“I was a terrible teenager, because I was rebellious and that stuff happens. If anything, those books were there for me. ” — An awesome read for those who think books are boring.
25 Things I Learned from 24.
This could be the reason.
Today is my twenty-fifth birthday. Here is what I learned from the past year. In list form. Because I’m extremely hungover.
- Just because you are the loudest person in the room, doesn’t mean you deserve to be heard.
- Never pay full price for a baseball game ticket. Wait a couple innings and scalp them for half price.
- Family is forever. Suck it up, confront your problems, and get over it.
- Walking in heels should be an olympic sport.
- It’s better to have a small group of close friends, than a large group of acquaintances.
- People like to get married when you’re poor.
- If you sleep with someone the first time, you probably won’t get called back.
- Branch out and make new friends. Just don’t forget about your old ones.
- Travel whenever you can. Don’t be that person that regrets doing something because you didn’t want to spend the money.
- Grocery shopping doesn’t mean going to the CVS snack aisle.
- Find something you love, and then find time to do it on a consistent basis.
- Don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something.
- Unless its referring to parking your car in a tow away zone. Then you should listen to that.
- Boys have feelings too, whether they admit it or not.
- People aren’t going to be interested in your life unless you show an interest in theirs.
- Acting like a jackass is acceptable if you’re wearing an oversized, floppy hat. #Regal.
- Don’t make a kissy duck face at a camera unless that camera is actually a live human being that you plan on kissing.
- Learn to be alone. Understanding your personal needs will only better every other aspect in your life.
- Don’t be afraid to talk about your feelings. Unless you’re afraid to talk about your feelings, then writing a strongly worded letter is a great secondary option.
- Landing your dream job doesn’t happen on the first try.
- Unless your dream job is to be unemployed, in which case, you’re in luck.
- Effective communication is a lost art. People say what they don’t mean and mean what they don’t say.
- Rallying after day drinking is a lot harder once you have graduated college.
- Wine is acceptable to drink at all hours of the day. Breakfast wine is badass and definitely not an early sign of alcoholism.
- Trust your instincts. There’s a reason why you feel conflicted about eating street meat at 2am.
Steps To Creating An Amazing Birthday Invitation
Happy Saturday! I’m here to present you with some tips and tricks to whipping up the most entertaining and wildly inappropriate birthday party invitation. FOLLOW ALONG!
Let’s all pray that my transition into adulthood is an easy one. But the more I talk about it, it’s starting to sound more like I am turning into a vampire rather than a grown woman.
Anyways, if you’re wondering how a mature, completely rational, almost quarter-century old human would request people’s presence at her birthday party, look no further, because I have provided you with the information that will solidify attendees and maximize fun.
Gawk, laugh, take notes, or ignore this completely. But regardless, here’s what you should keep in mind when attempting to create an appealing, exciting, birthday proposal!
this is how you do a birthday invitation
xoxo, Meg 🙂
Tell me!! What are you up to this weekend?
IMPORTANT UPDATE: I Am Officially Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman.
amen. preach. yup.
Well kids, it’s the beginning of the end; my twenty-fifth birthday is on Monday.
Yup, the big quarter-century label is coming for me faster than the cops who are hassling me to pay all my parking tickets.
I’m facing my last weekend as a twenty-four-year old and forcing myself to look back and reflect on how exactly I got here. You know, in life and stuff.
I don’t even remember anything that happened before third grade, so let’s start there.
I was six-years-old, sitting on a rock outside my grandparent’s barn holding a stray cat my uncles had taken in thinking I wanted to be a veterinarian.
It was that easy. You just grew up, found something you loved, and did it.
I loved animals; I owned a hamster, liked petting cats, and frequently wrestled with dogs; so I was going to be a vet.
When I was eight, I got pissed off at my parents and decided that I wanted to renounce my position in the family and live off the land like Pocahontas. I gathered up all the belongings any eight-year-old would need, put them in a backpack, and left my house in a fury to make a statement.
