That’s not how it works : Part one.

Dear Benadryl, creators of LOST and twenty-somethings everywhere,

Let me start by informing you that I have officially lost control of the fucks I give at this point. They were here one minute, and now they are all gone. Which is great because it’s a wonderful charm factor with the new beau.

Anyway, I was riding home the other day when I acquired a flat tire, and while I waited for AAA to show up and inform me they don’t handle bicycle issues, I decided to scope out some social networking sites.

I hit what I consider to be my usual three:

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…and it dawned upon me, that the feeds were being overrun with uplifting, and inspirational quotes.

So obviously this all sits well with someone who titled their blog ‘Most Things are Garbage’.

And I’m sorry, maybe it’s just me, but am I the only twenty-something that reads all of these and finds them to be so contradictory to the way the world actually works?

Quotes about life, love and the fruits of our looms, being re-posted over and over and over by people the same age as me, who apparently have such an optimistic outlook on things that it almost seems like nothing ever goes wrong in their lives?

Like really though?

Well I rustled up just a few of them, and decided I would fix them, on account of they were obviously broken, so that realistic ones could get out there and these graphics can make more sense to me when I scroll down my newsfeeds.

So, with all that said and since I’m unbelievably cranky, here is the first part in what will probably become an ongoing time killer for me, entitled:

That’s not how it works : part one.

(P.S. SUNY Albany thanks for the Art degree, I’m clearly utilizing it to its maximum capability)

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Ah. Love.
Wild creatures you say?
And why the hell is it on a wrinkly bed?
No. Stop lying.


That’s not how it works.

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That’s real. That’s science.

More on love…

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This is it? Love?
I don’t love people that scream at me.
I certainly would put a fork through the hand of anyone that comes near my food.
Why the hell is she going to act weird around me?
Isn’t love already uncomfortable enough?

No. That’s not how it works.

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Guys. Kid yourself. But if your future beau posted the first one ever, the sad fact of the matter is your relationship is gonna be hella weird and it’s gonna go south fast. If a girl tackles you to tell you she likes you…run. Far. Because we’re better than that. We also graduated from middle school over a decade ago. A DECADE! How old do you feel!

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Thank you. Whoever made this.
Because as everyone suffering from anxiety, fear, or insecurities knows, we can just let things go.

What’s that? You owe hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loans?

You can’t find a job out of college?

You got fired for someone else’s negligence?

It’s cool guys. Let it go.

No. That’s not how it works.

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That’s how it works.

And don’t let it go. That’s littering.

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Ladies. Ladies. Ladies.
Even if this were the case…


…that’s not how it works.

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Period. And really…I think that’s all we need to know…

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Do you really though?
At least I can find solace in knowing it’s not just about my looks, since you can’t see my face…
What about days where I’m subpar?

What about when I royally fuck things up?

Like shutting your cats paw in the bathroom door?
Or like when my feet really smell?
Or when I try on your shorts just to show you how good they look on me, but not you?

Stahp! That’s not how it works.

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That’s how it works.

Because in the real life people have feelings. And those feelings can range from blissful vomit inducing love to requesting your partner sit on a running chainsaw.

Anyone that says otherwise is a liar.

And they’re probably super brave for posting nothing but positive things about their super awesome relationships.

(Right before they break down in tears)

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So, having someone special in your life can change the fact that Monday always follows Sunday and you have to wait five days before you can forget real life responsibilities on the weekend?

No.
No no no stop it.


That’s not how it works.

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But really, if you find someone that can manipulate time and shift the week around, hang the hell on to them, otherwise what you have found is someone that consumes so much of your time and brain, that the days of the week just mush and meld together to form one solid glob of days. It’s no wonder tomorrow isn’t just another day, you do the same thing over and over.

Be an adult.

Go to work.

No romance relieves you of your responsibilities.

Trust me.

I’m a doctor.

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I just want to know who wrote this. It sounds like it’s been ripped straight out of the diary from a person living through the zombie apocalypse. Does the world really feel so vacant early in the morning?

No. No it doesn’t.


That’s not how it works.

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Like do you not have a job? If you’re up at sunrise it’s probably late enough in the morning where people are likely on their way to work.

Do you not have pets?

Cats are all up in your shit in the mornings, and dogs…forget it, get your ass up or they’ll poop all over your house waiting for you to stop being fucking lazy.

And what the hell time do you go to bed that you can be up that early and experience any feeling other than wanting to jam a screwdriver into your temple?

You’re clearly not a grad student.

Definitely not a responsible adult…with a job…

You must be in middle school. There’s no other explination…

Or it’s Saturday.

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Is this real life?

Why does this graphic exist?

Does the world care when someone puts this online?

