ATTENTION: Pumpkins Are Using Jedi Mind Tricks On All Of Us

A pumpkin after my own heart.

A pumpkin after my own heart.

Summer is practically synonymous with sunscreen, ice cream, and barbecues.  I mean, I can already smell the bbq bacon cheeseburger coming fresh off the charcoal grill and it’s not because I am eating a cheeseburger at 10am.

Or it is, the jury is still out.

With each season, there is a specific scent we associate with it.  Normally I’m all for it, because scents mean that there is food somewhere in the vicinity, and that’s never a bad thing.

But I have a bone to pick with one particular scent/flavor/permeation that really just makes me angry, because it’s trying to be the favorite, and I learned in kindergarten that being the teacher’s pet meant getting special treatment, and then everyone hates you.

I’m about to drop some high voltage knowledge bombs about this goddamn pumpkin spice obsession.

I’m not going to say I hate it, because hate is a word I reserve for push button faucets and people who talk in elevators.

I’m just not all up in pumpkin’s face asking it to hang out with me.  I don’t let it have a special season, because that’s how egos grow, and I need pumpkins to know their place in this world.

Frankly, I just think that pumpkins are jedi mind tricking us all into thinking we NEED them in our lives, creating demand during the fall solstice.  Whoever is marketing for the pumpkins of the world, reveal yourself!  I need you on my team, you could probably take this here blog to new heights and help me achieve my dream of being married to Danny McBride and Jimmy Fallon at the same time. 

Seasonal privileges are for treats that make you feel like you’re going to vomit if you so much as look at another piece.  Like candy corn. It’s a scientific law that candy corn has to get the hell out of your life by October’s end, because you start to see all foods in a tri-color hierarchy of white, yellow, and orange.

Let me make this perfectly clear, there are rules set in place that have been there for hundreds of years.  They were rules created by the bromagnons and the bromosapiens to protect our taste buds from over-indulgence.

In order to be a seasonal treat, you have to follow a strict criteria, which goes as follows:

1. It must be a treat that is solely used or consumed during a specific season.

ie. candy canes, candy corns, peeps, eggnog.

2. You must want to vomit after over-consumption of said treat.

Ever tried drinking Eggnog after December? It’s almost impossible. It’s at this time you may actually realize that it doesn’t even taste that good to begin with, and you’ll regret all of it.  Eggnog = regret. Remember that.

3. You can’t be a gourd.

Plain and simple, they are a decorative item in a cornucopia. You can’t have your own season if you’re part of a fucking cornucopia.

4. As  a seasonal treat, you have to have absolutely no value to the outside world after your said season is over.

You don’t see candy canes trying to make an appearance on Valentine’s day, or Peeps trying to squeeze their demonic candy crusted bodies into your summer pool party.  They know their place, they don’t want to be in the pool with you, they want to be there when you’re running around your house trying to find where your mom ninja-hid all the colored eggs.

There you have it. A tale as old as time, a song as old as rhyme.  Pumpkins, go back to your hole in the ground, ya gourdy betch.  You don’t deserve your own season; not on my watch.

Now let me go finish my breakfast cheeseburger.

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How To Determine If You’re Lazy

If you answer yes to one or more of these questions, you may be lazy.

If you answer yes to all of these questions, you may be my twin, so call me.  We can sit on the couch and try and send each other telepathic notes because we’re too lazy to speak.

10-things-you-can-t-change-about-him-no-matter-how-hard-you-try-1494275974-jul-10-2012-600x335

my man!

