#45 or "Weird Turn Pro"

I am thisclose to running away to Mexico.
Or packing up my bags and heading back to the safety of Fort Stockton.
That's right, my plan here is to shirk all responsibility and be holed up in a hotel in West Texas.
WELCOME TO MY LIFE.

So I learned that Christmas is about family.
And that's cool and all, unless you have my family.
In my family, it's like a competition over who gets to ruin Christmas FIRST.
I'm like, congrats guys, you all did.

Ever wonder what's worse than having dead parents?
Parents that you kinda wish were.

Turns out I'm behind on my student loan payments.
Which wouldn't happen if I could get a real job.

But that's not an option for people with those illustrious Communications degrees.
We're reserved for more important things like waitressing and retail.


Oh, and I can pretty much never move out of here.

This is why I'm really set on grad school.
I lack other coherent options.
But if that doesn't work, I'm going to become a nurse.

I don't even feel my usual despair.
Not in the fetal position listening to Stephanie Says or attempting to slit my wrists to the Beach Boys.
Am I dealing with adversity with maturity?
Nahhh.
I'm just super excited that I now own several Tim Burton movies.

#45 - Borrow way too much money that you're not smart or talented enough to pay back. Come up with grandiose plans to pay it back. FAIL AT THOSE.

#46 or "Merry Christmas, Yoko Merry Christmas, John"

Let me tell you a little story about the holidays and retail ...
While it doesn't seem  humanly possible, it both sucks and blows.
It, like waitressing, is one of those shitty/stressful customer service jobs that everyone should have to endure.
Just so that they know what it's like.
To have 10 tables and the kitchen got the order wrong or you can't work a fucking computer menu correctly.

But back to what it's like to work 40 hours a week in retail.
Christmas shopping brings out the motherfucking worst in people.
It's soul-crushing how rude and generally put-out people act over everything.
All these bitches on their cell phones, being all condescending to me like I'm some sort of degenerate. I have a degree, thank you. I'm very proud of that.
So working has sucked up all my time.
Time I would have spent doing fun things, like sitting by the fire and drinking eggnog or watching movies with my family or seeing lots of friends, or looking at Christmas lights. I didn't even get to watch The old-school Grinch.

But I'm kinda grateful too. Some days I just get to see how fucking dope life is. Plus, I get by with a little help with my friends, too.

And it's cold. And no matter what, I fucking love Christmas.

Today I pinned a fluffy feathered owl to my shoulder which stared longingly into my eyes and referred to it as, "My friend, Stockton."
Yeah, that's so my life.

#46 - Pretend that blinkers are optional and that stop signs are only suggestions.

#47 or "Bitchmas tree"

Feelin' weird lately.
I've spent quality time with a very strange array of people lately, most without the aid of alcohol or drugs.
I think I'm feeling something, too.
Like I'm highly aware of the frailty of life.
It's all very unusual.
Definitely going to drink that off.
Because if there's one thing I've learned from my esteemed client, it's that there's only one thing you can't drink off, and that's alcohol poisoning.
And mayyyybe lack of self respect.

Working 40 hours a week is dumb.
And people are really mean during the holidays to us lowly retail workers.
Ma'am, I'm sorry you haven't learned to check a computer to see if we carry shower curtains. We, indeed, do not. But you might find one lodged up your fat ass.





Way to fuck up #47 - Get ridiculously drunk or loaded before work. Or school. Or church. Act like this is perfect acceptable behavior. Let them all know how privileged they are to have you there at all.

#48 or "What a long strange trip its been"

Today, I am at a tolerable level of crazy.
See, sometimes I think I've "gone normal".
But really it's just that I was batshit crazy before and now it's just an endearing quirky kinda crazy.
Or at least I keep telling myself that.

Also, turns out being around sober people makes me impulsively talk about drugs and alcohol.
Compulsively, even.
Well, I am nothing if not inappropriate.
But I imagine it's not too helpful to recovering smack addicts.
God knows, being helpful is not my strong suit.


There's a week of retail work and shopping ahead of me.
But a weekend of seeing people before that.
It's always so surprising when people like me.
Kind of an acquired taste.
Also, killer allergies.
They make me want to crawl into bed with a bowl and a book and not leave for days.
Stay tuned for that action-packed excitement, kids.
You know I deliver.



#48 - Make up ridiculous tales about your life and tell them to other people. When you slip up and contradict yourself, cry and run away. You know, before they can call you a liar to your face. Then pretend it never happened.

#49 or "Alcohol is Oil for Unauthorized Movement"

Today I decided to pout like a fussy child because I couldn't go out drinking before noon.
Ignore that in the previous entry I illuminated the fact that alcohol is waging war on my body.
Destructive or not, alcohol is my friiiiieeeend. I realized sobriety is simply not a goal for me.
Let me repeat: SOBRIETY IS NOT A GOAL.

Beyond that though, I'm pretty psyched for payday tomorrow.
You know, so I can blow it all on petty Christmas gifts that people won't appreciate and be left with nothing to pay my student loans with after.
Because that's eternally smart.

My niece took her first step yesterday. It was pretty precious. And sad too.
Sad for me, I mean.
I wish someone would be that excited when I manage to coordinate my limbs.
Which isn't very often.
I think I'd have to buy Graceland for people to be that excited over me.
Or have a bacon-flavored vagina. Either or.



Ways to fuck-up:
#49 - Sleep with all your male friends, every last one of them. Even the gay ones. Make sure you say something super creepy like, "What should we name the baby?" when you're through.

50 Ways to Fuck Up

Today my graduate school application was due.
Did I check to make sure the printer had ink?
Of course not.
Did I run to Kinko's at the last minute to print off my 40 page manuscript?
Yes, yes I did.
Did I only bring $5?
Yup.
It cost me nearly $30 to print that shit. I'd rather have printed it with my blood.
But the important part is that I actually mailed it off.
So that in 4 to 6 weeks they can mercilessly reject me and still keep my money.
God bless the American educational system.

In other news, turns out my body is currently rejecting alcohol.
Which works out because I have a weekend of seeing sober friends. I always feel guilty being on drugs or drunk when I'm with sober friends.
Then again, I'm pretty much always on something. So if I'm sober, they will think things are amiss.
That's right, I'm justifying my drug usage by claiming that people associate me with my high persona.
And it's pretty  much true.

So in honor of myself, I am now giving tips on how to be a giant fuck-up.
#50 - Do not balance your checkbook. In fact, don't even check your bank balance. Just spend freely. Drink and smoke and drive like its going out of fucking style. And if you've got loans? Ignore 'em. Bills and jobs are for corporate slaves. Resist.
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