I'm back, and worse than ever!

Hey world! Did you miss me? By your stunted silence I'll take that as a resounding YES. Although I've had my doubts about you these days...

The universe as a whole seems to be doing a back flip off the ropes and landing squarely on my face. I'm done with school for the summer. And although I have a regular work-a-day full time job, this means I won't be holed up every night doing grad school reading and actually have a social life. It's time to remember those people who regular social beings call friends and family members. It's time to drink!

But no, that crazy thing called life, she keeps messing shit up. I am, however, still making it a point to drink.

First off, I always thought the whiny bridesmaid riff was an overblown cliche. Guess what, it's not. Here is my official apology, Sloan Crosley (I shudder at myself writing this...must..go on). I'm planning a bachelorette party. Enough said.

And then there is my pitiful work-a-day job. It's reached a tsunami warning level of bad (sorry, Japanese and southeast Asian people, and Nate Berkus). There is nothing like looking for a new job to show you how little you are worth in the job market, and just how much frustration and rejection a disgruntled and agitated person can take (which is, by the way, not much).

Did I mention I'm planning a bachelorette party?

OK so this isn't the worst that could happen. It does, however, let me savor the gritty, metallic taste of suckiness in my life on a daily basis.

Stop, I know, you've read this before. But wait a second you big jerk face...I'm having a change of heart. Yes, a CHANGE OF FREAKING HEART.

If I have learned anything from movies, television, Victorian novels, and teen lit., this is how I'm supposed to grow into a better version of me, turn a corner, and show the good for nothing suits and terrible bridesmaids of the world that I can do this. That's right. The farcical comic menagerie of what is supposed to be my adult life has got to yield dividends at some point--at least in comic value alone. And it's no fun for the imagined viewers of the movie I like to pretend is my life if I string myself along moping the whole way.

Truth- I may never be able to own a home near my family, or any home (ever) due to requisite paycheck-to-paycheck living.

Truth- 4 years of life and work experience post-college seem to leave me with a grand future of office assistantship.

Truth- Oh damn I really need to get this dress altered like, yesterday.

But you know what. Fuck it. I'm gonna double down on suckiness. Like the Mormon dude in that play about Mormons that I'll never get tickets to. Like Goldie Hawn in Overboard! I'm gonna wriggle all the sad and ridiculous humor I can out of this. There really is no other way around it that won't lead to deep depression and a growing sympathy for the disturbed miscreants on Hoarders: Overweight Cat Ladies.

So Universe, you wanna mess with me? Go ahead. Try and ruin my 6 weeks of grad school freedom. If romantic comedies have taught me anything, there'll be a lot of laughs, some cake eating, sloppy drunken nights, a few moments of over-emotional sobbing, a shopping/makeover montage, and a trip to Paris and/or wedding to come out of this kind of life fuckery. Because that's what happens to the average girl in NYC all the time right? RIGHT?!

I'm just waiting until I can tell Anna Wintour to suck it (or Meryl Streep, either one will do in this scenario) and throw my phone in a fountain.