bRob the Romantic

Hi Webs -

I don't want you to feel sorry for me or anything but i did write this on Valentine's evening from the inside of an airport hotel room that smelled vaguely of oldness. I trust you're grateful I spared you all my Valentine's Day whinging on Valentine's Day proper, because that's the kind of thoughtful person I sometimes accidentally am.

As the snowpocalypse reigned supreme over in NC, my red-eye flight was delayed and I finally groveled my way into a ticket on Saturday morning.

via imgur

Which, if you do the math, leaves me in my airport hotel over Valentine's day. Being single on Valentine's Day is obviously not the most fun way to spend a holiday devoted to romance, and sitting alone in a hotel room spilling an ungodly amount of Thai food  (the lady offered me three sets of utensils. I'd probably find that amusing if it weren't such a cliche) all over the bed kind of exacerbates the whole ordeal.



After a lot of that ^^^ and about 3 hours of this  on repeat and just general all around self-pitying, I decided the best thing I could do to cheer myself up is to give back; giving back is so rewarding. Or so I've read.

In that generous spirit I have compiled some free romantic advice loosely based on a date I may or may not have had with Office Pervert, formerly know as OC for those who have followed along religiously.

How to Romance the Ladies, Probably

by bRob

1)  Practice saying "You look good" in a way that doesn't make me think you might have ladies' body parts stashed in your basement.

2) If a restaurant serves wine in a plastic glass, I promise you don't need to swirl and sniff before delicately sipping. That wine most definitely came from Wal-Mart.

3) Maybe don't hype up and make reservations for a restaurant that serves wine in a plastic glass.

4) Don't take me somewhere where your friend works and is going to make lewd gestures and point every time I turn around.

5) Also, if a girl does not seem to appreciate you staring at her chest, and if she's told you to stop grabbing/stroking her upper thigh ten times, the next best thing to do is not to grab her butt and yell "goosed you!"

It's my fault, really. I should have punched him the ninth time he grabbed my thigh.

6) Collecting pinball tables in your living room is not impressive. It's embarrassing and seriously makes me question your financial sense. And your sense in general. HOW old are you?

yeah no, not interested in seeing pictures.

stop texting me.

7) You: "What kind of Christian are you?"
Your gorgeous date: "Uh I guess I was raised Southern Baptist?"
You: "You might find this interesting. I'm going to the Vatican this summer."

Don't say that.

8) Did you just bring up marriage within a week of meeting me?

9) Know your strengths. If you take a sophisticated lady to an improv show, and if you aren't actually on stage, you are not a comedian. I cannot emphasize that enough. Do not try to be louder than the comedians. Do not get jealous and pout when I laugh at the comedians. They are funny. You are not. Deal.

10)  Because hope springs eternal and because i am a romantic at heart, i leave you with what highschool bRob considered the height of romance. Tip number 10 - just do this.

Oh, and here's one for the ladies: Drive yourselves. So important to have an escape plan.

I hope you feel a little loved today.

-bRob

Awkward Truths of 2013

It's no secret management has been slacking on the upkeep of this blog. Life has not started being any less awkward than usual, so let's do a 2013 round up before I head to Vietnam. Which I'm sure will be a lot awkward in and of itself.

hi; not a recovering addict

1. I ended up falling asleep in the backseat of car on the way to the airport while the client was driving. Luckily I woke myself up with a loud snore.

2. A little while later, I had a dream with a pop-scare in it and woke up screaming...on a crowded plane.

Side note: My dreams have been startlingly vivid lately, in a completely evil and horrifying way. All incredibly dark nightmares or really melancholy memories. Never, like, a really realistic walk through Candyland. It's only been within the past six months to a year that my dreams have gotten really vivid and dark. Any advice? 

3. I got into some serious beef with a waitress at a fancy french restaurant because she claims that "You can't order the cheese plate as an appetizer because it's only for dessert." It didn't help I was super late to the dinner (wrong train stop + rolling a suitcase around San Fran + STUPID GOOGLE WALKING DIRECTIONS IN BETA) and had already annoyed the hostess with my giant suitcase and frazzled entrance. Regardless, no one puts Baby in a corner and no one tells bRob she can't order cheese whenever she durn well pleases. Obviously I had to order two desserts because even though I wanted the cheesecake I still needed that cheese platter. 70% on principle.

