The Most Important Day Of The Year


Today is my 24th birthday. If you haven’t given me flowers, designer cupcakes, alcohol, or sexual favors yet – it’s absolutely not fucking okay and I hate you not a big deal, I will continue to accept those all year round. But seriously though, I’m officially in my mid-twenties, yet I still need excessive validation for the day I spawned from my mother’s womb. Thanks Jules. Should I be embarrassed by this need? Or is it normal to want other people to be remotely pleased that I still exist? It’s gotta be normal right? Human, at the very least? I mean, your birthday is the one day of the year that you’re really allowed to be publicly narcissistic. (But let’s be real, I take a few liberties with that.) People are supposed to show their affection because – like I have said before – as a member of the trophy generation, I was raised to believe that I am individually extremely important and unique and amazing. Which I am. All of those things. I am. Hello.

Nowadays, there are few good excuses to forget my someone’s birthday – especially someone you actually give a shit about. Gracias El Facebook. Most of us are glued to technology and social media. It’s impossible to go anywhere without seeing at least a quarter of the room checking something on their mobile device of choice. Is it a little sad? Absolutely, but that’s the world we live in. Since Facebook tells you when it is your friends’ birthdays, that alone gives little reason for completely forgetting. On top of that, social media has created some confusion regarding birthday etiquette. What is acceptable depends on your relationship with the given individual, doesn’t it? In my personal opinion, the basic Facebook wish is appropriate for anyone. An actual friend? Comment isn’t mandatory as long as there is some other form of acknowledgement but maybe post a funny or embarrassing photo/vid/link to show the world exactly how much they’re you’re bestie. Nothing says exclusivity like a solid inside joke. A text is required. Prep a photo (or even a Diptic) to Instagram. Mention them in a Tweet. Phone call. B-Day plans. Get them a card. Go for the gift because YOLO. You do whatever it takes to show me them that you actually care because 1) you might and 2) they’ll probably reciprocate if they’re actually your bestie and that sort of reciprocity is undoubtably pleasant. I also intentionally avoid Facebook on my birthday because I’m obnoxiously popular all of the notifications would make my head explode.

 When I was a little girl of 8 or 9, I began having reoccuring nightmares involving people forgetting my birthday. Basically the plot of Sixteen Candles but instead of a fun 80’s rom-com it was a horrible rejection night terror that somehow became intertwined with the basic plot of It’s A Wonderful Life and me never existing in the first place. #EMOTIONALTRAUMA. I’m going to combine those subconscious experiences with my trophy gen upbringing as the basis for my cake day need for attention and entitlement. Thank you psychiatry. Thank you alprazolam prescription. So, like, I basically have an excuse for needing attention right? Right. Yes. Don’t question me. This is my blog. I’m the boss. It’s my birthday. Love me. Love me or gtfo!

… brb poppin’ a xanny …

What’s funny/weird is that I rarely freak out over the fact that I’m getting older with the exception of the legit breakdown I had when I turned 22 and graduated college within 2 weeks of each other because growing up is a trap. To be honest, I think I already started telling people I was 24 back in February because IDK I do weird things sometimes. 24 also isn’t one of those big freak out milestone birthdays – see where my mental/life/marital state is at when I’m turning 30 and then we’ll talk.

Thanks for the birthday hugs Owen Wilson xoxo

Tinder Part II: I Could Be Your Tinderella

I was fashionably late. My bFollowing a long battle with peer pressure and superficial insecurities, I caved. Friday, at approximately 3pm PST, I downloaded Tinder. Within 30 minutes, the only thought running through my head was “I immediately regret this decision.” Perfect tagline right? I’m hooked. Kill me. Push me off a cliff. So many red x’s. So many NOPEs. Yet, a surprising amount of quality matches. Am I really that hot? Obviously Pause while I brush my shoulders off. It’s easier than a fat girl at a frat party.

In my original post regarding Tinder, I had a few questions I am now able to answer:

Do I really need to be part of something that’s basis is as superficial as it gets? No, I don’t. But I am now and I can’t just delete it because it’s addicting and honestly some of my matches might kill themselves because they’re already, like, so in love with me. I mean, who can blame them?

Would I feel any greater amount of power being able to say yes or no to someone on an app when in reality we all do that everyday? Yes. An absurd amount of power considering I’m on a fucking iPhone app swiping in one direction or another. I feel like The Bachelorette. No rose for you, no rose for you, no rose for you – but you’re a smokeshow who doesn’t look like he’d stab me in my sleep so you get a rose! And the rejection abilities don’t stop there. I’m completely abusing every bit of power this app is giving me. Can I behave this way in real life?

How much would I screw around with people, as so many of my friends claim to do? Often, because I don’t know how to respond to my matches using anything but emoticons. Social skillz.

What happens if nobody swipes right and I’m a loser forever!? LOL. I made a funny.

Female

Observations:

– Some people actually take it seriously. Oops.

– Reason #1 why height needs to be listed: What happens if I find Tinder love and he turns out to be 5’2″? I can’t.

– Reason #2 why height needs to be listed:  I don’t think these guys realize what an Amazon woman I am in real life. Joke’s on you, bros!

– What’s up with the 12 year olds trying to pass as 18 year olds and the 50 year olds trying to pass as 28 year olds?

– Diversity.

– 10 miles is a pretty vast radius. How much creepier could it get if they brought it down to 5 miles? Or 1? 1 mile radius. I dare you, Tinder.

– I don’t understand some of these photo choices.

Oops.

– I might already have a stalker, but as long as he brings me Sprinkles cupcakes and flowers and doesn’t murder me, I think I’m okay with it.

– I liked a 21 year old and we matched (because duh) and I’m not even sorry.

– My roommate suggested we connect it to Apple TV. Tinder parties á la Animal House, anyone?

– How dense do you have to be to not notice how hard you’re getting trolled after several hours? Like, learn to use the internet, hello.

– Some people get frustrated when you only reply to them using emojis.

– Some people will not leave you alone even if you bring up pooping and alien abductions.

That's... aggressively specific
That’s… aggressively specific

– Don’t give out your phone number.

– Everyone is a creep. Including you. Including me.

– Wait, can I get some free meals out of this? Okay, okay, I’m on board.

– Apparently douchebags people still do the backwards peace sign post-2007.

– Too many guys named “Matt” and “Rob” and “Ben” and, surprisingly, “Cheyne.” Seriously, you couldn’t just name your kid “Shane?”

– Hold up, is this Model Mayhem?

– This is a joke.

– I’m a joke.

– Don’t Tinder while drunk. Or do, if you really want to get into trouble.

Sometimes clichés can be right, Andrew.
Sometimes clichés can be right, Andrew.

– Don’t let your friends Tinder for you. Or do, if you really want to get into trouble.

– Don’t accidentally right swipe your friend’s ex. Or do, if you really want to get into trouble.

– Don’t accidentally right swipe your ex. Or do, if you really want to get into trouble.

– How many of you knuckleheads met Adam DeVine? Fa real tho. #letsgetweird

– If your main photo is you in a Lambo or next to a private jet, that means it’s okay to ask you for money right?

– Seriously, will you give me money? I’m poor.

– Sometimes it gets uncomfortable if you see Tinder people out in public and then you have to pretend you didn’t continuously send them the poopy face emoji followed by a series of syringes and knives.

– No I won’t add you on Facebook. If you’re really hot I’ll think about it though.

– I think I may be a sociopath.

It’s okay. He’s a friend.

G2g I got a new Tinder match! Omgz swipe right lolz kill me xxoxo 😉