Breaking News, shitting in a CO OP is really fucking awkward

Yes, it is 1:37 AM and I am sitting in the lounge of Truth, this Cooperative living house I reside in. It's kinda like applied socialism so you'd expect us all to be hippies and everything should just be chill, dude. Well, it's not. I haven't "gone to the bathroom" in about a week now. Communal living means communal restrooms and I know that most of the guys that live here have never heard a girl take a shit and I'm not about to be the one to give them that sick dose of reality. So I'm sitting here trying to decide which of the two private bathrooms to use. There's the one that exists right out in the entrance hallway, but this, my friend, is it's main flaw. For, when I make my grand exit everyone will be able to tell that I just shat, which defeats the purpose if you are trying to poop ninja-style. Then there's the bathroom in the basement. I would have already used this bathroom but there is this bulimic girl in our house who sort of unoffically claimed it. Every time you walk down there you can find last nights leftovers, or maybe some regurgitated cereal in the trash bin. Either way, it makes me feel like I'm shitting in the bathroom of a dingy, disgusting pub for alcoholics.

It doesn't matter, I can hold on for one more day. But seriously, home is where you can sit down to take a shit with out being judged. And the people that live here do a lot of that. There's also this really awkward Co-Op bathroom culture which I refuse to be a part of. I noticed it when I went to pee and happened across a fellow shitter in the middle of his business. I know this because the bathroom smelled and the person in the stall next to me became completely silent. It seems that if you are going to go "number 2" you hold off if someone else comes into the bathroom, even if you are in the middle of it. You wait for them to leave and then you continue. The consideration on the part of the pooper is returned by their stall-mate who will leave and not try to find out who was shitting next to them. Therefore everyone can poop in anonymity. Well, I refuse to be a part of this because I know that if this situation happened to me I would end up with that nosy kid who would wait outside to see who the pooper was, just out of sheer curiousity. When they discover my secret identity our relationship will be changed forever. It will be weeks before we could even make eye contact. Therefore I will continue to wait until tomorrow when I can use a public restroom in a place where nobody knows me.

Awkward Existential Crisis

I wish I could scream and break everything in the the material world. I’m sick of having to placate this internal, spiritual part of me with material things. I’m so frustrated and defeated but what is kicking a wall going to do? Or breaking a computer? These are two separate entities we’re talking about. The material and spiritual world are two different things but we deal with one through the other. I feel empty so I break a lamp, but what is that really doing for my spirit? I wish I could slip across to the other side and deal with these feelings that I know have nothing to do with all the things around me. I know because nothing around me satisfies that hunger. I’m so fucking famished. But there’s no food. At least, not the kind that would fill me for more than an hour or two. I need to see things on the other side, I want to step across. I just need to find the signs. I don’t want to become a drone. I don’t want to become addicted to Time, becuase I’m so very terrified of it. It’s chasing me around and I can’t grab it, touch it, see it, feel it, I just know it’s there, stalking me. And I feel so helpless, because it doesn’t want to get me. It has no emotions, it’s just going to consume me. So I do crazy things to try and forget that time is there, with its empty arms stretched out, sucking the life out of me, but also putting some back in, but slowly sucking more out than it puts back, until I reach that day when it will take me away and lay me down, and fill me. Will I feel whole? I hope so. Let’s face it, Time is going to be the best fuck of my life. It will leave me breathless.

Start Mixing Your Fake Blood; It's Coming...

Ok, so Halloween's right around the corner. Pumpkins are for sale, costumes are being sold, Halloween II is all rented out at Blockbuster. So why is Halloween so awkward?

1.) Screaming at the top of your lungs when the electric pumpkin says 'ahahaha!' is, well embarrassing if you aren't under the age of three. Especially if it sounds like you may be getting attacked. Or if you're a girl who can scream at an adult decible now and hasn't realized it. If your scream scares other people more than the thing you're screaming at, you might be a candidate. Beware.

2.) Costumes are especially limited if you are eighteen and over. No longer acceptable: fairies, ghosts, M&Ms, princesses. You could always settle on the staggeringly cliche costumes of being a witch if you're a female and something resembling Tarzan if you're a man. Otherwise, the more elaborate the better. However, let's say one goes overboard--overboard includes any sewing you are doing, a costume that costs more than your monthly health insurance bill, or anything with decadent body paint. If you tend to choose costumes like these, beware, it is a tad bit awkward that you are so excited for a holiday geared towards little kids that you're willing to compete with them despite the fact that you're thirty and well, it isn't much of a competition with anything when there's that big of an age gap. Chill out and have a beer, all that face paint'll smear anyway after your eighth turn at the beer bong.

3.) You're really going to go Trick or Treating? It's great motivation to imagine all the candy you could get now that you're twenty. You have all sorts of new schemes to get certain houses to give you double the snickers bars, but to actually go through with it? Hmm. There's nothing more awkward than opening your door for the hundredth time to tell the little snot nosed kids that your lights off for a reason and finding a fat man with a beer belly, shoddily covered with a dirty sheet moaning 'ooooooooo'. At this age, you will never be a ghost, you have dressed up, regardless fo your intention, as a creep. You know CVS sells candy really cheap during Halloween? Save everyone the pity they'll surely have for you and buy a big 'ol bag of mini chocolates. You can still wear the cape if you want, in the privacy of your own home (please).

4.) Scaring someone to the point of restraining order may signal a more severe deep seeded mental affliction. I had the pleasure of going to Knott's Scary Farm this past week and despite the embarrassment I now feel for how scared I actually was, it was generally fun. However, there were a few times when the fun turned into early signs of an ensuing panic attack. Whenever the process of holy-shit-did-he-just-say-that-I-forgot-my-Mace comes into your head, you've been scared beyond an appropriate amount. The 'Scaries' who walk around the amusement park take their job a little too seriously. Not satisfied with a meager scream and a laugh, there were Goblins who came up to your ear saying 'Aren't I pretty enough for you?' and 'Do you want to die?' and the surprisingly frightening, 'Bitch, I'm going to kill you,' This is the kind of scary that ends with chalk outlines and police-tape. If you get the urge to scare others in this way, mayabe it's for the best that you sit this year out and have a little one-on-one with the Therapist.

5.) Carving pumpkins. There's a strange book out right now called Extreme Pumpkins. The title is fitting. Some guy has carved pumpkins into intricate designs. There's the radioactive pumpkin, equipped with broken glow sticks, the crime-scene pumpkin sporting an exit wound to the side of its gourd and even a pumpkin destroyer who has been menacingly propped up with sticks to give the impression that this pumpkin will fuck your pumpkins up. While my coworkers asked in awe, "How does he do that?!" the more appropriate question may be "But why?" Not only do the pumpkins look impossible to replicate, but the book is basically a how-to guide so you can make your own. If you have this much time to spend on carving pumpkins that will get smashed, rot, and go out of style in exactly three weeks, maybe you should start that novel you're always telling everyone you'll write. At least then you'll have something to show for those two weeks than some pumpkin pulp and cuts from the carver.

Coming Soon: Awkward, Mockward: Halloween Edition. Equipped with costumes and traditional (and some not so traditional) Halloween festivities. Awk-on.

A Poem About Babies

Oh God, no, please no
don't ask me to hold the baby
I don't want your baby
you're all watching me
you want to see if I'll succeed
with this baby test drive
why don't you ask Uncle Victor to hold the baby?
Yeah, that fat dude without a shirt on
eating that burger and drinking that can of beer
God, I want to be that guy
no one ever asks him to hold the baby
damn family reunions