Those final few seconds of untangling a really big knot happen in a hazy slow motion. A twisted lace becomes loose, and then another, and then there is some frantic untying as it all comes undone.
Yes, whether it's headphone wires, Nintendo controllers, phone cables, or Christmas lights, it sure feels great during the last few seconds of untangling that tightly tied mess.
AWESOME!
The Five Second Rule
The Five Second Rule simply states that any food dropped on the floor is perfectly fine to eat as long as you pick it up in less than five seconds.
The rule has many variations, including The Three Second Rule, The Seven Second Rule, and the extremely handy and versatile The However Long It Takes Me to Pick Up This Food Rule. But whatever version you use, there's just no denying why it's great:
1. Makes you look less disgusting. Because now when you eat that wet grape that rolled into the corner by the heating vent and collected some cat hair and a few dry toast crumbs, you're not disgusting. No, you're just a law-abiding Kitchen Citizen. Big difference.
2. Saves time and money. Wait, wait, wait, don't pull the peanut butter and jelly out again and make a whole new sandwich. No, we'll just blow the floor spice off this one and maybe tear off the wet, soggy piece of crust that landed in the juice puddle. It's all good.
3. It's scientifically proven. Well, actually it's scientifically proven that if a floor is covered in salmonella or E. coli, your food will be covered in salmonella or E. coli, even if they touch for only a split second. But, and here's the kicker, that same University of Illinois study showed no significant evidence of contamination on public flooring in general. Good save, Science.
So people, I give you a friend and savior in these tough times: The Five Second Rule. Know it. Love it.
Live by it.
AWESOME!
When the thing you were going to buy is already on sale
Advertisers eat me up.
Honestly, whenever I leave the grocery store I feel like I've just been had by the lot of them. I fully confess it too. I wheel in for toilet paper and wheel out with a fat cart loaded to the gills with supersize salsa, a dozen croissants, and two new brands of frozen pizza.
It hits me like a hammer at the cash register, but by then it's too late.
Yes, I reluctantly pay the bill as my mind flashes back to the Me of 15 Minutes Ago, a barely recognizable guy humming down the aisle and happily accepting little sample cups of drinkable yogurt from sweet old ladies in hairnets while casually tossing econo-size cheese bricks and vacuum-sealed meat sticks into my shopping cart.
Oh, I'm a happy camper amongst the freshly misted lettuce and bubbling lobster tanks, but when I get to the front and get cash register slapped it's a different story.
If you're with me, then you know that's why it so great when you go to the store and the thing you were going to buy is already on sale. Suddenly the tables have turned and now you're calling the shots.
"Oh, what's this?" you ask innocently, approaching a towering display of toilet paper on sale for half price. "Half off, really? Well that's perfect because that's all I came here for anyway. And you know what, may as well get seven extra dozen while I'm here too."
(looking around the store with raised eyebrows) "Annnnnnnd I guess that's everything for today."
Then you mime making a big check mark on your grocery list and smile as you savor the moment sweetly. Yes, now your wallet stays fat, your smile stays fresh, and you ride the fast lane straight to Penny-Pinching Heaven.
AWESOME!
Peeling that thin plastic film off new electronics
Welcome to the world, remote control. We're happy to have you with us, laptop monitor. You're free, cell phone.
AWESOME!
Finding your keys after looking forever
Panic sets in very slowly.
It's early in the morning and you're heading out for work. After flicking your lights off and stomping your shoes on, you casually tap your pockets and find them surprisingly dentless.
"No big deal," you think with a mild shrug. "Probably left them on the kitchen counter."
