you spend all on your money on backwards-silkscreened t-shirts and then awkwardly saying sorry, sorry because that fat lady did not want her leg touched and holy shit did not want to touch it. Or perhaps that hasn't happened to you. But surely, you feel my pain when sitting on a seat, your thighs spill wide out of the constricted hem of your shorts, like two water balloons full of Jello pudding and lifting them kind of, straining your ankles because EW! your thighs are spilling all over your seat! Or that inevitable short tan you get, less obvious until you put on a more flattering dress and those congruent tan lines scream hello to passerbys and uniformly tan critics. And then there are the men in short shorts, gross. Men in short shorts don't even need to be explained. The sheer thought is disturbing and dreaful. I had a boyfriend once who bought these bright canary-colored pants from a store which had inadvertently forgotten to remove the ink-leaking security device. Naturally, he didn't return the pants. Instead, he cut them with scissors so they hung just past his penis. Awkward AND disturbing. Especially when we'd go tooling around in the Castro. Men: do. not. wear. short. shorts. Or long shorts, for that matter because you just look like you're wearing short pants and remember middle school and how UNCOOL it was to wear highwaters. I haven't gotten over that. Men, avoid shorts. And girls too; if girls can pull of shorts they can't be digesting their food. I say we ban shorts of all sorts. Keep your skin pale and to yourself. Like sardines, thighs are better transported in tight containers. And like sardines, I don't want to have to eat them when you're crowd-surfing in your shorts at Tilly and the Wall.

Thesauruses Are Our Friends Because We Can't Make Real Ones

2008-05-02T12:37:00.000-07:00

Sick of the word 'awkward' yet? There are surprising only a few awkward synonyms:

clumsy, gawky, graceless, inept, lumpish, maladroit, ungainly, ungraceful, bulky, unhandy, unmanageable, unwieldy, constrained, uncomfortable, uneasy, ill-chosen, inappropriate, infelicitous, unhappy, bumbling, gauche, heavy-handed, inept.

So if any and all of these describe you, you can officially categorize yourself as an Awkwardist. And if you have any other words to describe your horrific awkwardity (yeah, I made that up), please share. From here on out, we'll try to find new and creative words to describe that gut-wrenching, palm-sweating feeling you get when the whole world looks at you like 'yo, you're really fucking weird.' Don't worry, we are too, you inept idiot. Just let it out here--like Flava Flav, we'll take whatever inappropriate, irritating chicken shit we can get.

Did I like indie rock because I was awkward? Or was I awkward because I liked indie rock?

2008-05-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

Most awkward lines from songs ever. a.k.a. lines from songs that I feel really awkward when I sing aloud in public out of context (which i tend to do a lot...)

1. "Do you ever take drugs so that you can have sex without crying?" Sarah Silverman

2. "Who do I have to fuck to finally be your lover?" Soltero

3. "I'm hoping to bleed to please you." Radiohead

4. "I will kill your parents and roast them on a spit." Pavement

5. "I want to feel you from the inside." Nine Inch Nails

6. "You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the discovery channel." The Bloodhound Gang

7. "Will you take off your dress and send it to me?" The Pixies

8. Anything from I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred

9. "I think I want to take you home, I want to try on your clothes." Bikini Kill

10. "She has a moist vagina." Nirvana

11. "You are so pretty when you're on your knees. Disinfected and eager to please." Radiohead

12. "I'm sorry I had sex with your sister." Nerf Herder

13. "See her hand now on the cocksack, filled with white tears from the thrift store." Adam Green

14. "Tonight I'm all alone in my room. If you won't sleep with me, I won't be with you." The Modern Lovers

15. "Fuck and run, fuck and run. Even when I was 12." Liz Phair

16. "Never learned to swim, can't grow a beard, or even fight." The Lemonheads

17. "She walks into the outhouse...she spins and pulls her pants down." Soul Asylum

18. "I'm not in love but I'm gonna fuck you til somebody better comes along." Marilyn Manson

19. "I'm an orgasm addict!" The Buzzcocks

20. "I've been through all your things" Luna

21. "When masturbation's lost its fun..." Green Day

22. "I want to see your pussy everybody says it's nice..." Ahh, any Lords of Acid song really. Not that I ever listened to Lord of Acid... awkward...

