Constantly Effed

Frosty the Snowman – When you really break it down it’s a song about a bunch of delusional kids tripping acid, playing with three stacked balls of ice, that eventually melt and leave the kids to feel like their magical best friend is dead.   A surefire recipe for years and years of therapy to come.  Merry Christmas.

Twelve Days of Christmas – I love you.  I really do.  Here are a lot of birds.  I thought you might like them.  I also have included a good amount of slaves.  To help with the birds, of course.  Merry Christmas.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus – I saw my mom cheating on my Dad, and somehow, I have no issue with this infidelity.  Also, probably not gonna tell Pops because hey, if Mom’s nailing Santa, the present quality is probably gonna go up. Merry Christmas, Dad.  Love, your shitty son.   

Something’s Stuck Up in the Chimney – If you don’t know this song, look it up.  It’s a little girl complaining about how something is stuck in her chimney, and Santa still hasn’t shown up.  At the end of the song, she says the thing stuck in the chimney has been there since last Christmas.  It’s a dead body, Sally.  It’s Santa’s dead body.  And it’s starting to smell.  Merry Christmas. 

Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer -  Disabled reindeer gets bullied for years and years before some fat old white guy finally steps in.  The guy who steps in, only does so because he needs to use Rudolph’s weird nose for his own personal gain.  Thanks for the “flashlight” you fucking weirdo.  Merry Christmas. 

It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year – It is.  It really is.  Especially that one line about “telling scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long long ago.”  Wait.  …What?  I feel like we’re not celebrating the same Christmas.  Please stop telling the kids scary ghost stories and tales of your war-torn days, grandpa, it’s fucking terrifying and they’re starting to cry.  Merry Christmas.  

Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer - …Grandma’s dead.  Merry Christmas. 

I Saw Three Ships – “Hey John, I got a new song I’m workshopping but I only have like maybe six, seven lines total actual written.”  “Repeat them a lot, and no one will notice!”  “Thanks John!  Merry Christmas.” 

Little Drummer Boy – “HEY EVERYBODY, COME LOOK AT THE LITTLE POOR KID THAT CAN’T AFFORD TO GIVE ANYONE ANYTHING!”  Yeah, essentially, if you have no money and don’t give us anything material like gold or myrrh (whatever the fuck myrrh is,) we’re just gonna be brutally clear about the fact that we don’t really care what you have to offer.  Stop playing the drum, bring us an iPhone.  Merry Christmas.

Santa Baby – I am a gold digger.  I will wear something slutty and pretend to like you if you agree to buy me things.  Merry Christmas. 

Aren’t Christmas Carols just the best? 

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.  From my family to yours.  

Don’t drink too much.

Hey guys, I am really good with relationships, and that is why I have so many of them.  I know you probably are wondering how I have accomplished this in my life, and so I decided to compile a small list of dating tips to ensure that you find the significant other of your dreams. 

Go through each other’s phones.  A lot.  If possible, try to do this while they are sleeping next to you or in very close proximity so that you have the added benefit of maybe being caught.  It adds risk and also passion. 

Dishonesty is the best policy.  Try to lie whenever you can.  Lie about really small inconsequential things, first.  This will throw them off.  Eventually get so good at lying that you move to more extreme lies.  “I didn’t eat those strawberries” will quickly turn into “the divorce is definitely final!”

Constantly bring up the past.  The more you can really jostle around that baggage, the better.  Try to work a comment about an ex into at least one conversation daily.

Don’t Respond.  Don’t respond to texts.  Or if you do, respond with really small words.  Things like “k,” “word,” and “haha,” are especially good.  This makes the other person feel like you don’t want to talk to them, thus ensuring that you’re lowering their self-worth.   Here’s an additional tip!  If you want to incorporate dishonesty, just say that you never got their text or call.  Leave your phone out somewhere so that they can check it and find out that you’re lying.

Try to sleep with as many of each other’s friends as you can.  The more the merrier.

Assume, Accuse, Attack.   People don’t know this, but these are the three A’s of every good relationship.  First, make an assumption.  Let it stew in your head for a while.   Sleep on it.   He probably IS fucking your best friend.  Then, the next day, accuse.  If you can, try to get drunk before you make the accusation.  This opens the door for over-emotionality and miscommunication.  Then, attack. Try to beat the shit out of each other.  Verbally.  Physically.  Emotionally. 

Definitely make it Facebook official.  This way everyone knows you are together because appearances are the most important.  See if you can get a lot of people to like and comment on it with phrases like “You guys are so cute together” and “this will absolutely work out!”  

