Author: knwolf

You can’t have everything you want at once. I found this out the hard way when I tried to eat a cheesy gordita crunch™ in a convertible with the top down. Life is full of lessons, like sacrifice. You either have to put the top up, or the taco down, but you can’t have both. Because if you try, you will end up turning onto the freeway, resulting in 80 mile per hour speeds, refried beans flying god knows where, and half of your hair in your mouth.

Sacrifice is the worst because you usually don’t get any sort of gratification after. Like when I decide to drink vodka sodas instead of piña coladas on my vacation and expect to wake up a smaller dress size after 3 days.

My good friend reminded me about this important virtue when I expressed that I want nothing more than to move to New York and write comedy for a living. She reminded me that although that goal is swell, and not too far-fetched, that I might actually have to do some writing.

Prove myself?! Fuck that! Can’t I get anything just by being cute and blonde anymore? I guess it worked better when I was 16 and still had my cheerleading body. Now I have a potato body, and people want to hire me for my talents, for which I have none.

So here’s the adulthood dilemma. Work hard for a long time with no light at the end of the tunnel, in hopes that when you finally get to where you have tried so hard to go, that when you get there, you don’t frigging hate it! My biggest fear is working my ass off to accomplish something and realizing what I’ve accomplished is a shit job, and I hate it. This concept of “wasted time” if you will.

But here’s the thing. We’ve probably already done this like 5 times already. Think about how you almost died getting through your college finals, only to end up working as a customer service representative at Enterprise Rental Car for the first 6 months after college. But then remember how you met your now best friend and roommate at that shit hole, and he introduced you to graphic design, and now your back in school on nights and weekends trying to get a different job, that’s more suited to your interests, and hopefully doesn’t suck as much as wearing a headset and sitting in a carpet covered cube all day.

It’s just a continual process to the eventual happiness I’ve heard everyone gets in their 30’s. (20 somethings, put down the razorblades, I’ve heard your 30’s are super cool.) Are razorblades even a cool way to kill yourself anymore, or is that so 2004? What’s hip these days, prescription drugs? Anyway the thing is, it’s not productive to think about the struggle, it’s all about the journeeeeeey man.

Some of my fondest memories come from times that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and was working way too hard doing shit I hated. I met all of my best friends while I was in college, and even though I went to school from 8-12 and worked from 12-8, I would hang out with them as much as possible, and find creative ways to fit my homework in. There are so many amazing people in my life I met working stepping-stone jobs. In fact, I’m still friends with someone I met at a job that I only worked at for 3 months.

And as much as I love being told what to do (Gentlemen call me, wink wink), and it would seem like such a relief to know the right path to take, sometimes you have to step forward onto a journey that you hypothesize will lead to a good thing. And while you are on that grind, try to make it as fun and as positive of an experience as you can. Reach out to people that seem dope, make friends, make plans when you can, pursue your interests on your free time, and don’t forget to drink wine. It really really helps.

Namaste.

Just in case any of you were wondering what online dating looks like….. 

I used to be really sheltered. And I for the most part, still am. I grew up in a small college town where people wave at each other and let each other go at 4 way stops, and people fucking merge, man. Like they let you in a lane when you need to get in. It was a glorious place to live. And this was my view of the world. I never involved myself in politics or watching the news because I knew it would make me angry or upset. I mean, I cry when I see those pop tart commercials where the pop tart is a little cartoon and gets eaten by another cartoon. BECAUSE I FEEL BAD FOR THE POP TART. 

So naturally I can’t handle real life. I just can’t hang.

Inevitably I became an adult and now I can’t avoid the terrible things going on around me as easily. People like to talk about whats going on around them or whatever. I would prefer to communicate via Fuck Jerry Gifs and videos of baby pigs eating apples but NO. We have to talk about GUN REGULATION and TERRORISM. ugh. I hate it. I really really do.

I understand it’s necessary to talk about, I just wish they didn’t even have to be subjects of discussion. Andy Warhol once said, “Everybody should like everybody.” Right?! Fuck you guys, just like do your own thing and believe what you want to believe in and if something makes you so angry you want to hurt someone or something, there is a Ben and Jerry’s down the street and so many cute puppy videos on Youtube. Handle your shit like it’s 2015. 

That’s what the internet is for. Like have you ever seen those videos that are like 10 minutes long and it’s just a series of different people falling down or hurting themselves? Or that one video that got 1 million views that was just a baby panda sneezing? Those people knew that we were going to be hearing about innocent people dying all day and it fucking sucks. It just fucking sucks, so they were like here you go. Here’s a little tiny turtle wearing a sombrero. Because, you need it.

(Apparently a photo of a tiny turtle with a sombrero only exists in my imagination and not on Google.)

