Dear Adulthood,
Hi. My name is Jillian. We met briefly when I turned 18, but haven’t had much contact since. I’ve heard a lot about you, and not all of it good. Some people say you suck the fun out of everything and require people to be serious all the time, but I’m sure that’s just gossip. Surely you can’t be all bad. I mean it’s because of you I got to vote and buy my first pack of cigarettes. And later, when I turned 21, I’m told it’s you that made it OK for me to finally buy alcohol. This was good because I was tired of getting people to buy booze for me. So thanks for that.
The rest of my letter...
Not too long ago, I StumbledUpon the awesomeness of “What I Should Have Said”. The premise behind this site is simple. Users are encouraged to share a situation in which they neglected to come up with a witty or scathing retort, then take an opportunity to express what they should have said in the first place. A lot of the anecdotes are downright hilarious and well worth the read. If you have some free time, I recommend checking this place out.
Being a fan of Seinfeld, anything to do with second-chance-responses (SCR) makes me think of the episode where George was insulted by a co-worker for eating too many shrimp. Long after the incident occurred, George thinks of the retaliatory Jerk Store line and spends the remaining part of the show trying to use it.
“Hey George the ocean called, they’re running out of shrimp!
“Oh yeah? Well the Jerk Store called, they’re running out of YOU!”
More clever one-liners...
You guys don’t get a chance to engage me in real life conversation, so I thought I would share some phrases I frequently use. It’s not that I’m lazy when it comes to communicating, it’s just that these phrases perfectly express anything I could ever want to say. I could venture out into new territory, but what if a new phrase leaves a bad taste in my mouth? What if I deliver it wrong? What if I place the inflection on the wrong syllable? This stuff shouldn’t be taken lightly. And that’s exactly why I stick to what I know:
- “Fuck THAT shit.” – I like this one because it takes a stand, sets a boundary. It draws a line. Once you hear me utter these words, you best believe whatever it is has been effectively killed.
Time Warner: Your cable bill is due.
Me: Man, fuck THAT shit.
More servings from my dirty mouth...
So I have big breasts. It’s not unusual for people to stare and beg to rub things on them, only to leave disappointed when I refuse. As a teen, the heat missiles strapped to my chest were good for drawing the attention of seedy men. I remember how pimps used to hit on me, ensuring I would never opt for a life on the street. Nothing made the walk home from school more uncomfortable than hearing shouts of, “Damn gurl, bring those juicy D’s over to Daddy!” This of course, was cause for offense. If I were ever going to sell myself, why have a middle man? Surely I’d be better off NOT having someone beat me and take half of my money? That’s just Bad Business 101. No way those fools were gonna play me.
More about 'big ole titties'...
No, I’m not dead. But I had a few things to do, also I had nothing to write about and I refused to post song lyrics or a YouTube video in place of something I actually took the time to write. You know how it is. But it looks like I’m back. It’s time I got the ball rolling in getting this site to where I see it in my mind. Once again, thanks for your support.
When I was in high school and applying for scholarships, I never found one geared toward persons like me. When attending all those boring workshops for the college-bound, teachers would always stress
the perfect scholarship was out there, you just had to look for it. But I don’t think someone wanted to pay for the education of an under-achieving slacker whose idea of a good time was eating pudding and watching Saturday morning cartoons. As awesome as it would have been, I doubt anyone would have been an enabler to my saga of laziness and general time-wasting activities. Another thing that always barred me from the free ride I obviously deserved, was the grade requirement. A 3.0 student I was not. School, like most things I didn’t want to do, was something I just soldiered through.
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