4. This profound purchase from my most first ever IKEA trip:

taking name suggestions...

For those of you still wondering, it's a stuffed rat. Never bought a stuffed animal in my life; in fact, i threw most stuffed animals i received under the bed because they took up too much space (i was a bratty little pragmatist). But maybe the wind was just right and the planets had aligned and also i was feeling super sentimental about McFly, and i could not leave the store without him.

5. Earlier this evening "The other day" I rationalized a two-hour nap because my arm was sore from the flu shot. Heaven help this girl if she ever actually gets the flu.

6. That time I fell in five-minute love with the guy I sat beside in first-class. He smelled nice, wore a smart corduroy blazer, told me about his yachting trip through Norwegian islands or something, smelled nice, was tall, dark and ambiguously ethnic, and walked me to my next gate. We'd obviously be married by now if I had actually gotten his name. hashtag missed connections. (HAHAHA We were in an airport. Connections. I'm killing myself over here....).

7. After I got incredibly fussy with the US Air ticket agent because she couldn't find my flight to Philadelphia, she patiently asked me, "Could you mean Pittsburgh?" Yeah, I meant Pittsburgh. Snotty bRob doesn't know the difference between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia.

8. Early this fall I went on a date which we rounded out with a trip to the movie theater. Only neither of us actually knew what was playing, so we asked the ticket girl for recommendations for 'something funny'. She adorably suggested Don Jon. Neither of us was familiar with the movie, except I knew it starred JGL, whom i love dearly, and the ticket girl was just so darn adorable, so we bought the tickets.

Don Jon  was a bad choice.

My date and I had barely held hands up til that point, and I'll have it be known that watching sexy-time films [more like soft-core porn] together is not the relationship-builder you might think it is. The whole movie I sat as far away from my date as possible with my blushing head in my hands. You could have fit at least one other tiny person between us. You know how half the fun of movie dates is waiting for someone to grab your hand or look over adoringly mid-movie? Yeah, that never happened. As soon as the lights came on, I full on ran out of that movie theater without looking to see if my date followed. 

9. Awkward Truth number 9: My 2013 blogging record

10. This truth is more of a question, but everyone reads books in the bathroom, right? I believe in multi-tasking, but i'm starting to think maybe not everyone's as open-minded about efficiency. One semester I read A Streetcar Named Desire entirely while 'multi-tasking'. Follow-up question, if you borrow someone's book, is it implied that you'll be 'multi-tasking' with it, or should you ask explicitly?

Michelle if you're reading this, I don't mean your books. Honest.

I know. girl's a mess.

love,
bRob

Awkward Truths

My bangs oft resemble a bowl cut. OFT.

While driving home from the airport with my windows down, I was sprayed by a skunk. While driving. In a car. As politely as she could, my Grandma demanded I go take a shower.

I walk around with my skirt tucked up in my pantyhose, like...a lot. It should be noted that my coworkers are typically male and awkward and blush when i so much as put on mascara in the car. i expect they'll let me walk around with my skirt all up all day, so long as they don't have to make eye contact.

Finding earwax in your earbuds. You know.

In a heroic effort to stand up during a particularly rigorous 2 minutes of spin class, my knees buckled and i fell down, clinging to the handlebars of my stationary bike.

Unfortunately yoga didn't go much better - where running = yoga: 

via running is impossible

just a lot of laying around and trying to ignore the stupid teacher who won't stop teaching and wants even the most hopeless of cases to succeed when all Hopeless Case wants to do is nap and good lord if the 74 year old man next to me can do a half-crescent moon then what am i doing with my life

I am mad obsessed with the Cosby Show. It's kind of all-consuming right now. I find myself constantly wanting to tweet things like, "Isn't Sandra like the most annoying person on earth??" but i know everyone would be too busy live tweeting GoT to care and also half of you don't even appreciate my twitter gold like i think you should.

