The Book of Awesome

by Neil Pasricha

  But you scrape by, you scrape home, you scrape up to the front door--tired and sore, aching from war--as the sun sets behind you, the traffic jams behind you, and your stomach rumbles inside you. That bagel you scarfed six hours ago is a distant memory, but you're much too exhausted to do anything besides dial for pizza.

  And that's what makes it so great when you pop open your door and catch a hot whiff of something sizzling in the kitchen. Even though your clogged-up, toner-infused brain can barely soak up anything, you somehow manage to piece things together: "Dinner me eat. Food yes now."

  And suddenly there is life.

  Your lips slowly curl at the corners, your nose sniffs at the nostrils, and your eyes flash a quick cartoonish sparkle with a faint ding heard somewhere in the background. You've got new energy, so you kick off your shoes, peel off those sweaty socks, and let the saliva start to flow for some tasty eats cooked up hot and fresh by someone you love.

  AWESOME!

  Big crowds enjoying big fireworks

  Fire trickles and drips across the sky, old folks huddle and cuddle and babies cry, teenagers squeeze sweaty palms and look up, up way high. Because light fills the night, kabooms bang in the air, conversations stop, jaws drop, we all crane our necks up and stare. Yes, when those fireworks erupt, when they splash in the dark, when those bright waterfalls drip down into our park, we all ooh and ahh at them big beautiful sparks.

  AWESOME!

  Sleeping with one leg under the covers and one leg out

  Home temperature is important.

  Head in the freezer, hands in the oven, whatever your move, just make it. Pick a temp, baby, then bake it. Pump up the thermostat, bang on the rad, or crank up the air. If you're hot, ditch the sweatpants, if you're cold, slip on slippers.

  Home temperature is important.

  If you're not comfortable, you just won't be happy. Roommates want it hotter, spouses want it cooler, and you may want it jusssssssssst right, so you'll need to tweak dials and add layers until you figure it out.

  And eventually you will. And you'll think everything is great. And everything will be great.

  Until it comes.

  Bedtime.

  Yes, before you flick out the lights and slip into golden slumbers, you must first guess your Sleep Comfort Zone (SCZ or "See-Zee" for short). And See-Zees ain't easy. If you've ever woken up with the shivers or the sweats, then you added too many blankets or slept too nude.

  If you're on your own, there are ceiling fans, heating vents, and your general sweatiness to consider. If you're with a pet or a partner, you've got double the hot-breath factor and a lot more sweaty legs under the covers.

  If you're like me, then your eyes might blink open in the middle of the night as you realize you're uncomfortable. And if this happens, then just toss one leg out of the covers and one leg under them.

  Also known as the Toe Vent.

  AWESOME!

  Building a stack of pancakes that looks just like the front of the box

  It's no joke and it takes teamwork, timing, and trust, but building a stack of pancakes that looks just like the front of the box can be one of the most rewarding breakfast experiences of your life. Here's how you can make the magic happen:

  1. Assemble a team. You'll need a Cook, Condimenter, and Table Setter. The Cook should be an early riser and self-starter, with the skill and confidence to cook for a group as well as a basic understanding of what a circle looks like. Your Condimenter needs to understand the value of real butter and decent maple syrup and know where to find it. A driver's license is necessary here. And lastly, there's the Table Setter. Prior experience is mandatory. Also a plus is the ability to fold napkins into nice triangles.

  2. Night-before prep work. Yes, the show begins the night before. The Condimenter needs to make sure all the key ingredients are in the house. Is there enough powder in the pancake box? Is the tap water running okay? How about the syrup and butter? If necessary, make a list and go to the store before it closes. We don't want to find out in the morning that something's missing. Nobody will sleep well not knowing.

  3. Rest up. It doesn't matter what time you go to sleep. Just make sure you squeeze enough solid hours of golden slumbers in there to power up the juices and get the engine revving the next morning. Remember: Groggy kitchen work is sloppy kitchen work. Nobody likes an oblong pancake.