So hang in there, pet animals, take deep breaths, be thankful for the luxuries in your life, hug your friends, call your grandparents and let people merge.

So for those of you that don’t know, pot is legal in Oregon now. I find this equally awesome because I don’t have to wait for my sketchy dealer to get off at Little Caesar’s to toke up. However, it also makes smoking pot less cool, because now your grandma can do it while knitting in her living room and your parents are accepting of it so you don’t have to hide it. Let’s face it, things are more fun when you have to hide them.

I had a boyfriend that snuck into my window and stayed the night for 2 straight years because I was 16 and wasn’t allowed to date boys. Having a secret relationship was so Romeo & Juliet, but once we hung out all the time because I was “old enough to be around the opposite sex” or whatever, we found out we hated each other’s guts and it wasn’t fun anymore.

I will argue that doing drugs works the same way. Legal things just aren’t as fun. Think about it. Scratch off tickets. Legal. Not very fun, Paying for parking. Legal. Not very fun. Being drunk in public. Fun. Not legal (In Oregon). Attending a back-alley petting zoo full of endangered species and exotic birds. Very fun. Not legal. Catch my drift?

The reason I’m bringing this up is because I awoke to a link posted on my Facebook wall that was video coverage of a news story from KGW8. The video showed a close up  of yours truly ordering “an ounce of OG Kush” from the pot store across the street from my house.

Those sons of bitches got me on camera buying weed.

Legally. Just waiting in line like the rest of the loser deadbeats, like can I get 1 weed please. I wish, I wish it was called like Cannabis #1 or something, but no, I said fucking OG Kush on television. If I am going to be on camera, I want it to either be because I’m at the Emmy’s, roasting someone famous, or getting arrested for urinating in public (because getting arrested is still very cool. Ask anyone that raps.)

The first thing I thought when I saw the video was shit, did I have to wear my Chiquita banana sweater to the weed store? I also thought, how long have I been this fat?! Like it is a recent thing, or has this been going on for some time and no one had the courtesy to let me know? My second thought was, damn, this is really going to affect my street cred negatively. Not to mention piss off Derick as soon as he gets off at Little Caesar’s and sees this.

So here’s a little advice for you guys that still want to smoke legal weed and be cool:

1. Pretend like it’s illegal and keep tallies on how long you can keep it from certain people that you smoke.
2. Don’t keep your weed out in the open. Hide it in prescription pill bottles, crown royal bags, and small wooden boxes.
3. Don’t smoke pot out of basic pipes, bongs and bubblers. If you want to be cool, smoke pot out of a crushed diet coke can with safety-pin sized holes poked in the top and/or an un-used piece of fruit. I’ve found apples work best, but get creative!

I hope my experience and advice can help prevent others from being publicly lame. Remember, don’t stop doing drugs, just do it in a way that is less mainstream.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover

When you work in event planning you are usually really hungry all the time, insanely stressed and running around like a crazy person trying to find a stack of printer paper or a bathroom because you haven’t peed in 16 hours. Event planners are up there with the brain surgeons of the world for top 10 most stressful jobs IN EXISTENCE. This is an actual statistic. I read it on Times or somewhere else important.

You think it’s a cake walk to plan parties do you? Oh, it sounds so fun doesn’t it?! Here are some things about being an event planner that you may not realize from first glance:

You are always hungry and the end of the night baby crab cakes are never NEVER enough.

I just worked a 17 hour day and just told all my coworkers to order me everything fried off the room service menu.It’s not coming fast enough, and if I don’t go to bed soon I’m going to wake up in ripped tights covered in BBQ sauce.

You don’t have time for hobbies, so you learn to hone your nerd skills

I wish I had sexy talents like shooting cross bows or tying a cherry stem with my tongue but no, instead of being all Lara Croft-esque with foreign language and teakwondo skills, I can type 90 words a minute and I know the dimensions of every freight elevator in the Pacific Northwest.

You run into your own unique set of challenges

Some times in event planning you have to say things like, don’t touch that cooler it’s full of breast milk. You also get really stressed if you have to change your oatmeal order to breakfast sandwiches 72 hours before breakfast. Don’t even get me started on mail merges or printer jams. THAT SHIT IS THE WORST.

There are some perks, like being the keeper of the drink tickets. There is a new rule at my job that if you throw up you have to take a shower. They made that rule because of me. Also, don’t judge me for the not showering bit. If you had 6 glasses of wine and had a 5:30 a.m. call time, you wouldn’t wash your bod either. Let’s hope there’s a hot breakfast buffet in the morning!