My mother didn’t notice I was gone for over four hours, she just thought I was playing outside like a normal girl when I returned home for dinner because I had forgotten all about the food and shelter portion of survival outside a house. I did, however, bring an extensive collection of cds for my battery operated discman, and a slew of J-14 magazines.
At age ten, I remember falling so deeply in love with Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic to the point where I was determined to become an actress. I joined the school play in fifth grade; I did anything I could to sabotage my family’s home videos and get experience in the spotlight.
The only issue was I had no acting talent, which was evident in my being cast as ‘stage crew,’ and my mother was not supportive in my newfound endeavor to become rich and famous before I could correctly spell the word ‘business’ on the first try.
this is how you look when you’re 25. i think?
Which, in hindsight, my adolescent track record with drinking and recreational drug use would have landed me in the same position as Lindsay Lohan right now. So thanks, Mom. You did me a solid on crushing that fifth grade dream.
I actually blacked out all of middle school and don’t remember anything except for when Mrs. Townsend gave my friend Jocelyn and I a detention because we purposely put our left hands instead of our right hands over our hearts one too many times during the pledge of allegiance. Apparently that was disrespectful.
All throughout high school I was almost certain that I wanted to go into marketing and advertising. It was what my dad did. He had season tickets to the New York Rangers and frequently used us kids as pilot testers for his agency’s commercials. It seemed like a pretty badass career field.
I never listened when he told me how much he hated his job, never saw how overworked and overtired he was, and I conveniently never remembered how often he wasn’t there for the most formative years of my life.
It wasn’t until college that I realized I was extremely lazy and wanted summers off for the rest of my life. The stark reality of the real life work force haunted my dreams and made me gain over thirty pounds.
That last statement was false, I gained thirty pounds because I was in college and drank handles of vodka after eating two-hour dinners at the all you can eat dining halls. And I refused to exercise because the gym was too crowded and stretchy pants were in style.
I was twenty-one, fat, and going into my senior year at UConn when my mother pointed out how much I loved working with children. I decided I was going to switch my major with four credits short of a Media Communications degree and pursue teaching; a field in which I had absolutely no idea what exactly was entailed. But it had summers off.
At the end of my schooling, I had collected a Masters in Teaching, a Bachelors in Media Communications, and a Bachelors in English. I wanted to be a middle school English teacher in Boston. So I moved; because finding teaching jobs in a city at a reputable school, with nice kids, and good pay is really easy to do.
It wasn’t. I was twenty-three and unemployed.
I do have a job now, though. And I like it. But I didn’t use any of my degrees to get it, which is just both comical and completely depressing all at the same time.
Ultimately, I learned it was never going to be as easy as finding something you love and doing it.
With three days left until twenty-five inevitably smacks me in the face like my hangover will on Sunday, I am humbled by all the failed dreams I’ve had, and cling to the ones I still have. There is no way of knowing which will come true, and which, if not all, will be epic failures.
I can say wholeheartedly that I have not a goddamn clue in the world where I will be in five years. None of my previous ambitions really panned out the way I wanted or wished, but I can only hope that with this birthday, I will magically be gifted the knowledge of what the fuck I am supposed to be doing with my life.
Until then, we can always thank the high heavens and my mother that I did not become Lindsay Lohan or Pocahontas.
Ask And You Shall Receive… A Lie.
My mom and dad always told me to tell the truth.
Fact: big hats are always an excuse for inappropriate behavior.
That doesn’t mean I always listened.
For the most part, I am pretty honest. It has gotten me into trouble, but most times, I firmly agree with the whole honesty is the best policy thing.
I had to go to the doctor for a yearly check up, or as I like to call it, an invasion of my privacy. Like… stop touching me, and don’t ask me about my life. I’m 24, I probably do all the things you are asking about on your little PhD question sheet. Let’s move on.