  4. Wake up and get down to pancakes. Showtime! Now it's the Cook's time to shine. This job is not for the weak-minded. The Cook must first set the oven to a low temperature because that's going to be the holding bay until we have a full stack. This is a slow-building crescendo toward a massive stack of pancakes. Let's not forget that. Once we've got the oven set low, the Cook starts doing their thing--tying their hair into a bandana, getting the frying pan warmed up, mixing the batter. There can be no breaks until the full stack of pancakes is cooked, kept warm, and ready to serve. The Table Setter is busy here too, pulling out silverware, laying out plates, folding napkins. And rounding out this majestic circus-like performance is the Condimenter, busy pouring juice and jigsawing perfect squares of butter.

  Team, remember what we're playing for here: a towering stack of hot, fluffy pancakes drizzled with sweet, slow-moving syrup, delicately topped with a thick, perfectly melting square of butter.

  Yes, it takes some time. Yes, it takes real effort. Yes, you will require a solid lineup of team players who never take their eyes off the end goal. But what could be more fun on a weekend morning than creating your very own stack of pancakes that looks just like the front of the box?

  (Hint: Nothing.)

  AWESOME!

  When your sneeze stalls for a second and then suddenly comes booming out

  Your head is a machine.

  Honestly, just face it: Your face and scalp are really just oily gift wrap over the giant, whirring Skull Factory running full throttle inside your coconut. Just think about what's going on up there.

  First you've got sound waves constantly navigating your twisty, waxy ear canals like Luke Skywalker weaving through Death Star trenches. Then there's your nose on permanent high-sniff alert, searching out gas leaks in the basement, fresh croissants at the bakery, or coffee aisles in the grocery store. And we can't forget your mouth and nose forever dancing together in the majestic art of breathing.

  But wait, that's not all. On top of these rickety assembly lines of important Head Business, you've got blood swirling around, mucus dripping all over the place, and neurons firing and bouncing off walls like a million never-ending games of Pong.

  Skull Factory's a busy place, folks. The line keeps moving every day, every night, every year, forever.

  Given how much is going on, it's no wonder the gears get gummed up once in a while. Rogue lashes jam your sockets, Popsicles give you brain freeze, and sneezes stall in your clogged-up noggin just as they're trying to escape.

  And you know what that feels like.

  Face frozen in an awkward crunch, you stare at the ceiling and hold your hand up to your friend, silently pleading with the factory foreman to please, please just let it out. One eye popped open, the other squeezed shut, you clench your cheeks, bend your mouth into a triangle, and feel the lost sneeze pinball around your skull.

  And then BOOOOOM!

  Oh mama, how good does it feel when that sneeze finally comes screaming out?

  Really, that sweet release is like someone yanking a red-hot, twisted wrench out of your grinding, crunched-up headgears and letting all the oily parts start quietly purring again.

  AWESOME!

  Wordless apologies

  Tension fills the room and black clouds linger by the ceiling fan. Dinner was late, bills piled up, nobody called home.

  Now you're steaming in front of the TV while they're crying softly in the bedroom upstairs. The stalemate burns quietly until they come down, enter the room slowly, grab your shirt sleeves, and look right at you with a pair of warm, moist eyes while starting to give you a soft, smiling apology.


  But you see them coming and your stomach churns with a wave of regret, so before they even get it out, you interrupt with a head shake and a hug.

  AWESOME!

  The smell and sound of a campfire

  Slicing a dead tree, tossing it on a pile of dirt, and setting it on fire is pure joy.

  As that dry, withered stump slowly releases years and years of energy soaked up from the sun, the air, and the ground around it, out come bright lights, whispering hisses, sizzling pops, and the thick intoxicating smell of Musky Smoke n' Pine Needles.

  You can close your eyes and let your eyelids paint yellow and orange kaleidoscopes as the heat washes over you, rosying up your cheeks and giving you that nice, warm Hotface Effect. In that cold, dark forest, on that cold, dark log bench, beside the cold, dark lake, your ears and nose perk up as you focus on every little sound and smell around you.

