I’ve been 24 for a week and a half. Whoever tells you that it’s just like 23 is a dirty liar. It’s not. It’s not the same when death is staring you in the face or when you have to keep your pockets filled with hard candy to give to the children. 24 is hard, scary and stressful, but I do think I’ve been doing pretty well. Pretty well for a senior citizen, at least.
For starters, I went to the deli counter by myself for the first time. I read somewhere that the deli counter is cheaper than buying the pre-packaged meat, so I went for it. I had no idea was I was doing. I observed all my fellow geriatrics closely. Let me briefly go off on a tangent and ask all the young people: why aren’t you at the deli counters?! Was it my time of day? Was it because, like me in years before, you felt wildly confused and vulnerable at that counter without your mothers? Seriously, I was the only one there without grey hair. Okay, back on track, sorry. I ordered my meat, but forgot to specifiy thinly sliced, so my turkey slices are the thickness of the fifth Harry Potter book. I’ve only seen sandwiches this thick at New York City Jewish delis. My TMJ is back. So don’t forget to ask when you’re being super adult and going to the deli counter: thinly sliced. Your jaw is not like a snake’s and cannot unhinge, so it will thank you for this decision.
I watched black and white movies. Although, to be fair, I’ve never been anti-black and white. My favorites this week are Some Like it Hot, Arsenic and Old Lace and Strangers on a Train. I’ve had a few rainy nights and since I have a new flatscreen TV in my bedroom, I’ve been settling down, turning out the lights and laughing and crying with my absolute favorites. As much as I adore Tangled, this has made me feel very classy and wise which is how old people should feel.
I am getting my car inspected on time. I am. I promise. I’ll make an appointment – just relax, okay?
I turned in an application for a second job, because adults should be bringing in enough money to grocery shop once a week, not one a month. Yes, I have been living off molding breads and curdling dairy products for the past however many years and enough is enough! With this second job, I shall be able to forever have fresh bread! Green apples! Ripe grapes! Milk that is white, not yellow! This will not only improve my body, but improve the smell of my fridge.
I’m going to Pittsburgh Fashion Week, which sounds like the single most adorable thing in the entire world. It has runway shows and vendor fairs and is going to be absolutely precious. My bestie and I will be attending together in fabulous adult dresses and heels and will look wonderfully mature and fashionable. I also bought Sephora liquid eyeliner, suggested by the fabulous Cézanne Colvin. Now if only I knew how in God’s name to put it on and NOT look like a complete idiot, that’d be swell (old people hands tend to shake).
Interrupting myself to say that I found Geena Davis! She was a customer at my store! Sure, she was under the alias of Tina, but seriously, Geena? Tina? Who do ya think you’re foolin’, girl? Same face, same exact voice. Only difference was her hair was just like it was in Beetlejuice and she put on like, thirty pounds, but I found her! I almost asked for her autograph but was feeling so shy, and besides, only children go around asking for autographs. Adults politely nod and continue on their way. See? Maturity.
I refrained from making a tasteless joke on Tumblr. This is a BFD. I mean, it’s a mature decision. Adults don’t say “BFD” because it stands for something very inappropriate and adults – at least, the mature, society-improving adults – don’t use such language, damnit.
I haven’t made a “That’s what she said!” joke in like, six days. This is a new world record. I’ll be contacting Guinness soon. The beer, not the book.
So? How’ve I done? I think I’ve done pretty darn-tootin’ well! It’s not easy, that’s for sure. I almost crapped my pants when they called my number at the deli counter (and definitely pronounced the brand of turkey’s name wrong, making me look like a freaking novice idiot!) and I stabbed myself with the liquid eyeliner about six times and I miss Geena Davis every single day, but I’m surviving. If I can survive this, you can, too!
What do you do to act adult and mature and super fabulous? Just warning you, if you say anything along the lines of workout/laundry/take vitamins, you’re going to annoy me and make me look bad, so don’t go there, okay? Thanks.