Here is a little bit of info about my book. My book is called The Book of Awesome. The book was © In 2010 by Neil Pasricha and was published by the penguin group on 375 Hudson Street, in New York, New York, U.S.A. The book is written by Neil Pasricha, and has won the New York Times Bestseller.Here is also a hyperlink to Neil Pasricha website: http://1000awesomethings.com/ and here is the book i am reading to buy it: http://www.amazon.ca/Book-Awesome-Neil-Pasricha/dp/0399156518/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1261366294&sr=8-1
Hello again here is some more part of The Book of (even more) AWESOME! The pars are 14, 15, 16.
Get your groove on long.
Get your groove on strong.
After all, maybe you’re hanging with a heavy heart, burning with a hot temper, or snowed in after a bad day. If there’s a black cloud hanging over your head, there’s no cheaper cure than having a solo dance party in the comfort of your place. Just lock that door, shutter those blinds, and crank the bumping thumping music, baby. Because it’s time to get down with the get down:
- The Microphone. Wooden spoons are ideal but there are good substitutions like toothbrushes, Swiffer dusters, or hair dryers. Just don’t trip on the cord.
- The Crowd. It’s all about mirrors. Nod and let them nod right back at you. Watch them mouth the words and raise their fists with yours. What a beautiful audience.
- The Critics. There are none! This is the best part. Nobody says you’re singing out of key so just wail till you can’t wail no more. For bonus points get your voice so loud and dirty it scratches the back of your throat.
- The Wardrobe. You’ve got a few costumes options including the classic ripped raggedy T-shirt and pair of faded sweats. There’s also underwear only or even full on living room nude. Relax, you look great. Time to rock out.
And of course . . .
Bedtime is terrible.
TV flickers off, friends go home, sun dips down, and you’re all alone.
But just before you fall asleep sometimes there’s a little treat.
Just before you drift to dreams sometimes there’s a little scene.
Just before you fade away sometimes there’s s little left to say.
Mom or Dad slips through your door, they sit and smile on your bed, and then they swipe your shaggy hair right across your forehead. They smooth over your covers and squeeze them up to your chin as they smile and ask how your day has been.
Sometime there’s a story, sometimes there’s a book, sometimes there’s just smiling, sometimes there’s a look. But no matter what, we all know that a tiny moment of cozy comfort always feels warm and loving moment of
I am a terrible pool player.
Yet, despite this, whenever someone at a bar asks me to play against them or be their partner, I’m like sure, yeah,I’m totally in.
I mean, I’m having a good time, I’m in a good mood, so I sort of tipsily swagger over to the cue rack on the wall and pretend to be sizing them up. “Oh man, all the good ones are gone,” I always say extremely loudly, my eyes darting around at the other players with a sad little “Yeah, it’s true,” head nod, being careful to plant seeds of disappointment early so nobody expects me to actually sink a ball.
After that, I begin a desperate search for chalk. “Gotta have some chalk, gotta have some chalk,” I’ll mumble, as I walk in circles around the pool table, looking underneath it and in all the pockets until I find some. And when I do, I really go to town. Honestly, I rub my pool cue in that chalk and twist it around tightly, and then I flare the edges to cover up all the missed spots.
If all goes according to plan, I’ll keep chalking my cue until somebody breaks. The goal here is to avoid eye contact until the game starts, because otherwise I might be asked to break, and that’s never a pretty sight.
No, the four or five times I’ve foolishly agreed to kick-off the game end up embarrassing everyone involved. I’ll generally skid the cue off the side of the cueball, sending it wildly spinning directly into a side pocket. Or I’ll get under the ball by accident and send it flying across the bar, where it’ll softly roll up against the boot of some pony-tailed, tattooed biker dude, who will then shoot me a cold, piercing stare and begin punching his fist into his palm.
No, it’s better for everyone if I avoid the break. Frankly, I shouldn’t even be playing.
But what I will do if I can is peek up from my obsessive chalking just before the break, so I can watch the break, because I love the break, because the break is great. I mean, it’s an explosive crack that rises above the background bar buzz, and captures everyone’s attention as the balls fly in all directions.
Yes, the sound of a solid crack from a good break in billiards is the sound of a good fifteen to twenty minutes of fun getting started. And it’s the sound of people enjoying themselves with a couple of drinks, some good friends, and a great night.
And that sounds a lot like
Also send stories or photos about The Book of Awesome to firstname.lastname@example.org
hey peeps, here next three part: 11, 12, 13 oh yeah.
part 11: When a cop finally passes you after driving behind you for a while
Yes indeedy, we law-aspiring citizens immediately slow to a speed limit cruise when we spot cops silently swerving behind our bumpers. We’re the jittery school of fish with jumpy eyes and they’re the silent shark swimming over to our lane.
With our hearts drum-thumping and our white-knuckled hands gripping the wheel, we temporarily become super drivers—using our signals, leaving space, and checking our mirrors every two seconds.
