Category Archives: Uncategorized

What Happened? or David Bowie’s Pants.

The other day my friend and I were discussing whether it is appropriate for a toddler to watch the 1988 classic “The Labyrinth”. My friend mentioned that her son had seen bits and pieces, and rather than being upset by David Bowie’s glitter-exuding pants bulge, he just kept asking “what happened?”


How could you not feel just a little confused?

I feel ya little dude. I also wonder what happened.

I have not yet blogged about it, but currently I am gestating my second child. And this whole experience so far has been a 6 months of “what happened?”.


This pregnancy is so different than my 1st, and almost all in undesirable ways. It seems that the second pregnancy does not come with 50% more rainbows and unicorns.

pregnant unicorn

or perhaps it does involve unicorns…


The other day I was out with my 2.5 year old little boy, when suddenly I was attacked my a wave of nausea. So I spot a public toilet to go toss my cookies in, and tell my small minion to follow me.

He acts very concerned. He asks (as loudly as humanly possible), “Do you have to poop mama?” And while we were in the bathroom he continued to inquire “ARE YOU POOPING? ARE YOU OK MAMA? DID YOU POOP?”

A pre-teen girl was also in the bathroom and observed this whole ordeal. (The Awkward Moose; preventing teen pregnancy one public humiliation at a time!)

other peoples kids

Dear World, you are welcome.

As I waddled home, I just thought “what happened?” I used to have shame! But now I have a toddler and raging heartburn and sciatic nerve pain. There is no room in my life for shame. Just like David Bowie’s pants.


Mose side eye




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The Car Door Incident

I am extremely clumsy. I know, cliche for a socially awkward moose, but it’s true. My legs are constantly covered in bruises to the point where sometimes I wonder if perhaps one of my ancestors had an affair with a banana and I inherited its bruise-y skin.

bruised bananas

a picture of my legs on a good day.

But all banana infidelities aside, sometimes my clumsiness can lead to extremely awkward situations. Like “oops! I fell and lit your prized stamp collection on fire. Sorry?” I have never understood stamp collections. (More on that later)

stamp fire

although, this is a pretty badass stamp. 

The other day I was filling up my car with gas, when suddenly my car door jumped out of nowhere and hit me in the temple. It hurt like hell fire. Or stepping on a Lego. It was not pretty.

All the while, I was being observed by an old woman filling her car with gas. This woman looked scandalized by my wincing in pain, or perhaps by my inability to avoid walking into car doors. She kept. looking. at. me. Like this:

shame nun

So what’s an awkward moose to do?

Well the most ~~mature and self respecting thing~~ possible of course! I climbed in my car and hid underneath the dashboard until the woman left, every so often I would peek out and check if she was still looking at me. She was. Looking as if I had committed some horrible crime against humanity. For a good 7 minutes and 34 seconds. Then she finally left and I drove my car home, deeply shamed by my clumsiness.

shamed bunny

I looked like this, except less adorable and more awkward.

But now I’m writing about it on the internet! So I get the last laugh! Hahaha! If you are reading this judgmental patron of Chevron in Del Mar, California, you ma’am, are an asshole!

ben and mose

Moses (and his Papa) think so too.


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Is this Real Life?

Sometimes things happen to me that seem to bitch slap logic in the face as if she were a jealous drag queen on Rupaul’s Drag Race.


Often during these moments I find myself searching for a hidden camera, or better yet a camera crew, like one of those social excitement shows. So far one has never shown up. So my only choice is to cope with the fact that this is, in fact, real life.


For instance, several years ago, my husband (who was just my boyfriend at the time) and I took a trip to Seattle to go to a friend’s wedding. The day before the festivities we went to Pike Place Market to look around. I was wandering around minding my own business, when suddenly a large gentleman accosted me with a gold hoop earring.

Man: Can you please try this on for me? I want to know what it would look like on.

Me: Hmmm… Have you tried a mirror?

Man: Look, do you want me to pay you or something?

Me: *explodes from awkward overdose* Uhh.. Sorry… Gotta go bathe my hippopotamus. Good luck with that…


I’m just gonna go over here…

You see, this would have been 400x more logical if a camera crew would have shown up at any point. But they did not. So I was left wondering if this was, in fact real life? Do people really do that? Really?