But before entering the room of shame where I am guilted into talking about all the bad things I do, they make you fill out a questionnaire about your ‘history.’ I looked it over and thought about how many times I actually tell the truth on these types of surveys… the answer: not very often.
So, instead of doing it honestly, I concocted a list of all the things that I lie about on a daily basis, and a little insight into my rationale/right to do so:
Working Out: This is numero uno on the list. I always lie about the last time I exercised. Honestly, if someone doesn’t physically drag me by the hair, hands, legs, and feet to the gym, I will remain on my couch. But, if someone good looking and in shape asks me what I do for activities, you best believe I’m talking about doing cardios, dumbells, yogalaties, mountain climbing, and P90X on a Sunday afternoon. Gotta talk good to look good, ya hear?
Liking Food: Thanksgiving rolls around and everyone thinks they’re Martha Stewart. Please do not try new recipes at Thanksgiving or Christmas, or any holiday that has the word TRADITION stamped across it. It’s called tradition for a reason. I like apple pie, I don’t like apple pie with a fig tree growing out the center and a candy crust made of malt molasses. My parents taught me to be polite though, so I’ll take a few bites and say it’s the bees knees – then promptly go eat an entire sleeve of Oreos to cleanse my pallet.
Last Time I Ate: I love food. I always look for snacks. So naturally, if I go out to lunch and 10 minutes later, someone asks me to meet them for an early dinner I am b-lining it straight to that destination. I’ll walk in claiming I am starving and my parents are hoarding all the food in my house and I’m forced to result to hunter-gatherer tactics to nourish myself.
Height and Weight: My doctor REFUSES to allow me to think I’m 5’4. Every time, it’s 5’3 and 7/8. I’m 1/8th of an inch off? Not in my house. My hair air drying has the consistency akin to that of a prepubescent teenager, I know I got an eight of an inch in there somewhere. As for weight… don’t even ask me why I lie about that.
Time I Left: Ever heard the phrase, “Oh yeah, just left, I’ll be there in five.” Yeah, that actually means I’m still in bed, no pants on, with my retainer in my mouth. I’ll hop in the shower and see you in half a day. But, don’t ever be late when I’m on time. Heads. Will. Roll.
Family History: Anything that I can lie about family history-wise on a survey that will give me something free, beneficial, or discounted, I am all for it. My grandfather has twelve toes, my uncle breeds llama-donkey hybrids, I don’t care. You think freegrocerycoupons.com is really going to run a background check to see whether or not I’m actually related to Michael Jordan? Didn’t think so. I’ll take my two free gallons of milk and a store brand poundcake be on my way.
Drinking/Smoking: I never drank until I was 21, and cigarettes are bad. This is/is not a lie.
Knowing What You’re Talking About: I like to talk. If we’re in deep conversation and it transitions towards a topic that I don’t know anything about, I’m just gonna pretend I do. I commit to it. “Yeah, I’ve seen that show, season 1 was crazy! Remember when that guy did that thing… oh man! Had to close my eyes.” Vagueness is the key to owning social situations. You have to almost not know what you’re talking about to know what you’re talking about. If you think about it, it makes sense.
…
For real though, always tell the truth when you’re talking to police. Lies will get you thrown into the slammer so fast, you’ll forget what day of the week it is and wind up thinking orange is actually a nice color to wear.
Apple Just Bought Beats by Dre, So I Need Help Getting Their Attention
Apple just purchased Beats by Dre for a crisp $3 billion this afternoon, and they’re probably going to need a new logo.
It’s times like these where you find yourself with a few extra minutes after work to do some extensive Microsoft Painting. And I mean the kind of Microsoft Painting that could potentially make you a millionaire.
After about thirty seconds of deliberation, and fifteen minutes of cutting and pasting I created this beautiful, one of a kind, rudimentary mockup of what the potential Apple Beats logo could look like.
(c) meg lago 5/28/2014
Yup, take it all in.
That, right there, is a trifecta combination of Applebees, Apple, and Beats all wrapped up into a neat and tidy little painted package branded by yours truly.
