When I woke up this morning I didn’t intend to flood my blog with videos guaranteed to make people cry, but that seems to be where my day is headed.

On the heels of the tiny miracle that came out of the tremendous devastation in Moore, Oklahoma, I had another inspiring story shared with me earlier today and I feel compelled to pass it along to all of you.

It is the story of Zach Sobiech, a Minnesota teenager who was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer, when he was just 14-years-old.

In the years following his diagnosis, Zach underwent numerous surgeries and countless rounds of chemotherapy to battle the disease.

Ultimately, despite some improvements over the years, he was engaged in a fight he couldn’t win. Late last year, Zach was told that the cancer’s progression was unstoppable and he only had months to live.

Making the most of his finals days, Zach recorded a goodbye song entitled “Clouds” for his family and friends.

Luckily, because the internet isn’t always a cesspool of depravity and can sometimes be a very wonderful, very heartwarming place, the video went viral and garnered more than three million (and climbing) views on YouTube.

Zach also had his story chronicled as part of SoulPancake’s uplifting “My Last Days” documentary series.

That’s what I’m sharing with you today.

It is a long video, but it’s most certainly worth the investment of 20 minutes of your life. I will, however, warn you that if you’re not a fan of people seeing you cry, you’re going to want to watch this one with the door closed.

Without any further ado, here is Zach Sobiech’s inspiring story:

Zach passed away early Monday, May 20th.

He was at home with his family. He went down swinging and on his own terms. He spent his final months out in the world living his life, not slowly dying in a hospital bed.

He died the right way. He died his way.

I don’t want to get all weepy and sentimental. I don’t want to pretend that this is the only sad or inspiring story on the internet. I don’t want to act like this is going to be the impetus that leads me to change the way I live my life forever.

…but, at the very least, for the next couple of days it’s going to make me hold my hugs a little bit longer, flash a little more patience when I think I’ve run out of it, and not think twice about paying for a round of beers with my friends.

Sometimes all we can really ask for is a reason to be a little bit better than we are, even if it only lasts a little while. The hope is that you’ll always find another reason right around the corner.

Right now, Zach Sobiech is my reason. Here’s hoping he can be yours too.

“It’s really simple actually; it’s just…try to make people happy.” – Zach Sobiech

At this point, everyone knows about the tornado that ravaged Moore, Oklahoma, on Monday.

The storm left a trail of absolute devastation in its wake, reportedly covering an area 22 miles in length and nearly two miles wide.

The storm destroyed homes, business, schools, and the local hospital leaving nothing but wreckage where an Oklahoma City suburb once stood.

In addition to the hundreds of injured, the ever-rising death toll is still in flux as rescue workers continue to pull bodies out of the rubble. More than 100 people have been pulled from the rubble alive since Monday.

Officials indicate that things look grim for those who are still trapped beneath fallen structures.

Here is CNN’s take on the current death toll:

“The storm killed at least 91 people. The official death toll stood at 51 Tuesday morning, but a coroner’s office official said some 40 bodies have yet to be processed by medical examiners — roughly half of them children. More bodies could be hidden under the vast debris field, authorities warned.”

Maybe I’m just more tuned into it since the Boston Marathon bombings hit so close to home; but it seems to me that from the Mother’s Day parade shooting in New Orleans to the fertilizer plant explosion in Texas, to the still-unfolding Cleveland abduction saga, to this horrible tornado in Oklahoma and a million different events in between…the world just seems to be going crazy lately.

It’s nothing but bad news on top of bad news on top of bad news.

As such, I think it’s time to hunt down a silver lining and a little bit of levity.

Luckily, Barbara Garcia, a resident of Moore, Oklahoma (and total bad-ass), and Bouncy the dog are able to provide us with that silver lining.

Take it away Barbara:

I don’t know about you, but there seems to be an awful lot of sawdust in the air today or maybe my non-existent allergies are acting up. Whatever the case, I’m just a wee-bit misty-eyed after that.

Granted, if you’re not at least a little bit teary-eyed yourself from watching that, I think you can go ahead and close this blog now, because there is no way we can be friends.

This amazing moment is great in and of itself (aside from the douchey news crew that needed Barbara to ask them for help, jerks), but I want to give Barbara credit for two amazing quotes.

The first came on the heels of the reporter’s vapid, textbook post-tragedy question: “Are you able to comprehend what happened here?”

Barbara replied like a total boss: “I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED HERE!!”

Total baller move.

