No One Panic... But It's Out!!!!

That's right ladies, gentlemen and cats walking across their owners' keyboards! Life is a Roller Derby Run by a Sphinx is out!

Grab your hard copy or your digital copy here!

A huge thank you goes out to cover artist Anthony Carpenter, graphic designer Paul Brand and editors Raquelle Potts and CarolBeth Hawn! Also, a huge hug and hearty high five to my readers, thank you for your patience in waiting for me to get this book out in print!

As always, I would love to hear your feedback through reviews and you can always find me or contact me through Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and instagram (@AtillaTheHawn)!

Driving Under the Influence

Hello all! I hope your weeks have been more fantastic than the thought of Swan Lake performed by tu-tu clad mice!

 Well, they weren't kidding about the heat in Arizona. We had two consecutive days that were 115 degrees and I swear I could have grilled chicken on the pavement in front of our building.

They also were not joking about the dust storms. They have haboobs (it's another name for 'really intense dust storm, no really, go look it up and stop laughing) here too. I accidentally stepped outside during the most recent one and am still finding dust on me.

Overall, however, I seem to be surviving the heat and the weird weather.

When I moved away from Spokane people said to me, "Oh, now weird stuff will stop happening to you all the time."

I just shook my head, knowingly, at them. You see, my gravitational field that seems to pull in all of the bizarre parts of the universe is not restricted to a singular location. No, instead it follows me, orbiting the crazy around my head.

Point in case, let's take my trip to the grocery store the other night as proof. My roommate, Karen, and I dropped by to pick up a few necessities (aka ice cream). As we were leaving the store we noticed a rather large gentleman on one of those motorized scooters cutting a swerving path across the parking lot.

 As we watched, he steered one-handed, nearly hitting two parked cars. At least he was nice enough to apologize to each of the cars he nearly hit. I happened to look at what he was holding in his other hand. With just a little bit of the neck of a bottle poking out, it was obvious that the paper bag he gripped tightly in his hand was not full of candy.

I looked over at Karen, "Is he..." just as he took a giant swig from his cleverly hidden bottle.

"Yup!"

We both then watched as he tried to steer the cart into the cart barn, running smack into one of the end poles.

"Well, at least he's not driving a Hummer?"

What lessons can be drunk from the bottle of experience?

1. If you're too plastered to steer a motorized shopping cart, then a motor vehicle is not for you. Good job on your harm reduction, though.

2. Paper bags are the least sneaky way to hide booze, in fact, they are literally the most cliched way ever to disguise drinking. You're not going to fool anyone who has had access to television in the last fifty years.

As always come follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and check out my books here.

Minding the Single Minded

Hello ladies, gentlemen and very conscious cheese.

I fully realize that the government is currently in power-save mode (I don't want to call it "shut down" because somehow politicians are still getting paid), and I realize that every other blogger in America is probably talking about it.

I am not going to give a long political rant. Why?

Because honestly if I wanted to write about selfish, pouting people, who have no regard for how their actions affect others and who could create more logical arguments by shaking up a Boggle game, then I would work with and write about toddlers.

Grow up politicians, share your toys and stop throwing things around indiscriminately, because they are hitting and hurting people.

If you need something to lift your spirits remember "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is totally there for you!

I am about to admit something that is apparently very difficult for most people my age in our culture to admit. I am single. This is a fact that I am ok with.

Does this mean I never want to be in a relationship? No, if the right person came along then sure, why not?

Does it mean that I live in a quagmire of lonely depression because I have no one to call annoying pet-names? Absolutely not.

Please don't take this post as "I am complaining about being single." I actually am a content and functional human being single or in a relationship. Weird, I know.

However, when one is single there are some stock things that people in relationships tend to say, that are often annoying, hurtful and/or downright rude. These are all things that I have not only heard multiple times, but all of them I heard in the last month alone. What this post is about is things people should really not say to people who are single. 

1. "Your standards are/must be too high."

This statement would make sense if I had just spent an hour regaling you with a list of what I look for in a potential date that started with, "Well let's see, they have to be a billionaire, philanthropist, model, physicist, who owns the original set pieces of the Millennium Falcon and also happens to ride a tiger to work..."