You might be lazy if…

  • You watch the commercials because the remote is on the table
  • You don’t brush your teeth because you just left the bathroom and don’t want to go back.
  • You eat any combination of breakfast/lunch/dinner/dessert/snacks/drinks for meals because you have not gone grocery shopping in a month.
  • You go rogue at the grocery store because you left your list in your car.
  • You go up and down every aisle in the grocery store because you did bring your list with you, it’s just at the bottomless pit that is your purse.
  • You imagine working out in your head, and then convince yourself that you actually did it.
  • You don’t want to answer a text message because it’s a lot of effort to type.
  • You stay in on the weekends because hanging out in no pants is a lot easier than getting dolled up.
  • You choose to wear your glasses because putting contacts in your eyeballs means then applying make up.
  • You don’t make your bed, you just pull your comforter up to the top in order to cover the sheets.
  • You don’t even pull up your comforter.
  • You wear a sports bra because you slept in it and didn’t want to change.
  • You don’t even wear a bra.
  • You avoid doing laundry because it means getting up.
  • You think showering is a chore rather than a necessity.
  • You play the neutral game in your car because you don’t fill up your gas tank.
  • You roll 10 feet over to the garbage can because your chair has wheels.
  • You don’t make food on the weekends because delivery comes to you.
  • You’d rather watch a movie because it cuts down the amount of time you’ll have to use the remote.
  • You don’t exercise.
  • You can’t finish simple tasks.
  • You call other people while you’re in your house to bring you things two rooms away.
  • You email you mom asking about your insurance information, even though you have a card in your wallet.
  • You use dry shampoo and perfume before you walk out the door and then tell your friends you were late because you were showering.
  • You consider exercise walking to the kitchen and back.
  • You clean your room by putting things in piles and then hiding them under things.
  • You put small bags of garbage into bigger garbage bags instead of throwing them in the dumpster.
  • You see how many times you can get away with wearing the same shirt/pants combination before someone questions your hygiene.
  • You would rather take a nap than deal with the fact that you haven’t eaten in four hours.
  • You use paper plates because all the clean ones are in the dishwasher.
  • You use your hands as a plate because you have no paper plates because you used them all due to the clean ones being in the dishwasher.
  • You go to Costco specifically to get lunch from all the free samples.
  • You didn’t finish this list because you fell asleep.
  • You didn’t finish this list because you’re me and didn’t want to think of any more scenarios.

 

Don’t You Have A Text Message To Answer Or Something?

It’s that person talking to you on the subway, the one asking about the weather in the elevator, that guy in the bar trying to make conversation with you while you’re waiting for your friend to show up.

Yeah, they’re alone too, but seriously, don’t they have a text message to answer or something?

The whole idea of spontaneous communication has been misconstrued.  If you talk to me without a reason, I assume you want something from me, you’re weird, you’re lost, or you’re just creepy.

You’re definitely not just friendly, right?  No, definitely not.  That would be… well, weird.

It may be because I hail from the northeast.  Things tend to move a little faster up here, we tend to be a little more ornery when it comes to personal space, and I guess, maybe we just think we’re a little more important.

Because we definitely have text messages to answer, and if you’re talking to me without a reason, it’s not going to be well received, because my mother needs to know that I ate three pork chops for dinner, and it’s imperative that I type it NOW.

When did it become uncomfortable to wait for someone without the security of a screen?  Why do people feel the need to answer text messages at dinner?  Or pick up phone calls on the subway?  Why are we so dependent on constant connection, yet we can’t seem to welcome a social interaction that isn’t primarily digital?

We are so concerned with friend counts, that we would request to be ‘friends’ with strangers, getting excited at how many people like what we’re doing, but we can’t sit at the same bar with a new face and speak to them directly without questioning intentions or why he or she cares about our lives.

In short, the world is fucked up.

Genuine conversation is depleting faster than the ozone layer. It is so hard to talk to someone you don’t know.  I mean, really, though… what are you supposed to say?  Hi? That’s dumb.

Standing in line waiting for lunch, some guy is talking about his favorite sandwich condiments.  He happens to love BBQ sauce almost as much as his unborn child, just like me.

But I have text messages to answer, no need to chime in with my two cents.

The older man at the bus stop has a war veteran patch on the jacket he wears every day.  He’s been through some serious shit, seen things people should never see, has perspectives that would shatter bigot minds and open eyes to what is really going on.

But no one notices his patches, no one hears his stories.  There are text messages to answer.

How about those love stories where the two people met on a bus and sparked up a conversation, the girl who dropped her keys only to have the guy of her dreams pick them up for her, the guy who moves into his new apartment and rides the elevator with the girl of his dreams?

Oh yeah, those things don’t happen.

Because there are text messages to answer.

 

An Open Letter To Everyone At The Airport

Dear Fellow Travelers, Passengers Sharing My Aircraft, And That Asshole Trying To Stuff An Elephant In The Overhead Bin,

I hope this letter finds you well.

If it does not find you well, I am going to assume you had a shitty run through airport security, and as a result, decided to remove common sense, manners, and basic problem solving skills from your life for the next couple hours while you’re aboard the mile-high skybus, subsequently making everyone else’s life more difficult.

