Not really.

But totally.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Growing Up.

Growing up fucking sucks. Like, straight up blows. Nothing could have prepared me for this step of my life. Nothing. And I've seen some shit. Girls spewing up Sparxx through their fingers, guys performing a Houdini act on a girl (I wish I was lying), and even witnessed a homeless woman shitting on the corner of Pacific and Broadway in Downtown Long Beach. But I would rather recreate those moments in my daily life every day instead of growing up.

1. Making Appointments

Seriously, is there anything more terrifying? The only thing I can think of is, being a girl, when you get change back from the cashier and you have to put your coins AND dollars back in their specific pockets and sections when the cashier has already started ringing up the next person?! It's honestly the most stressful and anxiety filled part of my day. But anywho, I'm sure we all are in the same boat about making appointments. We live in the day and age of texting over calling. Tweeting over Facebooking. Ordering food from Yelp! Eat 24 and if you can't order it online, you're sure as shit ain't calling to order. And you would never dream to actually make an order face to the face at the counter of death. Okkkkk so Thai food it is for the 3rd day in a row!

Don't even get me started about my car. When you're younger and live at home, your dad gets on your ass about getting your car washed, getting it regularly serviced, and keeping the interior clean. I can easily say I haven't gotten my car professionally washed in about 2 years. My check engine light has been on for about 10,000 miles and the inside of my car looks like I'm a single soccer mom of 4/professional hobo, it is THAT messy. So don't worry guys, you're not alone.

The sheer terror of speaking to a receptionist is enough to cripple us to the point where we just hope we aren't dying. Think about when is the last time you went to the dentist? I choose not to. I just brush my teeth 17 times a day and if they ask, uh OF COURSE I FLOSS. Duh we all know you're supposed to....

2. Judgement From Those Who Have "Grown Up"

I have a college education and I still wait tables. I do that by choice. You know why? Because I had a "real job" and guess what? It fucking sucked. I would be dreading work the next day on the way home from work THAT day. My job now allows me to sleep in, stay up late, and drink wine during the day without judgement. So to all my friends who claim they like their job and you sit behind a desk, you're lying and you can't bullshit a bullshitter.

I'm all for you having the job you have, but who the fuck died and made you King of the Seven Kingdoms? If I have to sit through one more pathetic display of your 401K and health insurance, I literally will not be able to roll my eyes back in my head far enough, they will just fall right out of my skull. Congrats on your 401K, aka a fancy savings account. I actually have a savings and a lot of it at that, so not an excuse. Ohhhh you pay $200 out of your paycheck a month for health insurance? Sweet. I have Obama Care (which is obviously god awful but it's fucking free so boo ya).

3. Transitioning from Bar Hopping Mess to A Presentable Adult

Back in the day (so like 5 years ago), you could not pay me enough money or feed me enough Jameson shots to stay at home and do nothing. Although my friends can easily vouch for me, I am convinced I still hold the crown for the Queen of the Irish Goodbye. I was the MASTER. Literally none of my friends knew that I had even gone outside. Little do they know, I had already stowed away about 3 rolls of toilet paper from Shannons in my purse and was already shoving zucchini fries from Archibald's down my throat.

But there comes a day when that sounds awful. And I must say it is the weirdest, most freeing feeling in the world. You no longer have that "FOMO". For your old farts like myself, that means "fear of missing out." My only fear of missing out I have now is not being caught up on The Bachelor or Vanderpump Rules when my mom makes her weekly Wednesday morning chat to discuss what psycho was stirring up drama. But that feeling you get when you realize you don't have to take 8 shots of Jameson AND THEN precede to go out, is very liberating. And by liberating, I mean it now feels just as damn good as drinking a bottle of wine at home shouting at Ben Higgins for being so damn boring.

4. Paying Bills

I'll never forget the first time I got my first cable bill. Talk about a system that completely dicks you. Yeah that monthly service fee and " regional sports tax" is really fucking necessary. I wish I could just call them up and be like "Yeah DirectTv? These are shows I want to watch: Teen Mom (all seasons), Bad Girls Club, Little Women: LA, VanderPump Rules, All Real Housewives, HBO, Showtime, and Pardon The Interruption. So I only want to pay for those things. Make it happen." But somehow your bill gets up to $200 AND only gets higher! Ya that makes sense. The longer I'm a loyal customer, the more you're going to rape my checking account.

The most bogus of all is TRASH. FUCKING TRASH. I have to pay money for some jackass to RIDE A GARBAGE TRUCK. Remember the good ol days when the garbage man physically had to get off the truck and dump the trash can himself into the dumpster? But I have to walk my fat ass with those heavy trash bins that are absolutely riddled with flies and have secret cobwebs in the sticky fucking handle no matter what. Now, Mr. Lazy McFuck just sits in his truck with what I imagine to be one of those joysticks that you use to try to get a stuffed animal out of a vending machine. Which we all know is a fucking scam so I like to imagine I'm paying some guy to be really good at this game he calls his occupation. So I guess I applaud you.

BUT THE WORST. The worst is when you come home from a long, hard day of work. You're tired, hungry, cranky as all hell and it's late and you live in the city. There is no parking. But lucky you! You have a driveway to a parking spot. But low and behold Mr. Lazy McFuck has placed your trash can bins as if he's playing a fucking game of Battleship. One is in the middle of the road, the other fell over in a fit of rage and by some dark magic the rest are lined up perfectly in the middle of the driveway. Are you kidding me bro? You have one job. One fucking job.

And the day that I don't laugh when I see/hear "69" will be the worst day ever. I hate growing up.