The Annamal Crackers Awkward People Club

...Do you have what it takes to join?

I'm an awkward human.  I become unexpectedly and inexplicably shy at inopportune moments, and I can't for the life of me figure out how to talk to strangers.  I am far too impassioned when singing along to music, but if I'm contemplating something, I get a blank expression on my face that makes me resemble an infant or a vegetable.  I stutter when I get excited, I'm self-conscious about the shape of my hands, and I consider a good night to be one spent in a snuggie with my cat.

So I came up with the idea for the Annamal Crackers Awkward People Club, where humans who struggle with basic human functions can feel a sense of camaraderie.  There are so many organizations out there for the charming and poised.  Charming and poised people, read this and enjoy.  But you can't waltz your way into THIS Club.  We're highly exclusive and elite.

I've compiled a list of the most incredibly awkward things I can think of.  This list is limited, but all of these items make me so unbelievably uncomfortable that I writhe in agony when one of them occurs.   Some of these things I do.  Others I would rather commit seppuku than do.  So read up, feel uncomfortable, and decide, based on these qualifiers, whether or not you are awkward enough for the Annamal Crackers Awkward People Club!

AWKWARD THINGS WARRANTING AUTOMATIC ADMISSION TO THE ANNAMAL CRACKERS AWKWARD PEOPLE CLUB:

1.  Finger Guns
For some reason, pointy finger guns make you feel cool!!  Throw in a little wink, or a sad attempt at one!  Make some clicky sounds!  It looks cool!

2.  Running With a Backpack
It should be self-explanatory why this is awkward.  The backpack flounces up and down.  You look like a sweaty bouncy ball on the edge of a mountain.  You're probably wheezing.

3.  Solo Photo Booth Pics

I don't care how good you look.  The fact is, you just sat ALONE in your room for lord knows how long attempting to capture your perfect angle.  What are these faces you're making?  What's with the hair-tuck move that keeps happening?  PS, nice dorm room.

4.  Kristen Stewart
If you're Kristen Stewart, you get to be in the Annamal Crackers Awkward People Club without even auditioning!!  Welcome, Kristen!

5.  Slowly Eating Food in a Very Still, Silent, Crowded Room
This is awkward with crunchy foods, but it's even MORE awkward with oranges.  Try it!  It might be the peeling.  Or the juiciness.  Or the scent.  But for a solid seven minutes, you and your orange are all anyone in the room will be thinking about.

6.  Saying "That's Funny" Instead of Laughing
My seeming inability to fake-laugh is one of my worst qualities, as it makes me near impossible to flirt with.  But at least I'm not the person who remarks, "...that's funny," in a bored tone after hearing a joke.

7.  #Hashtags
I know I should use #hashtags if I want people to read my tweets, but for some reason, they make me so uncomfortable I squirm.  "Dinner on the landing!  #summer #friendship #redwine #fuckthesebreadrollsaregood."
I feel like a tool when I #hashtag.  Instinct tells me that people who love hashtagging are the same people who once answered really personal questions about their love lives on Formspring.

8.  Not Swinging Your Arms When Walking

This might be something you have to try for yourself to realize how exceptionally awkward it is.  One day, I found myself watching a man from afar, thinking he looked like someone who would sentence a fuzzy puppy to death for the sake of science.  I figured out that it was because he didn't swing his arms when he walked.  Awkward AND creepy.

In the spirit of full-disclosure, I'll tell you a secret: For a brief period in high school, I was totally the Kristen Stewart-type.  Then I got into things like "joy."  At any rate, those are my auto-qualifiers for the Club, but if you have other ideas, I want to hear those, too!

Think you have enough quirks to be a member?

If so, welcome to the Annamal Crackers Awkward People Club.  Congratulations!  Wear your Awkward Badge with pride.  Know that you are special.  I'll see you at the first meeting, NEVER.  Let's make a point of never meeting up, because let's be real, we're all way too antisocial and awkward for that.