So I’m having this quarter-life crisis where the finite aspect of living has kicked in and I realize that each year i’m just going to become a slightly more bitter, wrinkly, more senile version of my former self. Oh what’s that? I’m only 25, what do I have to worry about? OH, IT’S STARTING PEOPLE, IT’S STARTING. Please see my well-illustrated examples of why being an adult blows below:

1. When I was 18-23 I ate whatever the hell I wanted. In college I participated in binge drinking red wine, 24 hour burrito runs, and Mcdonald’s breakfast, which I still swear is the only true way to kill a hangover.  Something happens to you when you turn 25 where the food you used to eat all the time suddenly makes your ass really fat. Like, what the hell?! So, fine, checkmate. I throw in the towel and start eating salads and quinoa and I put spinach in my smoothies, which is so fucking dumb, but I do it anyway. Problem solved right? Rock hard abs are just waiting to blast out of my size XS button down now and boys everywhere are like hey girl, heyyyyyy. No.  False. I just kept getting fatter. I refuse to cut out alcohol and Bowery Bagels and thus my body looks like a potato.
2. Your mid 20’s is when your body starts seeing the effects of what you have done to it. This isn’t my opinion, that is a quote from a skincare professional. A skincare professional who also told me I need to consider an eye cream. It’s true. My skin has lost it’s sparkle and I no longer have the “people are generally good and everything is going to be alright” light to my eyes. I even found a dark hair the other day that was coming out of my FUCKING CHIN. What. The. Hell.
3. Smoking isn’t cool anymore. FUCK. All those years of spending my allowance on a pack of Turkish Silvers and a six-pack of Heineken never helped to get me laid by one of the skater boys in high school. NOT EVEN ONCE. Oh but that didn’t stop my from quitting, oh no, that would be just too square. Now as a result, I start dry-heaving half way up my bedroom stairs and my hair smells like litter. Oh, and it might actually like, kill me, and give me blood clots now. Bonus.
4.  I can’t wear whatever I want anymore. The other day I thought about dying the ends of my hair turquoise. When I was 17, it was perfectly acceptable to present myself to the world as a neon-haired emo little shit head. I used to wear fish nets and thigh highs and now, that would just look desperate and I’m pretty sure it would cut off blood flow. Besides, now I have client meetings and have to wear pencil skirts and seamless underwear and other adult garments that I won’t get into. I want to go back to the world where I could wear ripped tights, an oversized T-shirt and a beanie and people wouldn’t assume it’s because I had a Tinder date the night before and just didn’t have time to change.

See? See what I mean? Getting older blows and it just keeps blowing until you die, which blows the worst of all. The only thing we can really do is think about the positive parts of getting older. Like getting to eat cereal whenever you want, and getting to watch naked people on TV without getting grounded.

Reasons why I have to figure out how to be immortal:

1. Aging is gross. I’m basically Sara Jessica Parker’s character from Hocus Pocus. I want to suck the youth out of young adults so that I never have to consider Botox. I’m just not comfortable with parts of my body sagging. I’m pretty sure they should never do that. Puckering too, that’s a thing. You bet. Also, I’m already terrified of stairs, I can’t image trying to climb them in an 80 year old body.
2. I already have the memory of Alzheimer’s patient. I’m like the lady in The Notebook except I don’t have a husband, or children or anything cool that I would like to be reminded of. In fact, when I get that age I hope that people lie to me and say stuff like, “When you were young you lived in France and you slept with many, many male models who loved you very much but sadly all died in a runway fire.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    I can’t even remember where I put my cell phone 15 minutes ago. Imagine this at 55. What a nightmare.
3. I don’t have time to NOT be immortal (let’s not say the word “dead” it’s too sad-ish). Seriously, I have thousands of neurotic to-do lists. My bucket list is going to take some time to complete, I have to find someone to pistol whip, take the time off to go to South Africa to high-five a great white shark, and not to mention it already takes me almost 2 days to get my laundry done.
4. I would be a terrible ghost. If I was a ghost instead of saying boo I would just say stuff that is scary to me like “heiiiiigggghhhttts.” and “Commitmeeeeennnnnnttttt.” I also would probably be very bored as a member of the un-dead, because the only ghosts I want to hang out with are celebrity ghosts, like Patrick Swayze, who are too busy doing celebrity ghost things to hang out with me. 
5. I have to live forever because I have too many amazing gifts that the future generations of humans need. Who else is better to pass on the wisdom of a miserable, self-deprecating  quarter life female, than a miserable, self-deprecating quarter life female who lives forever?! I need to stay on this earth so I can convince everyone that the 4th Harry Potter book is the best, that Leonardo Decaprio is hotter than Brad Pitt and that the only reason I’ve been able to stay alive so long is that the doctor’s were wrong, and large quantities of mayonaise is actually really, really good for you.