Now if you think you’re done, you’re not even close.

No, now it’s time for the mad dash around the house grabbing leftover glasses from the bathrooms and greasy popcorn bowls from the basement. Then you have to come back and rearrange the clinking, clanging mess like a 3D jigsaw puzzle.

Don’t stop until everything’s jammed, rammed, and crammed.

And then stuff a few wooden spoons in the sides.

And a couple more forks.

And the can opener.

AWESOME!

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AWESOME!

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Tara said that with eyebrow-crinkling rage while we were out grabbing drinks on a laid-back patio. She shook her head sternly and surveyed our table of belchy beer drinkers for emotional support.

We offered none.

In my defense I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just took a sip of my beer and wiped my foamstache. When I casually glanced back at Tara I saw she was still steaming so I tossed her a thin-lipped nod and a flimsy half-hearted response.

“Your tip, huh. Boy, that is really too bad.”

I figured we were done but she wasn’t stopping. No, she slapped her palms on the sloshy metal table covered in soggy beer coasters and lemon wedges, leaned her head in real close, and popped her eyes out like a B-grade horror actress who’d just been axed in the back.

“You know, the tip of my pumpkin pie. He ate the tip of my pumpkin pie! He knows I love tips. I always talk about tips and he just stole it from me. He ate that perfect, delicious triangle at the front of my dessert. I was so mad!”

And then I suddenly got it.

Tips.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’d you do,” I asked, suddenly sucked into this tale of sugar robbery.

“Oh, you want to know what I did? I’ll tell you what I did. I ate the tip of every single piece of pie left in the dish. There were seven left and I just scarfed seven delicious tips!”

Now this really got my attention. What a feisty little nibbler, I thought. Some dude jokingly stabs his fork in her dessert and suddenly lightning bolts flicker in her eyes, her teeth start grinding, and her lips curl into a dark clownish smile.

I kind of liked it.

Frankly, we all did. Yes, we all laughed at Tara’s tip-eating rampage that sunny afternoon and realized that, come on, tips are great. I mean, let’s think about it for a second here:

1. Slice of pizza. Bubbly cheese, crispy pepperoni corners, and tiny drips of hot orange oil swirl around at the center of the pie. It’s the nucleus of the pizza and the core of all taste. No, there’s no danger of uneven sauce coverage here and the crust is nice and thin. Plus, if you’re lucky, you might score a cheese dangle, which involves your pizza tip using the power of the melt to snag excess toppings from a nearby slice. And hey, if your tip is the one getting robbed of toppings here, no worries. You just scrape up bits of cheese and sausage from the rest of the box and toss on top. Everybody gets a great tip.

2. The top swirl of a Dairy Queen cone. Folks in the biz know it’s an  art to create that delicate curl on the top of a cone. It’s the only real baby-nibble on the cone and therefore a nice tease for the next few minutes. Most of the way down you’re licking and biting your ice cream, so that top swirl is a yummy appetizer.

3. Quiche. Does anybody actually eat quiche? Well, if you’re in the game for this one, I’m guessing you’re loving that chunky broccoli, salty ham, fluffy egg, and oily crust combo at the front of your slice. Très yummy, yes pas?

4. First crispy nacho from the top of the tower. Full-size triangle chip with crisp corners, bubbly cheese, and little salsa puddles, waiting innocently for you to dive in. We’re not talking about bland, lettuce covered shards at the bottom of the heap. No, we’re talking about the tip of the nachoberg here.

5. First sip from a bottle of beer. This is the liquid tip. Not as triangular or pointy, but let’s face it: For those who drink that first sip of beer on a Friday after work can be refreshing, bubbly bliss.

6. Cakes. We saved the best for last. As those tall, wobbly cheesecake towers arrive at your table or you delicately carve out a thick slab of black forest at a birthday party, we both know you’re eying that delicious triangle tip right up front. And look at it sugar-shining in the light just waiting for you. It’s practically saluting and pledging allegiance to your mouth.

So people, come on. Let’s all hold hands today and remember the many great tips we’ve enjoyed over the years. Yes, smile at all those delicious first bites and first sips that surprised your tongue and teased your tastebuds with hints of what’s to come.

Love tips, love bites, love tips, love life.

