The Book of Awesome

by Neil Pasricha

  You hit that big pile of white or black leftover socks and matching gets tough. You're inspecting patterns and heel placements, checking textures and fades, all the while hoping, just hoping, that everything will work out fine.

  As you approach the last few socks you do a quick mental count to see if you've got an even number of socks left on the bedspread.

  If you do, and if they all match up perfectly, then you're loving it. There are no missing tube socks or disappearing dress socks. Everything is locked and loaded, so you just put them all together, take that basket of well-worn lovers to the dresser, and dump them all in the drawer with a big smile on your face.

  AWESOME!

  When there's still time left in the parking meter when you pull up

  Say some kind and generous soul left seven unused minutes on the parking meter and left you with three big choices.

  First of all, you could go with the No Dollar Dash. This is where you do some quick mental math and figure you can run all your errands before the time expires. If you can grab a slice of pizza and pick up the dry cleaning that quickly, then go man, just go.

  Then again, maybe No Dollar Dashing is too stressful for you. You're afraid of the parking ticket, so you go instead with the Tight Quarter Squeeze. Here's where you plug a warm quarter in there because you're sure seventeen minutes will be good enough. Hey, you're still thankful for the seven free minutes but figure it's worth buying yourself a brisk walk in place of a run.

  Lastly, you could go Slot Machine. You're one of those folks who just don't trust themselves. The parking ticket must be avoided at all costs, even if it means dumping an extra couple dollars in the meter. You buy yourself a big, warm security blanket in case you get held up somewhere.

  And now, even though most of us would like to think of ourselves as laid-back No Dollar Dash kind of folks, let's be honest. We love the Slot Machines, because they're the ones who leave us with seven minutes left the next time. And if it wasn't for the Tight Quarter Squeezers and their perfect parking planning, getting seven minutes of free time would just become no big deal.

  So by holding hands and joining together, we all make that world go right on round.

  AWESOME!

  The smell of crayons

  Crack open a fresh box and get ready for a neuron-splattering head rush.

  AWESOME!

  Peeling an orange in one shot

  It ain't easy, but when you finally succeed in peeling an orange into only one big, swirly peel, it can be one of the greatest fruit-eating experiences of your life. Here's how to make the magic happen:

  1. Pick a winner. No two oranges are created equal, so it's important to inspect your fruit before you pick it. Smart money says grab a juicy one that's been ripe for a day or two and has plenty of loose, saggy peel hanging around just begging for a big thumb puncture right in the gut. If you have trouble, just remember this handy line: To get that peel off, pick one that's soft. Word to your sister.

  2. Roll it out (optional). Some people like to roll their orange around on the counter a bit just to make doubly sure that the peel is primed and ready to go. This is the equivalent of sending the orange out to the bullpen to warm up. A side benefit is that your orange becomes extra juicy.

  3. The thumb puncture. This is the most critical move, so let's break it down. First, make sure you do actually use your thumb to perform the puncture, not the questionable four-fingers-scratching-the-blackboard technique. People who go the four-finger route are doomed to get peel scraps flying everywhere, so don't do it. Now, when you have your game face ready, aim for one of the flabby peel rolls right near the top or bottom of the orange. No matter what, do not stab right in the middle of the fruit, because that's the thinnest part of the peel and you'll walk away a humiliated, pulpy mess.

  4. Long, slow burn. Once you're in, it's time to slowly, majestically carve out a big peel strip around and around and around the orange. Be careful not to create any peel islands, those little chunks of peel just hanging out in the middle of a freshly peeled area. Also, don't peel too thick a strip (inaccurate and unpredictable) and don't peel too thin a strip (could snap off). Just relax and it will come with practice. If you seem to be losing your momentum or getting stressed out, put the orange down, shake your hands out, take some deep breaths, and regroup.

  5. Show and tell. Did you nail it? Did you finish it off good? If so, congratulations, you're now holding a freshly shorn orange in one hand and a limp n' long, snakelike strip of peel in the other. You have to finish by showing this to at least one person and saying "Hey, check it out!" Maybe hang it right in their face if they don't seem impressed at first. They should come around and at least flash you a terse thumbs-up or a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

  Yes, peeling an orange in one shot is a terrific accomplishment. It's one of the best fruit openings out there, easily trumping the watermelon split, pineapple top lop, or coconut crack.

  AWESOME!

  Using all the different shampoos and soaps in someone else's shower

  Shampoo doesn't travel well.

  First of all, you can barely get it on the plane. Nope, no liquids in your carry-on, so unless you've got a little travel bottle or you're checking in a big suitcase, you can't really take it. And even if you do check it in, you've got the packing problem. I know my terrible method of putting a big bottle of shampoo in a couple plastic bags isn't the answer. But what is? Travel bottles are more trouble than they're worth--you have to play sloppy scientist to refill them and they're small and easy to forget everywhere.

  No, shampoo just doesn't travel well. Like fireworks, katana blades, or colicky babies, it just wasn't meant to fly. So if you're like me, you just don't pack it. You swallow hard, zip that suitcase, and trust that your hair will make it home.

