In Defense of Us "Useless" Millennials

Hello everyone! I hope weeks have been more fantastic than the thought of a thousand toucans flying in unison to, "Purple Rain" (R.I.P. Prince, you will be missed).

Well, I officially finished my first year of graduate school!!! Which means I simultaneously feel like this:

And this:

After working four jobs all semester to support myself on top of going to school full time, I am exhausted. I actually got so tired at one point that I turned on the radio and realized I could not remember if I liked the song that was playing or not.

With everything going on in life I only had a moment to be irked by a video that I've seen floating around Facebook and other social media sites in the past week. Perhaps you've seen it, it's called "Gotta Love Millennials."

Well, now that I am not furiously trying to write papers while living on cheap gas station coffee, I have a moment to respond to this. Disclaimer: I do realize that the church that created this video has a "this is all fun and games" description below it. However, literally EVERY person I've seen repost this has said something to the effect of, "Isn't this so true?"

I am the dreaded 27 year old Millennial to which this song is referring. 

I have a college degree, which I worked hard to pay for (in fact I had four jobs, one of which was full time, my senior year while taking 19 credits). I worked three to four jobs over the next four years to pay off the remainder of my college debt. I am currently working four jobs to keep myself in graduate school. On top of this I'm a competitive athlete, author of two published books, not to mention my multiple journal articles and short stories that are also published, and am an active member in my community. I have my own car and my own place. 

But more than that; I have talked people off of literal bridges, held the hands of homeless men and women as they died and fought for human rights and justice issues.

Now, I know that I am speaking of my own experiences, but those are what I know. What I also know is that there are a lot of people my age who are doing more amazing things than I could even imagine doing. I am not the exception to the rule, there are a ton of people my age making, or at least attempting to make, a difference. 

Are there idiots in my generation? Of course there are, but there were idiots in every previous generation too. If there weren't we wouldn't be facing crushing national debt, serious environmental issues and a myriad of social maladies that were brought on before us Millennials even had the ability to say the words "social maladies." 

Hating on my generation does nothing to improve the status quo. You want to fix what is wrong in the world? Then stop belittling us and help us do it, damn it! 

Millennials aren't the problem, we are the future, and we are trying to make that future better. You can either stand there and laugh at us, or you can help us make that happen. Your choice.

As always my adventures can be found on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and Instagram (@AtillaTheHawn) and my books can be found here!

I Broke Mental Health

Hello everyone, I hope you're all having a more splendid week than the thought of "Cats" the musical performed by wallabies.

This week there was another 5* review for "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!" Amazon reader Eclectic wrote, "You cannot be in a funk when reading this book! Allison Hawn's deliciously wicked prose will make you laugh until your sides ache."

See the full review here!

For those of you just tuning in, I am the head of security for a very large homeless shelter. How large? We see roughly between 250 to 650 people a day.

My job is basically to keep a round lid of calm on a square box of chaos. A couple weeks back I had to put my lid-fitting skills to the absolute test.

I had just opened the doors to the shelter, letting our usual breakfast crowd in, when one man wandered through, catching my attention. Now keep in mind he was competing for my notice that morning with someone came in dressed as a pony and another one who came in with a pot on his head.

Barefoot, wearing pants that he had most certainly recently peed in, he was wandering through our day room levitating his hands over sleeping peoples' heads and muttering. Worried that he might end up with a fist in his face, I wandered over and said, "Hey! You're a new face, what's your name?"

 "Jesus Christ."

It was at that moment that I knew I wouldn't get a chance to finish my first cup of coffee for the day and I might as well throw out the idea of getting anything else productive done.

I blinked at him a little and said, "Alright Mr. Christ, what are you doing?"

His hands hovered over a sleeping patron, "I'm healing them."

"Can we wait until they're awake to heal them? How about we let them sleep, okay? Let's get you a doughnut."

Eventually I was able to convince him, in all his majestic glory, to go sit down long enough for one of the staff members at the shelter to provide him with a doughnut. He held the doughnut in his hands, looked at us, then held it above his head and said, "I will feed all the hungry with this!"

Our first miracle of the day was that, as he crumbled the doughnut into crumbs and began flinging it everywhere to 'multiply' it, none of our other patrons threw punches back.

The entire day, our visitor was insistent that he was in fact Jesus Christ and refused to respond to anything else. We tried J.C., Buddy, Buckaroo... apparently he was dead set on being our savior, which we soon found out had some odd rituals with it.

Never in my life would I have dreamed that one day I would have to yell things like, "Jesus, you have to wear pants!" and, "No, Jesus, we don't try to lick people!"

