Let me be clear on some things. I didn't die, I just fell off the face of the Earth. Now I'm laughing at myself because honestly, I don't even know if people read, let alone care, about my blog. This isn't some kind of 'Woe is me' statement, just simply a fact. Right now, I could be reassuring my existence to my mother who is all too aware of how alive I am. That aside, you may have noticed that my last post was horribly depressing, but cathartic no less. Please stick with me as I try to find my writing niche. Sometimes I have to put away the bad cat jokes and be a serious adult, which I'm coming to find is not so fun. And yet, growing up isn't all that bad.
In approximately forty days, this bitch will be twenty-one years old. Unlike most of the people of my generation, I do not look forward to guzzling down a multitude of alcoholic beverages and then drunkenly flashing a crowded bar my skivvies. I fear the day I turn twenty-one for this very reason: I am horrifically obnoxious sober, just imagine me drunk. Here's a list I compiled of all the things that will most likely happen when and if I get completely tanked:
- I will dance. If you know me, you are VERY aware of how absolutely terrible I am at dancing. I can't even call what I do a dance really, it actually just resembles a walrus during feeding time at Sea World.
- I will try talking to a very attractive man, and I will most likely embarrass myself. This isn't like any other day, the only difference is I will smell like peach schnapps and willingly show them pictures of my cats
- I will show EVERYONE pictures of my cats
- I will try and have Disney music played at the bars, and they will hastily decline
- I will cry because no one will play Disney music for me, and all I want to do is have a sing along with my home girls Ariel and Pocahontas
- I will fall; I will fall multiple times.
- My friends will hate me by the end of the night because...well just read the list above
If you are lucky enough to be there the night of this nightmare, please make sure I don't die. I still have to graduate from college and not live with my parents. Also, it would be much appreciated if you all make sure I don't look like pre-baby Snookie in any pictures that are posted on the internet. I might want to be first woman President one day, and that shit haunts you.
I hope this quenched everyones thirst for the written word, and if it didn't, I'm going to need you to cry me a river.