The Book of Even More Awesome (7 page)

Now, if all that wasn't enough,
our egghead pals
over at Wikipedia even report that people who don't feel pain actually live shorter lives. Maybe that's because pain's just there to do a job for us. It motivates us to flee hurtin' scenes, protects our body while it heals, and teaches us to avoid painful places in the future.

Pain's our invisible Life Coach,
sewn into our bones
, twisted in our DNA, and helping us all keep strong as we keep motoring on.

AWESOME!

Let's go on a trip.

It's time to walk into an old hardware store and take a look around. There's a dusty, paint-splotched radio playing oldies, a Cash Only sign above the till, and an old man with glasses and heavy plaid shirt leaning on the counter just daring you to ask him a question he can't answer. As you walk past the tired vending machine with sodas below market prices you take a big whiff and bring back a brainful of love and memories with these gems:

As you walk down those creaking wooden floors, through
dusty sunbeam rays
shining over dirty floor mats, don't forget to let that jingle-jangly door clang shut on your Saturday-morning sniff down memory lane.

AWESOME!

Just slide smoothly into that second skin and get ready to rock the streets with your
perfectly wrapped package
. Yes, it's time to shake that booty and get ready to look great, girlfriend.

Suddenly chubby legs get the trim-down treatment,
saggy flabs get toned
, and all the dark creases crinkle in just the right places and just the right spaces.

See, we all have that
one perfect pair
of pants that fits us best. And we all know how it feels throwing them on before heading out.

AWESOME!

I suck at parallel parking.

Honestly, just look at me out there: tire-scraping,
curbbumping
, seven-point turning in the middle of the busy downtown street. Yes, that's why I always breathe a
massive sigh of relief
when someone stops by to lend me a hand:

We sure do love these kind sidewalk souls. Without their help we'd be craning our necks and
twisting our spines
so it's great when they pop on by to help us pop on in.

AWESOME!

Skip the shock.

People, we all know how bad your feet have it. They've been through a lot today so no need nailing them with a blast of cold air before bed. Instead, just tuck them in tightly,
tuck them in rightly
, and peel off your socks using only your feet when you're warm and comfy under the sheets.

Don't worry—you can collect the
sweaty sock mounds
from the foot of your bed tomorrow.

Sweet dreams.

AWESOME!

Jam your elbows in that stomach, breathe in those
shampoo fumes
, and squeeze your knees into the puffy cushions while spooning into a quick catnap on the couch. As drool drips, skin warms, and a
slippery sweatfilm
slides between you, just smile, close your eyes, and fade into a quiet cuddly moment with someone you love.

AWESOME!

This is the childhood version of Mr. Fixit.

Whether you're shooting free throws in the driveway,
whipping tennis balls at a wall
, or tossing Frisbees in the park, it always happens, man. Someone tosses it a bit too high or a bit too wobbly and suddenly your whole game gets stuck in a tight squeeze. Now the basketball is behind the backboard, the tennis ball is on the roof, and the Frisbee is stuck in the tree.

Of course the best way to get that ball out is by using its family members against it. This is the backyard equivalent of putting the
hostage taker's mom
on the phone during the tense negotiations.

“Antonio, please. It's your mother. You don't have to do this,” the bald, withered tennis ball in the crowded street pleads over the radio to the scarred one sitting in the gutter.

“I love you, Antonio.”

Using one ball to rescue another is always effective as long as you watch out for these potential trip-ups along the way:

Now, let's not let those
trip-ups
cool down our buzz, because we all know another ball generally does the job just fine.

Good luck, driveway warriors.

AWESOME!

Every plate has a story.

Maybe it's a
cab of college kids
on an endless summer road trip. Beef jerky wrappers, stained T-shirts, and a sweaty cooler fill the backseat of the rusty Volvo as they cruise cross-country to soak in some
sunny freedom
before school starts. You see them laughing in front of you with a plate from your hometown and you smile softly at distant days gone by ...

Or maybe it's a couple retirees from the same state as you out enjoying the first few weeks of a brand new life. As you pass their
big boxy RV
in the slow lane, you peek in and notice a wrinkly driver in a tight ballcap and
baggy pink shirt
steering fiercely with a big twinkle in her eye. Your brain backflips as you daydream about your last day of work ...

Or maybe it's a family station wagon filling up at the pumps with a canoe on the roof and sleeping bags in the window. They're heading up north the same way you are and inside two kids play video games in
crumbs and juice stains
as baby chews Cheerios and falls fast asleep. You glance at your boyfriend riding shotgun and he looks up innocently and smiles ...

Yes, seeing a license plate from your home in a place far, far away is just a little winking reminder that we're all joined from the edge of our driveway to the edge of your driveway. Dusty towns, big cities,
open fields
, and tree-lined lanes may lie between us ... but the truth is we're all in this together: bouncing in cars,
swerving down roads
, spinning in place, flying through space.

AWESOME!

Let's see here.

Saturday we got here. Sunday we did nothing. Then after that we did nothing. The next day we did nothing. And we're doing nothing now.

AWESOME!

My mom and I saw a movie the other night.

I zoomed up the highway from my downtown apartment and she got a lift through the
quiet side streets
of my hometown. She had a big smile when I got there and was waiting in the lobby wearing lipstick and a
cream cable-knit sweater
. She had the tickets prepurchased and a purse packed with white chocolate,
mixed nuts
, and two bottles of water.

A plump n' perky assistant manager with curls waterfalling out of her tight ballcap ripped our tickets and pointed us down the hall. We passed a couple
glossy-eyed teens
holding mops and had a quick discussion—Where do you want to sit? Where do
you
want to sit? Wherever you want to sit—before grabbing a couple in the middle of the
red plushy tundra
.

Now, my mom's
five feet tall
so her legs dangled from the chair, her clean gray
spongy-soled sneakers
swaying like a kid on a swing set. We chatted, chilled, and chowed down on chocolate before leaning back for the start of the show.

My mom fell asleep in twenty minutes.

I elbowed her softly and her eyes popped open. She looked at me,
laughed guiltily
, and whispered in a mock-cranky tone, “It's past my bedtime!” She then watched a few more minutes before dozing off again. After a couple more elbow jabs, I eventually just let her go.

When the credits started rolling and the houselights turned up we put on our coats and made our way down. “So what did you think of the ending?” I asked with a big smile. “I liked the way they wrapped things up,” she straight-faced back, holding the
metal handrail
and single-stepping down the stairs.

I drove her home down the quiet,
wet-slicked roads
, through empty intersections, past my old school and the park where my sister and I had soccer practice. When we reached the house, she smiled groggily,
gave me a big hug
, and said come back soon.

As I zipped down the highway into the
bright city lights
my brain photo-flashed back ... to blurry images of latenight rides through those same empty intersections, photos flashing from
front-row seats at school plays
, and cold wobbly lawn chairs sitting patiently for hours on the sidelines of rainy soccer practices ...

AWESOME!

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.

You're late.

Racing,
running
, rushing, you're checking your watch and picturing your friend
tapping their foot
and rolling their eyes while waiting for you.

That's why it's great when you arrive hot,
sweaty,
and breathless just before they rush around the corner hot, sweaty, and breathless too.