  When you hit the road without shampoo, a few things could happen:

  1. You might have to slum it, oily style. Just work that comb and pray for no dandruff.

  2. You might have to use one of the little hotel bottles of shampoo or tear into one of their tiny little shampoo samples with your teeth in the shower. If you're like me, you'll probably use the lotion in your hair too, thinking it's conditioner.

  3. Best-case scenario: You're crashing with friends and you get to take a shower in their shower and go wild using all the different shampoos and soaps they've got in there.

  Now, we all know the last option is clearly the best. However, it only works if you actually are staying with friends and if you shower in their real shower--not their guest shower, not their basement shower, but their actual shower, the one they use every day. That's where you peel back their crinkly, mildewed curtain and open up a fantasy world of half-used bizarro products filling all corners of the bathtub, piled high in bright pinks and neon greens like a candy store.

  So go ahead: Lock that door, strip right down, and get right in there. Just make sure you follow the Top Four Showering in Other People's Shower Rules:

  1. Bar Ban. The bar of soap is completely off-limits, no questions asked. You don't know where it's been, they don't know where you're putting it, so you just have to stay away. The last thing anyone wants for a thank-you gift is a nest of wet hairs in the soap dish.

  2. Watch the clock. Definitely enjoy the moment, but don't take too long. You don't know their hot water situation or if they need the bathroom, so get out before you get the place too steamy. And leave the fan on.

  3. Sampling is encouraged. If you're staying with a couple, chances are good they've got His and Hers sections. Try both! What's this? New scent of body wash? Squirt! Weird kiwi-grapefruit face wash? Squirt! Forty-dollar-a-bottle salon conditioner that looks like it came from a science lab? Squirt squirt squirt!

  4. Don't finish anything. Squirt away, but don't drain anything. They might be counting on one last use of their favorite conditioner and you don't want to rob them of that.

  So that's it. That's the perfect traveling shampoo situation and them's the rules for living by it.<
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  Now, is it just me, or does using all the different shampoos and soaps in someone else's shower make you feel like you're in some kind of focus group? You can just see the end of it too: A few folks in white smocks hold clipboards waiting for you outside the bathroom door in the dark hallway. It flies open and steam shoots out in all directions. You emerge in a towel, your skin damp, your feet wet. And quickly, there are questions: "What did you think of the blue bottle? Did it give you the lather you were looking for? What about the scent?" They keep going, writing furiously as you spit out your first impressions. Then they ask the big one: "What was the shower experience like overall?" They wait expectantly, heads bowed, pencils hovering just above the sheet, eyes peering up at you over their glasses.

  And you smile and you nod and you know what to tell them.

  AWESOME!

  When the vending machine gives you two things instead of one

  First you spot the Teetering Treat.

  It's the candy bar hanging onto the metal spirals for dear life, just sitting there after giving the last customer the ol' For Sale Fail and teasing him instead of delivering the goods. And instead of spending another dollar to test his luck, he decided to walk away. Hey, we've all been there too, so now it's time for some good old-fashioned Vending Machine Karma, also known as Chocolate Justice.

  So just drop your money in, push the buttons, and listen for that sweet thump-thump of two treats dropping into the Sugar Basin at once. Now push back the awkwardly heavy door and swipe a paw in there to scoop up your treasures. Kiss the vending machine plastic window, hold your nougat-filled plunder up to the sky, and then flee the scene.

  It's snacking time.

  Yes, that free treat is great because now's your chance to play Santa on an unsuspecting coworker or classmate. Got someone who could use a caramel fix? Of course you do. So share the wealth and give yourself a break together. It's Christmas again.

  Also, no matter how much you try, you can't return the free snack. No, there's no wedging your hand up there and throwing it back into its Metal Spiral Jail Cell. So ditch the guilt and smile back at the Gods of Snacking, for they have smiled down upon you.

  And let me tell you something else: You deserve it.

  AWESOME!

  Licking the batter off the beaters of a cake mixer

  You can't do it without getting batter all over your face, because there's that hard-to-reach place in the middle of the beater. Your tongue isn't going to reach, and leaving it un-licked isn't an option. So get in there, get sticky, and get

  AWESOME!

  Being the first person into a really crowded movie theater and getting the prime seats

  When it comes to movie theater seats, everybody has their favorite.

  First up, there's the Back Row Crowd. We all know these people because most of us have been these people. With nobody behind you the back row becomes a prime make-out spot, a perfect place to sneak sips from your secret flask, or just somewhere to place your really, really tall and lanky body without blocking anyone's view. Thanks for that, by the way.

  Next you've got your Middle of the Packers. These folks go for some of the most popular seats--the middle seats in the middle row about midway back. They might go on about how the sound is better from straight ahead or how they get a headache from sitting too close, but I think they just like being in the thick of things. And who can blame them?

  Side Guys, that's who. Yes, the folks who enjoy sitting in the thin side sections of the movie theater are a rare breed, but they're out there. Maybe they have pea-sized bladders or fidgety children in tow and need access to a quick getaway lane. Or perhaps they want some thinking space and don't like fighting for armrests. Whatever their reasons, I think I can safely say that most of us are glad they exist, because they really help our odds at getting the other seats.

