The Bad Touch, Singledom, and Terrible Pick-Up Lines.

I am almost certain that the Bible left out a section entitled, “God has a cruel sense of humor – Evidence: One Amber Clark to be born in the year 1987. Hilarity to ensue for general public.” Let’s discuss the reasons while I shall soon be removing myself from the world to become a hermit with Kenneth.


Whenever someone asks me why I am still single I laugh (then I go cry into my Mufasa certified weave in the nearest bathroom) and tell them they should spend 12 hours with me and witness the types of “people” I attract. Honestly, if a fairly normal, single, straight male with all his teeth every approached I would die of shock. I truly posses the bizarre power of being able to attract the most terrifying individual within 50 feet of me and have a completely horrifying experience with them.

Case in point – the romantic interaction I had the other day with a probably homeless, definite meth addict. As I am minding my own business hustling around on break I hear the words “Yo Bitch!” exclaimed from my left. I should have run. I look over to find a dude who has no idea what a shower is, may have had a small rodent living on his head or just really needed a comb, was rocking an open wound on his face and complete lack of teeth. Sexual! This fine, upstanding gentleman then proceeds to grace me with the most Shakespearean love sonnet I have ever heard – “Damn I wanna wife dat ass up, cause you look like you know how to take a dick!”

I will take a hot second for that complete phrase to sink in, I know it took me a good couple minutes to realize what had just been said. I would truly love to know how you assess someone’s D-Taking capabilities. Was this a college course I missed out on? As you can probably assume, I was swept off my feet. We are now betrothed and I am expecting. I’ve decided to name the child 8-Ball. Life has truly taken a turn for the best.


I love football. I am into it, I get aggressive and yell, it is honestly one of my favorite parts of fall. Tragically it also makes me a little broish, a fact which I am willing to accept, unless it begins to interfere with my everyday life. A few Fridays ago, I decided to enjoy some wine on my couch while watching some exhibition games since tragically the season was not upon us while I waited for Shannon to get out of work. The evening managed to plop us in Red Square which is always an awkward experience in and off itself. This night I decided to take it up a notch. A few gin and tonics and tequila shots later I found myself having a hard time seeing as I dance around in a haze. I would just like to state that I also had outdated contacts in and that bar situation is dark and questionable in general. Nevertheless I couldn’t focus on anything. So when a guy came up to me and said “Hey Amber” I turned to be facing some sort of dark, dude shaped blob. I couldn’t tell you if it was Tom Brady, some dude from college or a dementor from Harry Potter. (Side Note – I sincerely apologize to you, whoever you are, should you be reading this.) I proceeded to react to this greeting in perhaps the most butch, masculine maneuver I have ever done. I aggressively grabbed this guys hand, pulled him in as hard as possible in a frat boy hug complete with chest bump. I then proceeded to slap/pat his lower back upper butt area and shout, “Good Game Bro!” Literally as the words exited my mouth I died a little inside. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! A HEAD COACH FOR THE GIANTS?! Mortifying. I decided dancing away quickly though the crowd was my best exit strategy.


Now for what might be the single most awkward and questionable moment that has ever occurred in my 25 years so far. I am pretty much always injuring my back in some sort of way at work or in my general movements of tripping and falling during everyday life. About a month ago I seriously sent my back into a downward spiral of doom between chasing Kenny, moving fixtures, and falling out of bed. It got to the point where it locked up while I was standing and I literally just fell over and was incapable of moving. Hot, no? Erin’s cat, who I was watching at the time, certainly thought it was hilarious. After being unable to move for about a week I decided enough was enough and I booked a chiropractor apt. Tragically this was all during July 4th weekend (Happy Birthday To Me!) and I could barely get in anywhere. When I finally did get in, I really wish I hadn’t. Before we get started with this little ditty I’m going to give you a little music to really set the mood.

As the exam begins, everything seems normal, no red flags. Miss Chiro asks me to flip over onto my stomach, I do so, and then suddenly everything gets real weird, real quick. Without any words whatsoever she whips down my pants AND underwear in one fell swoop and leaves them around my knees… UMMMMM. Next thing I know massage oil is being poured onto my derriere. Just as her hands start to move around down there I pop my head up and start with, “Um I said my lower back hurt, so it’s about a solid five inches higher then where you currently are so…” I’m interrupted by my head being pushed down and the phrase, “You’re clenching, just relax.” So now that I feel like I’m in the midst of a prison rape scene I can definitely relax. Ah yes just breathe and allow this woman to massage your butt like this is totally acceptable and was what you had in mind the whole time, Amber. Don’t be silly. It usually takes a few G&Ts before anyone is getting their hands on that, let alone with massage oil in a brightly lit room.