Another time, several years ago, a few friends and I went on a vacation together. During said vacation, we went to an art museum. Because that’s what all the wild and crazy 19 year olds do on spring break.


Actual photographic evidence of my friend and I partaking in nightlife in our early 20s

At the museum, we encountered a tour guide wearing a shoe on her head as a hat. It looked very intentional. Her hair was pinned around it like a woman from the small hat wearing era. I do not remember a single piece of art that I saw that day, save that shoe hat on the tour guides head, which might be considered art in and of itself. I spent much of my time there looking for a camera crew, but no one showed up, forcing me again to accept that this is real life.


Real life, now with shoe hats!

I wonder if this is a thought that crosses other people’s awkward minds? Am I alone here? Will Moses one day grow up to search for a camera crew to make sense of real life?


Sometimes I think he already is.

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The Awkward Moose’s Guide to Small Talk

Sometimes, whether I like it or not, I have to leave my house and interact with other human beings. This is made exponentially worse by a little thing called small talk.

small talk

Occasionally I enjoy singing along or dancing to the music no one else can hear. 

Most humans seem to want to fill the air with noise. Usually the noise takes the form of a question that makes me uncomfortable, for instance “what are your plans this weekend?” “Are you enjoying this weather?” And “when was your last Pap smear?” … Wait no that last one was the nurse at the gynecologist.



I might be slightly easier to work with than a mermaid. 

Usually these “friendly questions” make me want to yell out “purple! 74! John Quincy Adams!” and then turn around and start running, but since I need to stick around to finish paying for my groceries or pick up my latte or whatever, I have to try to engage in said small talk.


I do my best to blend in.

So I thought, since I can’t be the only person on earth dreading idle chit chat, that I’d compile a list of appropriate and inappropriate responses to the most common small talk-ish questions.



The awkward leading the awkward.

Q: How is your day going so far?

Appropriate A: fine thanks, and you?

Inappropriate A: well, since you ask, I’m about 12 seconds from lighting my hair on fire while running down the street naked. But it’ll be ok. I own several Dolly Parton Wigs and I’ve already warned my neighbors.



Everyone loves a Dolly wig.

Q: Are you enjoying/hating the weather?

Appropriate A: oh yes, it’s lovely/horrid

Inappropriate A: it reminds me of the day that my great-uncle Beaufort was brutally mauled by a bear in his own home. It was raining/sunny/snowing that day too.

debbie downer

I’ve considered hiring a sad trombone player to follow me around when I go places. 


Q: Any exciting plans this weekend?

Appropriate A: Not really, just hanging out with my little dude *gesture to child*

Inappropriate A: it’s the weekend? What day is it? What YEAR is it? Where am I?

mosey confused


I am often as confused as Moses was at the Renaissance Fair. 

Q: so, what do you think about this *insert current event*?

Appropriate A: oh yes! That is indeed a thing which I am aware is happening!

Inappropriate A: well, I wouldn’t know anything about that you see, I just arrived here today in a time machine. Yesterday I was in regency era England. You wouldn’t happen to have a news paper would you?


So there you have it! I hope that my son will avoid these awkward encounters. Maybe I should start him in small talk lessons for toddlers. Just in case he inherited my awkward.

.Moseymama crazyface




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Cheese Shame.

There are certain things in my life that are only kept in check by shame. Mostly fear of sales/service people judging me. I know this is irrational but I just don’t want to have *that particular* awkward encounter. Maybe it’s for the best that I have some shame left in my awkward existence. Enough to keep me from owning 30 cats, but not enough to keep me from posting 30 cat pics on my blog.



I may or may not have been, at one time, addicted to home pregnancy tests. It’s (believe it or not) a common thing among women trying for a baby. But I was never able to go whole hog into the dark underbelly of POAS (pee on a stick) addiction. Because it was way too awkward to walk up to the cashier carrying 17 first response pregnancy tests. No poker face is that strong.


poker face



Another form of this life-impeding (or lifesaving?) shame is known (in my mind) as cheese shame. I am certain I am not the only person suffering from cheese shame.