-Annamal
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https://www.facebook.com/AnnamalCrackersBlog     @AnnamalHalligan

PHOTOS OF PEOPLE LEANING AGAINST OLD TRUCKS

...BECAUSE I THINK THEY'RE FUNNY.

This is a photo of me leaning against an old truck.  I'm laughing in it because strangers were watching me pose for what was obviously a corny, not-remotely-candid picture, and I was embarrassed.

But I love my old truck photo.  I love it because it's cheesy, even though when it was taken, I think I thought it would turn out cool and artsy or something.  As I leaned back against that dirty old truck, which was probably driven by an elderly man with too much facial hair, my sepia-toned imagination told me I would look like a country western singer or an Anthropologie model.  I thought I was being original.

I WAS WRONG.

This lady's hobbies include taking old truck photos

and ruining her pretty clothes.

This gentleman is taking a break after having personally sawed his truck in half.

She's damn proud of that there truck.

She uses this truck to transport all of her fruit.  Because.. she's a migrant worker.

"Look, I'm a farm girl!!"

"Voguing with vehicles is so much fun for no apparent reason!!!"

My dad is eating a sandwich and secretly feeling smug about owning a Prius.

"We take family portraits in parking lots!!"

A truck barrels toward adorable children.

Just kidding!  These bros totally worked it at a hardcore truck photo shoot!

Ladies and a now-legendary pimp--mastering the truck-lean.

Here's my sister, posing by THE EXACT SAME TRUCK as me.

Putting a nail in the coffin of my originality.

VISION.  INSPIRATION.  TRUCKS.

People who don't have photos leaning against old trucks often don't see the appeal of photos leaning against old trucks, I guess because they don't see the world in terms of potential Facebook profile pictures.

But if you are someone who has posed for a photo leaning against an old truck, I congratulate you, and if you are one of the people who SENT me said photo, I cannot thank you enough.  You are all beautiful, fabulous, not-particularly-original people, and I love you for it.

Now, a VERY SPECIAL THANKS to ALEX HERMANN who came up with this idea with me and inspired this post by sending me a saucy photo of himself with the front half of a truck.  Alex has Ellen-like star power, so when he asks people for their old truck photos, old truck photos he receives.  Alex, you're trucking awesome.

Feel free to send me yet more of your old truck photos, if you have them!  Just sayin'... everybody loves a sequel.

Running on Empty

Question for you, team:  Why do so many characters in movies like to run?  It makes no sense to me.  How many screenwriters run, ever?  I’m tired of Jessica Biel’s calves silently mocking me.  I want fewer movies about hot people running, and more movies about plump cat-owners drinking orange soda and reading the Huffington Post.  Montages of urban singles sprinting through Central Park don’t inspire me; they make me feel terrible about my sad little wheezy life.

But earlier this year, I decided to become a runner.

I’m not sure what provoked this decision—probably the hot people in movies, along with my deeply neurotic, potentially masochistic need to succeed even at things I dislike.  I started jogging several times per week.

RIDDLE ME THIS: How long does it take for running to become easier?  Better question:  When will smug bastards stop LYING by SAYING it becomes easier??  I strongly suspect that every person who says they like running is lying.  I secretly believe they’re conspiring against people like me, and laughing at me as I flop in place on the elliptical.

Nevertheless, I do acknowledge that running has its perks.  When you’re running and you see someone you know, you can pretend that they’re impressed by how fit and motivated you are.  (They don’t have to know if all you did was run to the end of your block and home again.)  Another perk: you feel good about yourself!  Like, “Look at me go, I’m the new Jennifer Aniston!  I’m going to celebrate by drinking Smart Water!”

But me being me, I don’t go very far, I never go very fast, and I’m always vaguely worried that my knees and/or lungs will give out and I’ll end up writhing on the concrete vomiting blood.  (Sorry.)  So this summer, partially because of the heat, and partially because I decided I didn’t hate myself, I got a gym membership and stopped running outside. 