Apple, call me, we can talk about royalties, not suing me for copyright infringement, and which iCloud you want to inevitably name after me. I’m thinking Meg Cumulonimbus has a pretty badass ring to it.
I’m drafting my letter to Apple right now, so please inform me if I’ve gone off my rocker, I don’t want another Chipotle on my hands. I’ve already been blacklisted by one corporate conglomerate and I think my MacBook is about to shit the bed. I may need Apple on my side in the near future.
Things Boys Are Doing While They’re Not Texting You Back
You asked him about his thoughts on the color blue, and he hasn’t responded. The nerve!
Here’s what he could be doing instead:
- sleeping
- rattling off sports statistics in a macho-off with his friends
- eating pizza
- doing hoodrat shit with his friends
- watching baseball
- watching basketball
- watching football
- watching hockey
- watching any other sport in the world
- watching sports center
- reading ESPN.com
- eating burritos
- googling pictures of Dwayne Wade
- drinking beers with his friends
- playing video games
- playing basketball
- playing football
- playing baseball
- playing golf
- googling pictures of Kevin Durant
- doing anything active
- taking a nap
- eating pasta
- trying to figure out why you asked him that question
- doing push ups
- googling sports predictions for the upcoming season
- watching porn
- reading Barstool Sports
- complaining that there is no one around to make him a sandwich
- talking to someone on the phone
- taking a shower
- forgetting you texted him in the first place
- researching the illuminati on wikipedia
- grocery shopping
- comparing who has bigger biceps among his friends
- googling pictures of Mila Kunis
- making fun of someone else in his group of friends
- watching a movie
- trying to figure out/understand the female psyche
- actually doing work
- dreaming out the next meal
- talking in a weird accent
- masturbating
- googling pictures of sneakers
- driving somewhere
- not talking about his feelings
- working out
- watching videos of old people falling over on YouTube
- eating lunch
- eating breakfast
- eating dinner
- eating a snack
- watching some more porn
- refreshing that app that tells you all those sports scores and stats
- googling pictures of LeBron James
- pretending to work out while they check out other girls at the gym
- figuring out where he left his cell phone
- on his lunch break
- enjoying some extra curricular activities
- or he just doesn’t feel like answering your question because he feels no immediate need to respond as it will not directly benefit him in the near future
Honestly, The “Now, That’s What I Call Disney” Compilation Is A Complete Travesty.
This compiler is a dunce.
I can’t go into the weekend with this on my mind. So, here we go.
I asked my mom the other day, “On a scale of 1-10, how dramatic am I?”
In unwritten dramatic scales, 10 presumably consists of daily temper tantrums in the street because you can’t get two toppings on your ice cream cone, and 1 consists of ignoring all problems in your day to day life because you’re just “so over the drama.”
My mother rated me at an 8.
Yes, an 8 on the drama scale. My mother just sentenced me to a semi-regular mental and physical breakdown in a public place over frozen treats.
Keeping that in mind, but at the same time, ignoring it completely and thinking of me in a more positive, attractive, calm and collected light, I want to tell you a story.
Recently, there was an attack on my childhood.
It started with an infomercial. An innocent advertisement for a compilation of songs that serenaded me through adolescence, Now That’s What I Call Disney!
At the start of it all, it seemed like a mix I could get behind. A little piece of plastic disc nostalgia that I could really see myself enjoying… Until I saw the track list.
Frankly, it was just atrocious. Flat out wrong, immoral, and a complete mockery of the cartoons that taught me the wind had colors, carpets can fly, and legs were required for dancing.
I don’t know who did it. I don’t know what committee is involved with the song selection. I’m assuming can only be a panel made up of this woman and her friends, to represent Disney in the first volume of hits.
But, God as my witness, it needs to be corrected.
At first glance you may think to yourself, hey Meg, your mom is totally right, you are dramatic, I actually think I saw you crying about missing toppings on your ice cream cone back in August.