Definitely don’t make it Facebook official.  This allows for more use of the three A’s. 

If you’re a man, try to follow as many Instagram accounts as you possibly can that are just half naked girls.  Make sure to like all of their photos. 

Make plans.  Bail.  

Don’t say I love you unless the other person says it first.  This is a really important one.  Power is key.   

 There you go. 

Do all of these things. 

You will find love. 

I can feel it.

This morning as I was walking to spin like the basic kale smoothie drinking white girl that I am, I ran into a dude who was casually walking down the street opposite me, dressed in a suit, brushing his fucking teeth.   He smiled at me.  You know, like it’s fucking normal to walk down Melrose in a suit brushing your fucking teeth. 

I don’t need a huge intro so let’s get right into it since I was so inspired by this overly zealous hygienic muse. 

Here are some things you should stop doing in public so you can function normally in society since we are not goats living on a farm. 

Stop clipping your nails.  Do you own a traveling nail spa business I don’t know about?  Do we need to set you an alarm to wake you up earlier so your ass isn’t on the bus/plane/train or at a coffee shop fucking clipping away like you’re expecting the beauty school dropout angel from Grease to show up and fix your life?  What the hell are you doing?  When did it become okay for people to just CASUALLY AS FUCK pull out a nail clipper in the middle of lunch and give themselves a manicure?  Shit’s flying everywhere.  I’m not having it.  Stop it.  Stop fucking doing it.

Stop taking your shoes off.  I’ve said it before, I will say this a million God damn times, no one needs your shoes to be off.  If you’re on public transportation, keep your fucking shoes on.  If you’re at a restaurant, keep your fucking shoes on.  Basically unless you’re under three years old, at the beach, or HUCKLEBERRY FUCKING FINN ON A RIVERBOAT, keep your shoes on your hobbit-ass feet.

Stop flossing.  Why?  Why are you flossing just out in the open like that?  Let me break down what you’re doing.  Step 1: You are taking string.  Step 2: Putting it between your food filled gums.  Step 3:  And flicking chewed up food pieces out of your germ ridden mouth.  Floss, please, by all means.  Floss the fuck away behind closed and locked doors.  But if you do it in front of me while we’re waiting in line for Coffee Bean I will personally wrap that shit around your neck and attempt to reenact the Luca Brasi scene from the Godfather.  But with floss.  Instead of the stringy shit murderers use.  You get it. 

Stop Toothpicking.  See above.  Also, don’t fucking examine the food once you pick it out like a demented paleontologist and then put it back in your mouth to savor the last of its flavors, okay Hannibal? You’re making us all uncomfortable.

Stop Being a Fucking Lagoon Creature.  

Hey guy who’s coffee cup this is.  Do you live in a swamp and is that why there is literal fucking sea algae on your coffee cup?  What is this?  Is your apartment a goldfish bowl and you are actually a goldfish and so that’s why you’re one thousand percent so bad at cleaning?  Because you have fins instead of hands?  And you can’t use a sponge?  BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE THE ONLY LOGICAL EXCUSE, NEMO.

Stop showing me how two humans make a child.  You want to hold hands?  Kill it.  You want to kiss someone because you love them?  Go for it.  YOU WANT TO SHOVE YOUR TONGUES INTO EACH OTHER’S MOUTHS REPEATEDLY WHILE I’M ASKING YOU WHAT KIND OF WINE YOU’D LIKE?  Get the fuck out.  Just because you’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean I am.  Don’t put me through this shit.   Additionally, you’re disgusting.

Respecting Justin Bieber.  I mean.  This speaks for itself.  Actually, don’t solely limit this to something you don’t do in public.   Don’t do it anywhere.  Ever.

The bitch is back.

It’s Valentine’s Day on Saturday, which means absolutely nothing aside from the fact that a lot of chocolate is going to be on sale on the 15th, and a lot of women are going to be sorely disappointed that their boyfriends still haven’t proposed.  Around this time of year I hear a lot of talk from people about all the unrealistic expectations we were fed as kids.  “IF ONLY movies had showed us the REAL way love works!”  Aw, boohoo.  You’re either watching the wrong movies, or you’re not paying close enough attention.   But don’t worry, I’m here to help you out.  

When I hear things like this, I like to throw it back and discuss our first doses of romance:  The Disney movies. 

I can’t tell you how many times I hear someone say that Disney gave them unrealistic expectations of love.  Really?  You know what that is? 

A crock.

Of.

Shit.