  AWESOME!

  When your suitcase tumbles down the luggage chute first after a long flight

  My friends have theories.

  "If you're the first person to check in for the flight you're pretty much done for," my friend Chad will begin as our plane begins its slow descent. "Your suitcase is first in the plane and gets buried under everyone else's golf clubs, guitar cases, and bird cages."

  "No, no, no, it's not like that at all," Mike will counter, sipping his diet cola and shaking his head slowly. "If you're last to check in, you're last one out. Fair is fair. Unless you're in first class or have a special membership tag, they observe the rules of suitcase etiquette. These are big companies. They have standards."

  "You're both wrong," I'll sigh with the pompous air of a frustrated airline CEO. "I wish there was a science to it, but honestly the system's in shambles. Look, if you were tossing backbreaking luggage in the bowels of an airport all day, do you think you'd follow the rules of 'suitcase etiquette'? No, you just grab bags randomly. It's all completely random. Nobody knows what's coming out."

  The conversation reaching a stalemate, we all shrug and look away from one another. Mike glances out the window at the bright lights below and Chad flips passively through an in-flight magazine article about resort swimming pools with interesting shapes.

  Tired and sore, we land, clear customs, and make our way to the luggage belt. Away from the theories and debate, one thing becomes extremely clear: It sure feels great when your suitcase tumbles down the luggage chute first.

  If this happens, part the anxious crowd, grab your bag, and shuffle outside to get on your way. Smile a big smile because you just won the suitcase jackpot.

  AWESOME!

  Peeling off your wet bathing suit and putting on warm clothes after swimming for a long time

  Nipples freeze, goosebumps rise, and you get a shaky case of the shivers.

  Yes, when you jump out of the pool after a long swim, the wind just whips by and chills you to the bone marrow. For a moment you're frozen in that drippy no-man's-land between warm soothing pool water and dry puffy beach towel. Hair matted to your ears, cold water trickling down your legs, you run across the grass or up the patio stones into the warm embrace of a towel. Quickly you dry your hair and face, scrub your arms and legs, and then wrap it around you in the classic Caped Crusader Huddled On A Skyscraper Rooftop pose.

  And sure, you love the feeling of warming up again, but there's just one nagging problem: that cold, wet bathing suit clinging damply to your rear end. Icy drops drip down your legs until you finally go inside, head to the bathroom, and get the job done in three easy steps:

  * Step 1: Slow Peelin'. Bikini rockers, you're done in a jiffy here, untying the top and dropping your bottoms into a tiny inside-out mess of wet spandex on the floor. If you're rocking trunks, just peel them down your dry legs, even if they stick and clump awkwardly until you eventually kick them off in a fit of rage.

  * Step 2: Finish the job. Clammy butt cheeks hanging coldly under the blowing bathroom vent, you grab your towel and complete the dry, this time with intense focus on your nether regions. When you're sure the chilly dampness is finally gone, it's time for heaven.

  * Step 3: Heaven. Slip on the soft cotton and slide up your warm, dry pants. Because you were so cold it kind of feels like wearing underwear just out of the dryer. You're loving every minute of it and hurry back to hit the deck for a burger or a beer.

  You're back, baby.

  AWESOME!

  Bedhead all day long

  Sure, anybody can wake up with some serious bedhead.

  Tangled dreads, pillow-dented part, static-flared bangs--whatever you got, we'll take it. Much like rain hair, bedhead is your temporary ticket to Cowlick Country, a place where looks just don't matter. It's fun to take a trip and enjoy your citizenship before shampoo, hair straighteners, and sculpting clay step in to mess things up.

  But I guess that's what makes getting away from it all so great. I mean, just look at babies of the world with their Always-On Bedhead, sometimes for years on end. Folks, are you thinking what I'm thinking? Yes, we can learn much from the baby.

