Tag Archives: old

the last year of my twenties.

04 Thursday Apr 2013

Posted by in dramatic diatribes

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the last year of my twenties.my twenty-ninth birthday is in exactly eleven days, so i kind of feel like being a bitch…

which to be completely honest is nothing new.

and as long as i am being truthful, twenty-nine is a really fucking ugly number…

so sorry to all of you little muffins whose lucky number is 29.

it’s a dumb number…

therefore, you’re all dumb.

i’m not saying that being born on freakin’ Tax Day has been such a joyous blessing, seeing as how all of the irresponsible slow-pokes stress out over the impending loom of April 15th…

but since it means that most of you (or your parents or maybe even someone in your family) possibly aided in the public funds the hospital used for my birth, then i think that makes me pretty damn special.

but since i am shuddering at the thought of this being the last year of my twenties, i just feel like i can spend the next twelve months being a complete brat-slash-nuisance because i can never again blame my bullshit outbursts on my “awesome adolescence” or “yummy youth”.

and i don’t give a fuck what any of you say:

30 is not the new 20.

30 is not your prime.

30 is not still young.

being 30 is hoity-toity old, so kindly kiss my ass.

anyway, i’m not thirty yet, so let’s all take a chill pill and regroup…

(also, if you are in your thirties, JK about the last five sentences!)

here’s the thing…

we have been programmed at an early age to believe that at this point in our lives we need to have everything figured out…

or at least most things.

anywhere from the age of twenty-seven and up is probably the most crucial time for us to hunker down, saddle up and get our fucking shit together…

and although i realize that every generation is different, and that my group of Generation Y dick-holes have been progressing later and later than say the Baby Boomers, i can’t help but feel as if i am falling behind even if i am right on my pre-destined track.

with that being said, this time last year, i decided to make a public birthday wish on my blog:

i wished to somehow get noticed for my writing and to maybe become published somewhere well-known…

and literally five days later, i appeared on the front page of the Huffington Post – Los Angeles with my article, “The Disbelief in Our Beliefs”.

but since this year i don’t want to push my ‘Birthday Girl Lucky Streak’, i have decided to keep my fingers/toes crossed and my mouth sealed shut as i blow out my hopefully glittery-neon candle with one of the most profoundly important wishes of my young-adulthood…

i’ll let you know how it turns out in about a year.

cakecakecakecake,

can’twaittoblowmycandlesout!

the old age adage.

31 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by in miscellaneous matters

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recently, i have been dwelling a lot over “age”.

you know, our period of animate existence…

this isn’t because i myself am slowly but surely creeping up towards the end of my terrific/terrifying twenties and loosely high-fiving my dirty thirties…

but it is mostly on the grounds that i have been noticing less and less people actually accepting their maturity, and incontestably hiding from it.

at my current 28 years of subsistence, i have managed to still look almost identical to how i was when i resided in my teenage years (knock on wood)…

well, minus a few pounds (abundance) here and there.

actually, come to think of it, if you were to look at pictures of me in my infancy, i creepily have only grown taller (slightly)…

so i guess in a way this has been the reason why i allow myself to wear certain outfits that would perhaps place me in the “mid-20’s” category…

but nothing age inappropriate, of course.

so how is it that gobs of women, generously older than me, have granted themselves permission to dress like adolescent hoe-bags?

i noticed this heinous epidemic first-hand once again, just last week…

i was at a bar with a couple of besties/coworkers and while we were enjoying our third-ish drink, a woman walked in whom (from the back) could have easily passed for someone in their 30’s.

super tight skinny jeans (no ass), skimpy (mid-riff baring) wife beater and platform sandals (crusty toes)…

and then she made the awful mistake of turning around and exposing us to her face…

her wrinkled, saggy neck containing, face.

this, mind you, was not even the worst of it…

this woman, who was clearly well into her 60’s, had the audacity to sport FEATHERS IN HER HAIR!

now i have never really caught on to this dead-bird-in-your-hair trend, but it might mayyyybe be cute if you’re a youngster who is simply trying to follow in the foot-steps of their favorite teeny-bopper…

but when you’re fucking anywhere near, or in this case, past your mid-life, then you have a lot of nerve to even think that that’s okay!

this is concerning.

i was alarmingly worried for her…

like, what happens when she goes home (alone), removes that embarrassing façade, and has to come to terms with the fact that she’s actually 40+ years older than she was attempting to present herself as?

and to make matters even more awful, as she was shamelessly flirting with a semi-younger fellow, her entourage of geriatrics showed up…

unlike her, her Betty White-esque cohorts actually dressed their age, which only added to my mortification for her.

i get it…

getting older is not something that normal people have an easy time welcoming.

which is fine.

but trying to conceal the inevitable by dressing ridiculously should not be a solution either…

get your shit together, ladies!