They gave us perfectly realistic expectations.  Disney movies are essentially a “how to” guide on spotting Red Flags and avoiding shitty relationships.  Allow me to prove my point.  

Let’s meet some of our Princes.

1)   Prince Beast -  Oh, I’m sorry, did I say “Beast?”  I meant “Prince Adam.”  So let’s take a brief look at Adam.  Firstly, he’s a rich shallow shithead who was so repulsed by an old woman that he wouldn’t let her stay the night in his castle so she didn’t freeze her wrinkly old head off.  Then, she transforms into this crazy beautiful enchantress and he’s like “oh fuck, just kidding, you can come in, nice tits.”  She’s like, “Nah.  You’re gonna be ugly now.”  Then he locks Belle up in a cage (so that her dad can go free, because previously Adam just decided to casually lock up an old man who was lost in the woods) and keeps her prisoner.  Thirdly, he spends a good amount of the movie throwing shit across the room and screaming at the top of his lungs at his servants. But he’s damaged so we love him.  Realistically, Belle falls in love with a shallow egotistical criminal with rage issues.  And she thinks she can change him.  Best of luck.  Your poor provincial town doesn’t look so bad anymore, does it? 

2)   Aladdin -  Does everyone remember how Aladdin spent the first ten minutes of the movie running around stealing shit and singing about it?  I remember that.  I also remember how he was being “granted wishes” by a magical blue floating “genie” and frolicked around barefoot with a monkey.  Dude was high as fuck.  

Jasmine essentially ends up with a compulsive liar who is not only a thief, but probably drops a little too much acid in his free time for his own good.  Get Rajah and get the fuck out of Agrabah.

3)   Prince Florian –  Little did you know that this is the name of Snow White’s Prince.  Yeah, that’s right.  We’re gonna start this off with a dude named FLORIAN.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, this dude stumbles across what could easily be a dead body in a forest and the first thing he does is kiss it.  I’m sorry, what?  Are you fucking mental or a date rapist?  How are you going to tell me that’s true love’s kiss?  If I stumble across a body in the woods the first thing I’m doing is running the fuck as far away as I possibly can.   Then I’m going to call the cops.  Then I’m going to get good and drunk and try to forget that it ever happened.   This motherfucker threw up a bold red flag called necrophilia and Snow White woke up and told all the birds in the forest she was in love. Girl.  Come on.

4)   Prince Eric – Ah, the classic tale about a dude who falls in love with a girl that can’t talk.  OH WAIT, THAT’S NOT A CLASSIC TALE.  Ariel get your shit together.  He found you stranded on a beach, you hadn’t fully learned how to walk, and he wasn’t really worried about the fact that you literally could not speak.  You’re a helpless doe-eyed woman who can’t complain about him not taking out the trash and he thinks it’s endearing when you brush your hair with a fork.  Yeah, I’d say this relationship is going to work out for the best.  He seems like a keeper.

5)   Prince Charming – EUGHG.  That’s this dude’s NAME.  That’s basically like meeting a dude and him being like “Hi my name is DOUCHE.”  Just go by John, or Brandon or something.  I don’t know, make it up but for fuck’s sake do not go by your last name if it’s CHARMING.  You’re clearly insecure and compensating and it’s embarrassing everyone.  Cinderella goes to the ball.  And this dude has an amazing time with her and is head over heels and then she runs off and loses a shoe and what does this fucker do?  He tries to find the foot that fits the shoe.  HOLD UP.  You’re telling me you’re in love with this girl and you can’t find her just purely based on the memory of what she looks like?  You’re just going to assume that if she’s a size six and a half it’s the girl you danced with the entire night and leave it at that?  WHAT? 

6)   Li Shang – Real quick, is no one the least bit suspicious about the fact that Li Shang basically kind of wanted Mulan when she was supposedly a he?  It’s totally fine if you’re gay but I mean, come on, let’s at least be honest.  "Make a Man Out of You" was the closest thing to a gay cabaret piece I have ever seen in a Disney movie.  

As a single woman on Valentine’s Day it’s easy to find yourself saddened by your loneliness, stunted with the raw truth that one by one, your eggs are dying and maybe that Pinterest wedding board you made is better off as a “Things that I can eat that will fill the hole in my heart” board. 

But to this I say a firm no.  

Learn from the Princesses.  Rejoice that you are not them. 

You know what being single means?  It means you dodged a fuckton of bullets and you’re not settling and dating some idiot who isn’t deserving of your time and energy.  Remember all the men that it didn’t work out with?  That was for a reason.  Believe me.  Love shouldn’t be so fucking hard. 