You know, because you are the first person to ever have a horrible time going through the process of boarding a plane.

I’ve come to accept the inevitable invasive body search ritual while my bag gets a conveyor belt CAT scan.   If I get by unscathed, I consider it good karma for the time I gave that homeless lady a coffee.

Everyone needs to accept that this is what the standard precautionary measures for security clearance are.

We’re never going to be able to bring our brita filtered water through the pearly gates of Laguardia, so after security, go to the water fountain and fill up your reusable bottle like the plebeian you are and move on.

Amen, license plate, amen.

Amen, license plate, amen.

If you line up before your boarding group is called and block the handicap lane, I hate you.  I hope the next time you’re at a restaurant they give your meal to a homeless person outside and still make you pay for it.

Travelers bringing luggage onto the plane, please assess the size and dimensions.  When you purchased this piece of luggage, if it didn’t come with a tag that read “CARRY ON” this means you probably cannot carry it on the plane without ruining someone else’s day.

If by chance, you make it through the ticket checkpoint unnoticed and roll your monstrosity of a bag onto the jet, putting it SIDEWAYS in the overhead bins will ultimately cause some other passenger, one who followed the rules and regulations of carry-on baggage, extreme anxiety when he or she is not able to fit their luggage above their seat.

Forgive me, I know your bag is important, but go fuck yourself and learn to consolidate like everyone else.

Sidenote: People who automatically place their luggage sideways in the overhead bins are most likely also the people who hog the armrests, and probably did not share toys as a child. 

Getting up immediately after the plane lands and removing your bag is fine, I guess. But if you’re pissed off about standing in line and wait for another twenty minutes to disembark you’re not being a logical human being.  Wipe the pout off your face, exercise a little patience, and wait until the line moves.

We’re all stuck here, honey.  And we all want to get off the plane.  But you’re in row 27 of 30, it’s going to take a few extra minutes.

Look, I get it, flying sucks, we all want to get off the plane and onto our destination.  Your needs and excitements are not unique, put on a smile, or at least stop frowning, and deal with it.  If you wanted to be in control of your spatial constraints, you should have driven.

Also, read SkyMall, it will totally lighten your mood.

Sincerely,

Everyone Else At The Airport, Those On Your Flight, And The Person Who Had To Check His or Her Bag Last Minute Because You Took Up Too Much Space


Your turn!! What do you hate about traveling?  Did I leave anything out?

 

Does Heaven Have An Open Bar?

Dichotomy City.

Dichotomy City.

I have already talked about how I’m going to hell, but since turning twenty-five, my mother told me to grow up I’m all about making dramatic life changes in order to become a better person.

A few weeks ago I was at the gas station when a homeless woman came up to me and asked me for money so she could buy a coffee.  I never carry cash, so I went in with her and used my debit card to get her a medium light and sweet.

The next day a man asked me for some money so he could buy a T pass. Again, I never carry cash, but I swiped him through the turnstile so he could catch the next train.

I don’t carry cash for a variety of reasons.  One, I am too disorganized in my purse to ever hold on to any amount of money.  Second, using credit cards gives the illusion that I’m not spending real money, so if I don’t see the cash physically disappear, it must still be in my bank account (this is completely rational thinking, by the way).

But not carrying cash in those two instances allowed me to do something good with my money.  Now I know buying a coffee and a train ride aren’t the basis for getting into heaven, but I have to believe it’s a good start.

This whole path towards greatness got me thinking about what heaven must be like.  And if I’m going to be in it, there definitely needs to be a few things to make my eternal stay in the afterlife a comfortable one.  I made this list assuming bacon was already present, because frankly, excluding it would be preposterous.

Here is a list of the things that (absolutely) have to be in heaven:

1. Naps

You have to be outside of your mind if you don’t think that I will spend every night dreaming about nap time, and every day planning out when it’s happening.

2. Wine

Grapes on grapes on grapes.  Wine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Wine is water, and water is wine. I think the bible says that.

3. Buffets

I can’t be in an eternal place of peace and serenity and not have unlimited access to selections from Taco Bell, Pizza Hut and KFC.  KFC biscuits are a deity.

4. Teleports

Aint nobody got time to wait in line in heaven. I can’t be dealing with traffic up in the sky when I want to go to Cloud Bar for a 7pm dinner reservation.

5. Jax Teller

I don’t understand why I would have to explain this one.