“Um really my lower back…”

“Still. Clenching. Relax!”

I decide to just give up and let the non-consenual touching happen. I laid there for about 20 minutes while Miss Chiro hummed, yes HUMMED, and massaged my completely exposed bum. Pretty sure I maintained the clenched position for the rest of the day. Needless to say, I now have no problem making time to drive all the way back to Vergennes to see my actual chiropractor who allows me to keep my clothes on.


Last but certainly not least a few quick tidbits of absolute ridiculousness.

1. While I was at a complete stop at an intersection on Willard, some complete moron lost control of his longboard and leapt off of it vaulting himself into a run, which naturally collided with the side of my poor Mazda quite violently. He chose to act maturely by punching the hood of my car and screaming, “GO FUCK YOURSELF!” before running away. Yes Sir, how dare I leave my car stopped at a stop sign in the way of your acrobatic maneuverings. This is entirely my fault and I should totally go perform sexual actions on myself as punishment. I took just enough time to tell him to blow me before I ran over his precious longboard. Whoops.

2. While in line at the grocery store a small, nerdy practically translucent young man would not stop creeping closer to me. It got to the point where he was literally touching my back with his body. After having just about enough of this, I whip around to lay down the law when he leans in (as if he could even get closer to me, we are practically making out at this point) and whispers with extreme enthusiasm, “After the apocalypse redheads shall inherit the earth. I can only hope you will take me with you. I posses many skills.” I decided that I needed eggs and removed myself from the line. While I am glad to know I will survive the impending reign of zombies, I can’t help but wonder what exactly those video-game perfected skills were.

3. My mom recently called me to inform me that she had found the perfect man for me, the catch? He’s married. Oh ya know, just that small, insignificant detail of marriage, totes NBD. Right as I whip out the classy line of, “Pffft. Realistically what is that wedding ring even for?!” I look up to find hot, married parking attendant staring at me. He grabs his wedding ring, “Excuse me?” Ahhhhhhhhh, why?! I decided that responding by thrusting my phone at him and exclaiming, “HELLO?! I AM ON THE PHONE!” was the most logical and mature way to respond.

4. After having my house broken into, I managed to wind up with the three most ridiculous law enforcement officers ever investigating. There was a lot of pectoral flexing, crack addict jokes and general inappropriateness. The crowning moment of weird was when one of them started off with the line, “Well…I am single and have two cats.” Awkward silence ensues. Was I supposed to respond with, “Well I am single and have a cat so lets do this and take over the world with our brewing cat army!” How does your singledom and cat-owner status pertain to my house invasion again sir?

5. An individual with a lip tattoo recently asked me if he could “do some rails off that Kimmy K ass.” Ah, romance blossoms.


Things I don’t have time for…

My life is full of things I don’t have time for. I’ve decided to address a few topics so in the future the general public will realize I give zero f*cks about said moments and will move forward.


Dear Sirs and Madams of the world. I do not have time for your side eyes or your looks of disgust and horror. For example when I’m on my way to work, have my windows down, and am passionately singing along to Whitesnake or Nicki Minaj and incorporating some impressively excellent car-coreography, I don’t want to look over into the other lane or across the intersection and catch you looking at me like this…

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I do not have time for that.

I also do not have time for judgement when I am minding my own business in the grocery store. If I am texting someone, there is no need for a mouth breathing dude-bro to be leering over my shoulder reading my texts while I peruse the B&J selection. I most certainly do not have time for you to scream out, “OH MY GOD, DID SOMEONE JUST TEXT YOU A PHOTO OF A CAT AND REFER TO IT AS YOUR BOYFRIEND?! AND YOU’RE IN THE ICE CREAM ISLE! SAAAAAAD!”

I don’t have time for your bro-tastic observations, chug another Busch Light.


People seem to love to give me unsolicited advice. It usually pertains to my love life, hair, caffeine consumption and general appearance and of course my usual sunburn once summer finally rolls around. While I’m usually uninterested in the thoughts and musings of the general public, I’m extremely uninterested before 10am and before I have consumed adequate caffeine. For example, if I am in line at Starbucks do not approach me to discuss my sunburnt feet.

“Excuse me Ma’am, but did you realize you have a sunburn on your feet?”