Side note: I named my fish Cosby. Because he's so funny and definitely a people fish.

Second side note: It is probably an awkward truth that i am also mad obsessed with my twitter account and am on the verge of constantly being offended that you guys never retweet me or anything but hey who's counting.

She says it best:

My coworker came up whisperasked me if I heard our other coworker passing gas. Um, wasn't listening, weirdo.

This gross old lady crush I've been nursing on Hunter Hayes: 

Also of course I'm old enough to have an old lady crush. OF COURSE.

stay true, stay awkward, DONT LET ANYONE DULL YOUR SPARKLE,

bRob

Awkward Truths

If you were to ask me which grocery store aisle is my favorite, and if I were to answer honestly, I would have to admit that I spent an exorbitant amount of time in the frozen food aisle last week. And not an adorably endearing amount of time - like when you see a single girl in a romCom picking out her lean cuisines right before she meets mister right and then only eats at fancy french restaurants - but a seriously messed up amount of time. Maybe fifteen minutes? I don't know. I paced up and down scavenging for dinner and tried to hide my face whenever anyone walked down the aisle.

Then I bought organic milk. I spent the whole [3-minute] drive home wondering what sort of person eats Red Baron frozen pizza while drinking organic milk.

On a scale from 1 to Hoarders, how gross is it that I haven't been washing my coffee cup between uses?

I dropped my dry shampoo in the toilet again, but on this blog, that has pretty much become a cliche.

So this one time when I was 11, I printed off the lyrics to My Favorite Things and memorized all 27 verses. I saw the Les Mis trailer the other day, and it's happening again. I've been perusing the YouTube for the past two days looking for the best rendition of I Dreamed A Dream and bouncing around my apartment singing it way better than Anne Hathaway ever could.

My roommate moved out and now I have no umbrella. Full disclosure: I've spent the last year using either the world's jankiest umbrella or my roommate's. Now I have nothing. NOTHING. Except for a few super-soaked walks to work under my belt.

But seriously, I am almost too ashamed to tell you this one:
Yesterday, when I went to the beach with some friends, I and my little eye spied a man with a peg-leg. He stood in the exact same spot for over an hour, so he kind of became our point of reference when the undertow pulled us down the beach. At one point I turned to my friends and said [loudly, of course, because it's me], "Where's Peg-leg? How do we know how far we've gone?" My friend leaned over and whispered, "That's his family, right beside us." His family then proceeded to get out of the water. I proceeded to duck under it.


I have started sleeping with my head at the foot of the bed. I think I just felt like mixing things up. It works because I haven't made my bed in a while and my comforter has just been kind of free floating in the middle of the bed.

keepin' it funky fresh.
-bRob

PS -  that sign-off will be in next week's Awkward Truths, for sure.

Awkward Truths: Anecdote Edition [my first kiss]

Here at Conversations, management [bRob] has decided to expand the scope of Awkward Truths to include some of bRob's awkward reel from the past. Enjoy.

My First Kiss 

The summer I turned fifteen, a mere fresh-faced [read: pimply and brace-y] child, my family boarded a cruise to Alaska. That boat would forever change my life. Mostly because Alaska is gorgeous, but also because I got my first kiss.

I spent ninety percent of my time on that cruise with the super-cool teen group [the other ten percent was spent eating. maybe 70-30 would be a more accurate distribution...]. We did everything together. We went to shows, played games, watched movies, flirted in a way that would make my twenty-something-year-old-self cringe. Also, we fell in love. And by we, I mean bRob. Juuuuust bRob.

His name was Matt. His little sister, Maria, and I became fast friends, which meant I should obviously be his first pick for cruise-girlfriend. He had beautifully tanned skin, dark black curls, and a huge calculus book. So mature for his age - studying calculus on a cruise. Enigma, in a word. My fifteen-year-old sophomore self boggled.

Also there was this kid named Chris who flirted a lot. He wore Rainbows before Rainbows were cool. He wrote poetry [read: "poetry"] with questionable grammar. Being from California, he was just so much older [Three. whole. years. Or maybe two? Who knows] and wiser in the ways of the world. Oh, and exotic. Being from CA definitely made him exotic.