Eventually, it got to the point where the staff collectively decided that he was really a danger to himself. Okay, he wasn't a danger to himself, he was a danger to others becoming a danger to himself. This meant that it was time to call on our trusty friends at the local mental health crisis response center.

This is how that conversation went:

Mental Health Crisis Response: "Crisis Response, what can we help you with?"

Me: "Well, we have a guy here who is claiming to be Jesus Christ who is persistently trying to heal people who are sleeping, refuses to put socks or shoes on and has now peed himself twice. We could use an Mental Health Professional."

MHCR: *Silence, that was then broken by uncontrollable laughter* I'm... *snicker* sorry... Can I get the individuals first and last name?"

Me: First name: Jesus, Last name: Christ. He won't give us any other name and this morning he called me a harlot for not allowing him to exorcise a demon from our piano.
 
MHCR: *Laughing* "Can I get a date of birth?"

Me: "I don't know!? 12/25/0 AD-ish? The guy just tried to multiply a doughnut by crumbling it into bits and throwing it into the air, he's not really into giving out useful info right now."
 
MHCR: *THUD-CRASH!*
 
Me: "Are we okay over there?"
 
MHCR: *Absolute belly shaking laughter* "Sorry! I fell out of my chair! We'll send some MHP's to your *snicker snicker snicker* location!"

I officially managed to break mental health crisis response. After a while they came to take him to where he could be analyzed, at which point he tried to start a 'tickle-fight' with the escorting police officers.

So the next time I have people at my apartment door asking if I've heard the good news, I'm going to tell them that the good news is currently being evaluated by professionals for several delusion disorders.

Have you heard any good news lately?

Don't forget to follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and check out my books on Amazon. 

Weapons for Everyone!

 Hello all! I hope you have all had a better week than a thought of Game of Thrones: The Opera!

"Life is a Pirate Ship Run by a Velociraptor" has been out for nearly a month now, and so far the feedback I've been getting from readers has been awesome!

In her review reader Charissa said, "Even better than her first book. A group of real life stories that will keep you giggling all day long!"

Your very own copy of "Life is a Pirate Ship Run by a Velociraptor" is only one Amazon click away!

Well, for those of you who don't know, I transitioned jobs about three months ago. I am now the Security Coordinator for the largest homeless shelter and drop-in center in Spokane.

What does that mean? Basically, I'm the floor case manager. I keep everyone calm and and spend a majority of my time doing emotional triage.

For instance, this past week I got in the face of gang banger, who was at least a foot taller than me, and told him if he didn't behave I would make sure he didn't get cake for a week, and then reminded him where he could get a voucher for a new ID.

He sat quietly for the rest of the day before he went to go get his new state ID.

One aspect of my job that I have to check in or confiscate any and all weapons that I see. So far the items piled up in my office have been fascinating, and often at the end of the day I find myself pondering the life choices that I made to end up sitting with half of a skateboard under my desk.

How strange are the items I end up with? Here, check it out for yourself, and believe me this is not even close to an extensive or complete list:

Sword - I originally thought the sword was a fake plastic one until I picked up and realized, nope, that's a real sword. The super delusional person who it belonged informed me that it could magically keep away, "Communists and prosthetic chicken leg salesmen."

Hat Rack - Because why not bludgeon in style?

Knife Carved Out of a Salad Tong - "Hey, why do you have a salad to-- Is that a knife!?"

The Leaf From a Table - Somewhere there is a person whose table will forever only be able to seat four people, never six.

Glitter and Rainbow Paint Covered Metal Rod - At least this person wanted to bring some joy to the world with his deadly weapon.

Chainsaw - "I don't care that it's out of gas! You can't bring it in here!"

Crossbow - Again, not a toy, but an actual bolt shooting crossbow. No, I have no clue how this person obtained a crossbow. What I do know is it got to sit in my office for a good long time.

The Duck Mace - As in a metal rod that someone had tied a string to and on the other end of that string was a rubber duck. I wasn't going to let someone go medieval with a duck mace.

The Handle to a Lawn Mower - We have no idea where the rest of the lawn mower is, and to be honest we don't want to know.

A Can of "Fresh-Laundry" Scented Febreeze - It was used to both mace people and bludgeon them, but left them smelling fresh and clean!

All in all, the job is going fairly well, chainsaw aside. Does anyone else have any fun work confiscations they'd like to share?

Remember you can always find me on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and  Goodreads!

Yo-ho! Yo-ho! The Hermit Life for Me!