So you swing by the kitchen only to find no dice, man, no dice at all. You double-check your pants, flip through your purse, and pause for a split second to stare at the microwave clock while doing some math. Figuring you need to leave in seven minutes so you're not late for work, you suddenly ditch your jacket on the floor and go perform the classic Key Hunting Play in three acts:
Act 1: The Slow Build. The curtain rises to a scene of you rescanning the kitchen counter, triple-checking your pockets, and then searching the rest of the house in an increasingly frantic panic. You walk all over the carpet as your forehead starts sweating and you begin checking more and more obscure places. Violinists in the pit band work into a frenzy as thunder crashes outside the window, while you check the bathroom counter, desk drawers, and fridge but come up empty.
And it is black.
Act 2: The Detective. The dusty spotlight shakes and stops on a shot of you pausing by the front door. You grimace at the ceiling, sucking in deep breaths, scratching your head. A dog barks faintly in the distance and thunder cracks again as you suddenly transform into a detective, pausing to retrace your steps from where you saw your keys last.
"I came home, I went upstairs, I changed into sweatpants," you recall quietly to the hushed crowd. "I ate a frozen burrito, I checked my email, I fell asleep on the couch . . ."
There is a long, drawn-out pause.
And it is black.
Act 3: The Greatest Hits. Running out of options, your mind flashes back to your greatest hits, a quick-clicking slideshow of places you've found your lost keys in the past. The audience is treated to brilliant back-screen images of happier days. Sporting a lower hairline, flatter stomach, and tighter T-shirt, a high school you happily finds the keys in your jeans pocket by the laundry hamper. Late for an end of the year kegger with your boyfriend in college, you frantically trip over empty pizza boxes and video game controllers before finding them wedged tightly between couch cushions.
But as you race around it slowly and painfully dawns on you one by one by one . . .
Those places are all empty today.
Spotlights meet and then dim on your sad and hollow face as the audience suddenly realizes it's a tragedy. The curtain drops heavily and there is quiet and respectable applause from those who aren't too shocked to show their appreciation.
But wait . . .
The theater lights stay down, there is some quick whispering, a tiny sizzle of electricity fills the room.
There is an encore!
The curtain lifts for a final fleeting scene of you scrambling around your house trying to form some drippy, half-baked plan. You consider calling in sick for the day, getting your girlfriend to come home so you can copy her keys, or changing the locks altogether.
As you race around with your jacket, a tipped-over laundry basket and strewn couch cushions all over the floor, the music gets faster as you scale higher and higher toward complete lunacy.
Nearly in tears and on the verge of madness, sweat drips down your face as you suddenly swing open the door with full force and then gasp as you immediately spot them: hanging in the lock.
The audience leaps to their feet and erupts, filling the theater with booming applause, loud whistles, and screams from the balcony.
You smile at them and wink, grab the keys, kiss them, and hold them to the sky. Then you run onto the driveway, jump in your car, and zoom off into the distance.
Trumpets blast from the pit band, the standing ovation continues, and big bouquets of bright red roses are tossed onstage as the great play ends with a flourish.
And sure, when this happens in real life you feel stupid, ashamed, and guilty, but more than anything else you feel a sweet sense of relief. Your muscles droop, your chest unclenches, and a tidal wave rushes inside you and fills you up with joy.
When you finally find your key
s after looking forever, you hear the audience hooting and hollering as the curtain closes on this perfect little scene of
AWESOME!
Eating the extra fries at the bottom of the bag
Hey, eating in the car is tough.
Weaving that bulky clunk of metal through highway traffic, off off-ramps, and into parallel parking spots is no small feat. And you know what makes it worse? Having a hot, crumpled bag of steamy drive-thru riding shotgun, that's what.
Yes, resisting the temptation is tough, but then again unwrapping a sloppy mustard-dripping burger over the steering wheel probably isn't good for anybody. So there's really only one option to satisfy your urges to both eat and live.
That's right: Dip your hand in the crinkly paper well and squeeze between cool packets of ketchup, big wads of napkins, and waxy-wrapped burgers until you find that treasure trove of fries at the bottom of the bag. It's like panning for gold and is known as the Pre-Lunch Munch in some circles.