I can guarantee that I have never uttered that phrase or any such list to be honest, so how can you assume that my "standards are too high?"

You want to know my standards? Ok, let me break some of the top things off of the "list" down for you:  

1. Not a psycho.
2. Has a sense of humor.
3. Likes Batman.
4. Has above a 10th grade reading level.
5. Understands basic hygiene.
6. Respects me and my tendency to read comic books while drinking pomegranate juice.

Tell me, are my standards too high? 

 
2. "You're just not looking hard enough."

I tend to view relationships less as a Sherlock Holmes mystery than the average person it seems. Exactly where should I be looking for the clues that are going to lead me to what you picture as relationship bliss?

The bar scene is full of creeps, I don't foresee dating anyone at work anytime soon and the time of the morning that I go to the gym is pretty much reserved for those in their 70's. 


3. "God has someone extra special out there for you."

Of all the "attempting to make the single person feel better" statements that people say, this one is like a Medieval gauntlet on a chalkboard to me.

What you said: "God has someone extra special out there for you."

What I hear: "It's going to take a miracle for you to find someone."

Thanks. Glad that an act of God is what you think it will take for me to find a date. Also, I really don't need any more "extra special" people in my life. I'm not taking enough medication to deal with the "special" people I'm already dealing with.


4. "You should put yourself out there more."

Where exactly is this "there" of which you speak.

You also should be a bit more specific about what you mean by "putting myself out there." What do you expect me to do, wear a dinosaur costume with the word "single" written on it? Do you expect me to run around with a sandwich board that reads, "Single, has a job, owns own vehicle, showers regularly, doesn't smoke and remembers to wear socks most days?"

This advice is as useless as an inflatable dart board.


5.  "You should try online dating, it worked really well for my uncle/acquaintance/person I read about."

Look, I'm glad that your second-cousin was able to find a date through that website that matches people based on their phobias, but that's not really my deal.

Why isn't it my deal? I had a friend who once set up a profile for me on a website because she was bound and determined to show me that it "really worked." All of my matches ended up looking like this:

The first five messages I got were from 40-something year old people looking to cheat on their spouses, the sixth was from a guy who said that he enjoyed watching women cook, naked, in the kitchen for him and the final one was from a guy who sent a message detailing the medications he was on.

My friend shut down the account she made for me and her own account that day.


6. "There are plenty of fish in the sea."

Fair, but, to stick with the cliche metaphor, the sea happens to have a lot of carnivorous anglerfish, poisonous puffer fish and other fishies that are about as cuddly as this:

7. "Your biological clock is ticking."

This is all:

8. "If you just...you'd have a date in no time."

Let me complete that sentence for you with things that people have actually said "... wore more makeup/wore less makeup/lost weight/wore heels/talked about less nerdy things/watched more episodes of "The Bachelor"/talked more/talked less/didn't have such strange hobbies/weren't so opinionated/had more of an opinion/weight-lifted less/didn't work out as hard when you went to the gym/didn't like Star Wars/went to <Insert Hipster Nonsense Name> Club/wore your hair down more..."

I'm sorry, you can't use my being single as an excuse to tell me something that you don't like about me. You want to provide constructive criticism? Fine, I'm all ears. But don't provide me with thinly veiled insults under the guise of trying to find me a potential date.

Also, I am not going to hide who I am just so I can ensnare some poor person, only for them to realize later on that I do wander around my apartment in Batman boxers singing Disney songs. I am who I am, and if I am going to give up my single status, it isn't going to be to someone who is infatuated with a fake version of me.

I know there are probably a billion more similar statements that could be added to this list. Do you have one that makes you want to stick your head in a microwave? Tell me about it.

As always feel free to follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

The Smorgasbord Post

Hello all! I hope everyone's day is going better than the thought of a thousand purple gorillas performing a rendition of "Hamlet" set to cabaret music!!!

So today's post is a bit of a conglomeration of things, a Franken-post if you will.

First, "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has been released onto the Kindle! Check it out all you digital reading fans!