Laugh with your friends.  Take every day and celebrate the people you know can depend on and love yourself enough to know your worth.

And if you sense that you’re a shallow dude with rage issues and a damaged heart who has an enchanted castle you should probably look into some therapy. 

Unless you have a library.

I might deal with it for the library.

It’s open for discussion.

Ah, January.

Truth be told, this is my favorite time of year.  Everyone is filled with hope and newbeginnings and all that other bullshit.   You’re going to be a better you!  You’re going to lose weight, and eat well, and exercise, and build that new table you wanted for your living room!  After all the schematics are on Pinterest, how hard could it be? 

If you’re still going strong on your resolutions and you’re some sort of missionary for Christ, I would just stop reading now. 

Now that January is over, let’s just take a minute to reflect.  Bread and nutella still taste better than lettuce and there are way too many fucking people on the ellipticals at the gym and alcohol still cures a majority of your misery after you get home from a shitty day at work and every fucking table looks better on Pinterest than when you try and create it from a few crates you found outside your neighbors apartment, you crafty little Martha Stewart.  It’s okay.  You’re not fooling anyone; you’ve been the same weight for two years.  It’s safe to say it’s not holiday weight at this point.

You can pretend that it’ll be different, but remember last year?  When you were going to be a better person?

Remember how the closest thing you did to being a better person was think about donating a dollar to starving children when the option came up while paying at Ralph’s?  (Come on man, just let me buy my vodka guilt-free.)

Let’s talk about some resolutions that are easy to accomplish and that you should ACTUALLY have.  It’ll make you feel better.

1)   Kanye -  Can we all just please come together in 2015 and agree as a society that this guy is not serving anyone but Kanye? 

DAMN IT KANYE LET ME FINISH.  He doesn’t make you a better you.  Kanye is the only mother fucker I know that would do a song with Paul McCartney and be like “hey, yo, I know you were in the Beatles and all that shit, and you have the voice of an angel, but maybe you just sit in this room behind me and play the piano.  Oh and also while you do that I’m going to black out and sing a song through the voice of my dead mother.  Yeezy.”  Come on guys, we can do better than this.

2)   Candy Crush Saga – I thought this was fucking done.  Can this please be DONE? Does anyone want to explain to me why I got, like, three new fucking invites this week?  You’re not inviting me to play a game on Facebook.  You’re inviting me to an awareness meeting of who I need to delete from my friends.  And my life.

3)   THIS MAN GOT INTO A CAGE WITH A LION AND YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT!!! - Hey.  Stop clicking on these shitty articles.  You’re probably going to believe what happened next.  The lion fucking ate him.  And it was well-deserved.  What did you think was going to happen?  They were going to hug and become a modern day Mowgli and Bagheera singing the God damn Bare Necessities?  You’re smarter than that.  

4)   Paleo Diets – Oh man, look at all these cavemen everywhere!  No?  You don’t see them?  That’s because they’re all fucking dead.  We’re not hunter-gatherers anymore.  We’ve got Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s.  Chill out and have some bread.  I’m tired of seeing your Instagram posts of lettuce, steak, and berry salads.  If you’re making Paleo donuts and cake you’re still doing the whole diet thing wrong.  And stop coming into my restaurant and asking for a bunless burger.  You’re embarrassing society.   

5)   Crossfit – I have a back problem.  I know, because I spent a week crying on my floor and I couldn’t get up to get a sandwich.  I have an underdeveloped vertebra.  If you want to see it, I have x-rays.  I had three crossfit people tell me that I need to strengthen myself by doing crossfit.  AND THEN MY UNDERDEVELOPED FUCKING BONE WILL GO AWAY.  Then they said “crossfit” a few more times.  And then they went and got protein shakes together.  Here’s the deal…every time someone tells me they do crossfit, they still look like a stubby little G.I. Joe baby with disproportioned arms.  So I’m not really sure what the hell is happening…but I’m starting to think it’s a government scam and maybe all these crossfit people are being planted in our cities to distract us from real problems.  If your resolution can’t be to stop doing it, let’s make sure it’s to shut the fuck up about doing it.

6)   The Bachelor – If you want to see a bunch of drunk women cry over a man who has all the intelligence of a dying star go to any bar in LA on a Friday night and post up in the women’s bathroom.  That’s like, the entire season in one easy night.  Or better yet, if you can’t make it to LA, head to your local sorority house with an unlimited supply of chardonnay.  Make sure to bring something to set yourself on fire when your brain inevitably starts to painfully ooze out of your ears.  I’m sure we can use the production costs on something more useful than helicopters and champagne glasses.

