Reasons Why Adulthood* Rules

You might say, but Liz, you’ve been a legal adult for 11 years – this doesn’t seem timely! Well, to that I say, “I CAN WRITE WHATEVER I WANT.”


10. CUSSIN’! I remember being young and never using foul language. In fact, I frowned upon it. Sometime in mid-high school when I pulled the thorn out of my bum and realized that mediocrity passes for genius in a rural American high school, I said, “SCREW IT. I’m done with this uptight BULLSHIT!” I love words and I love language, but man, can I cuss up a storm like a whiskey soaked sailor. I feel like it cuts down the pretentious asshole factor to slip in a few colorful palabrotas into my otherwise Oxford-level, highbrow repertoire!

9. Never having to tell anyone where you are going or what you’re doing. I go to Waffle House at 3 AM? NBD. Only I can judge me!

8. Alcohol. Specifically vodka tonics** (a real lady’s drink) and pinot noir (a classy lady’s drink) and fancy flavored Shock Top (a bloated lady’s drink who is thinking she spent too much $ on a six-pack).

7.  Discretionary income. It may not be a lot, but there is some, and you can buy the DUMBEST and COOLEST stuff. $40 worth of new age books on Amazon to fix your effed up adult life problems? Do it. $100 for a juice cleanse you’ll never get through? WHY NOT?! $80 bra that makes your boobs looks like they were made in a lab and sewed on by God himself? YES!

6.  Live in squalor if you want. I am not saying I do, but I could. Doing chores is for the birds.

5. Wasting your Sunday day in front of Netflix (or any other way you see fit). Stay in bed til 11, watch YouTube videos of weird stuff. Watch your arm hair grow….whatever.

4. Having complete control over your physical appearance. I mean, some things are hard to control, but you can change your hair, wear those creepy Michael Jackson contacts, poke holes all over yourself – the possibilities are endless. I’ll never forget when I got my belly button pierced in college and my dad chided me,

“ELIZABETH! Don’t become a human pin cushion!”

He wasn’t too pumped about the tattoo either. Sorry, dad. I am thinking about getting another one.

3. You don’t have to hang around anyone you can’t stand. Unlike school, where you are subject to the random cruelty of a roster, you can throw up deuces and say, “Y’ALL ARE BORING AND LAME AND I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR MORTGAGE RE-FI” and march merrily out of any less than stellar social situations.

2. I can eat a jar of pickles for dinner. Or I don’t have to eat dinner. Or I can eat it in my underwear on the couch while cursing and watching The Voice.

1. Poor Choices. You can make all the poor choices you want (see 2-9). You have to suffer the repercussions of those poor choices, but they are all your to make.

*Unless you have real responsibilities like kids or demanding pets or a shitty, life-sucking job
**Good for those nights you know you are going to spill your drink all over yourself

While I Was Gone

There’s something you should know about me.

I’m an avoider.

If there is something on my mind, something I should do, something I need to sort out, and it is not of a particularly pleasant nature (see: my student loans), I will simply pretend it doesn’t exist. It will gnaw away at my thoughts, but I will show no outward sign that it is something real that I should deal with.

I’ve been avoiding writing in this blog.

I had a lot of post ideas saved up that I was planning on writing, but everything seemed really pointless in light of a recent tragedy my family has experienced. And you know what? I am going to keep avoiding it and I am going to bring you something completely off track and vapid.

–a post on dating–

I have never dated. I just transition into ill-advised relationships with friends that soon turn into human marker points* on the spectrum between “doesn’t exist to me anymore” and “casual acquaintance”. All the sudden at the age of 29 dudes are interested. I’m not sure what’s going on, but guys are coming out of the woodwork. My extensive vocabulary has been cited twice as part of the reason why I caught someone’s eye. Some chicks are super hot. Some chicks use a couple fancy words and the boys come a runnin’.

Better late than never, so here I am universe! Ready to date?**

Having never really dated, I am clueless when it comes to certain things. So many questions came to mind..

What do I wear? Who pays? Do I lie and pretend to be cooler/hotter/more relaxed/disinterested/over interested? Who drives? What if it’s terrible? What if it’s great? Can he meet the dog? Oh gaaaaawd.

I’m not afraid to admit that I did some Googling and Pinteresting for coaching. I, like a real dumb ass, told a guy for our first date that he should plan it and keep it a secret. I had no idea what to wear. I erred on the side of fancy, which was a good call. We started off at the Phoenician, and nothing makes me feel more uncomfortable than being around rich people and feeling like they know you don’t belong there. I literally spent all day getting ready. From the moment I woke up to the moment we went on the date I could be seen trying clumsily to accomplish one of these many girly activities:

  • Cutting my hair
  • Having a troupe of Asians sand down my feet
  • Wandering through the mall like Don Quixote, picking fights with racks of clothing
  • moisturizing
  • exfoliating
  • testing (Sephora….I spent SO MUCH MONEY)
  • blow drying
  • curling
  • suffocating myself with body spray

Oh God. It’s exhausting to think about…so much energy. But, damn, I looked GOOD. No, I didn’t take a picture. I was embarrassed to even exist at that point. I have never spent so much time on vanity. I didn’t want to document it with a picture. The shaaaame!

It worked, though. He asked me on date #2 before we even got anywhere. I’m sure my overwhelming charm had something to do with it….even though I couldn’t even make eye contact with him for the first 20 minutes. Hashtag awkward, as the kids say.

By date two, I was a real person. I planned it. And other than the fact that by the end of the evening he was visibly worn out and subsequently bed ridden with the flu for two days, it all went very well.


Yup. I ripped off the corner of the flyer so I had somewhere to not-so-discreetly deposit my gum before we toasted our pinot over a rousing game of connect four.

*Save a couple...don't get your junk in a twist exe(s) who are now
**Said like a true commitment-phobe