And then there’s Barbara’s closing quote, which, from a journalism standpoint, is pretty much the most money-quote you’re ever going to get in this kind of moment.

“Well I got God to answer one prayer to let me be okay, but he answered both of them,” Garcia said. “Because this was my . . . second prayer.”

Hug your pets. Hug your family. Hug everyone (that human resources will allow) today, y’all.

Life can get really real in the blink of an eye.

——————————————————————————————————————-

If you’re interested here are some of the agencies helping the victims:

• The Salvation Army is asking for donations for Oklahoma Tornado Relief. You can also text “storm” to 80888 to make a $10 donation.
• The Red Cross said the best way to assist families is to make a donation to www.redcross.org/okc or www.redcross.org or texting REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation.
• United Way of Central Oklahoma’s Disaster Relief Fund is open. Donations may be made online at www.unitedwayokc.org or by mail to United Way of Central Oklahoma, P.O. Box 837, Oklahoma City, OK  73101 with a notation for the May Tornado Relief.
• Contributions to the Moore & Shawnee Tornado Relief Fund can be made online to the Tulsa Community Fund at www.TulsaCF.org. Donations can also be mailed to TCF offices at 7030 S. Yale, Suite 600, Tulsa, OK, 74136.

I’m going to miss Jim and Pam.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll miss The Office as a whole, but I’m really going to miss Jim and Pam.

I spent a sizable portion of my 20s associating with a fictional television character. While I don’t assume that’s all that odd, I do think that it leaves a bit of a hole in a person when that character goes off to the big TV studio in the sky.

After nine seasons, the American version of The Office came to its inevitable conclusion this evening.

As is often the case when a long-running series ends, the show was given a proper goodbye with a retrospective and an extra-lengthy episode to tie up all of the loose ends.

Most sitcoms end on a happy note—simply to leave a good taste in the mouth of the viewing audience—and The Office was no exception.

We saw the nuptials of Dwight and Angela, the redemption of Andy, the return of Michael Scott, the seemingly inevitable union of Kelly and Ryan, the reunion of Erin with her birth parents, Nelly finally getting her baby, a beautiful display of true, unadulterated affection between all of the Dunder Mifflin co-workers, and we saw Pam make a big, selfless gesture for Jim in attempt to pay him back for years of grand gestures (and tiny looks) that won her heart time and time again.

As much as I might wax poetic about The Office, I’m not going to pretend the show wasn’t running on fumes for years. The end of Michael Scott’s reign of terror should have been the end of the show. In fact, even if it had ended then, it might have felt as though the show went on too long.

The thing is, everyone kept watching. No matter how unwatchable the show became, people couldn’t stop watching. The Office, for all of its faults, still resounded with people. It was still very, very real.

We’ve all had (or been) a horrible boss. We’ve all had (or been) an awkward co-worker. We’ve all had (or been involved in) an office romance. We’ve all had (or been) co-workers that became best friends without anyone even realizing it.

I said it at the beginning and I’ll say it again, I’ve long associated with the fictional character of Jim Halpert.

As far as we—the viewer—can tell, Jim is a swell guy who happens to be pretty good at this job, but is simply bored with it and going through the motions (also he is tall and has some wonky hair and over-exaggerated facial reactions).

This character bio could describe a very large part of my life. Much of my twenties were spent at a job where, although I was good at it, I was pretty bored. I didn’t have a Dwight to prank, but I made my own fun and never took things too seriously.

What I never had in the workplace, was a Pam.

That’s because I was lucky enough to meet my Pam on the very first day of college. I didn’t have to fight off a Roy or endure an awkward move wherein we were in different branches and—unfortunately—at no point was Rashida Jones a factor in our lives.

Although we lack a lot of the drama of the real Jim and Pam, I can say that I did, much like Jim, have to grow up and get my shit together to make things work.

Over the years, in addition to the small looks, I’ve had to make some grand gestures, but they’ve all been worth it.

As fate would have it, just shy of two years ago, my Pam started working with me. She’s not a receptionist or a secretary (note: the PC term is administrative assistant, dicks)…but she’s my Pam.

She’s my Pam in the sense that she’s long made me want to be better than I am and to strive for more than I otherwise would.

She’s the reason I busted ass for years to earn extra hours or a raise or a minor promotion from one support staff job to another. She’s also the reason that when my boss left and his job became available, I got through my own personal bullshit and applied for his job.

She’s also the biggest reason I got that job. Not me, not the work I’ve done, but my desire to be better for her and to do bigger and better things for us.