7)   Buzzfeed Quizzes – Can we stop taking these quizzes that tell you who your celebrity roommate is, and which character from Friends you are, and what kind of sandwich you would be, and what Disney Princess you could fuck, and if Frank Underwood would kill you in next season’s House of Cards?  You’re not Chandler.  Amy Poehler would never live with you.  And you’re definitely not a fucking tuna sandwich on rye because I like that shit way more than I like you.  You’re just you.  Sad, sorry, you…and you’re definitely upsetting Frank. 

8)   Instagrams of a Sunset ­– Man, that is so deep that you took a pretty photo of the sun going down and captioned it with some deep quote about your soul.  Oh, what was that?  #nofilter?  That’s wonderful.  You’re quite the artist.  And so original as well.  I want to know more about you.  And perhaps sleep with you because of how deep and philosophical you are.  Quit it.  Resolution extra credit: Join the movement where you only post black and white sunsets.  Enjoy your #filter.

9)   Game of Thrones Posts – We get it.  Winter came, they beheaded another seven people, and you “JUST CAN’T EVEN.”  Really?  You still just “can’t even” after the first few seasons?  Let’s just all agree that Game of Thrones could easily be called “A Group of People who are Probably About to Die,” and leave it at that. 

10)  Snapchat – Ya’ll have a skewed as fuck perception of how long ten seconds is.  Believe me, there is no one who wants to stare at a photo of your cat sitting on top of the book you were trying to read for ten fucking seconds.  Actually, I don’t even want to look at that for one second.  I deleted my snapchat because checking snaps felt like a shitty job that I wasn’t getting paid to do.  WAIT, SHIT JUST GOT REAL, you sent me a snapchat VIDEO of a bunch of people drinking in a bar!  You are a social media VISIONARY.  Are you on Tinder?  I hope so.  Absolutely 100% keep trying to prove that you have a life.  It’s so sexy.

That’s it guys!  Ten REASONABLE goals.  

Let’s take this 2015 journey together. 

Stay strong.  I believe in you.

Remember the beginning of Love Actually?  Where everyone is hugging in the airport and they’re all happy and joyful and shit because that’s apparently what airports are like?  That was the biggest load of shit I’ve ever seen.  Go home Love Actually, you’re drunk.

Basically, there’s something about airports that makes every human being the worst person in the world.  I swear to God Conrad's Heart of Darkness could not greater explain the atrocities of the airport.  Animals.  We all turn into a bunch of fucking animals.

1)   The TSA Nazi:  This guy can blow me.  This is the guy who, right before you walk through the metal detector, just keeps reassuring you that you’re an idiot and you must have forgotten to take all your tiny purses of metal coins from the Middle Ages out of your pockets.   You know the one, he’s consistently yelling “shoes off, no water, no liquids, no belts, no clothing, strip down, I hate my job.”  And then when you try to walk through he says something like “really?  You don’t have any liquids?”  But it comes out sounding a lot more like “ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T HAVE ANY WATER BOTTLES HIDDEN IN YOUR SWEATER, ASSHOLE?”  Yeah, he’s a peach.

  2)   The Family Who Has Way Too Much Shit:  This is the family you’re stuck behind in the TSA line when you have about ten minutes to make your flight.  They’re all slowly taking off their fifty fucking coats and jackets and hats and scarves even though it’s like 80 degrees and they’re heading to Florida.  Then Dad has to take out the seven laptops he brought.  Then Mom remembers she packed two waters in each carry on so now she’s gotta find those and get rid of them.  Then they realize they lost one of the kids.  Oh wait, there he is the little fucker, he’s always getting away! 

You’re not going to make the flight.  Accept it.

  3)   The Guy Who Thinks It’s A Kick Screen And Not A Touch Screen:  Hey guy, it’s a touch screen.  Unless you don’t have any fucking arms and you need to use your feet and occasionally you have seizures there’s no excuse for the way you are beating the shit out of my head through the back of my chair.

  4)   The Guy Who Won’t Shut The Fuck Up During The Flight:  “It’s warm on this plane, right?”  Yes.  Yes it is warm on the plane.  No, we don’t have to have a discussion about it.  Please don’t feel the need to comment on every single thing the pilot announces over the PA.  I heard him.  Your joke isn’t funny.  No, please don’t wake me up when the stewardess comes by for drinks.  I hope “guy who thinks it’s a kick screen” knocks you unconscious so you can stop asking me details about my job, family, childhood, and medical history.  We don’t have to talk.  The world will continue to turn.   