My little teenage heart could barely handle all the emotional turmoil. I loved them, to be sure. But whom did I love more? Fate dealt a cruel hand, that week - sending two great loves my way [it should be noted that I have not since encountered this problem nor will I ever probably again]. 

On the last night of the cruise, the entire super-cool teen group celebrated by going to a final dinner together. Then Matt and Maria's parents made them leave early so they could get a good night's rest before debarkation [...seriously. They might've been home-schooled too, now that I think about it.]. Well that was that. No lingering glances, no trembling goodbyes, no meaningful hugs. Matt just left. Also Chris was being loud and obnoxious and disgustingly flirty. Obviously fate made my mind for me. Chris, then, would be the love of my life [read: week]. 

As all the other kids finally wandered off to go to bed or sneak alcohol from the bar or snag one last dessert, Chris and I wandered aimlessly, like creeps, through the halls of the boat, enjoying what was probably deep and marginally insightful conversation. I was looking absolutely gorgeous, my friends. I wore my cutest red tank-top under a cool, see-through white shirt. Remember when layering was the hottest thing? yeah. sure was. My stellar top combo was combined with light khaki capris that were about the same color as my legs. My hair was tied in two pigtails -two lopsided, mouse-brown pigtails. I even had minty gum in my mouth to hide the post-dinner halitosis. 

Hold onto your laptops, readers, because stuff's aboutta get real.

 As we slowed our walk, Chris flat-out told me he would kiss me.

In what I'm sure I thought was a slightly alluring and teasing voice I replied, "But I'm chewing gum." [This remains a problem even to this day. I am never  not chewing gum.]

He assured me it didn't matter. So manly. So wise.

A million thoughts ran through my brain. Most of them had to do with my gum. Did I swallow it? Side-pocket it? Give it to him? Is gum-sharing a thing?

In hindsight...I don't remember what I did. [which is probably why it's still a problem]. I finally said something super sweet like, "O.K."

And he did it. He leaned in...and stuck his tongue straight in my mouth. I don't even remember our lips touching. He had some kind of aim to get his tongue in without even making lip contact. Call me hard-hearted, but I almost gagged - it felt like I had a dead fish in my mouth. Years of romantic comedies had done me wrong, because this, my friends, was neither fun nor romantic.

I waited for as long as my nausea would hold off [three seconds], and then said, "Alright. That's enough of that."

No. Joke.

Then we awkwardly hug/cuddled [apparently Chris was not put off by the fact I found his kissing disgusting], said a nearly teary-eyed good-bye, and went our separate ways. 

how much puberty can you fit into one awkward photograph?
Both Chris and I are in this picture. I'm not going to tell you which one is Chris - it's more fun if you try and guess. Matt's not pictured. Trust me, though, he was a cutie.

-bRob

Epilogue: Chris and I kept in touch for about a month via email. His email signature was some short poem about blue eyes with terrible rhyme scheme and an incorrect "you're."

I can never change the fact that I shared my first kiss with someone who had bleached hair tips and can't distinguish between "your" and "you're."

Awkward Truths

so, that happened.

While driving home this evening, I was about 67% certain for 4 solid seconds that I saw a U.F.O. 
By using my deductive reasoning skills, I am now 83% certain it was merely a weirdly-colored mid-highway streetlamp. The other 17% of the mind boggles...

I ate at a Mongolian buffet today, and I am not too classy to say I unbuttoned my skinny jeans in my car afterwards.

After a long day that ended an hour ago, I began the rest of my evening with a plan to do work. Instead I ended up here. With you.

I almost blogged today about ringtones that stink the most. That would be both nasty and lame. bRob needs to get un-grumpy.

During worship today, I got very frustrated over an "it's" instead of an "its" in the song lyrics on the screen. Do you think having decent grammar counts as a spiritual gift? Or a sign that someone is a little too concerned about things that absolutely don't matter [except they do sometimes].