Hello everyone! I hope your weeks have all been more fantastic than the thought of narwhals playing rugby!

Just a quick reminder I will be at Auntie's Bookstore in Spokane for the Triple Threat Book Book Signing Event at noon on June 28th! Authors Katelyn Schneider, Su Williams and I will be there to sign books, answer questions and chat with anyone who wants to join us!

I have occasionally been accused of being a bit hermit-esque. The reason for this is that when someone suggests that we go somewhere downtown I have a tendency to be a bit resistant (and by "resistant" I mean the phrase, "Heck no!" often escapes my mouth).

This is in no way because I wish to avoid people. I love people. What I do not love is working on my weekends.

Being in social work, there are very few places I can go in Spokane where I won't be spotted by a client, past client, client's friend who met me once, someone who my client told I am a social worker...

Now don't get me wrong, I love my clients. What I don't love is when I'm not working and I end up having someone wander up to me in line at the bank, while I'm doing laundry at the laundromat or while I'm outside at a coffee shop enjoying a mocha, and verbally vomiting drama all over my previously crisis-free day.

Of course, it doesn't matter how much I try to avoid the client hotspots, they still find me.

Do I sound a touch paranoid? Well, before you start looking up numbers for local mental health specialists, read on! 

A couple weeks ago I went grocery shopping, which sounds innocent enough.

Grocery shopping for me is an activity that normally I treat like a spy on a secret mission. I quickly dart from aisle to aisle, grabbing my peanut butter and ibuprofen, as I scan the world around me for potential accidental case management situations. I have even leaped inside one of those round clothing racks to avoid eye contact with a particularly needy client.

That poor store attendant had probably never had to ask an adult to get out of one of those clothing racks before. I'm glad I could provide that first time experience for her.

This particular day I had only a few things to pick up, and I so I dashed through the store grabbing my few items. I paid for my purchases and headed for an exit, the glorious sunlight pouring in through the gaping maw of an automatic door. Freedom was so close.

And then I was spotted. I was three steps from getting outside, where I could logically have made a  run for it, when I heard my name called. One of my clients yelled, "Al!" and trotted over asking, "What are you doing here?"

I looked around at the aisles of groceries and then back at the client, "Umm... knitting sweaters for penguins, what else would I be doing here?"

The client immediately started pawing through my cart (which is rather typical when I get caught at the grocery store). Before I had a chance to give them my customary, "Get out of there!" they spotted my giant box of kitty litter.

"Do you have a kitty? Meow?" (Yes, the "Meow" was actually verbally said like I needed a second way to translate what they meant by "kitty.")

I smiled, "Nope, I thought I'd give the whole cat litter thing a try. I mean, if it works so well for cats, why can't it work for me!?"

The client's mouth dropped open and they flung down the kitty litter like it was suddenly made of mating cockroaches. I pushed my cart towards the door as I called back, "I'll be in the office at eight am on Monday, see you then!"


Of course, there are some lessons that can be pulled from the cart of experience.

1. Sometimes if someone is a hermit they have their reasons.

2. If you want to go into social work one of the side effects of your job will be constant client-sighting paranoia.

3. Apparently there is a way to keep clients from approaching you in the store anymore, just claim you poop in a box and they'll never try it again!

Want more fun from my life as a social worker? Don't forget to check out Case (Un)Managed! 

If you want to follow my crazy without trying to find me at a grocery store you can find me on Facebook, Twitter (@Allison Hawn) and Goodreads!

The Dangers of Cooking

Hello everyone! I hope your weeks were more fantastic than the thought of a thousand and one kittens mewing the tune to the Eagles' "Hotel California."

A very quick announcement: You will notice that there is a link titled "Case (Un)Managed" above this post. That is for a new mini-blog that I have recently started to help explain what social workers and those who work for non-profits go through on a daily basis (though regular, non-crazy people will probably find it funny too). Enjoy! 

I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post!

So, I have something to admit; I love cooking. 

You Know That's Right

While I dislike most other activities that would qualify me as a domestic-diva, I can't resist the urge to wander into my kitchen, dig through the fridge and create something new. 

There is just something so stress relieving about all that chopping, boiling, beating... No, I've never been convicted for assault, why do you ask?

As much as I love cooking, cooking hasn't always loved me back. Our relationship is less of a love/hate relationship and more of a love/light-you-on-fire one.

Now don't get me wrong, I am a pretty spiffy cook. There isn't a soul on this planet who would contradict that. (This is might be due to the fact that I'm usually holding a kitchen knife when I ask people if they like my food.)

