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?

An Accurate Painting of Junior High

Remember how I said that I was a cute kid?  Like when I was in Kindergarten?  Yeah.  That really didn't last.  That whole "you were so cute what happened TROLOLOLOL" joke actually applies pretty well for me.  This was perfectly evidenced by my experiences between fifth grade and ninth grade.  For the rest of elementary school, I was pretty much known as "that weird kid from Nebraska who's crazy smart, amazing at drawing, and really annoying."  Somewhere between fifth and seventh grade, that changed into me being "the still weird kid from Nebraska who used to be good at art but doesn't draw around people anymore an used to be annoying but doesn't talk that much anymore."
I know that sounds depressing, but bear with me a second here.  At about that time, my parents finally drilled into my head that being a class annoyance would get me nowhere in life.  Gradually, I noticed that it was, however, my one-way ticket to being a popular kid, but when I tried to talk out of turn again, it was in band class, so that really didn't make my popularity skyrocket the way I had hoped and dreamed it would.

As for not drawing, in reality I had found much more interesting ways to not do my homework.  Thanks for the PS2, Mom and Dad!

Wait.  Who am I kidding? That PS2 accounts for only like 20% of my procrastination, and that figure has dwindled ever since I discovered Facebook.

Anyway, the whole point of that sidetrack is to let you know that my mental problems are only minor.  Just ask Sheila and Dave, the voices in my hea--uh, my two best friends.

I was just kidding there.

Seriously.

Why don't you believe me?

Anyway, this post is meant to be an overview of my most awkward years, not a description of my deteriorating mental capabilities (which actually aren't deteriorating, so says my ACT score of 31).

So before we can go anywhere, I need to describe what I'm like now.  So pay attention, because I won't be describing myself again until I'm an adult with a blackbelt in karate and able to put the hurt on your butt so intensely that you won't sit right for months.

So, basically, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you.

The Classroom of Doom?

So my senior year in high school is coming up crazy fast, and I still think that I can live in the delusion that I have a real shot of being Homecoming King.  Now I have no logical explanation as to why I could possibly win the quintessential popularity contest, but I still want to have that delusion, just because I would have such a horrible and/or amazing time being the undisputed King of high school.

If this were to happen, I'd have a long series of battles to face.  But don't worry about me, I have always managed to reach a level that all the other popular kids have reached previously, even though I have always been a little slower in terms of reaching my goal.  The point is that I got the Popularity Accomplishment, okay?

I mean, sure, it took me almost ten years after it was popular among the cool kids, but I FINALLY got my Charizard card.  And for extra measures, I got a second one.

See, I'll be fine.

But in all honesty, I'm really not expecting to even be in the running for homecoming king.  I just wanted to brag about having the one thing that would have made me cool ten years ago, back when I probably could have used it.

See, now that I'm feeling old and am about to graduate from all that I know and love (okay, despise), I've been all nostalgic and crap.  Also, with my intense love of Youtube, which by the way has been more supportive than ANYONE in all my ROUGH TIMES (trying to stay immature here for nostalgia's sake), I've pretty much been watching my childhood all over again.

But because I don't actually own a laptop, I get to awkwardly watch it from my parents computer while they're out watching TV or doing something important, and I don't even show off my interests to people my age, let alone people thirty years my senior.

BUT MOM, I SWEAR YOU STILL LOOK 25.

Don't ground me.

A Distinct Lack of Stories

I really don't have anything exciting to report, and I kinda want to do this on a weekly basis in a desperate attempt to get more people to read my stuff, so here's some doodles.

Just ignore the one at the top.  Also, if you can find the dragon secretly located elsewhere in this blog, congratulations, you aren't blind.

Five Reasons Mowing the Lawn Has Become More Than Just an Inconvenience

So, yesterday, my mother gave me an ultimatum.  She said that the grass around our house needed to be cut, and I was the one who was destined to do it.  She didn't use those words exactly, but I got the feeling that's what she really meant.

Because, let's face it.  I am Lord of the Toro.  I have the three Deathly Lawn Tools.  I have the mark of the landscaper.  I weild the lawnmower-blade.  I am the chosen one. The grass is strong in this one.

Or, more accurately, I was the only one home and awake who would do this horrid deed.

(By the way, if you successfully guess all seven of those references, you'll probably be the love of my life.  Good luck, random reader in Germany.  That's right, I check my stats.  Thank you for reading.  You're amazing.  Give yourself some Currywurst, dude or dudette, because you are sehr toll.)

And now that I've probably creeped out the one person from Germany who read this to the point of never accessing my page again, I can start my story.

See, I've been at a good lawn-mowing age for a good six or seven years, which, coincidentally enough, is about how old our old lawnmower is.  Over these few years, my parents have gradually realized that not only CAN I cut the grass, I can do it more often than I would like to.

So naturally, I've found lots of ways to complain about it.  It's what I do.

Here are five of those reasons.  

Yeah, I spent some time on MS Paint and Photoshop for this.  It's because you, my dozen readers, are worth it.

I feel like a L'Oréal ad.

In Which I feel Slightly Older

This is truly a sad, sad tale.  A sad tale indeed.  A very sorrowful lament.

Well actually, it's not a song, I just really wanted to say "lament" in a sentence.  That's one of my favorite words ever, and I NEVER get to use it!  Stupid english language, having the only worthwhile words never being said.

Like "withershins."  It means counterclockwise, or so my friend tells me.  Or "gallimaufry," "incondite," or "factotum."  Really depressing.

But that isn't why this post is sad, folks.  This post is sad because it truly marks the end of an era for me.

See, I was having a pretty typical day up until lunch.  I checked my facebook, went out for a run with my Cross Country team, complained about running a bit with said Cross Country team, then drove home, checked facebook, took a shower, facebook-stalked, and then settled down to play a little Kingdom Hearts when it suddenly hit me.

I was incredibly hungry.

See, first of all, this is a big deal, because normally I'm not that hungry until I've zoned out until about 3 or 4 PM, after which, I normally just wait for another hour or so just to be more efficient with my eating and dish-dirtying habits.  But this time, I was at that point where all I could think of was food and how much I wanted it in my tummy.

That's right, I said tummy.

That's right, I'm about to start my senior year in high school.

Your point?

Now, I don't know about you, but it's pretty hard to smash Heartless into little tiny bits when you're occupied by your dream steak dinner, so I decided to pause my annihilation of enemies (I'm making this game seem a lot more violent than it really is) so I could make a sammich.