How I Know I’m Not an Adult

There are times when I look at my life and I’m like, “I did it! I’m an adult.”

But I’m just kidding myself.

Sure, I may have moved out of my parents’ house. I do go to work at every day and buy my own groceries. I even floss my teeth … every once in a while.

So how do I know I’m not an adult?

Because not two Wednesdays ago I came home really drunk after a Recess game (Recess is the sports/drinking league I’m on) and was ravenous.

I get the most insane drunchies and probably hadn’t eaten a meal since dinner (a full three or four hours before) so as you can imagine… I needed to put something in my belly.

I had not been to the grocery store in about a week and the only thing I had to eat was a can of Chef Boyardee raviolis. In my drunken stupor, I opened the can and briefly debated about heating it up on the stove, but I mean, come on. Like I was really going to find a pot, wait for my meal to heat up, and then feel guilty about not cleaning my dishes (because there was no way I was washing dishes that night)?

The next option I had was the microwave, but that would have taken, like, minutes.

So, as you may have guessed by now, I grabbed a fork and ate the tiny little meat-noodles straight out of the can. Cold and covered with that sodium filled sauce that tastes a little too metallic to be made of real tomatoes, those little treats did the trick.

I also scooped out the remainder of that sauce when the raviolis were done because I am that much of a monster.

Oh, and do you really want to know how I know I’m not an adult?

Because I just lied in this blog post.

That night, I wasn’t really that drunk…

Just really, really lazy.

There, that should make all of you feel so much better about your hump day. You’re welcome.

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How These Incriminating Facebook Videos Ruined My Dating Life

Today I just happened upon this video of celebrities doing impressions of other celebrities. Seeing how I am a sufferer of beautiful people infatuationitis (I’m incredibly shallow) I couldn’t help but watch it on my lunch break.

The video is pretty awesome. If you like watching talented people being talented and making fun of each other, I suggest you check it out.

But, anyway at the end of the video, the creators come on and say in this super creepy, high-pitched voice, “I hope you like our video. Hope we did good. Hope you liked it.”

And I’m like, “why does that sound so familiar? Is it because I watched Marcel the Shell at least twice a day junior year?

No, that’s not it. But then why?

That’s when I remember.

I’d like to say that it was out of boredom, but in reality it was because I’m a super-freak and this is my idea of fun, but I created all of these videos to post on my friends’ Facebook walls back in college. Shockingly I had enough friends to make a good 3 or 4 videos (and even roped my then roommates into the show).

Basically, the videos are of me on photobooth using the effect where your entire face looks like an overweight wombat with dental issues, talking to my friends in this same high-pitched voice.

Oh, did I mention that many of them end with me staring into the camera with a lazy eye (that droops thanks to the camera effect) and grinning like a pervert? Because they do.

Now you may be asking, “what’s the problem here?” Who cares what you did in your college years. Sure, you were almost an adult and should have perhaps matured past this sort of thing, but what does it matter these days?

Well, my dearest blog readers, I forgot all about these videos. They’re still up on my Facebook wall if you look for them.

What does that mean?

It means that after I had graduated from college, these thoughtful videos of my giant jowls crooning in a voice Truman Capote would have plugged his ears for, lived on.

It also means that when I made my “sexy eyes” (which I’m pretty sure aren’t much better than the ones in the videos, but still seemed to work) at the cute boy at the bar, I was not prepared for what followed via social media.

It means that him friend requesting me and inviting me to watch a Bull’s game with him and his buddies, was simply the calm before the storm.

It means that the next message I received from him was, “Um… I watched your videos on Facebook. You’re crazy…”

It means that I was confused upon receiving this message and had to go to my profile to look up the videos that are on my page. Where I thought I would find only fun movie collages of summer and winter breaks, I instead found these horrifying movies where I transform myself into a deformed rat and smile demonically into the camera…

I’m so cool.

*Don’t worry. I’ll try to figure out a way to link these videos here so you can have the pleasure of watching my dating life go down in flames.

This is My Problem With Alcohol (And How I Kicked My Favorite Earring to the Curb)

Today was a surprising day in my life.

I felt great.

The truth is, I wasn’t expecting to feel good this week considering I kicked a guy I really liked out of my house on Friday night. I mean, the last guy I liked as much as him was a cat… Not only did I kick him out, but he was wearing one of my favorite earrings SO I lost a guy and one of my favorite earrings. That’s a huge blow.

So, yeah. I wasn’t expecting to feel anything above mediocre this week, but as I walked out of the office on my way to eat lunch on a rooftop garden, I was feeling inspired.

I had just received my #GIRLBOSS in the mail. I’d read a snippet and it had struck a chord in my determined heart.

As I breathed in the only somewhat polluted San Francisco air, I felt like a bad-ass woman walking the streets of the Financial District. I was un-phased by the honking taxis and the homeless man who grabbed at me. This was going to be a good week.

  • It was going to be a good week because I wasn’t upset that I’d called someone a sleaze-bag mid hookup.
  • It was going to be a good week because I had just completed an interview with a semi-famous television host and had somehow managed to sweat through only ONE button down shirt beforehand.
  • Mostly, it was going to be a good week because I had made a pact with myself to not consume any alcohol until Friday’s Play Recess scavenger hunt.

That’s it! I thought to myself as I walked past 1 Embarcadero and the scent of spiced curries from the Indian restaurant sauntered over me. I feel great because all of the alcohol is out of my body. I haven’t had a drink in so long!

Pride swept over me as I watched the little, white walk man appear on the streetlight. I had said that I wouldn’t drink and now look at me! I was keeping my word. I couldn’t believe how healthy I felt!

Sadly… as with most things in my life… that good feeling was bound to hit with reality and fall.

As I crossed the street and headed up the steps of the comedy club to the rooftop garden, it hit me. The uncommon heat from a sun that usually hides in the face of Karl the Fog glared down upon me and dared me to think about what I was saying.

It was Tuesday…

Friday I had foregone a good, healthy gym day to cruise with someone I now refer to as “he who must not be named.” Yes, Harry Potter is always relevant.

Needless to say I’d had a few drinks that night.

On Saturday I’d spent the day drinking away any memory of the previous night on a friend’s stoop. Then, after scarfing down sushi, I took a nap only to wake up and continue drinking at a friends birthday party past the hour of 12am.

Yep.

This fabulous, alcohol-free me was exactly 1.5 days into being alcohol free.

Impressive?

Not quite.

Still, you have to give me props for trying.

Right?