I also just planned my first ever book signing at Monkeyboy Books on Saturday, June 8th from 1 to 3 P.M. If you happen to be in Spokane, come say hi and get your copy of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" signed!!! (If you're extra nice, I might even attempt to draw you a dinosaur, or a sheep, or something that may end up resembling both a dinosaur and a sheep.)

In any case, if you've never been to Monkeyboy Books, you should definitely take a gander at it. It has to be one of the most adorable, cozy, little bookshops I've wandered through for quite some time.

See, doesn't that just look cozy as all get out? Also, the shop owner, Marina, was gracious enough not to call for the Mental Health Professionals when I found a copy of "Robin Hood" in her shop and did a very excited, partially coffee induced, happy dance. 

So in my perusing of the literary world, I ran into a funny little book that I feel deserves some mention.

Edmund McCombs' book "Stuck at Seven (While Awkwardly Aiming for Ten)" not only has the best picture of an absolutely horrified little kid on the front of it, but is a very frank, unashamed collection of short stories that many people can relate to. Covering everything from schoolyard bullies to bad bosses, Edmund's stories will make you chuckle as he takes you from one awkward situation to the next.

In other news, I really, really, really want one of these:

 I know that has nothing to do with the price of pie, but I spent a lot of time thinking of all the places, things, people, I could run over in one of those.  Wouldn't it be fantastic to to go down a hill in one of these?

Anyways, this is probably a sign that Friday has officially eaten my brain and I should stop writing. Have a wonderful weekend everyone!


As always feel free to follow my swashbuckling exploits 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!

Thou Shalt Not Sweat on Me!

Hello all you lovely, splendid people! Just a quick update, it appears that “Life is a Circus Run 

by a Platypus,” is on track to be released on May 20 on Amazon.com (followed closely by 

several other venues)! As soon as I have an official link I will post it here faster than a 

greased bunny can be slid across a linoleum floor!

In other news, I have an author Facebook page set up now. Feel free to look me up under 

"Allison Hawn" and keep up to date on news about the book. 

That aside, here is another scribbling from my “Ooooh Squirrel!” brain.

I am a bit of a gym rat, mostly by necessity. I have a genetic make-up that means that if I 

even stare longingly at a piece of cheesecake for too long, I will suddenly pack on some 

extra curves. For this reason, I spend, at the very least, an hour in the gym every day. 

This means over a several year span I have gotten to witness some of the most bizarre/useless 

behavior ever perpetrated around a set of weights. Frankly I'd be willing to leave most of these 

things alone, but when you see them day after day, sometimes you just feel compelled to 

smack certain individuals with a starfish. 

Since I do not have easy access to a starfish and would probably be arrested for assault with 

deadly brainless sea creature, I will instead just write some of the things I have noticed here.  

These are my 10 Gym Commandments. If I could etch them in stone I would (but I learned I 

really should not be given a chisel and a hammer a long time ago).  

Note: I am not a doctor, personal trainer or coordinated tango instructor. I am currently a fitness 

instructor, though, if that counts for anything? As always you should talk to your doctor, 

significant other, best friend, Oprah and a therapist before starting any new exercise plan.  

1. Thou shalt not believe that sitting on gym equipment will magically slim thee. 

I realize that this is a disappointment to many (including myself). The gym has an aura of 

fitness and health to it; however, to contribute and partake in the aura one actually does have to 

move. 

This means that if someone sits on the cable row machine for 20 minutes and does only one 

five-pound repetition, that person is not in fact working out. What that individual is doing 

instead is blocking everyone else in the gym from using the thing that he or she has converted 

into the gym version of a home recliner. The gym, sadly, is not magic.  

2. Thou must not only move, thou must sweat, push and exert thyself. 

Just because one is sitting and bouncing on a yoga ball does not mean one is working out. 

Sadly, I see a lot of females do this.  Doing crunches, dumbbell presses and weighted mermaids 

on a yoga ball are all legitimate exercises. Having a conversation about your nails while doing 

the same movement a 3 year old does in their bouncy chair is not getting you anywhere, 

cupcake.  

