My Awesomely Random Life (and Everything in Between)

Posts tagged ‘Millennials’

15 Signs You Literally Don’t Give a F&*@

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Ugh.

I’m getting old, guys.

Like, ‘in bed by 9 o’clock, gets hurt while playing kickball, can’t remember if I ate lunch so I eat second lunch’ old.

Okay, I’m not getting that old, but for some reason my perspective about life has dramatically started to change within the last year or so.

I’m inching ever so slightly to the 30 year mark (the new 20) and while for the most part I still feel and look my age, I definitely have my moments where I can’t help but feel like I’ve tripped, fallen and rolled over that damn hill. Despite my incessant complaining however, I’m glad I’m in the place in life that I am. It may have taken me a while to get here, but I finally have learned to embrace the things I want, and don’t want. The things I like, and don’t like. Life is way too short to worry about things that aren’t worth worrying about.

Ya dig?

Here are just 15 signs that you literally don’t give a f@*& now that you’re almost 30.

1. When people invite you to social outings that you don’t want to go to, you don’t come up with any particular excuse. You just say, “No.” And it feels glorious.

2. When you experienced a friend getting engaged for the first time, you were like, “OMFG WEDDINGS YASSS LOVE!!!” But now when it happens, you’re just like, “Aw. I’m so happy for you. Brb. I need to order a pizza.”

3. Forever 21 is a young man’s game. If a retail store stresses you out and only carries clothes that seem to be made for American Girl dolls, you’re donzo.

4. You’ve started referring to high school students as “children” or “youths.”

5. You don’t make any attempts to hide your hangovers anymore. They happen so easily (like, 2-3 beers easily) that you don’t even fight them. You just let them take over your soul.

6. Your weight fluctuates more than Chandler’s. And it’s whatever.

7. In your opinion, looking like you showered is the same thing as actually showering.

8. “Does anyone have any Pepto?” is something you frequently utter during dinner with your friends.

9. Brunch has become more about the quality of the bacon than about the deals you can get on bottomless mimosas.

10. Nope. Scratch that. It’s still all about the mimosas.

11. When someone tries to start a political discussion at a party, you just look at them like:

cinderella

12. Dressing uncomfortably is awkward for tweens. These days, you’re all about wearing your favorite t-shirt during a night out.

13. You’re less concerned with how good you look for work today and more concerned with how long you can hit the snooze button before you have to crawl drag yourself kicking and screaming out of your bedroom cave.

14. Life is stressful these days. So if you need a good cry while riding public transportation, you’re damn well certain you’ll make it happen.

15. Joining a gym is for recent college grads. You’d prefer to just live in a 4th-floor walk up and leave the house every once in a while.

Or, I mean, you could just join a debilitating kickball team.

QOTD: What are some things that you just don’t give a f@*& about now that you’ve reached a certain age?

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Is It Too Late Now to Say I’m…Not Sorry?

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The thing about El Taco Veloz, one of the most kickass taco places in Denver and probably the world, is that though they have some of the most kickass tacos known to mankind, they also have a not so kickass restroom setup.

It’s not as bad as the one in my favorite Starbucks around the corner from my apartment. The one that has the automatic light that seems to always turn off right in the middle of doing your thing. Or automatic flusher that has a mind of its own. Or the automatic sink that makes you perform a song and dance number in order for it to work. (Note to all establishments: automatic is not always the best way. Just Saying.)

But, El Taco Veloz does only have one toilet for both men and women which is kind of a major drawback.

And apparently, a very unreliable lock.

Y’all, I had to go. I couldn’t wait. Two #2’s (pun intended) with extra hot sauce and it was time to make a very necessary trip.

Against probably my better judgement, I rushed into the shady bathroom. The first thing I noticed was that there weren’t any seat covers (gross-level 10) and decided that the countless wall sits during JV track practice had prepared me well for this very moment.

So I did what many women have done before me and many will continue to do long after I am gone…I squatted. That’s right.

And it was during that not-so-lady-like hover above the El Taco Veloz toilet that I heard a knock at the door.

Seeing that I was midstream and knowing full well that I did indeed twist the little button on the knob, I knew I didn’t really need to say anything because the door would not open for the person on the other end.

And of course, it was at that very moment, mid-hover, that the door flew open and a kind-looking, middle-aged gentleman, with wisdom and shock etched into his face, walked in.

“Whoops! So sorry!” were the exact words that came out of my mouth as I gave up my hover and planted my bare buns on the taco toilet seat in an effort to recover any amount of pride I had left.
Yes.
I had just apologized to the man that walked in on me mid-stream.

As I walked out of the restroom, once the dust had settled, and the man had repeatedly told me, “I didn’t see anything! I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t see anything!” (which only reassured in my mind that he did, in fact, see something) I wondered why my initial reaction was to apologize.

And why my initial reaction in ANY situation, is ALWAYS to apologize.

In this instance, I suppose it was okay. I should’ve said something when he knocked. So I’ll let myself slide on this one.

But the other day, I apologized to my couch because I accidentally ran into it.

The thing is, I’m always saying sorry.

I’m the first to apologize in an argument even if I’m not the one at fault.

I’m always the first to concede…even to my own problems.

I could be crying from the worry and stress of a new job (and just the overwhelming weight of life sometimes) and then tell the person comforting me, usually my sister, or best friends, or mom, that I’m sorry that I’m sad.

And being the sage that they all are, they’ll tell me, “Don’t be sorry for how you feel.”

Because that’s exactly what I do. I feel sorry for feeling.
For being upset or hurt or worried or scared or even proud.
And that’s just ludicrous, I tell you! Ludicrous! (Not the rapper.)

So I’m done.

I’m done saying sorry for feeling the way I feel.

For conceding when and where I don’t have to.

There’s a reason I have those feelings and they shouldn’t just be “sorry’d” away.

Instead of being sorry, I’m going to start being sure.

Sure of my abilities. Sure of my gut instinct. Sure of my purpose.

Just sure of myself.

I’m going to stop sorrying away my problems, but instead face them.

Confront them.

DO something about them.

And maybe next time I’ll double-check the lock on the bathroom door.

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