The Cheese Shame Awareness Logo 

I love cheese on my food. When the waiter at a restaurant asks “Would you like some freshly grated Romano?”, my answer, without exception, is yes. But once the waiter starts grating and says “Tell me when,” the cheese shame starts. I start thinking “Oh no! It’s been too long! I’m going to use up his whole block of cheese! Must. Say. When.” And I assure him that it’s enough cheese on my pasta primavera. Even though, in my cheese-loving heart of hearts, I wanted more.



I hope that Moses can grow up unashamed of his enthusiasm for cheese. But I also hope he never finds himself at Walgreens buying 17 pregnancy tests.



Because that would just be awkward


August 7, 2013 · 7:49 pm

Then Suddenly, Adulthood!

Recently it dawned on me that I am an adult.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but here I stand with my own adult responsibilities and small human to care for. I feel so unprepared.


I am much like Ted

Friends of mine have skills in domestic arts such as cooking and knitting and not looking like zombies when they go in public. I must have been out sick the days where they taught these things. The most impressive skill I posses is bow drilling (basically making fire from sticks) and that has yet to come in handy in my life as a full time mom. I also have a really good memory for lyrics. Again… Not very helpful.


Basically I can do what this guy is doing, except while singing all of Don McLean’s “American Pie”

Right now we are working on decorating and furnishing our house. I am shocked and appalled that someone left this task to me, because I don’t even know what’s going on and then suddenly there is someone trying to sell me a coffee table and I can’t even tell you the difference in a “family room” and a “living room” yet I am expected to furnish both of these things without making a complete ass of myself.


I think to myself, that surely someone must be mistaken here. Only real adults can decide if a loveseat or a chair and a half is appropriate. But there I am in a furniture mall wearing my baby and answering questions about square footage.

I feel like a kindergartener sitting the SAT.

But then… I never even actually took the SAT. So maybe I just feel like regular me taking the SAT. It’s best described as a comic book thought bubble with only the word “What.” Written inside.


As a kid it seemed like adults just knew the answers to these things. They knew all the names for different chairs and which ones were appropriate for which rooms. It was just programmed into their adult brains it seemed. Maybe my parents neglected to teach me this life skill. Or maybe, just maybe, they were bullshitting their way through and hoping no one notices, just like I am now


Moses doubts my qualifications as “adult”. He is onto me.



July 18, 2013 · 4:27 am

Wait…This exists?

There are some things that I know, that I never asked to know and sometimes wish I could un-know. But thanks to the internets, I know them. Bizarre information on the Internet is like a burning building you can’t look away from or a really trashy Facebook friend who you can’t bring yourself unfollow.


Maybe people were genuinely more normal before the Internet and camera phones brought a venue for people to fly their freak flags and awkward people who hate leaving the house (Like meeeeeee) to sit back , pop popcorn, and watch the oddities.


Or maybe people who really enjoyed placing a piece of bread around a cat and laughing about it have existed for centuries, if not millennia! Because really, do we know why the ancient Egyptians were so into cats?


I like cats too. Cat’s get me. I am glad there are so many on this cast web of (cat related) information.

So. Here are a few of my favorite WTF websites:

1. Cats that look like hitler

This one is a classic. Who doesn’t want to look over pictures of felines resembling one of the most evil human beings to ever live? Fun fact: my friend has a kitler.

2. Obsessive fan site for the hidden bathroom at disneyland.

The person/people who made this website are amazingly devoted to this bathroom. There are separate pages for things such as “vent”. Is this normal? Or healthy? Almost certainly not. But this… Is a thing.

3. OMG Cats in space!

Exactly what it sounds like

4.How many goats are you worth?

In case you were wondering. Ya know… I have never once thought of trading someone in for goats before, but now that I know, I’m gonna have my husband take this test. Just for future reference…

So yeah. If you wanted to lose several minutes, if not hours thinking “wait… This exists?”, You should click on those links.

stunned Mose

Mosey doesn’t know what to think of these websites, which is good. It means he isn’t seeking to trade me in for goats.


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