  And we can't forget the La-Z-Boys n' Girls. These are the folks who put their feet up on the seat in front of them. "I came here to relax," they seem to say to themselves. "So I'm going to relax." They have no problem taking up a seat in front of them with their dirty sneakers or corn-covered heels. Brave souls may even try to pull off the Extreme La-Z-Move, which involves very slowly and softly putting their feet on the chair in front of them despite someone already sitting in it. It does not involve making new friends, generally. But these folks like their feet up so they'll even take a corner seat that nobody wants to pull it off.

  Lastly, there are the Front Row Crazies. You know, I used to think people who sat in the front section just had incredibly poor judgment . . . and incredibly good chiropractor coverage! Hey-ohhhhhhh! But seriously, craning their necks sky-high, rolling their heads left to right the whole time, what were they thinking? But then I realized that some of these people are just my friend Mike, who always realizes at the last minute that he forgot his glasses and forces us to sit near the front so he can see the screen.

  So sure, everybody has their favorite seat. The problem is that we don't always get them.

  Some people buy tickets online and line up really early, so when we get to the theater they're already there, waiting near the garbage can, smacking their gum, reading their free movie magazine. No, we're not going to beat those folks unless we want to play their game. And their game is generally pretty long and tedious.

  Other times people seem to know a back route or something. You think you're going to get a good seat, but suddenly there are two ladies sitting there out of nowhere, stretching out their sweaters and purses across a long row to save room for all their friends. They're like nervous hens, eyeing you suspiciously like you might grab an egg and take off. They get right into it too. I've seen a stretchy wool sweater cover four seats. That's some serious wingspan.

  Basically, it's pretty tough to get perfect seats these days. The crowds are big, the crowds are feisty, and the prime plushes ain't easy to come by. But isn't that what makes it so special when you really nail it? When you skip up those stairs, eye your prize, toss your windbreaker in front of you, and grab your perfect little bank of seats before the big show? I hope you'll agree that getting those perfect movie seats is like melted joy and sizzling happiness served on the big pizza pie of heaven.

  Because you won this game, my friend. You came, you sat, and you won.

  AWESOME!

  Waiters and waitresses who bring free refills without asking

  On the whole, we're pretty nasty to waiters and waitresses. We complain they're wasting our time if the food takes too long to come, we complain they're trying to rush us out if the food comes too early. We warn about allergies, make special requests, ask for more bread, and talk openly about their tip while they're busing tables next to us. We're kings barking orders from the booth and they're sweating peasants in aprons and pieces of flair with dirty washcloths hanging out their back pocket.

  Waiters and waitresses have to put up with us and paste wide, toothy grins across their faces, besides. They split bills, sop up spills, and slip and slide across slick kitchen floors for us.

  Despite this all-odds-against-them setup, there are a few gems out there, a few rare, bright gems who deliver perfect waiter or waitressessness. Perfection here is defined solely as bringing free refills to the table without our even asking. Because nothing beats ice-filled towers of cola arriving unannounced at our table, just as we're finishing up our spinach and artichoke dip, a perfectly timed palate cleanse before the big entree. The only things that come close are ice-filled towers of cola arriving unannounced right after the entree and ice-filled towers of cola arriving unannounced with the check and a handful of mints.

  It's a great scene.

  Three hours later, when you lie bloated on the coach, your entire meal swimming in the carbonated sea that is your digestive system, I know your eyelids will droop heavily and your posture will slide, but I also know you'll give a thin, subtle smile and a slow, sure thumbs-up sign when anyone asks "How was dinner?"

  AWESOME!

  The final seconds o
f untangling a really big knot

  I don't know how to tie my shoes.

  I know, I know, it's terrible, it's embarrassing, but I seriously can't tie my shoes the way most people do. I just--my fingers don't slide the right way. When I try the loop-around-and-pull-through move, I end up with a limp and loose version of the finished product. As a result, I'm stuck with The Bunny Ears Method, also known as The Double Loop or Grandma Knot. Yes, I make a loop with my right hand, a loop with my left, and then I tie them together. It's a tiny bit slower, but that's not the worst of it.

  The worst of it is that it often results in massive, tightly wound knots that take forever to untie.

  So basically I try to avoid untying my shoes altogether. Instead, I spend one or two minutes wedging and banging my foot into them each time I leave the house. Although this technique results in completely squashing the back of my shoe, I find it preferable than sorting out the granddaddy knot waiting for me down there.

  But sometimes there is no choice.

  See, at some point my scraggly knot will lie lazily on the side of my shoe, staring up at me with its sad, dusty face. And I can only smile wearily, shake my head, sit down on a step, and get ready to slog away in the five-minute heavyweight title card of Me vs. The Knot.

  I'm not going to lie: I often lose this battle, choosing instead to throw on a pair of sandals or stay home and order pizza. But there are also days where I come out on top. There are days where I stick my fingernail in there as hard as I can and pick and pick and pick until the lace finally starts to give. And then I start pulling it this way and that way until I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, the moment of truth, the dream becoming a reality.