Inner Monologue – “Oh. My. GOD! No I did not realize that! My feet are not overly hot nor do they look like I’m sporting bright red socks with my black flats. What would I have done if you hadn’t pointed this out to me?! YOU SAVED MY LIFE. Side note – If I’m 20 years younger then you, never call me Ma’am.

Actual Response – “Yes. Unfortunately I usually miss one spot when applying sunscreen. (Forced Laugh)

Overly Concerned Sunburn Troll – “Well Sweetheart, has anyone ever told you how dangerous a sunburn is? My goodness, just one can kill you – you will probably wind up with skin cancer. Actually you probably have it now, lurking. I wouldn’t be surprised if you lose your feet after this one.”

I’m sorry…lose my feet? Obviously, skin cancer strikes immediately causing instant necrosis of the skin. OH MY GOD, PASS ME THE ALOE! NOWWWWWW!

“I think my feet will survive, but thanks.”

Actual Response of WebMD specialist – “Ungrateful Whore.”

I don’t have time for your Yahoo Answers health care advice.


I do not have time for you accidentally shove your mattress so hard that it flies over your car and slams my entire body into the sidewalk. I also don’t have time for you to then ask, “Wait, where did it go?” as it slowly crushes the life out of me while my face lurks in some questionable goo on the sidewalk.

I do not have time for you to “trip” while walking on Church St. and proceed to steady yourself by grabbing my chest for a prolonged period of time while you leer at me and say, “Sorry didn’t see you there.” I will make time to slam your instep as I walk away however. Sorry buddy, didn’t see that there.

I do not have time for so many things, like continuing this post when my bed is looking at me so longingly.

Road Rage and Marriage Proposals.

Anyone of you who have actually driven with me know that I have a tendency towards expressing my anger audibly when dealing with moronic driving. Luckily for the general public, I purchased a fancy new car and have been keeping my rage in check so as to not injure my new toy. Yet lately I have been completely unable to control my angst towards crappy drivers. Things began to go poorly after a semi-recent encounter with the Cowardly Lioness.

While minding my own business in the turning lane to Vermont Gas on Shelburne Road I suddenly notice something terrifying – reverse lights. Before I can even react some imbecile in a jacked up subaru has sent her car flying BACKWARDS down a lane in which everyone is at a stand still. I’m sorry, WHAT THE FUCK?! Hello?!?!?! This individual hits me with enough force to shove my car about a foot backwards, leaving a good amount of my oh-so-expensive snow tires on the pavement so needless to say, I am not pleased. As I begin to get out of my car, complete with my “WTF” hands a terrifying creature emerges from the subaru. A creature which can only be described as the Cowardly Lioness.



This woman had the most intense curled, bleached, teased hair I have ever witnessed in real life. It was like the 80s on crack had taken over her head. Literally a halo of crazy. To make everything even more terrifying, her eyes were ringed with at least two inches of navy eyeliner topped with roughly five layers of bright blue eye makeup accented by black lip-liner and a an intensely bright red lipstick. I quite seriously thought that the Wizard of Oz had landed right in my lap.

Before I can even react the Lioness is back in her subaru, fleeing the scene through a red light and hopping on to the interstate as if nothing had happened. Um…… Next thing I know I’m stuck explaining to the officer who showed up what exactly happened. When asked if I saw the person who was driving the vehicle, my response was “Well….she sort of looked like….um….the….Cowardly Lion?” Pretty sure I have never recieved such a judgemental look in all my life. Pfffft.


Ever since this little hit and run life has been increasingly awkward. Here are the highlights:

– While walking down the stairs after grabbing some much needed starbucks, I manage to encounter an older gentleman who was most certainly homeless and missing most of his teeth. He offered me what most women only dream of – marriage. His opener, “Youuuu are sooo beautifuuuul to meeee,” and yes it was sung. It was then followed by this wonderful promise, “I can make you so happy, fufill your richest desires. Just give me your love and home…” Wow, with offers like this, who can believe I’m still single?

– I would like to think it takes a certain skill to pull off this next move. Since my driveway has turned into a sheet of sheer ice, walking to my car has become more like ice skating towards my car. While attempting to manuver to my car the other day I managed to get one foot in the door and then before I could scoot in, the other one shot out from under with me with alarming speed. Next thing I know I have high-kicked one of my legs into my roof and my entire left leg is tucked nicely under the car’s undercarriage all ending in the most intense split action of my life. Managing to wiggle myself out of this situation was certainly enjoyable for the individuals next door.

