I’m On The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five

Chevvvvvvvs.
Chevvvvvvvs.

So, um.  Vacation is real, and it’s fucking awesome.  It also hurts like hell when it’s over.

But sound the alarms, hide all the children, bake every cake, cause I’m back and I’m chock full of noggin goodies and ready to write em down.

Mentally, I feel great. Physically, I’m a little worse for wear.  As you get older, you really start to recognize how many things you just can’t do anymore.  Along with wearing overalls and cheetah print scrunchies, I found out over the course of my week long hiatus that I can’t quite hang like a college kid and bounce back like I used to when I wasn’t twenty-five.

I woke up this morning and my eyes essentially refused to open, and walking in to work looking like you just toked up with Willie Nelson and Snoop Dogg is never a good look.  #apologies

What I’ve learned this week is that I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five.  

And that really, really sucks.  Cause being on the right side is always more fun, I think.  Depending on how you look at fun, I guess.  Criminals and the like would probably disagree with me.  But then again, they’re in jail and I’m not… yet.

I may be young and able-bodied, but I am in no way, shape, or form, capable of doing beer olympics and not spending the entire following day curled  up in a ball watching reruns of CSI while having someone spoonfeed me macaroni and cheese covered in velveeta.

Listen to your bodies.  When you wake up on Sunday and you feel like crap, going outside and sitting in the sun without drinking water is not going to make you feel any better on Monday.  In fact, it will make you feel worse.

Exercise is always good.  Even when it’s not good, you’ll feel better after you’re done.  Or at least that’s what my mother tells me.  I always say the same thing about naps and chocolate.

If you have a good buzz going, cleaning your kitchen and/or entire house will be way more productive in the moment.  You will cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time.  Drunk minutes always seem to double regular minutes, but you may also wake up wondering why you slept in bed with a swiffer wet jet and why your dog is wearing rubber cleaning gloves.

Never forget to eat.  At twenty-five, this seems like it should be natural.  It’s not.  Sometimes you spend all day shooting the shit and catching up with old friends and wake up the next morning realizing your body survived a day of treacherous drinking on one egg and 8 pieces of cold bacon.  Set alarms, bring a buddy, or grow the hell up and remember to nourish yourself.

Strapless bathing suits are the devil.

Keep in touch with old friends.  Especially if you experienced something life changing together.  Friends like that don’t come into your life often, so cherish them.  Make a point to see them, keep in touch, and reunite as much as you can.  You’ll want to remember the time one of you passed out in a strange place and how many different locations you traveled to in order to reunite. (shameless plug)

And last but not least, it was confirmed that Ray Rice is a giant pile of douche bags.


What did you learn this week?

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2 comments

Talk is cheap, but I'm on a budget anyway...

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