The Book of Even More Awesome Read Online Free PDF

gone.
    People driving by will squint at those pumps and swear they noticed something. Kids staring out the back of the station wagon will turn to each other and drop their jaws. Later on, newspaper reporters will write down eyewitness accounts from old folks on the porch across the street. “It must have been my imagination,” they’ll say. “But I swear I saw someone dressed all in black.”
    If you let go of the gas pump at just the right moment, they’re talking about you.
    Because you are The Pump Ninja .
    AWESOME!

Finding a parking spot right at the front of the mall just before Christmas
    I’m a terrible parker.
    Yes, I’m the guy who does a five-point turn to get into the spot and a twenty-second slow-mo reverse to get out. I’m the one bumping your bumper at the speed of sloth and the one craning my neck wildly to make sure our mirrors don’t smash when I pull up beside you.
    Since I know my limits behind the wheel I usually head straight for the farthest parking spot in the lot. I’m fine parking under the dim lamp by the swampgrass because for me it means no parking stress and no parking problems. I’m alone in my empty parking zone, baby.
    Now, when that mall’s busy and bumping it’s another story.
    When those spots all fill up I’m a stressed-out incherupper, nervously crawling the lot like a giant tortoise slowly teetering into the forest to die. Yes, I foolishly follow people with bags only to watch as they toss them in the trunk and head back inside. I steer slowly past busy front doors and get caught in pedestrian traffic jams. I creep down entire aisles full of cars and get fooled over and over by Motorbike Mirages .
    It’s pathetic.
    But that’s what makes it so great when I suddenly find a free parking spot right near the front of the mall. That’s when the sun shines shooting beams of light at the tiny rectangular oasis of bumpy asphalt before me.
    I signal quickly and clog up lanes as I fumble back and forth into the spot, screeching and scraping my tires with every turn. But once I’m there I hop right out and smile back to stare at the best parking spot in the lot.
    AWESOME!

Getting through right away when you call a big company
    Thank you for calling.
    We are experiencing lower than normal call volumes.
    AWESOME!

Eating the last piece of anything
    Occasionally, a kind soul will come over to a barbecue toting a homemade dessert made from some combination of apples, brown sugar, brownie batter, toffee bits, marshmallows, cherries, and oatmeal. They set their heavy glass dish down on my kitchen counter and peel back the plastic bag to reveal an earth-toned rainbow of deliciosity. We gaze at its beauty for a moment, but then look at the pile of cold weenies and bulk pack of yellow macaroni salad lying on the counter and walk away, knowing that we’ll get to that dessert later, just as soon as we fill our stomachs with all the cheap stuff everyone else picked up from the clearance rack.
    And eventually the end of the meal arrives and the hero dessert is paraded to the table with pomp, fanfare, forks, and a stack of plates. But by now everyone is stuffed, and so while people dip into this rectangle of tastiness , they just don’t have room to send the dish back empty. It inevitably gets Saranwrapped and put in the fridge for leftovers, hasty promises made to return to it another time.
    And that’s when it gets interesting. I’m a pretty big fan of dessert. I like its style. I think it’s cool. And so I eat it as soon as possible. I have a piece here, I have a piece there. It replaces bread the next morning at breakfast, starch the next evening at dinner. I chip away at it until eventually there is only one piece left. And it is the consumption of that last piece, that final, beautiful square of leftover homemade dessert, that is always the sweetest.
    See, by this point it’s an old friend. I know its taste