– While deep in thought, reading my grocerry list at shaws, I suddenly realized I forgot eggs and whirled around quickly to get them. Naturaly I did this without looking and managed to body slam an entire rack of day old cupcakes, cakes, cookies, and other fat kid products. Right as I look up from this caloric temple I’ve made for myself I see one of the hot produce guys giving me a look filled with tude as he walks away. Who wouldn’t want to date a woman who hoards day old baked goods around her feet?

-2012 has been a great year so far, starting off with the flu and an eye infection that has left me stuck wearing my glasses for about 3 weeks. These so called glasses are 5 years old, sporting an outdated perscription, covered in scratches, and stretched out. On top of all that I have no peripheral vision in them what-so-ever. While walking across the street the other day I whipped my head a little to quick trying to scout out whether I could cross the street or not and sent my glasses flying off my face and clattering onto the street. In typical fashion I managed to cause a small traffic back up while down on all fours attempting to locate the missing pieces of junk. Don’t mind me upity drivers honking loudly, just trying to see over here. NBD.

Well then…

Let’s talk about why I’m updating this blog. I’ve sustained a serious injury and find myself sitting around with some free time. You might ask “What injury is this and how, pray tell, did it happen?” Well allow me to catch you up.

I have been unable to sleep soundly for the past week. In the middle of the night – say around 3AM – a scratching noise comes from deep within the wall right behind my bed. Since there is a crack in this wall I am perpetually afraid that whatever it is making that noise will suddenly come barreling through this crack and join me in bed. This would not be welcome. On a completely unrelated note  – I have may or may not have been watching copious amounts of horror movies by myself lately.

In a fit of overtired angst I decided to re-arrange my room and place my bed in a position in which I could easily fend off an attack from the “scratcher” While listening to some excellent, high quality, very mature music and dancing around I may have lost control of my mattress and tripped over my desk chair. Naturally I wound up twisted in the desk chair with my mattress on top of me in the most bizarrely contorted position I have ever experienced. In the most attractive way ever, I managed to detangle myself only to find I threw my back out. NBD. That’s fine. I also may have a fat lip due to facial mattress smacking. That’s fine, just one more injury to tack on to my already wounded self.

In addition to these latest events I also have a large bruise on my side – This one stemmed from a literal run-in with the parking garage gate. While quite obviously checking out the rather attractive parking attendant I managed to body check the side of the parking gate so hard I bounced off and hit the concrete. This move is guaranteed to win the men over, trust me. They most certainly will not stare at you like you are on meth and then advise you to watch your step with a look reeking of judgment, oh no.

My calves are looking pretty damn hot too. They’re sporting a hot black and blue splotchy color which is totally in this season. How does one acquire such a high fashion look? Well my method is a sure fire win. My advice – search for your keys in the dark in your seemingly bottomless purse, trip in a small hole and then land with your shins perfectly lined up on the curb. Note – this is for professionals only, many individuals can simply not pull off the timing properly. After you pull off this move, it’s best to celebrate by rolling over onto your back and saying something sophisticated like, “BLOW ME!” right as some college students pass by. Pure class.

To complete my new makeover I also burned my forehead with my straightening iron while staring at Facebook. I truly am looking beautiful these days.

The plan for this weekend? Steal a wheelchair from my former place of work and hit the town. You only look this good for so long. right?

The Breakdown…Mental Breakdown That Is.

In the past month or so the level of awkward in my life has shot through the roof. Here’s the breakdown –

– While walking through the mall the other day on my break I quite obviously checked out some young male specimens. Thinking I was simply checking out some hot young college boys, I looked back to find their MOMS staring me down. Apparently I have lost all ability to accurately determine age and was eyeing some high school kids. NBD. Best part? When I made eye contact with the moms one of them was scowling and the other winked. I’m sorry, did you just wink at this lecherous college grad who just checked out your practically prepubescent son??

– When people ask me why I am single I’ve decided to refer them to this gem of a moment in my life. The other weekend while walking home in a pair of heels, a young college kid in a frat hoodie leaned out the side of his car and screamed, “CLICK CLACK, LET ME HIT IT FROM THE BACK!!!” Tragically this modern day Shakespearean sonnet did not sweep me off my feet and I returned home alone. Since these appear to be the only people I attract, this ladies and gentleman is why I am single. Mystery solved. I’m now going to adopt my first of many cats since my future dictates that I will be a creepy old woman with numerous cats.