  Now don't get jaded in your old age. There are some classic moves to pull it off:

  * No-Time Bedhead. This is where you wake up late in a panic and barely have time to throw on jeans and grab keys before bolting out the door for work. This is accidental bedhead and may result in worried finger combing on the bus or a splash of water from the bathroom sink later on. Still, you got bedhead all day and that's what counts here. 5 points.

  * Lazy Sunday Bedhead. You wake up at noon, throw on some sweats, have some good friends over, and play video games all day. Or maybe you channel surf with your boyfriend on the futon or watch a golf tournament with Grandpa. Either way, no showering is involved, so the bedhead lives long and lives strong. 10 points.

  * Just-Don't-Care Bedhead. Top of the charts. This is where your day involves going out and doing things, but you just don't care about your sharp, sideways bedhead. If you can pull off grocery shopping, going to class, or hitting the mall with jagged, bent-up hair, then you win. Note that this is not the same as Fake Bedhead, which involves applying a series of creams and lotions in an attempt to give yourself bedhead-looking hair. No, we're talking about cruising around town with the real thing here, people. 25 points.

  Yes, bedhead is a temporary escape from that Hair Prison we all live in every day. Freeing your hair is the first step to freeing your mind and freeing your life. When you get up and let it go, you sort of let yourself go for a moment too.

  Suddenly Juggling Jane relaxes into cool, casual Leg Stubble n' Sweatpants Jane, who's more fun to cuddle up with under a warm blanket in front of a flickering TV. And Suit n' Tie Sam chills into our old pal Couch-Dent Sam, who laughs at all our jokes, does great imitations, and doesn't take anything too seriously.

  Bedhead all day long, people.

  Because sometimes it's great to ditch the comb and see what happens.

  AWESOME!

  Successfully moving all your clothes from the washer to the dryer without dropping anything

  Whether you're rinsing undies in the basement of a downtown apartment building, permanently pressing at the local Laundromat, or just tumble drying at home, one thing's for certain: that laundry room floor is filthy.

  Dirt tracks and dust balls coat the cracks and crannies of the joint, so it's always a tense scene when you're moving those wet, twisted clothes from the washer to the dryer.

  One false move and your dress shirt gets a cobweb skid mark up the sleeve. Two false moves and your black socks turn gray and linty. Three false moves and you're throwing everything back in the washer again.

  No false moves and you're laughing.

  AWESOME!

  Backseat car windows that go down all the way

  When it's a dark, summer night, and you're cruising around town, bass thumping, head bumping, rocking out in the backseat, let me ask you something: What feels nicer than slipping your hand out the window and letting that cool breeze wash right over you?

  If yo
u said, Not much, baby, then you got it.

  Listen up, Auto Industry--to get our summer groove on we need those backseat windows to drop down all the way. None of this halfway, quarter-way, all-the-way-but-an-inch business. We won't have it. We The People need that nonstop, all-drop window. Door factories and window makers, you heard it here first: Stop stopping, start dropping.

  Because there's nothing quite as frustrating as a window that stops short. Have you ever tried to dangle your arm out a stopped-short window? Welcome to a world of cut-off circulation and cold, blue hands.

  Backseat car windows that go down all the way make life sweeter. They blast us with wind and let us rock out with our elbows out just like the front seat crew.

  AWESOME!

  Getting grass stains

  First of all, getting grass stains means that you were running around at high speeds without proper equipment. Maybe you slid last minute to avoid a frozen tag or made an awkward somersault dive at a line-drive Wiffle Ball. Either way, the grass stain symbolizes your large devil-may-care investment in having balls-out fun, and that's something worth r especting.

  See, boring people, like myself, rarely get grass stains running around because we're always doing it in Umbros and shin pads from 7:30 to 8:25 p.m. on Mondays down at the indoor gym.

  Now, when you're just running around full throttle in cords and a sweater until you trip on a rock and fall down a hill, my friend, that is something. Walk home with pants full of grass stains, some spicy kneeburn, and mud-caked shoes, and you've just had yourself a great day.