Also, we can't forget the Classic Afterburn move. Yes, bag fries star again, but this time they're the limp n' salty chasers after your last slurp of bland watered-down cola. Yes, we both know you've got to finish that off with a flavor-saving punch, and bonus fries will do the job just fine.
So dig that hand in deep and pull out a nice little bite of
AWESOME!
The feeling of scrunching sand in your feet
Free your feet.
When you kick off your tight, suffocating shoes, peel off your sweaty socks, and just starting walking on the beach in bare feet, how good does that feel?
Man, it's a million molecules of Earthbeads massaging your foot all at once. It's a tickly, grippy sand sensation. It's big piles of small cubes hugging and comforting your tired and broken soles.
And yeah, sure, the sand wedges itself up into your toe-nails and coats the bottom of your feet like butter on toast. But whatever, because the feeling of scrunching sand in your feet when you walk on the beach is certifiably
AWESOME!
Scraping all the lint off an overflowing lint trap
There's something therapeutic about finger-peeling that dark-gray-with-red-flecks fuzz patch off the trap, rolling it into a ball, and tossing it in the trash. Yes, after you ditch that hot, furry blanket, both you and your dryer can finally breathe again.
AWESOME!
The thank-you wave when you let somebody merge in front of you
Cruising with our music cranked and our cell phones ringing, we sometimes find it hard to communicate with other drivers sharing the roads. When speeds are high and time's a'ticking, we rely on silent gestures to get our points across.
Now, we all know the Thank-You Wave when you let someone merge in front of you is a great move. It's highway payment for arriving at your destination one car length later whenever you let someone in.
But it doesn't end there.
Sure, courtesy-wave etiquette may have started with the post-merge Thank-You Wave, but the magic has spread:
1. The Red Light Squeeze Wave. You pull up to a red light and the guy in front of you squeezes into the intersection a bit so you can make your right turn faster. As you pull up and make your move, it's time to thank that special someone for shaving twenty seconds off your commute.
2. The Pre-Wave. As in I'm thanking you because the front tip of my Honda Civic is pointed into your traffic-jammed lane and I know you see me so just let me in. Sure, you can try to avoid eye contact, but I'm determined to Pre-Wave you to build up some goodwill.
3. The Apology Wave. Don't be fooled: Even though it looks similar to the thank-you wave, the apology wave is typically accompanied by a big grimace instead of an eyebrow raise. Next time you side-swipe a van of teenagers and send them skidding off the highway into a roadside ditch, be sure to offer a heartfelt apology wave.
4. The Go-Ahead Wave. You roll up to a four-way stop at the same time as another car and decide to let them turn first. Maybe they're a sweet old lady barely peeking over the wheel or maybe you just want to avoid The World's Slowest Car Accident. Either way, you give them the pleasant, open-palmed Go-Ahead Wave, which is sort of how the ladies on The Price Is Right unveil a new washer and dryer set.
Proper courtesy-wave etiquette keeps two-way talking alive on our streets and prevents chaos from ruling the laneways. So when you do something generous keep watch for a wave, and when someone helps you out be sure to smile and wave right back.
AWESOME!
When you're really tired and about to fall asleep and someone throws a blanket on you
Hey, you know what's even better than taking a nap on the couch? Well, I'll tell you: that feeling you get just before you fall asleep on the couch.
Yes, that's when you enter that blissful, semiconscious Pre-Nap World where your thoughts float and zoom around your brain and your muscles relax and detensify. The sun feels warm on your face, the radio in the background fades to a comforting white noise, and you know . . . you just know . . . that you're about to fall asleep.
It feels great.
There are really only two things that can disturb you when you're in the Pre-Nap World:
1. Feeling like you have to go to the bathroom. Sorry, but unless you trust your bladder to balloon without bursting, you might just have to get up for this one. Nobody can really help you go to the bathroom while you're lying on the couch, unless they really, really love you.