3. Thou shalt NEVER mock others in the gym based on their physical appearance.  

Yes, some of us are twigs, some of us are bulky, some of us are, dare I say this word, fat. It 

doesn't matter; everyone has a place in the gym. The fact is that no other person can ever know 

what someone else is capable of, and so verbally disparaging them is just plain dumb. 

I have seen tiny guys do sets of 30 weighted pull-ups, seen full-figured women run faster 

than I could ever imagine going, and I have seen a 300 pound man sustain yoga poses that 

make my limbs hurt just thinking about them. Don't judge, everyone has the right to 

work out just as much as everyone else does.  

4. Thou shalt not believe the weight area is only for males. 

More times than I can count at this point, I have had some hot-shot guy swagger up to me 

while I'm lifting and make some comment about how, "Women should not be in the weight 

area." 

I have no problem then, in front of each one of his friends and girlfriends, lifting twice as 

much as he does, turning and saying, "You're right, we should not be in the weight area, 

we might make you look bad." 

Women are tough, period.  

5. Thou shalt not be self-defeating at the gym. 

I bring up this example because, to my count, I have now seen it five times. I see a person 

on a treadmill (good), going at the slowest possible pace the machine can go (not as good), 

drinking a soda (*thunks head on desk* bad). 

If one consumes more calories while working out than one actually burns, then what purpose 

did going to the gym serve? 

These are the same people who talk on their cellphones, at decibels that could be felt in 

space, about how they are working out, but they never seem to lose any weight. Really, 

Sherlock, weight loss is being elusive?  Come on, let's examine the clues and maybe we can 

solve this mystery.  

6. Thou shalt be conscious of other gym patrons. 

This means one should not pick up weights and then just stand in front of the weight rack 

doing bicep curls. Believe it or not, other people would like to weight lift too, and standing 

there like one of the giant stone pillars of Stonehenge, creates a bit of a deterrent. 

This also means that one should not take eight sets of weights and claim that one is using them 

all.  The only one who can make that claim is an octopus. I realize that some people have things 

like ladder drills or circuits that they want to do and that is fine. But one really does not need to 

monopolize half the weight rack to accomplish one’s goal, I promise.  

7. Thou shalt put it back where thou found it. 

As much as I love scavenger hunts, spending 10 minutes hunting for the 40 pound dumbbells 

only to discover that someone has kindly hidden them behind the foam rollers is somewhat less 

charming than the childhood counterpart of that game. The gym staff are not mothers or 

magical weight fairies; everyone needs to pick up after himself or herself.  

8. Thou shalt wear clothing to the gym. 

I cannot describe the endless parade of things that I see at the gym that make me wonder, 

"Did your mommy forget to lay out your clothes for you this morning?" 

Sweatpants with holes in the crotch (sometimes with underwear underneath, sometimes 

without), shirts that have the sides cut out (so we can see the side of one's abs, as what is left 

of the shirt precariously slips towards getting caught in the machine), shorts that one has to 

stare at for a minute so one can verify they are not a belt and spandex that has been stretched 

so tight that it now has all the coverage ability of tinted saran wrap should probably only be 

worn in the privacy of one's own home. 

9. Thou shalt not hit on other gym patrons with dogged persistence. 

No, you can't buy me a drink. Why? Because this is a gym, not a bar, and I am working 

out, and this is not a date. 

It's fine to flirt, say hi or strike up a conversation with someone at the gym. However, I 

once had a guy sit and stare at me for 20 minutes on the rowing machine before asking 

if I, "Wanted to go out to see the back of his truck." 

Nope! Everyone, guys and girls, can agree, we like our gyms creeper free.  

10. Thou shalt not believe thou's sweat is magical. 

This means that if one leaves a giant puddle of sweat on the machine one just used, 

and then one decides not to use the handy-dandy free paper towels and sanitizer to wipe 

it up, I will look at that individual like she or he just barbequed a puppy. 

Do you want to sit in a puddle of a random stranger's sweat? No? Then why on the 

earth would anyone want to wade through a puddle of yours? No one’s sweat is exempt 

from the grossness factor, wipe it up! 

All that being said, what are the most ridiculous things all of you have seen at the gym?