6. Baby Animals

Puppies will always be puppies, and baby pandas will be my pillows, and there will be a baby jungle full of baby lions, tigers, bears, OH MY! Basically heaven will be Neverland for animals.

7. Trampolines

No one has a bad day after playing on a trampoline. I will also miraculously be gifted the talent of being able to do gymnastics, so trampolines will have infinitely more applications in my afterlife.

8. Good Hair Days

There is no way I don’t wake up in heaven with perfect tendrils or tresses or curls, it’s just not possible. Hair always looks good in heaven. I think it’s because there’s no humidity or something. Don’t quote me on that.

In the vein of all things glorious, there are definitely a list of things that are, under no circumstances, allowed in heaven (with or without me).

1. The DMV

The DMV belongs in hell. Those people probably didn’t pay their parking tickets and have more of a use for it anyways. Heaven only lets in good drivers.

2. Airport Security

I’m going to fly with nine hundred water bottles and regular sized shampoos.

3. Push Button/Hand Sensor Faucets

Heaven trusts people to turn the faucet off when you’re done washing your hands.  The people in hell deserve to have sensors tell them when they’ve hit their water quota.

4. Food Allergies

I’ve lived too long with a dairy allergy. I reserve the right to gorge my face with cheese and ice cream, or cheese-flavored-ice cream in heaven.  Food allergies are going to hell. BE GONE.

 

Girl Scouts: The Most Notorious Gang In History

gang (noun): a group of people which shares an identity and a common purpose; often know to fight against other groups with similar interests. 

Pouty Meg, front and center.

Pouty Meg, front and center. #RuthlessTroop156

Have you ever tried to say “No,” to a gaggle of five-year-old girls, all of whom are dead set on winning first place in a bake sale competition?

If you were one of the few brave souls who stood up to the corrupt tactics of using seasonal treats to transform innocent girls into tyrannical, power hungry  preteens, you probably did not live to tell the tale.

So we salute you, brave, dead soul, for your attempts to stand up to the most notorious gang in history: The Girl Scouts of America.

To the naked eye, a Girl Scout is a poster of all that is good in the universe: a volunteer at retirement centers, one who spends time picking up trash around local parks, earning badges and patches for being active in their respective communities.

But a closer look into the organization reveals cut throat sales techniques, questionable initiation rituals, and heinously manufactured uniforms.  These girls are highly trained cookie assassins, and they will attack you when you are weakest.

You may think I’m exaggerating.  But I am not.  I am a survivor of the GSoA.  I’ve lived through it, and I’m here to explain why the Girl Scouts organization just a mirage for an undercover street gang of elementary school girls.

According to this article, here is what constitutes a gang:

1.  Organized in some way, often with clear leaders and a hierarchy, and that the members gather to socialize and carry out various activities on a regular basis.

Troops leaders are the head honchos of the Girl Scouts.  These women, usually mothers related to a girl in the respective troop, will coordinate, plan, and execute meetings on a weekly basis.  Discussion topics of relevance include but are not limited to: scheming various sales strategies for seasonal supplies, decorate clothing items with symbols of segmented troop for unique identifier and easy avoidance of “friend or foe” when in the streets.

2.  The shared identity of gang members can be based on ethnicity, culture, class, religion, or another common thread which allows people to find something of interest in each other.

Girls are usually grouped together based on initial elementary friend groups, and or community based neighborhoods, or ‘hoods.’  These girls generally have common interests based on blocks where they live, classes, and school bus routes.

3.  Members may choose to identify themselves with nicknames, tattoos, specific slang, distinctive graffiti tags, or specific styles of dress. 

Daisies, Brownies, Juniors, Cadets – you see where I’m going with this – just climbing the gang ranks. If you didn’t have patches on patches sewn to your vest, you knew you didn’t try and no one respected you.  You had to have a vest so patched out, it looked like a quilt on your back.  Nothing less than perfection was accepted.

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Collectively identified with distinctively unique clothing.

4.  Often, if not always require indicative hand gesture, slogan, identifying sign or graffiti during meetings and greetings.

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Self explanatory.

5.  Seeks to exercise control over a particular geographic location or region, or it may simply defend its perceived interests against rivals.

Girl Scouts are constantly defending coveted neighborhood territory against rival gangs like: other girl scout troops – specifically those within the same elementary school – the dreaded boy scouts, do good church-led youth groups, and/or any extracurricular activity dedicated to the betterment of society as a whole.

