So mah roomdawg and I are chillin in our beds reflecting on our respective failed-in-a-big-way love lives and I actually dare to pose the deeply philosophical (and very very rhetorical) question "WHY DON'T GUYS LIKE ME?!?!?!"
We drop the subject and continue studying for a few minutes. She looks up. I look up. We make eye contact. I make my derpiest peeping tom creeper face and slur through a mouth full of retainer "I'm not wearing pantieth."
And suddenly I am fully aware of myself and laugh harder than I have in weeks, maybe months.
My mouth is full of metal.
My dorky computer glasses are taking up half my face.
My hair is in a gross-ass bun with little wispies poking out like antennae.
I'm wearing a nasty t-shirt with crusty toothpaste slobber dribbled down the front of it.
I smell like Old Spice Figi because I ran out of girl deodorant.
I own boy deodorant.
And I just admitted out loud for no reason to "not wearing pantieth."
It just makes so much sense now.
MORAL OF THE STORY: DON'T ASK QUESTIONS YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The years they fly but the days go oh so slow
Ya know what sucks about growing up?
Everything. Everything is awful when you are a grown up.
I didn't start feeling like a "grown-up" until I got back from Turkey. Playing zombies and making cootie-catchers and dancing with 8-year-olds all summer kind of lulled me into this false childhood where the world was small and bugs were cool and vegetables were gross and "Call Me Maybe" was playing perpetually in the background. Then I get back to 'Murca and adulthood comes up to me wearing a skirt-suit, shakes my hand, then abruptly slaps me in the face and says "welcome to life, bitch!"
Growing up is...
Getting a letter from your doctor telling you that it's time to come in for a mammogram and realizing that the brief period of time between growing boobs and having to get them squished in a giant trash compactor to check for life-threatening diseases is unfortunately very much over.
Growing up is...
Sitting in the DMV with what are literally the dregs of humanity (and all their offspring, because apparently the DMV is like the new "Out of the Box") and realizing that at that particular moment you are absolutely no better than they are.
Growing up is...
Bashfully admitting to the over-eager salesman at GNC that you are 21 and *gasp* still don't take a multi-vitamin.
Growing up is...
Eating broccoli and going "this shit is delicious," and then you're like "wait..."
Growing up is...
Realizing that the gross 40-year-old man that just checked you out and then attempted to initiate conversation was not concerned that you were lost and wanted to help you find your parents, he wanted to touch your ass.
Growing up is...
Feeling like the biggest perv in the world for thinking that J-Beibs is dreadfully sexy.
Growing up is...
Ordering a pear, spinach, and brie salad when all you really want is some mothereffing dino nugs off the kids menu.
Growing up is...
Realizing that you're old, but your parents are FREAKING old. And for the first time in your life, you might actually be smarter than them.
Growing up is...
Having to pay full price for a movie theater ticket because you finally accept that you can't "pass" for 12 anymore.
Growing up is...
Trying to sautee rice with "I Can't Believe it's Not Butter" in a saucepan and realizing that you have no idea what on God's green earth you are doing.
Growing up is...
"Can I get a venti soy sugar-free vanilla latte with three shots and do you take credit cards?"
Growing up is...
Sooooo many job applications and interviews for people who focus on your mediocre accomplishments and slight social retardation and totally miss the awesome, charming, hardworking, spirited person you really are.
Growing up is...
Having to bite your tongue to keep from going "Aye aye cap'n!" when you hear someone go, "Are you ready kids?"
Growing up is...
Calling older adults by their first names but still feeling really weird about it.
Growing up is...
Washing dishes. Locking your own front door at night. Shaving daily. Making lists. Sleeping 7 hours, no more no less. Using Microsoft Excel for something real. Not eating past 10 pm. Folding fitted sheets. Forgetting your high school friends' last names. Putting together furniture. Wearing less bracelets at once. Following the presidential campaign because this time it actually affects you. Planning more than one week ahead.
Growing up is...
Unfortunately inevitable.
Everything. Everything is awful when you are a grown up.
I didn't start feeling like a "grown-up" until I got back from Turkey. Playing zombies and making cootie-catchers and dancing with 8-year-olds all summer kind of lulled me into this false childhood where the world was small and bugs were cool and vegetables were gross and "Call Me Maybe" was playing perpetually in the background. Then I get back to 'Murca and adulthood comes up to me wearing a skirt-suit, shakes my hand, then abruptly slaps me in the face and says "welcome to life, bitch!"
Growing up is...
Getting a letter from your doctor telling you that it's time to come in for a mammogram and realizing that the brief period of time between growing boobs and having to get them squished in a giant trash compactor to check for life-threatening diseases is unfortunately very much over.
Growing up is...
Sitting in the DMV with what are literally the dregs of humanity (and all their offspring, because apparently the DMV is like the new "Out of the Box") and realizing that at that particular moment you are absolutely no better than they are.
Growing up is...
Bashfully admitting to the over-eager salesman at GNC that you are 21 and *gasp* still don't take a multi-vitamin.
Growing up is...
Eating broccoli and going "this shit is delicious," and then you're like "wait..."
Growing up is...
Realizing that the gross 40-year-old man that just checked you out and then attempted to initiate conversation was not concerned that you were lost and wanted to help you find your parents, he wanted to touch your ass.
Growing up is...
Feeling like the biggest perv in the world for thinking that J-Beibs is dreadfully sexy.
Growing up is...
Ordering a pear, spinach, and brie salad when all you really want is some mothereffing dino nugs off the kids menu.
Growing up is...
Realizing that you're old, but your parents are FREAKING old. And for the first time in your life, you might actually be smarter than them.
Growing up is...
Having to pay full price for a movie theater ticket because you finally accept that you can't "pass" for 12 anymore.
Growing up is...
Trying to sautee rice with "I Can't Believe it's Not Butter" in a saucepan and realizing that you have no idea what on God's green earth you are doing.
Growing up is...
"Can I get a venti soy sugar-free vanilla latte with three shots and do you take credit cards?"
Growing up is...
Sooooo many job applications and interviews for people who focus on your mediocre accomplishments and slight social retardation and totally miss the awesome, charming, hardworking, spirited person you really are.
Growing up is...
Having to bite your tongue to keep from going "Aye aye cap'n!" when you hear someone go, "Are you ready kids?"
Growing up is...
Calling older adults by their first names but still feeling really weird about it.
Growing up is...
Washing dishes. Locking your own front door at night. Shaving daily. Making lists. Sleeping 7 hours, no more no less. Using Microsoft Excel for something real. Not eating past 10 pm. Folding fitted sheets. Forgetting your high school friends' last names. Putting together furniture. Wearing less bracelets at once. Following the presidential campaign because this time it actually affects you. Planning more than one week ahead.
Growing up is...
Unfortunately inevitable.
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