After looking over some friends' blogs, I am very unimpressed with my own DIY skill-level. That is to say, I am feeling largely inadequate over the fact that I have none.

Side note: I hammered a really cute thing on my wall the other day. I'm going to take a picture of it and show it to you. You, of course, are going to be impressed, not necessarily because it was difficult, but rather it shows an initiative on my part to do something with myself besides watch hulu and go to class. Even if it is just nailing a cute thing to the wall.

Months later I still haven't moved my alarm clock an hour forward. Or backward. Or whatever it was we were supposed to do.  I just switched to using my phone for my alarm...

Someone told me to google myself to see what future employers might find if they looked me up. I'm pretty sure that one truth alone is enough to never get me hired ever. Luckily for me, bRob is not my real name. Does that shock you?

I can't breathe through my nose right now so I'm sitting here with my mouth gaping open like a trout.


And on account of being pathetic and sickly and being able to breathe out of only one nostril, I am going to sign off here before my truths disintegrate from awkward to nonsensical.

-bRob

sometimes I want to add -atropolis to the end of my name. Would you take me seriously if I signed off bRobatropolis?

See, this is what i'm talking about. I shouldn't have continued typing.

Awkward Truths

Herp derp.

I watched my Grandma get hit on. While we were at a gas station. "Dandy Don", as he is called, asked her to come see him at the Masonic Lodge....

Let me get this straight: I am a single, 20-something-year-old female at an engineering university, and my Grandma still gets asked out more than I do. I'm clearly doing something wrong.


 I dropped my bottle of dry shampoo in the toilet. Again. You would think I would just start washing my hair more, like a normal person. You would think wrong.
Super senior year is not a great look for me.


 I accidentally drove the wrong way down a one-way road. Right after I took my GRE's. We're really lucky the GRE's don't test common sense.


My friend gave me his student ID so I could use his meal plan for breakfast at the dining hall one day. The dining hall lady was pretty cheesed off when the card didn't swipe properly and she actually looked at the ID.

I can't even sneak into a dining hall. I'm losing the edge I never had.


 I'm being coerced into attending a dept luncheon as the guest of one of my former (70+ year old) professors. This may not seem awkward yet, but trust me, it will be. And if you knew this professor...it would seem a whole lot more awkward.


 I bought a few bags of mini-marshmallows to put in my hot chocolate. Two bags later, I still haven't actually made any hot chocolate.


How's your awkward going? Be cool, folks!

-bRob

Awkward Truths

Because I'm forever awkward.

This is what I look like every time  I do homework:

a) zebra -striped snuggie

b) vest

c) notecards strewn about

d) two cans of diet soda

e)staring blankly at the screen

My roommate convinced me to go to group workout. I stopped working out every time the instructor stopped looking.

I finally got around to watching some of my class's lectures online (because I never pay attention the first time around). I either need to stop sitting on the front row or do something about my hair, because apparently I am on camera.

The walls of my duplex are thinner than I thought, and the kids next door are either having babies or making them. 

 It made me giggle.

I got stuck sitting between a couple [...] at a large table the other day. They proceeded to play footsie across me. Rude, amIrite? Next time I'm going to slip my foot into the mix and see if they notice.

Super senior year is not a good look for me. I've given up and lost the will to try. I went to the library today unshowered and in my pajamas. When I told my grandma, she looked horrified.

Apparently my grandma thinks I'm gross.

A dirty old man at the alumni luncheon I attended spent a little too much time leering and making me sufficiently uncomfortable [that's the last time I change out of my pajamas for the rest of the year].

Still haven't gotten the taillights fixed.

I brought someone  a cupcake the other day, but I took a corner too quickly and the box tipped over. The box was sealed, though, so I couldn't tell if the cupcake made it or not. When I handed my friend the cupcake, I tried to make a joke about Schroedinger's cupcake. I was the only one who thought it was hilarious. I guess that's all that really matters, eh?

Probably my most embarrassing truth yet: I just got a twitter, because we've all been so desperate to follow every single one of bRob's thoughts in real time, right?
You are very welcome to follow me @ bandInterWebs or just leave a comment on this post with helpful tips for using twitter.
It's got me a little bamboozled, to be quite honest.