But I do have a... shall we say "energetic" presence when in the kitchen. That energy is occasionally expressed when I'm beating the side of a big pot with a wooden spoon while yelling, "Get back in there!" or when I'm furiously lecturing carrots on why they shouldn't attempt to roll off of my cutting board (they rarely listen, cheeky carrots).

Several of my friends, who have come over just to watch the fantastic spectacle that is me cooking, have mentioned that I really should just have my own show called, "I'm $#%@-ing Cooking, with Allison."

Now, the things that happen to me in the kitchen tend to border on the freak accident scale. I have turned baking brownies into a science project, cooking rice into a geyser and once even turned pancakes into a first rate fiasco. If you need proof check out "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus."

Probably one of the most memorable of these little adventures happened my first week living in Spokane.

I had just moved into a studio apartment, which means that I was suddenly living in the tallest postage stamp on the planet. My kitchen was what my friend Kari likes to call a "one-butt" kitchen.

It had no counter space. I often found myself chopping vegetables on top of my microwave which sat precariously on top of a garage-sale nightstand, mixing ingredients on my coffee table and occasionally using my blender on my writing desk.

It was a time of imagination, perseverance and finding out new and incredible ways to get cornbread batter out of a living-room rug.

One night I decided to make some stir fried rice noodles. Simple enough: You boil noodles, you drain noodles, you heat noodles while adding sauce and veggies. Boom, meal.

Except in this case it was boil noodles, drain noodles, forget which burner you just cooked noodles on, set your colander on that burner, melt plastic colander permanently to your stove. Boom, quandary.

I quickly figured out a way to get the noodles out of the colander (namely lift up the entire burner on my gas stove and dump the noodles out). Now I was stuck with two kitchen appliances that had simulated the formation of the band the Rolling Stones (still together after 53 years!).

I tried prying it off, but the colander just started breaking off in little chunks. I tried pulling it off with pliers and nearly gave myself a black eye. I tried reasoning with the colander to leave, but it didn't believe me when I told it that the burner didn't really love it.

Finally, and possibly out of flaming vengeance, I decided that if melting it had gotten it stuck on there, maybe melting would get it off. I fired up the burner.

My Life in GIF Form

I would like to point out that I was technically not wrong, the colander did come off the burner. The other half of the story is that the colander lit up like it had Satan's seal of approval creating a momentary fireball.

Flinging all of it into the sink was probably the most sound of mind thing I did that entire evening. What lessons did I learn?

1. Plastic and fire are foes, not friends.

2. Eating the noodles that almost caused you to light your apartment on fire is a bittersweet experience.

3. When it comes to kitchens, less is not more. More kitchen means less chances of lighting something on fire.

If you want to see what's cooking in the kitchen this week, come join me on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and Goodreads!

Also, don't forget if you happen to be in the Boise area on June 13, you should come join me at Hyde Park Books for a book signing for "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!"

Conference Conundrum

Hello, I hope everyone has had a more fabulous week than the thought of a symphony performed entirely by using vegetables as instruments!

We are getting ever closer to that magical time of year, or that time of year where you add a little extra kick to your egg-nog, your choice. If you are still on the hunt for that perfect Christmas gift don't forget Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!

Half of the proceeds from book sales this month will go to benefit the YWCA in their work to empower women, end racism and help victims of domestic violence!

In other exciting news, I was also interviewed this past week by fellow writer Charissa Dufour on her blog, Too Particular.

So if you wanted to know the inner workings of my mind, I'd suggest you check it out!

Well, I spent the majority of this past week at a, program specific, social work conference with my boss. It's a good thing I have an awesome boss.

Oh, wait, I can't call it a conference because apparently that now has a bad connotation to it thanks to some "conferences" (aka multi-million dollar vacations) held by some members of Congress. I must now call it a "training."

When I mention to people that I am going to a conference, their replies somehow denote that they think that I will be sitting on a beach somewhere with a drink that contains some fruity flavored alcohol complete with little umbrella.

This NEVER Happens

What actually occurs is that we end up sitting in endless seminars and "special luncheon" sessions while someone endlessly verbally ambles about some topic that would be fascinating and educational... if it wasn't what we already did at our jobs every single day.

One seminar I went to was so boring that some lady, in the front row, fell asleep and open-mouthed snored for fifteen minutes.

Not all of the lectures I attended were awful. There was one about how to sell your program's effectiveness to politicians where the lady stood up and basically said, "Make it sound like you're getting people jobs, getting them off of welfare and therefore saving them money. Don't talk about the squishy stuff and make it all about them and you'll be fine," and then sat down.