– This weekend while wearing some new shoes I acquired some severe blisters upon the back of my feet. Due to this I’ve been wearing shoes slightly too big for me the whole week to alleviate the pain. Side-eye me all you want but the shoes were cute and the Absolut numbed the pain. So while hiking myself up the hill the other day from my eye appt, said slightly-to-large shoe slipped off the back of my heel sending me into a scuttling, tripping, slipping sort of motion. In my natural instincts I grabbed out for the nearest item to steady myself. This happened to be a parking meter which I entwined myself with. As I am hanging onto this meter, in what I am sure is a very seductive pose, I look up to make eye contact with an old group-project partner from UVM. Oh excellent. As I’m wrenching my eyes away and detangling myself from the meter he touches my arm and goes, “Amber?” My response? Pfffffttttt! No, you clearly have the wrong person.” At which point I grab my shoe and hustle up the hill cursing my life.

– After receiving some particularly fabulous news I lost myself in the moment when Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” came on my iPod in the car. By losing myself I mean full on car dancing and singing into my Starbucks cup enthusiastically. While deep into the chorus on a especially aggressive head swing to the left I notice an entire mini-van of small children staring at me and pointing. Further inspection revealed their parents, who by the way appeared to be my age -get a chastity belt- laughing hysterically at me. Leave a girl alone when she’s enjoying her 80s.

Stranger Danger.

On the way home I found myself trapped in a small pocket of traffic. I naturally took this as an opportunity to seize the awkward moment of the day. CARPE DIEM AWKWARDIUM! Or you know, whatever.

While I was staring out my window I noticed a small boy deep into play time. He had clearly dreamed up a very serious game that involved jumping in and out of bushes James Bond style. I began to think to myself nice it was that some kids still have a wild imagination in this excessively digital age. In this short period of time I was not only locked into staring at this small child, but I had unknowingly gathered a creepy, half-smile on my face. Right before I snap out of my trance, James Bond Jr. leaps out of a nearby bush to see me staring at him with my terrifying pedophile smile.

He suddenly throws a small clump of berries, twigs, dirt and other small bits of nature at my car with surprising force while screaming (at the top of his lungs,) “STRANGER DANGER!!!!” He then jumps on his bike and pedals madly away while continuing to scream the phrase down the street. Completely stunned I look around to see disapproving looks from my nearby vehicular neighbors. Excellent.

Spring Round-Up.

Clearly I have been slacking on my blog updates, and for this ultimate sin I have been verbally berated by numerous individuals. So, prepare yourselves because we have a lot of catching up to do.

Here is a small sampling of exactly how absurd my life is:

Accurate depiction of my life from Hyperbole and a half.

-Today on my way into the bank to take care of serious business like a very serious young adult, I walked into a glass door, stumbled and managed to fling my bills everywhere. At which point an elderly gentleman stopped to help me pick them up, caught a look at my statement and laughed at me. Thankssssssss.

– On my way home from work the other night an obscenely drunk man vomited what I am assuming was milk all over the side of my car while I was stopped at a red light. He then proceeded to lean on my window and say, “Thanks for still loving me Susan.” Completely unsure of how to proceed I simply said no problem then gunned it at the green.

– The other day at Starbucks a man bought me my drink stating, “A single working mom deserves a break every now and then.” I have absolutely no idea what he was talking about but I went with it because lets face it, a free latte is a free latte.

– While attempting to text and walk (multi-tasking is genuinely my greatest downfall) in the mall the other night  I walked into an absurdly large, very obvious sign and proceeded to stumble backwards and take down a mall cop.

– I recently moved into a larger room with considerably more space and far larger windows which I often forget to keep covered, you can imagine where this is going. The other night I decided to have a serious dance party in my room with an exotic beverage in hand and a terrible hair-do. While breaking it down in a very serious way I look out my completely open window to discover a small crew of Winooski teenagers staring at me with round eyes and gaping mouths. After completely freezing for about a full minute I decided that my best option was to hide in the closet until my beverage was done and it was most likely safe.

And now for a delightful tid-bit not from my life:

“Me and Jesus were flirting with each other last night while he is working. He is talking about his painting/art (blahblah) and I (accidentally, ahem, ok very obviously) look him up and down while I didn’t think he was looking. This is what follows:

Jesus: Did you just look at my package?
Jesus: You totally just looked at my package.
Me: No.
Jesus: Yes, you did.
Me: Shut up.