We don’t know if the cop is eyeballing us, about to flick his flashers, or typing our license plate into his computer, so we’re in a heightened bug-eyed state. Seconds tick by like hours when Yourtown’s finest stick to our heels and force question through our brain: Was I speeding? Should I change lanes? Does he want me to speed up?
Everything slowly and slowly builds and builds to a bigger and bigger feeling of tension and pain . . .
. . . until he finally just zooms off into the distance, never to be heard from again.
You know how it goes: something weird like coagulate, vexed, or perforated leaps in to your temporal lobe and wedges itself there tightly, grabbing a beer, putting its feet up, making itself at home.
But then soon the magazine articles are zooming the word up to your eyeballs, your college professor is dropping it in lectures, and you see it hanging strangely coagulate in the middle of a random book.
“I never knew that word before,” you think, “but now it’s following me around.”
See, the lords of language know you well. They gotta repeat things to seal in the learning. So when it happens just enjoy that personal thrill, feel the connection crackle, and smile and nod because you just got a little bit smarter and a lot more
Greasy forehead, sore ankles, and a dull headache cap your traffic-jammy ride home from a long day at work. Dragging yourself to the door, you picture the bland burrito you’re gonna nuke for dinner as your stomach rumbles and grumbles.
Yeah, the day got you down, the day knocked you out, but suddenly you unlock the door and your mood zooms sky-high as there’s a loving and waiting BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK!!!
Someone’s happy to see you.
hey everybody today i am going to blog about part 8,9,10 in the book of awesome.
I’m the Robin Hood of batteries.
Since I am an extremely cheap person I always rob from the rich, battery-filled remotes on my couch and give to the poor new gadgets laying on my counter. I stumble around Sherwood Living Room, clicking open plastic battery doors, hunting for dependable double-As to get the job done.
Of course, this battery robbery always backfires next time I sit down to watch a flick. I plop onto the couch and pick up the lighter-than-usual remote and then curse my former self for screwing my current self. Then the camera pans to another scene of me stumbling around again, this time battery-jacking the poor so I can feed the rich.
It’s a terrible, neverending cycle.
That’s what makes it special when batteries are included. That’s what makes it special when when you yank open the new Baby Farts-So-Real and there’s a small, plastic-wrapped case of cheapo batteries from the Taiwanese black market sitting in the box.
Sure, sure, maybe those knockoff Ultra-Power or Extra-V Vvoltage batteries don’t inspire the most confidence, but whatever man, because surprise batteries are a big win every time.
It’s like the company is saying “Come on, let’s get going, people.”
“First round’s on us.”
Maybe a quiet haze drifts in your dorm as you worry about upcoming exams and patchy friendships. Maybe your heart just got flattened by a runaway relationship and the knots in your stomach are twisting and burning. Or maybe you’re trekking cross-country with a backpack and a dream and are suddenly sucker-punched with a jabby stab of loneliness.
When you’re pumped up, pumped down, shaken sideways or rattled around, it’s always comforting to share a moment with a song or lyric that perfectly reflects your mood. Sometimes it seems like they’re singing right to you.
So come on and smile along, nod quietly to the song, and push ahead, plow forward, and soldier right on.
Doors can be trouble.
Strutting to the mall, strolling to the store, you spy those glassy doubles in the distance just waiting for you to size them up and give them a big push or pull.
Sure, it looks easy, but we all know it’s nothing but.
Nope, thanks to years of tense negotiations, backroom deals, and political infighting, theInternational Alliance for Door Design Consistency has reached a suffocating stalemate in its goal of coming up with one door we can all understand. So while those corporate bigwigs give each other evil eyes in smoky boardrooms We The People are left figuring it out on the front lines, door by door, day by day.
It sucks when you make the wrong move, too. Pull a push or push a pull and you’re suddenly five years old again. Forget the chemistry exam, gym class, or company meeting you’re about to attend — now you’re suddenly a toddler staring back at the waiting crowd with wide eyes, untied laces, and thick boogers snaking down your upper lip.
Yes, that’s why swinging open a confusing door on the first try is such a great high. You just saved yourself ahorrible second of humiliation and are now coasting smoothly through life in the fast lane.
hey everybody this part 5, 6, 7 altogether
part 5: finally getting that tiny piece of popcorn out of your teeth
You know when you can just feel that popcorn kernal stuck back there in swampy recesses of your mouth and it’s totally infuriating?Yes, your tongue slides past its smooth surface unsuccessfully, your toothbrush’s flimsy bristles just can’t shake it, and even your fingernail can’t quite unwedge it from the tight molar deathgrip it’s stuck in.So the fork is dropped and the dessert lays unfinished, the conversation fades to a blurry, distant noise, and the world stops around you as you just keep trying and trying and trying to get that popcorn kernal out. You close your eyes and squint, you tilt your head, you emit a deep-bass “nnnnnnn” noise, as your body directs all available faculties at flushing this thing out. But it just sits there tightly, clogging and gumming up your entire system like a pile of defaulted mortgages.