We all wanted to hug this woman for her honesty.

Another great thing about this conference, I got my own room. Jumping on the beds may or may not have happened.

Apparently this particular conference, I mean "training," also had the unique ability to rob my boss and I, who I like to think of as normally two capable women, of some of our thinking abilities.

At one point my boss and I were in her hotel room working on a project and she picked up a little card that had instructions for who to call if we had questions. My boss read the card and said, "You know, that is the strangest spelling for the name 'Caroline' that I have ever seen!"

I looked at the card and said, "Kim, this is a card telling you to call the Careline."

To be fair, I can't read the word "coworker" without reading "cow-orker" first. 

Then, a little while later I found I had left some materials we needed in my room, which was right across the hall. As I was headed back towards my room I suddenly realized I also had to use the restroom, so I called over my shoulder, "It'll take me a minute, I have to pee."

During this announcement I had been in the process of opening up the hotel room door. And there in the hallway was a man staring at me like I had just smacked him with a fish. 

After a second, I realized that from his perspective I had just flung a door open and announced, quite loudly, to a complete stranger that I had to pee.

We stood there looking at each other for a brief moment before I finally just said, "And now you know," as I strode across the hallway into my own room.

I survived our "training," though, and am now home, rather tired, but mostly unscathed.

I did want to touch on one other quick point with my readers before I scamper away. If you happen to have read and and enjoyed Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus, do me a huge favor, take a few minutes and post a quick review on Amazon or Goodreads.

As a first-time author, good reviews are like gold and will literally make me do the dance that you see to the right of the screen. Thank you so much for all those readers who have posted reviews, your wonderful words mean more than you know!

As always, I hope you all a warm and wonderful week! If you wish to follow my day-to-day exploits you can find me on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Special Friends

Well hello everyone I hope your weeks were better than the thought of a Volbeat concert performed by people dressed up in costumes made of marshmallows.

Well it is officially "spit goes klink" cold where I live. Last night we had a wind chill factor of -10 degrees Fahrenheit which is officially frigid enough that I could be persuaded to wear multiple ugly Christmas sweaters.

Speaking of Christmas, if you are still looking for a gift for that special, or even the not-so-special, person, "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is there to delight anyone on your list. Also, half of the proceeds from my sales this month will be going to benefit the YWCA in their efforts to support domestic violence victims, the homeless and other marginalized populations!



This week "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" was reviewed by staff writer Tania Staley for Readers' Favorite: 

"Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus is a laugh-out-loud trip through the often hilarious and surreal life of Allison Hawn. Author Allison Hawn has a way of constantly getting herself into awkward, odd, and downright ridiculous situations her entire life. This collection of short memoirs will have readers wondering if there is a cosmic force driving Hawn’s life into hilarity. Readers will be privy to the everyday adventures of her life — school, dating, concerts, and work — that somehow always seem to take a turn for the weird. 

With a quick wit and biting sarcasm, Allison Hawn tells some of her more amusing anecdotes from her life, which includes surviving mosh pits, pet sitting twenty-pound cats, contracting unknown illnesses, and much more. These stories will remind readers to take life a little less seriously and enjoy the excitement and weirdness that come with everyday life." 

That was only about half of what Tania had to say. If you want to read the full review you can do so here.   



Well it certainly has been an interesting week in the world of social work. And by "interesting" I mean only on occasion can one be graced by the sight of an only partially-clothed woman, streaking past the conference room you're sitting in, screaming, "Saran wrap is the devil's plaything!"

It's always good to know what Satan is using these days.

That same day I also had a gentleman wander into the temporary office I had set up at another agency.

There was no, "Good morning," or, "Hi, my name is."

Instead the first words out of his mouth were, "I'm supposed to be on 18 different medications."

  

I blew out a little bit of a sigh and said, "So, I'm guessing, by your use of the word 'supposed,' that you are not currently on your medications."

He nodded fervently. "What exactly do these medications do for you?"

He shrugged, "Mostly they just tell my special friends to shut-up."

Oh goody, who couldn't use a set of "special friends?" I just smirked and asked, "What do these 'special friends' tell you?"

"Oh, you know, they mostly warn me when someone's going to stab me with a thermometer. You get people jobs, can you get me a job?"

Internally this is what I did:

Externally, I just put on my "so sorry" expression and said, "No, most employers can't hire multiple people at once, and if your 'special friends' come along they probably won't be able to pay you all."