AWESOME!

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Just tell me that’s not frustrating. Your heart thump-thumps and your anxiety zooms sky-high while you stare at the fluorescent red toll slowly ticking upwards. Sure, you know you shouldn’t watch it, but you can’t stop. You fixate your eyes on the tick-tocking numbers while your cab slowly inches forward through tight city streets, at rush hour, in construction, when it’s raining.

There is only one thing that can make this scene more frustrating and that is watching some dude walk faster than you on the sidewalk.

Honestly, look at them, strutting their stuff, moseying down the street at breakneck speed, while you pay top dollar for a slower service. You may as well roll down the back window and toss your wallet in the sewer at this point. Yeah, steam’s coming out your ears while your face turns red as a tomato.

But for the faster-walking guy, it’s a different story.

He just bops along and watches you sweat.

AWESOME!

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AWESOME!

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Maybe you’re taking a romantic stroll in the park, leaning on the railing over a waterfall, or camping out at the airport before your big honeymoon flyaway.

It’s times like this when someone grabs the camera and starts taking pictures. Strike that pose, baby. Pout those lips, tilt that neck, and get into it. Then grab the camera and take pictures of your loved one, too. Big toothy smile, casually distracted straightface, whatever their move you’re just freeze-framing it forever.

Everything is rolling right along, everything’s smooth sailing, until it eventually happens.

You want a couple shot.

Sure, first you try the awkward cheek-to-cheek pose which involves squeezing your faces together and holding the camera high in front of you with an outstretched arm. And that’s not bad until you realize you’re taking four pictures to get one that includes your entire forehead and there’s no hope of getting a full-body shot. Nope, you’re not getting a cute couple photo today.

OR ARE YOU?

It’s a magical moment when a stranger walks by, notices your awkwardness, and chimes in with a quick “Hey, want me to take a picture of you two?” That’s when you smile warmly and say sure, before delicately placing your fragile camera in their hands. The funniest part comes next when you teach them how to use it.

“Press this button.”

You know, like every other camera.

But honestly, thanks Shutter Stranger. Thanks for stopping for a minute to capture our good side. We may never see you again, we may never pay you back, but we want to give you a big shout today for your generous gift of capturing the moment.

AWESOME!

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We thought we lost you.

AWESOME!

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When the sun beats down and your sweatstache starts dripping someone thankfully calls a time out. Wiping your forearm across your forehead, you jog over to your gymbag to grab a quick drink. Digging your hand past a pair of balled-up socks and a warm stick of deodorant, you finally find your buried treasure.

It’s a sweaty, wet bottle of water from home and you quickly twist off the cap for the first big sip.

But it disappoints.

It’s lukewarm.

No, that room temperature swill sure doesn’t quench much. Your hot throat is greeted by warm water and any hopes of getting refreshed quickly evaporate.

OR DO THEY?

Your next sip seems a tiny bit cooler to you. Your blood pulses as you realize there may be a buried treasure within the buried treasure. Yes, yes, yes, you think, as you toss back the bottle and chug like you’ve never chugged before.

And it hits you.

The cold, insulated spot in the middle of the water bottle.

Man oh man oh man.

AWESOME!

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AWESOME!

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To me they’re a like death row prisoners being escorted down a dim hallway with green ceramic tiles and cinder brick walls. They’re in a baggy orange jumpsuit and shackles, hands behind their back, guards on both sides, just screaming for help before they’re strapped to the chair.

“Someone stop this insanity!”

Your heart aches but sometimes there’s nothing you can do. You’re in a bus on a long ride home or out at a restaurant. You forgot to plug them in before you left so you just stare helplessly as the juice zaps their veins, the lightbulb dims, and they go quiet and disappear into blackness. You sigh and toss them in your backpack or just hold their heavy, lifeless body in your hands, say some quiet words, and wipe away tears.

Other times you’re the pricey, hard-nosed attorney, filing a last minute appeal and rushing down to the prison with court-signed paperwork before someone flips the switch. You run into your apartment and plug them into the wall or borrow a friend’s car adapter at the last second. On moments like this, there is a celebration as the charge icon flashes on, flashes strong, and breathes in some fresh new life.

AWESOME!

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