Someday I want to own a house. Someday I want to have our babies. Someday I want to have a minivan. Someday I want to have a trampoline (that’s unrelated, I just really like trampolines). Someday I don’t want to have to worry about money.

These are the things that drove Jim to be a better version of Jim. These are the things that have driven me to be a better version of me.

It’s all about trying to find that one reason to make it all happen and, for me, Grace is that reason.

Grace is my Pam.

Nah, you know what…fuck that…Pam was Jim’s Grace.

Rest easy, Jimbo. I’ll take it from here.

There are some moments in television that stand the test of time and resonate for years to come.

Last night, we all witnessed one of those nights on the season finale of New Girl.

As you may recall, I wasn’t exactly a huge fan of New Girl when it first debuted, but in time the show runners made some tweaks and turned it into one of my favorite shows on television.

Last night, however, they went ahead and trumped anything they’d done to date (or are likely to ever do again) when they had Taylor Swift as a guest star on the show.

Oh yeah, that’s right, My Faithful Readers…the ladies who currently occupy spots #2 and #3 on my celebrity cheat list and who have been feuding with one another over my affections for the better part of two years clearly reached a short-term peace accord for the common good of the viewing public.

For that, I believe both of these lovely ladies deserved to be commended…and perhaps taken out for a lovely seafood dinner and a fancy (yet reasonably priced) bottle of wine with an upstanding, bearded gentleman from the Midwest.

I’ll leave that idea out there for Zooey and Taylor’s publicists to ponder (note: click the Gmail icon to the right to contact me directly).

In the meantime, let’s celebrate in my favorite new fashion, with a happy dance from both Zooey and Taylor. Take it away ladies:

It was a little more than a year ago when I mentioned my excitement about Taco Bell joining the fast food breakfast game.

It seems almost crazy now, but at the time I was very interested in getting my mitts on their sausage and egg wrap.

Well, now the sausage and egg wrap can go ahead and get the hell outta town, because it’s old news.

That’s right folks, I’ve moved on. The sausage and egg wrap looks like garbage to me now. Garbage, I say!!

Why the sudden change of heart? Well it’s because the glorious Waffle Taco is the new hotness.

What’s that, My Faithful Reader? You don’t know what a Waffle Taco is? You’d like me to enlighten you as to what I’m rambling about?!

It’ll be my pleasure.

I present to you, My Faithful Readers, the 8th Wonder of the World…Taco Bell’s Waffle Taco:

RIGHT?!

Tell my you’re not totally stoked about this right now. Try it. Try to tell me.

You can’t do it can you?

Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to the internet.

More importantly, don’t lie to yourself.

The Waffle Taco is described over-so-eloquently over at BrandEating.com as follows:

The menu item consists of a folded waffle filled with a sausage folded over some scrambled eggs. There’s a packet of syrup on the side to sweeten the deal.

That’s simplicity at its finest, y’all.

Right now this sweet, sweet concoction is only available at various test markets in California but, if logic is even remotely in play with the fine folks at Taco Bell headquarters, we’ll all be noshing on this thing before Labor Day.

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to show my feelings on this development in the best way possible, an Alison Brie happy dance.

Blogger’s Note: Props to the lovely Mrs. Lindsay Tiwald for posting this important taco-y/breakfast-y news on my Facebook wall like a total boss.

We were just about to leave the apartment for work this morning when I noticed Grace staring at my head.

Naturally, this made me curious and I asked her what was going on.

Grace—with little hesitation—told me that my hair looked like “a gigantic yellow spider that was about to attack.”

She then recommended that I go take a look in the mirror. It was there that I saw a Nick Nolte mugshot staring right back at me and decided it was time for action.

I responded by putting some product in my hair.

Now my hair looks like a gigantic yellow spider that is about to attack…and has gained a hard, impenetrable exoskeleton.

Grace has informed me that—despite my recent trim—it might be time for another, decidedly more-drastic, trip to the barber.

We’ve all done things we regret at carnivals.

Sometimes it’s devouring deep-fried butter on a stick. Sometimes it’s getting emasculated by the strongman hammer game. Sometimes it’s playing the “guess my weight” game and finding out that you look way fatter than you thought you did. Sometimes it’s riding the tilt-a-whirl after eating the aforementioned deep-fried butter on a stick thus leaving the ride forever engrained in your memory as the tilt-a-hurl.

Most of the time, however, it’s throwing your money away on carny games.