I have to say, "special friends" who warn you when someone's going to stab you with a thermometer could be handy, particularly if you were a turkey. 

Anyways, I hope everyone has a splendid week!

Remember, if you wish to follow my exploits you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads!

How's That Working For Ya?

Hello ladies and gentlemen. My blog post is a little late this week because I was fighting off a dragon using only a spatula and a broken seat belt.

Strangely enough, that probably would have been easier than my week.

Of course, every odd experience is possible fuel for a follow up to "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus," right? And boy was there material from this past week.

This last Wednesday I went to visit one of the other social work agencies, that primarily serves men, that I partner with.

When I'm there, I'm usually set up in a conference room with other providers from the area in a long line, like we are the Council of the Caffeine Deprived Social Workers. We usually sit there, looking like this:

While inside we look a bit more like this:

Why might our inner selves look like this?

Well, the first person who came in to talk to me that morning stumbled up to the chair across from me, plopped himself down, hiccuped and passed out in a drunken stupor. I decided against signing him up for my employment program.

He was not a tiny guy, so it took several of us to figure out a way to get him somewhere where he could sleep off his previous nights' fun. This has happened more times on the job than I could probably count if I were to use my hands, toes, and all of my coworkers' appendages.

This, of course, had followed the fact that not five minutes earlier, as I had walked into the building a random guy looked at me and half-shouted, "Hey! I think I'm gonna call you Tits-Mcgee!"

Oh how I do so love getting new nicknames, particularly when they are about a random part of my body (you can only read that statement in your head with a perky Julie Andrews accent by the way).

As I was walking to my next agency stop for the day, I passed by a construction zone, because Spokane is basically one giant construction zone year round, and heard, "Hey, sweet-cheeks! Why don't you wander this way!?"

This didn't happen at one construction site, this happened at three of them.

What was I wearing to provoke these comments? A pair of jeans, utility boots and a big sweatshirt. The only way I could have been more covered is if I looked like this guy:

To be honest, what he's wearing is so much more form fitting than what I was wearing that day. I also don't believe that these comments should have been made, even if I were dressed like Daisy Duke (not that I would, no one wants to see me in those shorts).

Now at this point, I could go on some long rant about how men who speak like this are treating women like objects, but instead, I want to pose a question. That question is, "Has obscenely cat-calling random women worked for any guy ever?"

I mean seriously, your major plan is what exactly? Do you think that simply by uttering some crass comment about how our "butts fit perfectly in our jeans" or how you, "bet we taste just like candy," is going get you some action?

I want to meet the girl who doesn't find a guy attractive until he turns on the ultimate charm of throwing random words together in such Shakespearean prose by calling her, "sweet-cheeks." No, seriously, I want to find this girl so I can smack her with a copy of "Pride and Prejudice" in the hopes that some of the lessons and class from that book stick.

But guys, seriously, yelling random obscene "compliments" at women is at its best dumb and creepy, and at its worst liable to end with some girl's boyfriend/very butch girlfriend/older brother/very protective friend who weight lifts a lot coming after you to turn you from a solid into a liquid.

Stop. It does not work.

 

Sorry about the late post again, next week I promise to be more on the ball (Disclaimer: Unless I get hit by a car, or kidnapped by bandits or distracted by shiny objects).

As always, feel free to follow my mad-cap exploits on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Everyone Just Calm Down!

Hello ladies, gentlemen and the nest of bees that somehow managed to develop in my coat closet.

As you can tell by that previous statement, it has been an interesting week.

Well aside from dealing with a home invasion by bees, watching a little old lady at the the laundromat teach two gang bangers how to do laundry and seeing a man being chased down the street by cops as he yells, "I have the doughnuts!" the week has been relatively calm.

"Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has gotten another awesome review from fellow author John Logsdon who writes:

"I think if I were to write up a series of stories about my life, they'd pale in comparison to Allison Hawn's. She has a way of making even the scariest (a 104+ degree temperature comes to mind!) moments quite humorous, though many of her bizarre tales are humorous on their own.

I think my favorite moment was when one of her not-so-bright college dorm mates explained that she had just peed green and Allison replied that the aliens must have gotten to her! So cruel. So mischievous. So...damn...funny.

If you're into reading Dave Barry style articles, "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is for you."

Well, it is the start of a new school year for most universities and colleges, which means it is also the start of many internships and work study terms. I have spoken to quite a few interns and work study students in the past week (both the ones coming to work for the organization I work for and those placed in various agencies around town), and this pretty much the reaction they have all had:

So I have spent a good chunk of time this week talking to interns and finding out why they looked like someone had just told them they had to fight off the Four Riders of the Apocalypse armed only with a shred of tin-foil and a used toilet scrubber.

