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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. 

I’m getting to that age where everyone around me is married or talking about marriage and it’s starting to only just slightly freak me out.

I don’t know much about being a woman since I wasn’t raised by one, but I think I’ve heard lady eggs can go rotten, or, just not work or expire or something. I’m not baby crazy or anything. The concept of growing a tiny human inside me and then using my body to feed it and watching it grow still really creeps me out. However, as a single female I would like to think that if I wanted to do such a thing, I still could.

I probably seem like the least traditional or lady-like person on your news feed, but as a product of divorce, I don’t want to have children unless I’ve already been married to the person for at least a few years. Too many traumatic years of popping up in the ball pit at McDonald’s and realizing half of my family is missing and I won’t see them again until next Tuesday. What is it with divorced parents in the 90’s and meeting at McDonald’s? How dare you distract me with a cheeseburger then sneak out to the car and drive away! Actually, that tactic still works if you ever want to avoid one of my fits.

Anyway, child-hood trauma aside, I’m sort of feeling like that love stuff isn’t in the cards for this lone wolf, so I thought I would use my creepy blog to convince men why they should date me so I can stop feeling so out of the loop.

Here are reasons why I’m a total catch and why I shouldn’t start investing in cat food or cable just yet (People who are old and single love cable):

1. I can kill my own spiders.
2. I can make a damn good omelette.
3. I may not know a lot about sports, but I can be very enthusiastic when other people are yelling.
4. I know how to read and write in English. Take that Russian mail orders!
5. I already have my own wedding ring. (Not because I already bought myself one because I know that’s what you assholes were thinking. It was from one of my grandma’s 5 marriages and it’s dope so lay off.)  If the poor sap does decide to get hitched, I will be saving him thousands of dollars. It doesn’t even need to be re-sized. All I ask is that we get insurance on it so I can take it in to get sparkled (that’s a thing right?) and before the ceremony I request that it be blessed by the head of a Coven.

I think that list is pretty darn good, I mean what else would someone ask for in a mate besides a personality, good looks and rich parents? At least I have (some) time to work on acquiring more awesome skills before society looks down on me as some pathetic woman with career goals and a self-supporting disposable income.

Well I had a dream that Leonardo DiCaprio and I were trying to show 1940’s America the concept of free love by making out everywhere and not being married. We were met with opposition, but in the end, love conquered all and I was almost eaten by a shark.

 

I recently read this article from Elite Daily that talked about the importance of being poor because it helps you appreciate the things you have when you acquire them. In honor of such perspective here are my ways I knew I was (still am) broke as shit, or broke dick as someone I know eloquently phrases it, and how to put a positive spin on those moments.

1) You get creative with your booze

I know everyone in Portland is a craft beer snob, but sometimes you don’t have an extra $20 to throw down on a seasonal, local, IPA, etc so you mix a half-drank blue Powerade (that wasn’t yours, but it’s been in the fridge so long it’s communal) with Vermouth you got as a birthday present 5 months ago, (which you have saved because you aren’t quite sure what vermouth is) and a squeeze of lime from your Pad Thai leftovers. I call it, Blue Steele, and I am proud of my creation.

2) Putting an egg and some frozen vegetables in your ramen makes you feel fancy as shit.

Check me out with my egg flower soup mods mother fucker.

3) Going out to dinner means walking 5 blocks to Olé Ole and getting a five dollar burrito.

Mmmmm food made by other people just tastes so much better. Hope you saved your laundry quarters so you can get that guac add on girlllllll

4) You don’t ride your bike to be hip, you ride it because you can’t afford to pay for parking downtown.

People can tell you apart from the “lifestyle bikers” because you only wear a helmet if your hair looked bad to start with and instead of a Chrome backpack and bike shoes you are sporting a skateboarding backpack and converse both of which you have owned since age 15.
5) You can’t have nice things.

I’m saying this as I’m currently wearing an American Apparel sweater that looks like it has been stored in a kitchen basement for 5 years and has slowly become a home/chew toy for rats. The sleeves are torn off at the wrists, there are tiny holes in it (moths?! demon washing machine?!) and the drawstrings feel out before I finished high school. Why do I wear this garbage bag with a trendy zipper you ask? Because it’s my only hoodie and replacing it would cost me a whole $40. Do you know how much Charles Shaw I could buy with $40. My priorities are straight as shit.

Now I’m sure this makes me sound like a spoiled brat. I admit, the road hasn’t been a super hard one and every time I complain about being broke I feel like an asshole because then I walk by 5 people that are sleeping on the ground and peeing in corners. (The peeing in corners part I don’t feel bad for, there are public restrooms in parks, and there is nothing worse than sad people exposing themselves in public.) However, we all have that bit of envy when we see someone with a full shopping cart at Whole Foods and can’t help but be like “oh it must be nice not having to by the caged eggs huh asshole?!” “Enjoy your grass-fed polenta you sack of shit.”

You see, it’s all about perspective. But I agree with Elite Daily. Embrace the poor, student loans up your ass, dinner from a box lifestyle, because when you finally get that big kid job, and can start buying furniture from places other than IKEA and the sidewalk, you can say, I made it. See you later losers, I’m going to go buy dinner at a restaurant and get not-well vodka thank you very much. I’m going to flip my middle finger to the sky and get an appetizer with my meal, and maybe buy a useless home decor item, like a throw rug or a decorative pillow! Hip hip hurray!

I get to hang out with my best friend and make decisions like these ones:

1) Should we call him an asshat or an ass clown in that scene?
2) Casting call for boyfriends. Topless boyfriends only please.
3) For our photo shoot, should we use FunYuns or Bugles?
4) We are going to need a lot of donuts for this episode.
5) If you want to wear pants in that one you can, but you don’t have to.
6) People laugh at my jokes (sometimes)