I’m not going to get on my high horse and pretend that I’ve never given fistfuls of my hard-earned cash to a fly-by-night conman strung out on oxycotin in an attempt to win a meager prize.

I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I’ve lived to tell the tale.

What I haven’t done, however, is follow up my short-sighted decision by running off to retrieve the rest of my life savings in an attempt to go double or nothing.

According to WBZ-Boston, that’s precisely what Henry Gribbohm of Epsom, New Hampshire did:

Henry Gribbohm says he lost his life savings, $2,600, on a carnival game and all he has to show for it is a stuffed banana with dreadlocks.

“It’s not possible that it wasn’t rigged,” said Gribbohm.

The 30-year-old from Epsom says he kept trying to win back his money by going double or nothing. He dropped $300 in just a few minutes, then says he went home to get $2,300 more and soon lost all of that as well.

“You just get caught up in the whole ‘I’ve got to win my money back.’”

Although those choice quotes are solid, if you didn’t click through to the full-story, I highly-recommend you watch the video interview:

Listen, fella…I don’t want to be the one to break this to you, but there are a lot of problems with this whole scenario.

First, you’re wearing a tank top out in public. Clean it up, Bro.

Second, you allowed WBZ to film stock footage of you, your child, and the dreadlocked banana looking forlorn walking down the street. Respect yourself.

Third, you kept your life-savings at home? Maybe you needed to have that kind of cash on hand in case there was an emergency creatine shortage or Baby Gap ran out of those tank taps you fancy or something, but maybe look into a bank or something, where they have ATM withdrawal limits to keep people from doing stupid shit like this.

Fourth, you wanted to win an XBOX Kinect? How’s about you take that $300 you blew before you went home to give away the rest of your meager life savings and you just walk down to Best Buy and purchase one for $299.99. Come on, Meathead…you’re better than this.

Fifth, the news crew is laughing their ass off at you at the end of this clip. This is supposed to be a piece to evoke sympathy for you. You have not proven worthy of sympathy to the people who set out to create that vibe for you. Ponder that, Henry…ponder it hard.

Sixth, the inevitably coked-out carny was already nice enough to give you back $600 and let you keep that sweet-ass Rastafarian banana and you’re still going to file a lawsuit against the carnival? Let me know how that one works out, Champ…my Magic 8 Ball says “Outlook Not So Good.”

Now, maybe I’m missing something here and Henry has a big-time, slam-dunk lawsuit on his hands and he’s going to shut these charlatans down once and for all. The problem is, I’ve got to think that people much smarter and far less gullible than Henry Gribbohm have probably tried and failed when it comes to suing carnies.

All of the sketchy carnival games that we’ve all tossed our money (or our parents’ money) away on in the past were blatantly described as “games of chance.” Albeit, totally rigged chance…but chance nonetheless.

Plus, seriously, you got to keep that f’n banana, Bro.

Chin up, you’re a winner.

Rastafarian Banana has to be worth $3K, right?!

I went out last night.

I spent the night enjoying great company, great music, palatable beer, and offering outlandish sums of money to people in exchange for the act of butchering the hair of their loved ones. All-in-all, it was a great time.

The only issue is that we were out hella late and, as a result, I’m crazy tired today.

I’ve already phoned it in with regard to my normally “smart casual” attire and I’m rocking the super-duper-casual-Friday attire of an MIT t-shirt, Twins ballcap, jeans, and a pair of Converse.

The tough part now is not phoning it in on the work front. I’m struggling to pretend that I’m even remotely conscious enough to be working at a public service desk. We’ve been open for all of ten minutes and I’ve already had an odd interaction that proves I’m in dire need of some shut-eye.

Baron VonBriefcaseington: “Good morning. Do I need to sign in?”
Cap’n Charisma: “Nope. The library is open to the public, come on in.”
Baron VonBriefcaseington: “Great. Now where is the nearest head?”

Listen…there are plenty-o-colloquialisms that I do not understand, especially in New England. I’ve lived here for the better part of the last seven years and, honestly, I understand maybe 17% of what people are saying to me at any given moment.

Anyway…so when Baron VonBriefcaseington asked me where the nearest head was, my first instinct was to giggle like a 13-year-old. This was not the response Baron was looking for; this was confirmed when he quizzically raised an eyebrow and stared at me in anticipation of a more suitable response.

So I let my sleep-addled mind lead me to the next stopping point on my runaway train of illogical thinking which was to slowly raise my hand and point at his forehead.