I have a feeling that a lot of interns and work studies who are just starting out in their placements feel the same amount of overwhelmed panic that I saw on quite a few faces in the past few days. So, for those of you who are starting out as a work study or intern, here are some things to keep in mind.

1. No one expects you to be perfect.

Everyone understands that you are a college student just getting your feet wet in whatever industry you choose to explore. No one at your placement is going to expect that you are coming into this knowing exactly how to react to every situation and do absolutely everything.

I know it's hard to believe, but the supervisors at your site were not born, fully grown, dressed for business and competent, at their desks. Most of us were exactly where you are once upon a time.

2. You will make mistakes, learn from them.

The one thing that I consistently heard this week was the fear that supervisors were going to be expecting interns and work studies to do this:

When in reality they know that you are sometimes going to do this:

It does not matter if you make a mistake. What matters is how you react to the mistake. If you make a mistake and then either wallow in guilt over it or just continue on doing the same thing that caused the mistake the first time, you will frustrate your supervisor.

Instead, view the mistake as a learning experience and apply it to your time at your placement site. Again, supervisors know you are just learning, so prove to them that you are indeed learning and turn mistakes into usable knowledge.

3. Be proactive and productive.

Just because you are free or extremely cheap labor does not mean you get to sit back on your laurels and watch the world go by like some crazy circus-meets-sitcom show.

The world is a lot smaller than you think. Whether this internship seems valuable to your future career or not, or even if you plan on leaving the area where you are attending school, you never know who your supervisors know or who they will run into. It is in your best interest to prove yourself as competent and useful.

The bare minimum is unacceptable. If you get done with what you've been asked to do, look for something else to do to fill your time. If you can't find anything else to do to fill your time, then ask for something to do.

There is nothing that frustrates a supervisor more than seeing an intern or work study sitting on their phone on Facebook next to a group of clients or customers who are obviously being ignored. There is ALWAYS something to do.

4. Be mindful of how new experiences affect you.

I work in social work, where a constant stream of crazy is kind of the norm. I am pretty used to the sight of tweakers dancing in the street and someone telling me that they want me to find them a job working with vampires.

I also realize, this is not everyone's status quo.

Even if you are not in an internship involving social work, it is likely that you are going to run into situations that are not only new, but a little bracing and outside your wheelhouse. If this happens, talk to your supervisor, ask them about it, see what they would suggest in the future for dealing with what you just experienced. No one expects you to come to your placement like this:

You are going to have moments of feeling out of place and vulnerable and that is perfectly o.k. Just make sure you identify those moments and talk with someone more experienced in the field about them so you can get some perspective and assistance with dealing with it. 

5. Get over yourself.

If you come into your placement thinking that you are the coolest thing since CD's and that the people working at these places are there to focus on you and your education let me be the first to say, "STOP!"

The people at your placement sites will help you and want you to learn and have a good experience. However, their goal in life is not to make you happy. Their goal in life is to do their job and make sure that their clients and/or customers are satisfied.

While you shouldn't be afraid to ask for help, don't be shocked if the employees at your placement seem more interested in getting their jobs done than making sure that they hear your epic half-hour long saga of struggle and strife as you fixed the jam in the copier.

Also, remember, your supervisors are not there to provide you with constant entertainment. Sometimes you are going to have boring things to do. This is a part of life. Believe me, I really don't find filing mass amounts of case notes every week to be the most fun I've ever had in my entire life, but is a part of my job and therefore I have to do it.

Doing entry level work is not an insult, it's a starting point. If you prove that you can do the basics, then you will get to do more interesting things, but don't take it for granted that your supervisors are going to make your placement the Disneyland of work sites.

6. Remember that it is your choice whether this will be a helpful experience or not.

When it comes to internships and work study placements, you only get out what you put into your time at your site.

I was an intern for a police department for a semester during my college career. I could easily have stayed in the back, filing papers and typing up reports. Instead, I jumped at every opportunity I got to experience something new.

Because I invested my energy, was curious and willing to try new things, I got to go on cop car ride-alongs, help interview criminals for intake and learned a ton about how the criminal justice system works on the ground level.  Just don't miss the opportunity to give yourself an awesome experience.

Well, anyways, I hope that helps some of you headed towards your first internship to stop looking like an incoming semi-truck driven by drunk lemurs is heading your way. Good luck!

