Twenty Freaking Four

The new Mad Men collection at Banana Republic.

-A manager at work.

I may or may not have shat my adult pants at Assouline in Las Vegas.

“Did you hear Jamie is engaged?” my friend told me in the car on the way to watch “30 Minutes or Less”, starring the 1/2 ethnically well-rounded fantastic duo Aziz Anzari and Jesse Eisenberg.

“Ugh. You know we said we would have to kill ourselves if she was engaged before we were, right?” my other friend barked from the backseat, fiddling with my radio.

I did not remember that at all. But I’m not going to deny that at the tender age of 18, I made a pact with my best friend stating that if we were not “gettin’ jiggy” with a serious beau or [I mean my GOD] engaged to a handsome dude/hunk before Jamie was, we would end our lives because, I mean c’mon, what else is there to live for?

I am 23 [and two-thirds] years old. I am single. I have an undying love for Regina Spektor, dancing [apparently], Jon Stewart, my family and friends, fiscal solvency, and my job.

And at 18 I thought all the above was rubbish if I wasn’t attached by the hip to a boy.

So I responded: “Dammit, I did.” [I never break a promise] “Can we at least watch this movie, blow all our money at the casino, and then kill ourselves? Go out big, you know?”

Oh, I also have an undying love for constantly being facetious.

Fuck engagements, get money.