Do you have any awkward truths to share? Or are you all incredibly charming and suave  =)?

-bRob

Talkin' to the Ether

Hey-o, InterWebs. Again - I have a really long post I've been wanting to write and share, but it'll have to wait. I wanted to share something that JUST happened.

Pops - the man who looks awkward in the eye and says, Wut Up Awkward?

   Today was just so long. Long long long. It was filled with numerous awkward, uncomfortable moments that made me cringe. A lot. And for those of you who know me, I have an extremely high awkward threshold. I tend to bulldoze right through awkward moments [I get it from mi Padre]. So imagine how awkward this awkward must have been to make me cringe.



     It was just one of those days that is  wave after wave after wave of uncomfortable. It was also one of those days that reminded me following Christ requires sacrifice. I cannot always do what is easiest, what will make me the most friends, what makes the most sense. Sometimes I have to hurt people's feelings, or avoid situations and temptations, or stand by myself, or just be incredibly awkward. I am a disciple of the Lord, and, hurt as it may sometimes, I simply cannot put myself in certain situations or do what people expect, or, stranger yet, do what the old, pre-Jesus, pre-WashedInTheHolySpirit Brittany would do.

   And I don't know if you remember my melodramatic post about Khan , but this semester was somewhat of a rude awakening. I'm going to be extremely honest, InterWebs - I began with such fluffball hopes and plans for this semester. I was going to be so studious and nerdy in my graduate classes, and finally be cute and wear blazers and wool skirts; I was going to be fun and happy and move past the hard stuff. And then the LORD reminded me that life isn't just about me anymore, not at all.
    Instead, this semester began without any good friends. Situations changed. This semester began with the same hurt and temptation, back seemingly stronger than ever. This semester began with tears, disappointment, rejection, and loneliness. It was overwhelming and impossible. And I was angry. 
  God wanted me to come to Him in my need. Not to some boy. Not to my besties. Not to anyone who would listen. He wanted me to learn how to come to Him.
    By nature, I am a sharer. I tell everyone my everything. I am vulnerable, honest, and kind of needy. And suddenly there was no one but God. And so I told God what I felt. I like to "be real" with God - so I tell Him if I'm angry, or hurting, or impossible-d out. Some of the time. After I've already pre-shared with someone else.
      But today was sort of first for me, and somewhat of a "landmark moment" in my relationship with the LORD. After a long, frustrating day, I wanted to pour out to someone. I wanted someone to listen sympathetically and encourage me and tell me I am doing the right thing. And so I mentally began to scroll through my contacts list thinking about whom I could call while I waited on the bus that took a century and a half to come. And I knew she was busy, she heard me whine last week, she and her boyfriend are hanging out, he doesn't care, I haven't heard from him recently, etc etc etc. Normally I go to great lengths to find someone with whom I can talk. The sharer in me has to share and has to vent and wants someone to listen to her.

    And suddenly, I remembered I had God. [Isn't that sad? I "remembered."] I can talk to Him. He can and will comfort me. And I just began praying. Right there, on the bus.
     I didn't desperately call people to comfort me. I didn't send out mass texts so I could get enough sympathy to fill up my sympathy vat [can sympathy be a love language? ahah]. I went to God.
      God grew me. God grew me. Before I even knew it, He grew me. I came to Him without exhausting every other resource. I came to Him to share my hurt and concerns. I came to Him.

I guess ...I just wanted to share that. Not to brag, not by any means to boast. Well, I guess, to boast about my God. He is changing me. 

And you saw it! You, InterWebs, witnessed my confusion in the Khan post. And now you get to witness the budding result. However small it may seem, I chose to rely on God today.

I just think this picture is full of happy.

 I wish you could know  how big this was for me, InterWebs. Not that I might be esteemed, but so that you might see what God can do.


love,

bRob


PS - If you don't know Jesus in a "being real", personal kind of way, I must sound like a real whackadoodle - talkin' to the Ether on the bus instead of calling friends. Hah.