Cap’n Charisma: “Um…there?!”

It was at this point that Baron realized I was a complete dipshit, let out a long sigh, and rephrased his line of questioning.

Baron VonBriefcaseington: “…where is the nearest restroom?!”
Cap’n Charisma: “Ohhhhhhhhhh…it’s down this way, right by the elevators. You can’t miss it.”

Baron then walked off shaking his head, likely wondering how I am gainfully employed at this illustrious institute.

It’s gonna be a real good day.

I hugged a student at the circulation desk today.

She came into the library not long after the city-wide moment of silence and was visibly shaken; she looked like she was on the verge of tears from the second she walked in the door.

She attempted to stay composed and get a book she’d requested, but quickly broke down into tears and quietly mumbled many of the same questions we’ve all been asking since last week why did this happen?, why here?, why now?, will we be okay?

Given that I’m clearly a Human Resources nightmare; I stepped around the desk, gave her a hug, and said that things are going to get better in time.

She hugged me back and thanked me for the gesture. She apologized for making a scene and I told her it was fine. I hooked her up with her book and she went on her way.

Assuming she doesn’t turn around and sue me or the Libraries, it was a goodwill gesture that appeared to come at just the right time and I’m happy to have been the one to provide it.

I’m not a touchy-feely guy, I’ve previously written before about my struggles with properly showing emotion. I am, however, a hugger (and a damned fine one if I do say so myself) and sometimes people just need a hug.

It’s been a rough week in Boston and elsewhere in the world, if the chance to give someone a hug comes along, take it. It won’t magically make things better, but it sure as hell won’t hurt either.

I still bag on this place for the accents, their woe-is-me take on winter weather, their awful driving, and the overall unwelcoming nature of the city.

That having been said, in the last 6 1/2 years that we have lived here, Boston has become home to Grace and I.

It’s the place where we had to be hella-ballsy and just pack up and leave the Midwest to move to when we’d been out of college for just a few months. It’s is the place where Grace got her master’s degree. It’s the place we’ve made a slew of great friends. It’s the place we first lived alone together. It’s the place where I first tried seafood. It’s the place we realized we wanted to get married. It’s the place we started our family when we adopted Honey. It’s the place that we think of now when we think of our home.

For all of those reasons and a thousand more, I love Boston and that’s why today’s bombings at the Boston Marathon have thrown me for a loop.

I was walking to the barber shop this afternoon and heard the explosions. I didn’t know what they were; I assumed it was just some noise from nearby construction sites. They certainly seemed odd and out of place, but I didn’t think much of it and continued walking.

When I was at the barber shop some dude asked me about the explosions at the marathon and, having no idea what he was talking about, I pulled out my phone and so did everyone else. The entire place went silent as everyone tried to figure out what was happening.

It felt like 9/11 all over again. I was in Chemistry class, senior year of high school when word came over the loud speakers what had happened and everyone just froze. That same feeling permeated the barber shop.

I tried to call Grace a bunch of times, she’d gone out for coffee and, although I didn’t suspect she’d gone across the river, I just had to know where she was, but I couldn’t get anything beyond the “all circuits are busy” message.

I did my best to stay calm. I continued on with my plan and went to get a burger, only to find everyone in the restaurant, including the kitchen staff, up front in the seating area watching CNN in stunned silence.

Somewhere in the odd state of shock, I ordered and devoured a burger (natural instincts and all that jazz), all the while attempting to call Grace multiple times and fielding inquiries about my whereabouts on Facebook.

I finally got a hold of Grace and we met up back at home where the two of us just sat solemnly sipping beers and watched the horrors of the day continue to unfold hour by hour. There was a period where we couldn’t distinguish whether the sirens we heard were on the TV or outside our apartment.

As they hours rolled on they reported more deaths and more injuries and more gruesome photos and first-hand accounts.

On the flipside, they also reported amazing stories of first-responders and everyday Joe Schmoes stepping into the fray to help out. They showed people offering up their homes, their food, their water, their wifi, their blankets, their whiskey, and anything else they could offer to those displaced or in need. It left us with a glimmer of hope on an otherwise incredibly dark day.

As I’m getting ready to turn off the TV, shutdown the computer, and step away from it all for the night, I know one thing: today sucked, but tomorrow doesn’t have to.

The compassion shown by everyone on-site today proves that fact.

Finally, if y’all could say a prayer to God (or your personal deity of choice) tonight for the folks in Boston, I’d be mighty obliged.