23. "Every move you make, I'll be watching you." The Police

24. "I can't believe how bad I suck it's true, what could you possibly see in little old three chord me." Weezer

More to come... Awkward bands, most awkward musical moments, best songs with the word awkward in them (are there any? Go go Google power!)

Oh yeah, it's May 1st?

2008-05-01T16:44:00.001-07:00

And in honor of this meaningless day, Google has placed an awful, ugly-as-fuck, indescript picture of what seems to be maracas or tulips (we can't decide) but it is art! from Jeff Koons, so it's great even if they're over-sized lollipops, half-eaten popsicles, or Venezuelan death mallets! Thanks Google (!) for another gimmicky , irrelevant icon holiday! You're just so cute and quirky.

UPDATE: Even lamer, it turns out Google's introducing artist-inspired personalized backdrops for iGoogle pages. Coldplay's brush work is exceptionally stunning in this collection.

Awkward Alley

2008-05-01T16:42:00.000-07:00

Isn't it awkward when...

You go to grab your credit card from the cashier and you miss, awkwardly caressing his hand. Then there's that weird silence and hesitation followed by an academy award winning acting job where you both pretend that it never happened and that "everything's cool" but you secretly hope to never see that guy again and every time you go to buy groceries you purposely avoid his lane.
You ask your ambiguously gay coworker if he has a boyfriend or has met any "cool" guys lately because you're cool with your sexuality and he responds by saying, "What? Do you think I'm fucking gay? Do I seem gay to you?" And you respond with "No of course not. I just ask that to everyone" even though you don't assume everyone is gay and he wears tight black clothes, is on a low carb diet, has a feminine voice and performs the task of choosing which clothes to put on display in the clothing store you work at. Once you even caught him secretly trying on a dress in the back of the stockroom.
You run into your friend and they say "I love you" and you're like, wow they've never said that to me before so you say "I love you too" and then they give you a look and you realize they're on the phone with their girlfriend.

Breaking News: Soap Has Only Been Around for 100 Years.

2008-05-01T16:19:00.001-07:00

So I'm at this cafe and the guy next to me (totally out of nowhere) just yelled "Soap has only been around for one hundred years!" And it just happened, approximately five seconds ago. Can that be true? Is he crazy? Why does he think I'd care or that this is pertinent information that anyone should have yelled at them? Do I stink? I do. Now he's talking about the time he went to Morrocco and everyone was a leper (the second leprocy reference today) and women had no faces. Wait, he's still going. He wants to "go to Australia, but fuck, Stever Irwin and the crocodiles, you wouldn't want to risk it. This could really turn bad the next few years." I mean this guy is...still...going. Now he's onto marijuana and how he really likes smoking out of bongs and Brian got a life sentence for selling it (I know, right who the fuck is Brian?) and George Harrison's death (cigarettes AND weed) and his mother still smokes. The last time he saw his sister, she still smokes and she's 62! They all go to Paris in the summer and teach computers to children because Europe and New York are the best cities in the world. She smoked a lot of Benson and Hedges. Fuck, he's leaving. He is delightfully crazy. Thus, we are unveiling the Awkward Crazyman Quote Cantina in honor of our newfound friend. Every Tuesday we will post a new awkward quote from a crazyman (or woman, we don't discriminate here at Onward Awkward). [Sidenote: Soap was in fact created 100 years ago by Florence Nightengale, crazy like a fox!]

On Quitting Your Job: Detach With Love

2008-05-01T15:16:00.000-07:00

Jobs are weird, period. You've got all this shit that's required of you. You have to show off your potential, bullshit, grin and bear it. But for what, really? For that trust-fund you'll set up for your snot-nosed off-spring? For that vacation home that will be demolished by some kind of freak natural-disaster catastrophe? So that when you're old and wrinkled and synthetic-smelling you can look back on your mundane life and smile at all that work you did? I guess. But jobs are vital because our society's still stupid enough to think money will solve all. In any event, jobs are just awkward. First there's the weird hiring process of pretending to be a completely different person from yourself, one who's bubbly and empathetic and a 'quick learner!' And then there's the inevitable point when whomever hired you realizes that you are and always have been a moron and gives you that too-familiar look like, 'What the fuck did I hire a schmuck like you for' (I always imagine people of authority to use words like 'schmuck' and 'schmo' and 'sonofabitch'--real people don't use these words in everyday conversations, they're reserved for the likes of corporate assholes and up-tight HR types or people who want one day to be like them, who practice these words in the mirror as if they were 6 wearing daddy's too big loafers and an untied tie that drapes from neck and drags on the ground). But there is nothing--and really, nothing--as awkward in the world of jobs as quitting one. Normal people seem to have a fine enough time typing up a professional-looking memo, sending copies and BCCing it to whomever it may concern that they just 'aren't right for the position anymore' and give their two-weeks as I've witnessed only on television. I've had a number of jobs and for the life of me I just can't do it. Why work that extra two weeks in sheer awkward terror? Why go through the horrific experience of drafting a letter of resignation so that the Big Guys can sit around and laugh at your poor grammar and meek courage, puffing their cigars and rattling old man mucus in their grey lungs? So here's how I do it and if you can't stand the formalities of resigning like a decent person, maybe you could be awkward like me:

1. Start slacking on the job. Go out for extra coffee breaks. Smoke two or even three cigarettes instead of your usual 1/2. Don't answer people when come at you with frantic questions--stare blankly and watch them implode in aggravation muttering 'some help you are'. Listen to music on your headphones, but do not place the headphones on your ears; rather wear them loose around your neck--hum for extra effect. Check your MySpace, Facebook, hell check out a little porn and resist closing the windows when anyone walks by. Wear your delinquency like a badge of honor. Eat someone else's sandwich from the fridge. Burp. Take so long on your assignments that they end up getting passed onto other people. Try to take credit for the work when they finish it.

2. Stop showing up. Give it a couple of weeks so that it doesn't come across as dick. Take a day off on the first week. Catch a matinee or go smoke pot in your little brother's dorm room. Call that girl at the coffee shop who works weird hours because she's always strung out on coffee and Adderol and take her to a museum because you're 'artsy' and free of mainstream responsibilities. Gradually increase tardiness and absences. Catch up on your reading and start a blog. Laugh at how bored you'd be right now if you were at that dumbfuck job. If work calls, be vague. Feign sickness, death or terminal illness. Start getting creative with your excuses--your dog has acquired Avian Flu and you could be next, your father just contracted leprosy and you must show him to the island in a haz-mat suit and yeah it's got to be you because you're the only one he wants to see him like that and you're his fucking son so you should be able to take your infected father to his island. I mean, really weird them out. At some point, they may even be scared to call you because they're frightened to learn what new thing has ravaged your fake life. Work on your tan. If it's winter, make snowflakes and string them up all over your apartment just because. Take them down before any of your friends come over and call you an "arthole." Try to get coffee-girl to see it before then. "What a vision!" she'll say and maybe you'll get laid under jagged pieces of scrap paper.

3. Stop responding to calls from HR, e-mails from your boss and texts from that stupid bitch Lacey who's always on your shit but she smells like chicken bouillon and she wears turtlenecks and you'd never EVER hit that. Laugh at her multiple question marks. Now you're almost home free. Maybe start perusing the paper for a new job, but don't start too soon. Use this opportunity as if it was the last condom on earth and everyone else was a 'small-time dancer' from Reno. Pick up a new hobby--start drawing coffee-girl while she's at work (serving a coffee, delivering a pastry, yelling "turkey-bacon sammy for Julie!") Smile when she brings you your caramel machiato with a heart etched into the foam. Start playing fantasy-something depending on what sport's hot at the moment. Scream at your friends and at the T.V. and at the beer in your hand. Prank call work and ask for IP Freely. Hang up when they connect you with your boss Ivy Lee. Do a whole New York Times crossword puzzle (yeah, Googling's totally fine, you're quitting your job not applying to MIT or eating dinner at 4 by yourself with your cat). Write a short story about how your new girlfriend's addicted to crystal meth and send it to Oprah. Do not start watching Oprah. Smoke out of a pipe and buy a satin robe. Pick up some hair gel and foreign porn because this is the life.

Ok, now that the first three steps have been taken, you have to, at least at some point (maybe when you stop receiving a paycheck), call your work to make sure they've actually fired you. Have coffee-girl call in and request to be connected with you. Sigh noisily when she says "thankssomuch" because she's becoming really really annoying and you can't find your grandfather's watch you inherited last Christmas and recently she's always got the time when you ask. Do a victory dance when she says "oh ok" (too excitedly; speed freak) because you have now officially quit your horrible job without actually doing it. You're the man. Look into rehabs and restraining orders and a new job while you're at it.