6.  Infamous for being involved in activities of questionable legality.

Bragging rights for most cookies sold was essential, prudent, and imperative.  Losing was not an option.  If you had to work twelve-hour sale days, you did it.  If you had to walk eight miles in your fifth grade shoes after soccer practice, you did it.  We learned one slogan, ABC: Always Be Closing.

There were no tears, only triumphs.

Always remember, if you see something, say something.  Girl Scouts are taking over our communities one box of cookies at a time.  Do your due diligence to stop your sisters, daughters, and friends from joining.

But if you have a hook-up to some Thin Mints, Tagalongs, Do-Si-Dos, hell any of those delicious seasonal treats, email me.  Let’s talk, I’m never above an under the table transaction. 

In Response To This Ridiculous Article On First Dates, Here’s What Normal People Are Thinking.

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I’m assuming this is who wrote the article.

First dates are one of the most awkward experiences you will have in your life.

I like to think despite my inability to adhere to social cues or look directly into someone’s eyeball without questioning if that person thinks I’ve turned into a gargoyle, I can pretty much handle myself on a first date.

I’ve accepted the awk.  I’m quirky, or at least that’s what I tell myself while I wrap my giraffe-patterned scarf around my neck before walking out my front door.  If he doesn’t like me, it’s his loss, right?

I saw this article on Elite Daily entitled 21 Things You Definitely Thought About Your Partner On Your First Date, and I thought it would be a lot of talk about wine and snacks.

But, after reading it, I’d like someone to call a psych ward, because this girl is off her goddamn rocker.

Like, I’m talking a stage five clinger, selfie-addict, don’t care how hot you are, you’re still insane, girl.

I want to bring it back to earth here and revise all of the things that people definitely think about on a first date.

Editor's Note: Original article's 21 thoughts in blue. 
My 21 thoughts are black, like my soul.

1.  Wait, I’m the first to arrive? You mean, he’s not here yet? Wow. Okay. Definitely not off to a good start.

Being the first to arrive on a date is AWESOME.  Not only do you get to sit down and not have to worry about walking around the restaurant like a lost kid looking for his mother in a grocery store, but you can have have a couple wines and use that liquid courage for a good opening line when he does arrive.

2. Oh, wait, there he is. Oh, and he’s cute. Okay, okay, I like where this is going.

Please don’t act like you haven’t stalked him on social media.  In this day and age, you know what you’re getting into before you commit to a first date.  You would never agree to going out with someone before you saw what he looks like. Blind dates are for blind people.

3.  He better not order for me – or get something healthy and petite because I’m definitely getting the steak. This restaurant has awesome steak.

If he orders something healthy and petite, sorry to break it to you, but you’re on a date with a gay man.  Boys do not care about first impressions, all they know is that they are looking to subside one of two primal urges, nourishment or sex.

4.  Okay, he’s gainfully employed (check!), omg! he’s talking about his mom (check check!) and he loves pizza. I think I’m in love.

Again, if you’re with a man who doesn’t love pizza, you’re actually probably out with a woman who has too many dietary restrictions and pretends to be allergic to gluten. 

5.  Oh, wait, do I spy a gray hair?

There was a girl in my fifth grade class that had grey hairs. I’m sure your pubescent mane wasn’t the talk of the town, and if you didn’t dye your hair seven ways to Sunday, you’d have some imperfections showing through, too.

6.  Yep. Definitely a gray. Crap! Lookawaylookawaylookaway.Don’t stare at the gray.

You’re a jackass.  And it’s grey not gray. 

7.  Should I tell him that there’s food in his teeth? Like, wedged between his front teeth? Do you think he’ll notice later and be embarrassed? Wait, do have food in my teeth?

If you’re the type of person that would let anyone walk around with food in their mouth, you need to reevaluate your soul and maybe get a new one.  And I HOPE you have food in your teeth.

8. Is it just me or does he have a big head? Right? I mean, I definitely don’t want to date a guy with a big head. What if our kids have big heads? Ugh. Hope they get my head.

Why are you thinking about your spawn already?  You’ve known each other for an hour. Red flag.

9.  How long is socially acceptable to spend in the bathroom texting my mom/co-workers/best friends/updating Twitter about how perfectly my first date is going?