And while I was having a tantrum, it was actually because my friend wouldn’t buy me a wine at 3pm on a Wednesday.
My thoughts on this CD are still valid. If you’re going to have a Now That’s What I Call Disney, you’ll need a few Bare Necessities, if you will (umm…. yes, pun totally intended). Here are my expert feelings on most of the selections:
…THE GOOD
Can You Feel The Love Tonight: I’ll be honest, this is the first love scene I ever saw in a feature film. So, that alone needs to be a reason for it to be PRAISED. Lion love is like, so real.
Part Of Your World: Never in my life have I found someone who had as many thingamabobs as me. I also have never met anyone who didn’t know what a fire was and why it burned. Still don’t. So… anyone?
Hakuna Matata: Zen Nation. I didn’t know what chill was until I heard this song. Plus, teenage Simba was kinda hot, no? Just me? K.
Under the Sea: How did I know things existed under water? This song. Figured the sea was just a big bathtub that covered the Earth’s floor before I found out there were talking crabs and singing corals down there. Just a big percussion party at the clam bake on the ocean floor.
Circle Of Life: NAHAHHHHHSSIIVVEEENNNYYAAA- NAMA-MEE-SCALABOOOOOW. Don’t know if that’s what it says, but I’m gonna sing it like that so loud, and so proud. Every time. Such a good song.
Colors of the Wind: I have asked four grinning bobcats, none have answered. I have no idea why the hell they keep smiling and someone needs to answer me. NOW.
I Just Can’t Wait To Be King: This song taught me how to rule a household. One time my mom told me to go clean my room before my grandparents came to visit. I was all like, “Kings don’t need advice from little horn bills for a start.” — I don’t want to talk about what happened after that. (#Grounded)
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious: Ummdiddaliddiaummdillaaaiiiiiiii. I don’t think there are actual words to this song, so it gets credit by default for being a jumble of syllables with a boss melody.
…THE BAD
When You Wish Upon a Shooting Star: Could this be a more boring opener? Do I want to fall asleep immediately after one song? No. I want to continue my journey down memory lane and go back to the time that I actually thought body parts would grow if I lied (aside: this would be so cool if you could pick the body parts that grew after lying, like my hair, I’d be Millenium Rapunzel with all my fib growth).
Someday My Prince Will Come: The only acceptable song from Snow White that should be included on this cd is Heigh Ho, and you didn’t do that.
Bella Notte: More like better not. Snore city. Population: everyone listening.
A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes: To be honest, I didn’t even know there were songs in Cinderella, this is just dumb.
Once Upon A Dream, Go The Distance, Friend Like Me, I Won’t Say: Same thing, don’t even remember these songs. Like a bad football player, cut ’em.
Everybody Wants to Be A Cat: Newsflash: No one likes cats. Dogs are so in right now. Puppies are the new currency, and cats are straight up debt. No one wants debt; no one wants cats.
I See The Light, You’ve Got A Friend In Me, Life is A Highway: New aged Pixar Disney movies shouldn’t even be considered for volume 1 (Post ’95). It’s just a sin. Get out of my face Tangled, Cars, and Toy Story. See you next year, suckaaaaas.
Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride: Does it sound like a good time? Yes. Do I even know what it means? No. I’ve never seen Lilo and Stitch because I like movies about real animals with real plots. I see you Lion King. Respect.
Reflection (NOT CHRISTINA AGUILERA): I don’t know why I would have to explain this, but not having Christina’s version of this song is nothing shy of eating a sandwich without condiments. Just deplorable.
… THE UGLY
Seeing as I just exiled ten songs from DisneyTown, there are some additions that need to be spoken for in order to make this whole ordeal right:
I’ll Make A Man Out of You: The fact that this song isn’t number 1 on the whole thing is blasphemous. This is the best song in Disney history. Coursing rivers, great typhoons, raging fires, moons with mysterious dark sides. Color me intrigued. Repeat. All day. Every day. Except when I get sick of it. I take one day off. Then start again.