Remember you can always follow my escapades on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Tweakers and Thank Ya'll!

Hello everyone (including, but not limited to, humans, animals, aliens, ghosts and/or extremely cognitive spaghetti)! I hope you are all having a lovely week!

"Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has been out on Amazon for five days now! Nab your copy today! Also, for more frequent updates, feel free to check out my Facebook Page (Facebook Me!), my Twitter (Tweet Me!), my Goodreads (Erm... Goodreads me?) and my Amazon author page (Look Shiny! )!

Before I get into today's topic of tweakers, which is near and dear to my heart, I have a few words of thanks that I feel are forthcoming.

First, thank you to editor Craig Hart and Sweatshoppe Publications for letting my book see the light of day. To Paul Brand and Anthony Carpenter as well for putting this fantastic piece of design and artwork together for the cover, thank you.

A big thank you to Robin Harmon, who sat down with me for a few hours and said, "No, honey, don't do that. This is how you publicize something," before hijacking my pages for a bit and showing me how to make things work as I sat there staring like a monkey stares at a math problem. And thanks also to Mary W. for editing the first manuscript for me, as I simultaneously edited her work by drawing little dinosaurs eating misplaced words.

I'd like to say thank you to all the friends and family who have supported me throughout the years. My book wouldn't exist without you (and some of your actions)!

Finally, a hearty, haggis-consuming, kilt-sporting Scottish thank you to all of my readers, reviewers, constructive criticizers and people who have popped in to say hello and who have shown interest in my book! You guys are the bee's knees (or maybe the elk's ankles if that's any better?)!

Now for something completely different.

So, before I dive into the topic of tweakers, I should probably explain why they are a big enough facet of my life to garner a mention in the title.

My day job, when I'm not battling crime or causing mischief involving kittens and espresso, is that I work as a mobile outreach worker with homeless and at-risk youth. Basically, I do everything a social worker would do in an office, but I do my job on the streets, in shelters, under bridges, in the mall... etc. Basically, I get to help kiddos and throw fruit snacks at gang bangers!

In my job you often have to choose between laughing and slamming your head in the microwave door. I choose to laugh. I have probably lost too many brain-cells already, so I had better reserve the microwave door option for more drastic times.

One area that I derive some enjoyment from is the conversations I have with tweakers. For those who don't know, tweakers are those on drugs that tend to "twitch" or "tweak" and often have some of the most fascinating theories/advice/philosophies on life. This week, has been full of fun little tweaker-isms, so I thought I would share a few here today.

However, before I start, I feel that this is totally apt and germane to the conversation.

This has been a special week for tweakers all over Spokane, Washington. I'm not sure what holiday they are all celebrating, but they have been coming out of the woodwork to provide me with everything from advice to theories of how my brain is going to be eaten by tiny gnomes. Also, one tried to present me with a balloon animal made from condoms. I declined, it wasn't a platypus.

For instance, I had one very high individual approach me two days ago and inform me that, "Tiny alligators are messing up my life."

I blinked a couple times and replied, "Well, I'm not sure if we can get an exterminator for that or not."

He looked really bummed out before saying, "Damn, oh well, at least they have some good jokes."

Then, as I was walking around trying to find some of my clients, I passed by a dumpster and looked over to see two eyes poking above the edge. "Hiya!" the dumpster said to me.

I did a little finger-wave hello, and moved on. When I came back ten minutes later the dumpster with eyes was musing to itself out loud, "Yes, well that other one looks much more comfortable."

I looked over, and right across the alley was another dumpster. I walked down to the end of the alleyway and waited.  Sure enough, a few minutes later the dumpster-dweller hopped out and scurried over to the other dumpster and began examining it like prime real-estate. He popped open the lid, looked inside before saying, "Nope!" and scuttling back to his original spot.

I'm not entirely sure what made that dumpster less desirable than the other one, but he rejected it like someone fed him burned kale on top of a can of expired sardines.

Probably my favorite tweaker moment of the week however, was this woman who I passed by on Monday. She was having a very animated conversation with herself. As I wandered her direction she made eye contact with me, so I said a simple, "Hello."

She turned, pointed, and in the voice of someone scolding a small child yelled, "Don't interrupt peoples' conversations! It's rude!"

I just smiled, "You're right, I should have read Miss Manners more growing up," and I made a hasty departure.

At least my life is never boring?

So what about all of you? Have you had any fun conversations with someone lately? I'd love to hear about them!

Well, that is all I have for now. Continue to check in because the clairvoyant part of my brain tells me there will be a contest coming up soon! Toodles!