Then suddenly it falls out.
part 6: peeling the sticky glue off the back of your new credit card
Peel the pleasure. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Smooth Roller who uses your finger to slowly wheel the sticky icky into a little jelly roll or a Stretch Inspector who grabs a glue corner and yanks it further and further until it eventually snaps. Nope, doesn’t matter at all.
Just enjoy the ride.
Part 7: The kids table
The Kids Table is where all the kids eat dinner at holiday family gatherings.
It’s generally a rickety card table from the basement pushed beside a yellow plastic one from the playroom that ends up turning Grandma’s hallway into an eat-in kitchen. Sometimes it’s two different heights, sometimes the chairs are broken, and usually the whole thing is covered in a plastic Christmas tablecloth freshly ripped from the dollar storecellophane.
No matter what though, The Kids Table a great place to find burps, laughs,and juice spills at a holiday meal. Everyone’s enjoying a warm evening with cousins decked out in their finest cableknit sweaters, rosy red cheeks, andmassive bedhead.
Yes, The Kids Table is great for many reasons.
First off, no parents, no problems. Nope, they’re all baking pies, playing ping-pong, or sipping eggnog by the fireplace. The parenting theory here is that the kids sort of form a group safety net who will likely come screaming if somebody gets hurt, so no need for a pesky watchful eye. So with all adults distracted, rules fly out the window and suddenly elbows lean up on tables, chewed-up brussel sprouts get hidden in napkins, and somebody starts eating mashed potatoes with their bare hands.
And no matter what how old everybody is the rule at The Kids Table is that you must act like you’re seven. Teenagers who think they’re too old for the table quickly start blowing bubbles in their milk, pouring salt in people’s drinks, and giggling like mad. Then someone pops a loud fart and everyone laughs for ten straight minutes.
Lastly, let’s not forget that The Kids Table eats first and sometimes features special items like lasagna with no onions, random chopped-up hot-dogs, or real Coke.
People, a lot of good times and great moments happen at The Kids Table. Little ones learn from older siblings and cousins. Childhood bonds and friendships are formed over toys, tears, and gravy spills. And for kids, it’s good practice for eating with high-school pals at the local greasy spoon when someone gets their driver’s license or scarfing a hungover breakfast with college roommates at the dining hall.
So thank you, The Kids Table.
For all you do.
Hey there everybody, this my my 2nd, 3rd and 4th part of the book I am reading.
Part 2: Coming back to your own bed after a long trip!
In the second part in the book it’s talking about how it’s really cold, in my opinion think it’s trying tell us how lucky we are to have an actually warm house in the winter & that some people don’t get what we get like a warm bed or even warm clothing & blankets.
If you’re not awesome than please don’t read what is below…
Part 3: Sneaking candy into the movie theater
In the book, it’s talking about steps to sneak candy into the theaters, so here you go:
1) Bag up: large purses come in handy for the ladies, for everyone else use a backpack/ or shopping bag, and business folks u can just use your suitcase.
2) Food up: stuff that “puppy” up with gummy bears, bubble tape & my favourite mini cinnamon buns. If you’re feeling a little risky, throw in a can of soda/pop, a bag of popcorn, or a pocket flask.
3) Step up: hold your head up high have some confidence, strut a mean strut & you will be golden. NO ticket ripper should say anything.
4) Eat up: tear open your food, grab yourself a can of soda/pop & shake your nerds when a Spanish scene is on. Get eating! Get munching down 😛
if u do not like stomping/ stepping on dry crunchy leaves on the sidewalk and if you’re still not AWESOME!!!! then don’t read this, Just kidding go ahead…
Part 4: Stomping dry crunchy leaves on the side walk
Green baby buds pop out in the spring, healthy leaves fly high
to the sky all summer, and aging beauties flash and change
colors in the fall. Then they eventually snap off and crack
off and crumble and tumble down to the sidewalk.
People, it’s true —the sun rose, the sun set, months went
by, and the Earth actually tilted on its axis before this moment
could appear before you.
So smile a big smile on your way to school and enjoy the
crispy crunch that comes when you walk ten inches out of
your way to smash a brittle little leaf into smithereens.
Part 1: So what this all about?
You have two choices when bad news washes down on you:
1) You can swish & swirl in gloom & doom for ever, or
2) You can grieve & face the future with the newly sober eyes.
In this part Neil is trying to make us remember to always try and think about the good times when we are feeling blue.
Here are two amazing quotes from inside the book:
- “The awesome part about The Book of Awesome is the realization that if you enjoy the simple moments in your life, you will be happier.” – Ben Huh, author of I Can Has Cheezburger?
- “Honors the joys in your life.” – USA Today
These two quotes are completely true!
Here is a little bit of info about my book. My book is called The Book of (Even More) Awesome. the book was © In 2011 by Neil Pasricha and was published by the penguin group on 375 Hudson Street, in New York, New York, U.S.A. The book is written by Neil Pasricha, and has won the #1 international bestseller. Here is also a hyperlink to Neil Pasricha website and to buy the books: http://1000awesomethings.com/ and here is the book i am reading: http://www.amazon.ca/The-Book-Even-More-Awesome/dp/0425245551 .