Be Our Guest: Talking candles? Pots and pans that have feelings? An ottoman that’s a dog? GIVE ME THIS HOUSE. I don’t need friends, I have decorations that will hang out with me. Life crisis averted.
Heigh-Ho: Give a kid a pick-axe and ask him to sing a song. What’s it gonna be? This one. Unforgivable overlook.
Reflection (Christina Aguilera Version): Phenomenal acting by Mulan in this music video. Very attentive, inquisitive stares into various mirrors of sizes and lengths. Breathtaking.
…
The only way to make this right is to take my suggestions and reprint all the copies of the cd out there right now. I’m speaking for a generation of 85’s to 90’s babies. But really, I’m speaking for myself. Fix it. Fix it now. Make it right. Or make a man out of me. Either one would be greatly appreciated.
Although, under no circumstances, will I be doing this:
GOOD DAY.
Why Women Are Responsible For “The Hook-Up Culture” And How We Can Change It
ARTICLE ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED AT TheEighty8.com:
DATING & SEX, RELATIONSHIPS MAY 21, 2014
What I’m about to say may come off as a little harsh, but my mother always told me that being straightforward was always better than sugarcoating an issue.
Sometimes Betty Crocker can’t even make a poorly baked cake look better. So why should you try to be sweet with an issue that can’t be dressed up and presented as something acceptable?
There are countless articles on the interwebs about “the hook-up culture” and how it is ruining relationships for millennials. Girls are settling for hooking up guys who don’t actually want to date them, and subsequently perpetuating the idea that men don’t need to commit to women in order to get what they want.
While the hook-up culture is absolutely a factor in changing the relationship landscape of today, the reality is that the entire culture can be entirely changed by women–we just have to want to do it.
This isn’t new news, but there is a double standard in society that says women cannot have the same hook up patterns (publicly) as men. I don’t plan on going into the idiocy of this notion, nor do I feel like I should have to explain to the other half of the human race that women are just as sexually charged as men, but unfortunately, in today’s world, girls cannot go around hooking up with multiple people in short periods of time without earning some sort of derogatory label.
With the advent of technology and the ridiculous idea that being tied down to one person during your twenties is insane, women have settled for steady hooks ups rather than relationships. This is all fine and well until you’re faced with a complete degenerate asshole who doesn’t respect you as a human being.
If you happen to be one of those girls who has decided to engage in a casual hook up situation with Mr. Douche, than please listen very carefully to what I am about to say.
You knew he wasn’t going to be boyfriend material when you started hooking up with him. There was never any thought in your mind that it would turn into something more than sex. When talking about him with your friends, you have associated his name with the following: douche, asshole and loser. You are aware that he does not respect you, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.
The way I see it, you have two choices. You can choose to make sex the priority. You can accept that he doesn’t respect you in the way that he should, and fully look at it as you needing your needs met just as much as he needs his. But it will have to be on a ‘good for him’ basis, because you know he doesn’t always follow through with plans.
Or you can choose to make yourself the priority. Awareness of your personal worth and value as a human being is something so easily compromised today. While you may have needs just like a guy does, by not putting self respect above sex, you’re perpetuating the hook-up culture. You’re making it okay for guys to not call when they say they will, flake on plans and disrespect girls because they know they will be able to get what they want at a later time.
It starts with girls respecting themselves. No one said changing the world was easy, and it’s not always a fair fight. But the girl who respects herself puts out a far better vibe than the girl who is just down for anything, and guys will notice that.
Tag Has Been Banned From Recess And I’ve Lost All Faith In Humanity.
Survival 101.
Humanity has lost its mind.
We’re just all living in one, big, ozone-covered insane asylum that is slowly but surely turning all of the world’s children into pansies.