If you’re going to the bathroom to update the world on your social media accounts while you’re on a date, and not actually peeing, you think people care what you’re doing way more than they actually do.

10.  Oh, look! Pretty flower vase. I should Instagram this.

NO YOU SHOULD NOT.

11.  Do you think I should invite him back to my apartment? Would that be too forward? No. I’m definitely inviting him over.

Are you going to tweet about it after?  That’s really the deciding factor, in my opinion.

12.  OMG, what if he thinks I’m the one? Wait – what if he’s the one?

He doesn’t.  He just ate, so the next thing on his to-do list is you, in order to subside that other primal urge.

13.  I wonder if he’s good in bed. Like… how good? I’d say 7 out of 10 for sure. He’s tall. And he works out. Ugh, and that smile.

I’m confused as to how physical appearance relates to sexual prowess.  Because you’re good looking that means you’re good at sex?  Have you seen Ron Jeremy?

14.  Wait, how good am I in bed? Nine, right? Yeah, definitely 9. I should find a way to talk about something sexual – so he knows I’m interested.

Yes, because talking about how good you are at sex on the first date is totally appropriate.

15.  What if he’s a bad kisser? Do you think that means he’ll be a bad parent?

Do you envision the father of your children making out with your daughter after her soccer game? I’m confused about this correlation.

16.  STOP. He just ordered the chocolate cake. HE JUST ORDERED THE CHOCOLATE CAKE. I think I found my soulmate.

This is true.  I totally agree.

17.  I know it’s really early, but I really think this relationship is going somewhere. Right? I mean, we even stayed for dessert. And because, cake.

Or, he just needed something to cleanse his palate after a salty meal.  I’ve stayed on plenty of dates in order to get dessert with no intention of hanging out with the guy again.  YOU ALWAYS STAY FOR DESSERT.

18.  Wow, definitely need to text my mom again. He’s covering the whole bill. Chivalry is sooo not dead, guys.

Are you going to text your mom and let her know he opened the door for you, too?

19.  Maybe I shouldn’t kiss him? Right? I mean, maybe he should sweat it out a little.

Agreed.

20.  He definitely just asked me if he could come over. Likiiiingggg where this is going!

Again, he wants to sleep with you.

21.  Oh, wait, did I remember to shave?

Do you go on a date and not prepare yourself for anything that could happen?  WHO ARE YOU?

25 Things I Learned from 24.

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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.

  1. Just because you are the loudest person in the room, doesn’t mean you deserve to be heard.
  2. Never pay full price for a baseball game ticket.  Wait a couple innings and scalp them for half price.
  3. Family is forever.   Suck it up, confront your problems, and get over it.
  4. Walking in heels should be an olympic sport.
  5. It’s better to have a small group of close friends, than a large group of acquaintances.
  6. People like to get married when you’re poor.
  7. If you sleep with someone the first time, you probably won’t get called back.
  8. Branch out and make new friends.  Just don’t forget about your old ones.
  9. Travel whenever you can.  Don’t be that person that regrets doing something because you didn’t want to spend the money.
  10. Grocery shopping doesn’t mean going to the CVS snack aisle.
  11. Find something you love, and then find time to do it on a consistent basis.
  12. Don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something.
  13. Unless its referring to parking your car in a tow away zone. Then you should listen to that.
  14. Boys have feelings too, whether they admit it or not.
  15. People aren’t going to be interested in your life unless you show an interest in theirs.
  16. Acting like a jackass is acceptable if you’re wearing an oversized, floppy hat.  #Regal.
  17. Don’t make a kissy duck face at a camera unless that camera is actually a live human being that you plan on kissing.
  18. Learn to be alone. Understanding your personal needs will only better every other aspect in your life.
  19. 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.
  20. Landing your dream job doesn’t happen on the first try.
  21. Unless your dream job is to be unemployed, in which case, you’re in luck.
  22. Effective communication is a lost art.  People say what they don’t mean and mean what they don’t say.
  23. Rallying after day drinking is a lot harder once you have graduated college.
  24. Wine is acceptable to drink at all hours of the day.  Breakfast wine is badass and definitely not an early sign of alcoholism.
  25. Trust your instincts.  There’s a reason why you feel conflicted about eating street meat at 2am.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: I Am Officially Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman.

amen. preach. yup.

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?

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.

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.comgirlfriend-clingy-crazy-texting
  • 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