It is awesome.  I go to one of those all female gyms, where if a male mechanic is hired to fix something, you hear an announcement:  “Greetings and attention, ladies: A MAN is entering the premises!  A MAN is HERE!!!  BEWARE!!!!!!!  Namaste.” And in this safe haven of 90’s pop music, I can roll in looking like Michelle Rodriguez without makeup, and no one cares to judge me.

Anyway, that’s how I feel about running.  If jogging works for you, then great, even though you’re probably lying.  Nevertheless, I’ll still keep trying to become a good runner, if only so I can tell people about it on Twitter: 

“Ending the day with a long run to clear my head. Feels so good!”   

…Liar.  

 

Anna, Based on the Novel "Push" by Sapphire

Once upon a time, I caught on fire while making a sandwich.  It was the single best thing to ever happen to me.  Let me tell you why:

When reading about famous artists, have you ever noticed that they all seem to have some sob story attached to them?  The best comedians magically became funny after their mothers repeatedly told them they were ugly and unlovable.  Actors born in halfway houses with drug-dealing step-dads have tons of marketable depth and angst.  Kids who grow up in violent environments are forced into becoming creative, imaginative, and driven.  Their dreams lift them out of oppression and inspire them to paint sprawling murals of eagles playing saxophones.

But, surprise, my life isn't Precious, Based on the Novel “Push” by Sapphire.  THANK GOD.  But when one is born into a highly functional household with very emotionally supportive, drug-free parents, how the HELL is one supposed to succeed?  When one is granted things like, say, opportunities for guided learning and growth, and allowed outlets for healthy self-expression, how is one supposed to develop into the kind of passionate, deranged artist exalted by our modern world?  And when one's reasonably stable self-esteem is constantly reaffirmed with statements like "I'm proud of you," "You are brilliant," and "Holy shit balls this is the best blog ever," what excuse has one to become a twisted, rebellious, badass?

Are you still with me?  Do you understand that my parents royally screwed me over by not withholding their love?  I'm never even going to get to have a slutty phase, because I’ve never had “daddy issues.”  It's so unfair!

Which brings me to why it's awesome that I caught on fire while making a sandwich.  The experience was mild enough that I am not a burn victim, but extreme enough (sounding) that it qualifies as a verifiable trauma.  It might even give me an excuse for personality quirks.  I CAUGHT ON FIRE.  Imagine what that would be like.  The terror!  The flames!  The heat, rising from my charred sandwich!  Now don't I have an excuse for being a little quirky, a little "off," like a child star?  Doesn’t this give me enough of a “past” to push me into the same category as troubled geniuses and reality television stars with personality disorders?  I think so!

Catching on fire provides the shadow of mystery in my eyes, the cryptic darkness only a true artist can capture.  It gives me the color and excitement I was deprived of, growing up with the kind of parents who got Twitter accounts just because they knew I wanted followers.

It's okay, guys.  I know you feel really bad for me right now because I didn't have any character-forming traumas in my early life.  But I don't want your pity.  The thing is—and I’m going to get serious with you for a second here—we all have issues that we’re dealing with.  Except for a few very fortunate individuals including a handful of toddlers, we all have faced trauma, heartache, and some other horrible shit. What matters is how we choose to handle it.  One way any therapist would advise you to "handle" your shit is by finding a scapegoat.  (Trust me, I’m a blogger!)  Blame the time your grandmother told you that you were fat.  Blame Twihards.  Blame reality television, monster trucks, hipsters, Rush Limbaugh, and your uncle’s substance abuse. I choose to blame the time I caught on fire while making a sandwich.  BECAUSE I CAN.  Because no one can take that away from me.  And when beautiful, wonderful, fortunate things happen in my life, I can paint myself as a real-life Cinderella story.  From sandwich ashes to success.  I beat the odds.  Got over the trauma.  I’m an inspiration!  Proof that some people can catch on fire while making sandwiches and still go on to lead happy, healthy, lives.