Playgrounds were once viewed as a voyeuristic jungle in which a child could pretend to be anything he or she wanted. Now, they are reduced to kindergarten demilitarized zones in which kids are forced to simply just sit down and watch as the swings sway in the wind.
Tag is banned. Dodgeball is eradicated. Fun is gone.
Now, I got hurt quite a bit as a child. From my middle finger almost being severed (which would have been tragic considering how much I use it), to a tree and bike collision, my childhood was far from band-aid and emergency room free.
But I like to think that despite all the cuts, bruises, and broken bones, I turned out to be a socially capable adult and functioning member of society (Please refrain from further investigating that statement).
I also like to think that playing (physical) games during recess in elementary and middle school are crucial to cognitively developing social skills with other people. How is a kid going to grow up knowing he wants to play football if he never gets the chance to play it during school? How is a child supposed to know what defeat is if everyone gets a trophy and there are no losers?
Newsflash: The world is full of football and defeat. Life is tough, to ignore it is preposterous, and to ban it is blasphemous (big word usage, +100 points). Get a helmet and go back out there.
This one is about a trip down memory lane and paying tribute to the fallen soldiers of the recess game world.
Let’s take a look at the games considered too dangerous but I played them and turned out fine:
Red Rover: Ahh, Red Rover, Red Rover, send Pete on over! The classic game of death grips and running full speed ahead at the weakest pair in the line. This is a game of strategy for both teams. So while you’re over there picking the weakest kid on the opposing squad to run through your child chain linked fence, he or she is over there plotting the same revenge to be extracted. And is there a better feeling than breaking through an elementary arm grip? I don’t think so.
**Redeeming Value: Learn how to shake a hand. Have you ever shook someone’s hand and it was like holding a dead fish? Prescribe that kid a game of red rover and he or she will have the firmest handshake in town.
Tetherball: I’ll be honest. I made my mom put a tether ball up on a tree in my front yard so I could practice daily. There were lines out the playground to get a piece of the tether ball champion at recess. The best was the momentum, once you got it, there was no stopping – and hearing the chain that connected the ball to the rope hit the pole to end the game was nothing short of a magical experience. Short kids shouldn’t play this game. It’ll be an uphill battle from day one. Sorry.
**Redeeming Value: Hand-Eye coordination.
Butts Up: Fifth grade aim is mediocre at best. Plus, if you were a girl lucky enough to survive three rounds of this game – you were pretty much guaranteed a prom date by age seven.
**Redeeming Value: Obtaining a prom date earlier than everyone else. Avoiding that type of stress is seriously encouraged.
Freeze Tag: Survival of the Fittest. Run or be frozen. Don’t know how you can take that away from a kid. If you were the only kid to escape freeze tag without becoming a statue? You’re a legend, and definitely a future Olympian.
**Redeeming Value: Learn to be a statue. If you’re good at freezing, you’re probably good at being one of those guards in front of the royal palace who don’t move at all. Or you could become a gargoyle or a garden gnome, depending on your level of ambition.
Dodgeball: What were balls made for if not for dodging? Get over yourself. If you’re out, sit down. Hopefully there’s an athletic Joe out there who can catch a ball and you can learn how to shadow the good kids and not get out on the first throw. If you don’t have athleticism, use your brain. Making the star baseball player become a human wall for you is probably the best advice I will ever give.
**Redeeming Value: Learning to sneak under the radar. Shadowing the best player on the team will ensure you that you will at least not be the first one out, thus you’ve removed the brand on your face that says you suck at throwing and catching. CHA-CHING.
Rest In Peace, Recess Games. You were always there when I needed an ego boost or stress relief. Hope you’re up in activity heaven just hamming it up with banned books and platonic hugs from inspirational teachers. There is now a thirty minute play period in schools where kids just kinda sit down and stare at things. It’s apparently way more fun and a lot more safe.
PS – I challenge anyone to a game of tetherball. Anyone 5’4 and over 160lbs with extreme athleticism need not inquire.
Half and Half 