  5)   Headphone Guy: Dude, I’m sitting three rows behind you but I can still hear every single fucking Taylor Swift lyric blaring through your headphones right now.  I don’t know if you’re deaf, or your volume is just broken, but I swear to God if I have to hear “Welcome to New York” one more time, I’m going to throw you off the plane.  It’s the worst song on the album.  (This is also the guy who forgets he’s wearing headphones and when you ask him to get up so you can pee he says “WHAT DID YOU NEED” at a volume that can only be used to command the Roman army.  From their graves.)

  6)   The Guy Who Doesn’t Understand The Rules Of The Arm Rest And Thinks He’s In His Living Room:  Hey guy, you’re not in your fucking living room.  You don’t get all the armrests from all the chairs on the plane.  You get one.  Choose wisely.  If your elbow is in my breast, chances are you’re too fucking close to me.  If you’re going to do that for the next four hours you owe me at least 6 of those little bottles of vodka.  Get it together.

  7)   The Guy Who Has To Stretch And Stand The Entire Flight Right Over Your Seat:  It’s like a 45 minute flight and as soon as the seat belt sign is off he’s gotta get like a miniature work out in.  He’s unpacking resistance bands and shit from his carry-on and doing the yoga stretches you find in the emergency directions brochure.  You are literally in the sky dude.  You’re not going to get gout and die if you just sit the fuck down for the remainder of the flight.   

  8)   The Guy I Didn’t Know That Fell Asleep On My Shoulder:  Like…what the fuck do you even do in this situation.   I didn’t know.  We’re in a relationship now. 

  9)   The Adorable Child That Is Now Yours Because Mom Is Asleep:  Hey guys, one time I was flying to Idaho and was sitting beside a little boy who kept telling me he was going to Idaho because his grandpa was dead forever.  I felt bad.  We hung out and became friends.  I’m not necessarily the most PG person you’re ever going to talk to.  I tend to say “fuck” a lot.  This kid was adorable.  I definitely don’t hate him.  But three hours into the flight I realized I was his new mom because his real mom was passed out and exhausted.  For some God forsaken reason I was reading Fifty Shades of Grey.  Try telling a four year old the synopsis of Fifty Shades of Grey.  I fucking dare you.  Sorry Mom, looks like your son knows about BDSM now.  Grandpa would be proud.

  10) My Mother:  God bless this woman.  She’s fucking amazing and I love her dearly.  But my mother is not my mother when she flies.  I don’t know what the fuck happens, some poltergeist or demon spirit inhabits her entire being and we could make an entirely new Exorcist film where she’s the lead character but there’s no resolution because they can’t release the demon from her soul.  Do not speak to her, do not try to feed her, do not wake her if she is sleeping and for the love of God if you fall into any of the categories of 1-9 may Jesus have mercy on your soul because you’re not going to make it through the flight without getting thrown from the main cabin.

A quick honorable mention goes to the Virgin America theme song, which, while catchy, makes me feel like a total dick every time I’m walking around after a flight and singing it.  It’s been stuck in my head for two years now.  Virgin America knows all the places you want to be.  Fly away with me.  Fly away with me.

Fly safe these holidays, guys.

And don’t be any of these people.  Except for maybe my mom.  She’s okay.

Look alive.

Last week I got a parking ticket.

For those of you who don’t know what parking tickets are like in Los Angeles, let me give you a brief run down.  Parking tickets suck regardless of where you get them, but in Los Angeles you essentially can’t park anywhere.  Ever.  So basically, how it works is you decide to risk it and park somewhere because you have to eventually get out of your car when you’re done driving it.  The other option is to just jump out and watch as it rolls away, but that starts to be a huge waste of cars and fairly unaffordable.  While you’re out of your car, presumably sleeping, eating, working, or living your life like a normal human being, a little fucking troll drives by your car and goes “Hey, fuck this person.  You know what would ruin their week?  A ticket.  But you know what, I’m not gonna ticket them a reasonable amount.  I’m gonna ticket them seventy-five dollars and their first born child.  Because that seems like a logical amount and is a day’s worth of pay and no one will really miss the kid that much.”  Then the officer troll leaves you a little letter on your windshield requiring you to pay said amount and child within twenty-one days or else you get fucked with a plague of locusts. 

It’s pretty similar to Passover.  But you don't get any wine. 

There are six stages of getting a parking ticket.  I'm here to talk you through them. 

