That Awkward Moment...

So, jumping on the "Cool" bandwagon considerably too late yet again, I have noticed that there have been a lot of Facebook statuses that start with "That awkward moment when..."

This was about a month ago or so, but I still think it's relative enough to write a blog post about it.

That's how we do it here at Growls by Sprouls.

Next week, how I feel about The United States electing Nixon to office.

See, the crazy thing about these statuses is that about half of these are really not all that awkward at all.  For example, I'll find one that says something about "That awkward moment when you realize that your keyboard is the same color as your mouse."  Awkward?  Possibly for the blind, but seeing as they probably don't do that much typing, I doubt it would really matter that much at all.  So, instead of doing these on Facebook like I probably should, I'm gonna do them here.

So here we go.

That awkward moment when you really have to pee so you quickly run to the closest bathroom in your house, flip on the lights, shut the door, and flip open the toilet seat to see your dog sitting there in the bathtub, staring out at you as if to say, "what the hell are YOU doing?" and you decide to shoo him out of the tub, forgetting that he is a 100-pound German Shephard with arthritis and an attitude, but working hard to get him out anyway, and only, after minutes of sweating and suffering with your full bladder, you finally push the fuzzy lump out of the bathroom, shut the door, and turn to the toilet only to realize that you have another bathroom that you could have gone to in the first place, which would have been much more efficient.

This is 100% true.

Holy run-on sentence, Batman!

Okay, so that's pretty much my story in a nutshell, and to be fully honest, I could have dragged it out for a good eight paragraphs or so, but, I have more awkward stories to go...hooray?


That awkward moment when you go to the Minnesota State Fair with your two friends, and because one of those friends is going into his sophomore year in high school, he decides to be immature, work up an accent, call himself Vlad, and go around showering random cute girls he sees with pick-up lines and compliments, and you see how much fun he is having, so you kind of want to join in, and the first girl you say "You're Pretty," too, a random five year old boy will look at you with a facial expression that is pure confusion and loathing.

Actually, this wasn't the only weird look I got at the State Fair, probably because I also walked down the street doing the chicken dance, start singing "Thriller" as high as Michael Jackson himself (if there's anything about myself that I am proud about, it's my sweet falsetto), and, of course, seeing who could go longer in a ridiculous accent for the longest (I won).

But if you are feeling that I was acting irresponsibly at this fair, I will now inform you that I had about four glasses of milk while there.  And it wasn't completely due to Sweet Martha's Cookies, which are probably the cookies of the Gods.  For those of you who know what I'm talking about, you can just see Zeus up at Mt. Olympus, munching on Sweet Martha's cookies he cooked with his massive thunderbolts.

They were, if you will, electrifying.

YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love internet memes relating to TV shows that I could care less about.

Next story.

That awkward moment when you try to call a freshman that you've never met to attend a special freshman orientation, where you'll be teaching him about the school he or she will be going to, waiting for a human or an answering machine to answer, but instead only getting three-plus minutes of constant ringing.

I don't know what you do in a situation like that.

So I called the kid five more times.  I mean, it made sense at the time.

Each time, of course, I was subjected to more five-minute ringfests (I really should start a dictionary with the words I use in this blog) that, for some reason, I sat through.  It didn't occur to me that no one would be picking up after about twelve rings, but I was hopeful.

Actually, I think stupid was a better word.

See, I'm what we call a "Link Crew" leader here at my high school, and as it turns out, I am actually relatively responsible and mature with how I deal with things.

Just ignore the fact that I punched lots of pillows in phone-calling frustration because of it.

Anyway, as a leader, I was forced to call six kids or so because I needed to inform them about this orientation (although the school sent a generic phone message to everyone saying the SAME EXACT THING not twenty minutes ago, which is just ridiculous) and I don't really know why I'm talking about this because the story isn't that funny, and neither is the "That awkward moment when..."

So I'll do the only mature thing: leave it there and prove to you, my readers, that I am a ridiculous moron.
So basically, to end this trilogy of blogs (blogogy? Triloblog?) looking back on my childhood, I've been incredibly immature lately because I feel that I need to cram my childhood in one more time before I graduate.

So I apologize in advance, Mom and Dad.

Also, I want some Tinkertoys for Christmas.