2. Feeling cold. You get those ol' lying-on-the-couch shivers. You know your sheets and blankets are back on your bed, and you could just get up to get them, but you don't really want to move because then you'll leave the blissful Pre-Nap World. And it's a nice world. It's a world you don't leave lightly.
So that's why it's great whenever someone notices your dilemma and just quietly grabs a blanket from the closet and tosses it on your semiconscious self. If they're really nice, they even flap the blanket above you and let it open up and softly land on you.
When that happens, you immediately feel the warmth radiating around you, a tiny smile curls itself on the corners of your lips, and you fall deeper and deeper into a nice, relaxing rest.
AWESOME!
Getting your ID checked when you're way over the legal age
Hey, sometimes you're in the mood for a few drinks.
Big bottle of merlot over a romantic spaghetti dinner, clinking beers floating in an icy cooler beside the tent, Jell-O shooters before the bars in college, or bubbly flutes of champagne for the big New Year's bash.
Whatever your pleasure, whatever your poison, that's cool with us. But before you get down with the booze-filled pour, you need to get out that door and run down to the liquor store. Word to your sister.
Now, if you're like me, you go through four distinct phases when you get your ID checked, and they go a little something like this:
* Stage 1: Underage Rage. Okay, you're not quite at the legal limit but you're close enough to push it. Problem is that the pimply dude at the cash register ain't buying your fake ID and you get busted at the scene. So close yet so far. You storm away with your Friday night plans dashed, burning with a bit of underage rage.
* Stage 2: New Booze Buzz. When you hit the legal limit, it's time to fight for your right to party. You wheel your shopping cart around the store with pride, picking up a bit of this, a bit of that, and beaming like a schoolgirl when the cashier asks for your ID. "Why, no problem at all!" you say loudly, grinning widely at the tired, bleary-eyed folks behind you in line. "Thank you so much for asking!"
* Stage 3: Jaded Twentysomething. You're four or five years over the limit and the novelty has worn off. Now it's becoming a pain to dig through your wallet to find your driver's license before scooting home with a six-pack for the game. Can't the clerk clearly see you're twenty-six? Does he think you could have grown that goatee five years ago?
* Stage 4: The Fountain of Youth. After a while, the gray hairs add up and you start buying white wine for the backyard barbecue instead of lollipop-flavored vodka coo
lers for the all-night rager. You know your way around the store, you smile warmly at the clerk, and suddenly you get asked for your ID when you least expect it.
Oh baby, when it hasn't happened in years, getting your ID checked can be a full body buzz. You fish out your card excitedly, peeling its faded face and dog-eared corners from your bag, and your eyes twinkle as you take a sip from the fountain of youth.
Sometimes it even happens on your birthday.
AWESOME!
The smell of rain on a hot sidewalk
There's just something about the smell of rain on a hot sidewalk. It's sort of like the rain cleans the air--completely hammering all the dirt and grime particles down to the ground and releasing some hot baked-in chemicals from the pavement. It smells best if it hasn't rained in a while and the sidewalk is scalding hot. Then it sort of sizzles and steams up into a big, hot, intoxicating whiff.
AWESOME!
That friendly nod between strangers out doing the same thing
Gliding down the bike path on a Saturday morning, you whip by somebody peddling in the opposite direction and give each other a nod. For a moment it's like "Hey, we're both doing the same thing. Let's be friends for a second."
Also applies to seeing someone driving the same car as you, walking their dog past you on Sunday morning, or squeezing the melon beside you in the grocery store.
AWESOME!
Really, really old Tupperware
Found in dusty kitchen cupboards and dishwasher top shelves across this wide, great land, really, really old Tupperware is as handy today as it was twenty, thirty, forty years ago. That famous Tupperware burping seal still holds strong, and you can bet that banana bread will stay moist, those celery sticks crisp, and that leftover lasagna fresh. Yes, all is well in this tight vacuum-sealed Chamber of Taste Preservation.
The Book of Awesome Page 6