1) Panic – This is the exact moment you realize you probably got a ticket.  You either wake up at 1 p.m. remembering you forgot to move your car across the street at some fucking ungodly hour because a useless machine comes by to sweep dust in circles every Wednesday and Thursday at the ass crack of dawn. OR you forgot to check if you were in a permit zone.  OR you forgot to pay the meter.  OR the meter ran out of time an hour ago.  OR maybe all of those signs that you thought you deciphered were actually wrong and maybe Christmas day doesn’t count as a holiday and does parking enforcement even practice Christianity?  MOTHER OF GOD MAN, RUN TO YOUR CAR.

2) Hope – This takes place on the brisk jog to your car.  Even if you aren’t religious you start praying.  This is where you start telling God that if you don’t have a ticket on your car you’ll really believe.  You’ll start going to church on Sundays.  You’ll do community service.  Maybe the street sweeper didn’t even come this morning.  Luck is on your side, buddy!  You’re gonna be fine!  It’s a beautiful day!  The sun is out!  The birds are… This is the shortest stage, lasting merely seconds up until your windshield is in sight.  At this point you see a little white envelope and you enter the third stage.

3) Rage – “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME HOW THE FUCK DID I GET A GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKING TICKET.  WHAT A BUNCH OF FUCKING ASSHOLES.  PARKING ENFORCEMENT ISN'T EVEN A REAL JOB.  LET ME CHECK THE PRICE, OH JUST SEVENTY FIVE FUCKING DOLLARS. WHY DON’T YOU WORTHLESS BAG OF ELEPHANT BALLS TICKET THINGS THAT ARE ACTUALLY HORRIBLE LIKE MURDER, AND GANG VIOLENCE, AND KIM KARDASHIAN, BECAUSE IF HER MINIVAN SIZED ASS IS ALLOWED TO LIVE IN LOS ANGELES I SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO PARK MY MAXIMA IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GOD DAMN BEVERLY CENTER." -Direct quote from a person dealing with Stage 3  

This stage can last anywhere from hours to days to weeks.  In rare cases you might forget ticket for a few beautiful moments and begin to enjoy life again, spending money on enjoyable activities and laughing with friends.  This, unfortunately, is shortlived, you beautiful naïve bastard.

4) Denial – This is the most hilarious of the stages.  This is where you decide you’re going to contest the ticket.  Because even if it fails, it gives you extra time to pay it.  This is also known as the “I can't afford this at the moment so let's make up some bullshit” stage.  At this point, it doesn’t matter if you parked on an endangered fucking baby panda, you’re including evidence like it’s a murder scene and you're OJ Simpson.  You’ve got three Venn-diagrams, a few dictionary definitions of what “parking” is, and a full on Picasso-as-fuck painting of where your car was parked and why it’s technically not even on the side of the street that they said it was on.

Letters go a little something like this:

To Whom It May Concern:

What the fuck even is street sweeping?  Has anyone ever walked out onto the street after street sweeping and been like “DUDE, THANK GOD.  This place was a fucking MESS.  The fucking STREET was dirty, but now it’s clean so we can finally have that picnic we were planning on the asphalt of La Cienega.”  I assert no.  They haven’t.  Also I’m pretty sure that what you saw was an optical illusion and not my actual car.  Also, I wasn’t even in the country at the time, please see the attached Virgin Atlantic ticket stub from my travels to Germany (Diagram 1.) Also, I googled some stuff and didn't really find anything to defend my case but I disagree with your issuing of said ticket.

Respectfully yours,

Fuck you

5)  Acceptance –  This is when you get a letter back in the mail that basically says this:

Dear Fuck you,

None of that made sense.  You didn't attach a ticket stub, but rather a box top from a package of Apple Jacks. You're a moron.  Life isn’t fair and you still owe us money.  We always win.  Because government.  We’re not really sorry if you’re angry or sad or whatever.  Just pay us.  Or else we’ll find your car, tow it, and also make you pay for that and that's like another three hundred at least.  Things could get a lot worse.  Just give us our money and no one gets hurt. 

Regards,

Bend Over and Take It Gracefully

6)  Poverty -  So you're down seventy five bucks.  Maybe you’ll win next time.  But probably not.  You know what?  Fuck it, have some wine. 

At least you avoided the locust plague, right?

Look alive kids.

DEAR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL,

I've got a few things to discuss with you.  I think you didn’t prepare me as well as you think you did for this whole “real world” bullshit. 

Sit down. 

