Adulting

I am so over adulting. There, I said it. I know you were all thinking it, so let me address the elephant in the room by saying – hunny, skip the glass, drinking from the bottle with your pinky up is still considered classy. If you think about it, nobody really asked for this bullshit. Your parents welcome you into the world with open arms, happy as a clam, give you the 18 solid birthday cakes and then throw you to the sharks. Hopefully you brought your life jacket with you sister, because waters in these parts get pretty deep. I often ponder if I am really the right fit for “adulting.” I hate waking up to an alarm, showering every single night of my life is exhausting, and don’t get me started on wearing real pants. I wonder, if maybe, just maybe, my card got mixed up with someone else’s during the shuffle, like was this really my forever fate? Where is the hidden camera? Either way, wearing real pants 5 days a week, for 8+ hours at a time is just inhumane, and a petition will be around shortly. How does one cope with the fact that they will have to pay bills for the rest of their lives and you know, then, just – die? Excuse me if I am still having a hard time with this, as I am new to the adulting community. I’v watched with envy over the years, those college student’s who some how take Spring break in Mexico, flaunting nothing but a loin cloth, living their best life and wonder how we go to the same “affordable” college in rural, Pennsylvania? How on earth do you have money for a 7 day 6 night bungalow when I’m over here busting my ass to make Sharron’s 7 XL pepperoni pizza’s fast enough, before she asks to speak to my manager. That’s another thing – dinner. I consider myself to be pretty Pintrest meal savvy, totally claiming that famous jalepeno sausage dip as my own, but you want me to not only think of, but grocery shop, prepare, and serve this shit? Every single day?! In the words of Simon Cowell – “it’s going to be a no from me.” Now, I am not the most experienced adult to date, but let me key you in on one very important element to survival since moving out on my own – caffeine. Espresso, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, cold brew, you name it! If it has caffeine in the mix, don’t hesitate – drink it. You don’t like the taste? Well, you might as well just give up now, there is no hope for you here, sorry about your luck bud. If you can’t tell by now, I am still a little bitter about having to adult for the rest of my life, and this blog post was written for the sole reason that I am super good at complaining after an extra long, hard week. I would like to say though, to all of the 16-year-olds out there sipping grape juice out of a wine glass pretending to be me, a bitchy, overworked 25-year-old grandma – don’t rush your childhood. Enjoy the juice, enjoy those 18 birthday cakes, and most of all enjoy the mac n cheese and dino nuggets that you didn’t have to prepare yourself.

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