1)  The Recorder: Remember when my parents paid like…twenty bucks for that long white or black plastic instrument that had a mouthpiece and random holes and was called a recorder?  And I walked around the house playing “hot cross buns” for twenty fucking hours every day because my music teacher had convinced me that I was a good musician but only taught me one song because the class as a whole was too disabled to learn anything else?  How many times have I walked into an interview and been hired for playing that fucking annoying song on that shitty plastic recorder?  Remember when it got spit in it?  And I had to clean it with that fucking pipe cleaner?  And it started to have bite marks from hitting me in the fucking teeth?  Thanks fourth grade.

2)  Volcanoes: I swear to God if my kid has to mix baking soda and vinegar inside a piece of shit papier-mâché volcano to learn that you shouldn’t fucking stand near a volcano because that shit explodes I’m gonna lose it.  Pretty sure that was just you being lazy and getting back at me for being a little shit by making me clean up the mess afterwards.  I’m pulling my kid out of class that week.  We’ll learn something more productive, like taxes.  Or how to make excuses to get out of paying bills on time.  

3)  Indian names: Hold on, I’m sorry “Native-American” names.  You know what my Native American name was?  Wise Beaver.  Wise fucking Beaver.  I was NINE and you basically named me “intelligent vagina.”  I can name a few examples from college that can totally contradict the shit out of that name.  Everyone else had some shit like “Gentle Bear” or “Babbling Brook.”  This is when my life started to go downhill.  Try putting “Wise Beaver” on your resume.  Let me know how that works out for you. 

4)  THE LAST TIME I WROTE IN CURSIVE WAS IN THIRD GRADE. YOU MADE US DO IT FOR THE ENTIRE YEAR.  I NEVER DID IT AGAIN.  YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE NONE OF THOSE LETTERS LOOK LIKE REAL FUCKING LETTERS.  YOU KNOW WHAT I LEARNED?  HAND CRAMPS.

5)  Computer Lab: I assert to this day, that the only thing I ever learned from Oregon Trail was that Grandma was always going to die, and even though I could shoot five million buffalo, I could only take one buffalo head TOPS without my entire fucking wagon falling apart on me, resulting in my entire family catching diphtheria.  And fuck that dude at the beginning who never told me what to buy from the general store.  It’s 2014 and I don’t know how to survive in modern times because of all the fucking hours I wasted in computer lab fording the river.  

6)  Dioramas: Do you know what Dioramas were good for?  NOTHING.  I essentially wasted time building SMALLER versions of things that I would never actually be committed enough to build, or things that other people had already built.  Congrats.  I spent seven hundred dollars on supplies from Benjamin Franklin’s or some other craft store that smelled like twigs and cinnamon and fucked up half my clothing with glue for some shitty little shoebox box with a miniature tree in it and some army men that I disguised as pioneers. 

7)  Snack time: I’m pretty sure everyone had snack time and it alternated every day and every kid was supposed to make snacks for everyone else in the class and it was supposed to be healthy and fun and half of our parents bought Gushers from Costco or threw together some celery with peanut butter and some raisins and called it something ridiculous like “ants on a log” or “little pieces of shit on a green thing.”  You know what you should have taught?  How to make an edible meal from all the random condiments I’d have in my fridge at the age of 25 while waiting for next week’s paycheck.  “Hey everyone, tomorrow little Tommy is going to bring in some Top Ramen and teach you all how to cook it in the microwave because the gas got turned off last week.”

8)  Show and Tell: This shit was stupid.   The rich kids were always like,  “My Dad makes more money than yours.  This is my new purse.  Here is some more shit that my parents bought for me.  I’m going to grow up to be a materialistic asshole who enjoys kale smoothies and doesn’t tip servers.”  The poor kids were like “Today I found a stick on my walk to school because my family doesn’t have a car.” 

9)  Tetherball: Tetherball isn’t and wasn’t a real sport.  It’s a way to hit the people I didn’t like in the fucking face, because they were being particularly annoying, and Becky made fun of my dress and the stockings my mom made me wear.  Time to knock Becky the fuck out. 

10)  Valentine’s Day:  Remember when I had to make a Valentine for everyone in the class because if I left people out their feelings would get hurt and they would cry and the world is a happy place where that never happens in real life?  So I gave creepy Gregory in the corner a Valentine and he stared at me while melting crayons in the window?  Remember how I’m alone in the world as an adult and love is hard to find and sometimes I cry myself to sleep because now I don’t get any Valentines and maybe if I’m lucky my mom will send me some candy and a card that says “At least I love you!”

  Thanks Elementary School.  You were the best.

Signed,

Quarter Life Crisis

We're back, kids.