You want to laugh until you die?

What about other things? Exercise? Eating? Sex?

Staring contests?

(You’re gonna lose)

That’s not how it works.

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Priorities. That’s some real shit right there.
Orange is the new black returns June 6.
Don’t tell me that my marathons don’t count because I’m not running.

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Now you understand.
The plate is trust. The plate is love.
The plate has been broken.
Your apology is a weak and basically useless strain of glue.

No.

That’s not how it works.

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Honestly. You ruined what was probably a full set by breaking that plate.

I hope it was a bargain find at Big Lots.

This metaphor is dumb. You can’t apologize to a plate.

The fuck do you expect it to do? Sweep up it’s pieces and glue itself back together? And if someone really hurt you so badly as to compare the damage to a shattered plate, why the hell are you sticking around to explain to them some backward ass truth of how you no longer feel for them after what they did.

Be beyonce. Walk the fuck away.

Find better.

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Any day? Is it actually?

That’s. Not. How. It. Works.

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And vice versa.

Everyday is just a new day to come upon something else that bugs the everloving crap out of you.

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Your inner strength grants you the ability to soar above everyone else.

Be strong bb the world is a place where you will flourish on your own by yourself and that’s all you need.

False.

That’s not how it works.

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How’s first class treating you? This is more realistic.

No but for real if you’re just buying flights left and right that must be some bomb ass establishment your working at.

Did you luck out or what. And did you actually pay off that college debt or are you just paying on the interest while you continue to defer them?

Whatever you did, congrats on the flight. Say hi to anywhere that isn’t Albany for me.

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Wait for good things. They will almost always come to you if you have patience. Kick back. Relax. Let the universe work it’s magic.

And when you get got, and all the things are great, remember that you have it in you to exude respectful and not even remotely celebratory reactions and attitudinal qualities.

That’s.
Not.


How.
It.
Works.

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You all do it. Don’t deny it.

Whether you’re passive aggressively typing short answers with periods seemingly after every word, or putting up your dukes by simply choosing to not talk to a person any other way than through an emotionless, inflection-less void that is text messaging.

Are you really sorry you had to say this over text messaging?

Genuinely?

Unless someone karate chopped you in the throat and broke your windpipe or broke both your legs rendering you un-travelable, you delete every character of that text and make a phone call or a house visit.

No more games kids.

And if you value your life, leave out the fact that so and so said something to so and so about whoever doing whatever.

Finally:

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You’re excited.

You get it by now I’m sure…

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You’re gonna plan to do so much. But it’s gonna be hot. And you don’t really like sweating.

Netflix and a pizza?

Ok so maybe not THAT bad.

Anyways-spread these to the world.

But don’t blame me when your friends think you’re an asshole.

Somehow still enthusiastic,
-me.

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Be Underwhelming: Rules for Impressing Lovers on Vacation.

Dear Mom and Dad, Wegmans and whoever plans to travel soon,

I wanted to let you know that I heard your caution to take things slow during this new relationship. The advice you gave was clear and concise and any normal human being would heed your warnings.

But much like the time you told me not to try making s’mores in the toaster oven, and though I still maintain they would have tasted great regardless of the house burning down, I have chosen to ignore your decree.

And so in an attempt to woo my new lady of the night (no she’s not a hooker she just works until 6 so I usually only see her in the evenings), I asked her to go on a vacation.

I know what you’re going to say…and honestly, I feel like we have known each other for years! I really feel as though I know enough about her to invite her on a long car ride to meet family members I usually wait until the second Christmas to introduce.

I believe it was the wise Chris Brown who once spoke of amorous feelings when he said:

“I’m on some new shit, I’m chuckin them deuces up.”

Such wisdom. He most certainly does not GAF.

(Mom this means ‘give a fuck’)

And so we set out on a drive down the east coast to Virginia Beach for one unbelievably relaxing vacation. I figured I would just update you and let you know about all the rules I learned about vacationing with lovers and the plethora of events we got to experience together making our power couple status comparable to that of HOV and Bey.

Rule 1:

You’re going to want to get an early start on your vacation. In this case I made sure to accommodate our circumstances well. When I say circumstances I mean she drove the whole way. So as a surprise, and in order to ensure she wouldn’t have to hit rush hour traffic or be driving late into the evening, I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. just to make sure she was wide awake and ready to cart our asses around.

Don’t worry, I used Miley Cyrus for an alarm ringtone so she would wake up really happy.

We stopped at McDonalds for breakfast, and I couldn’t decide which breakfast sandwich I wanted her to buy me more, bacon egg and cheese on a bagel or a biscuit, so I just ordered both with a coffee and I definitely should have gotten the biscuit only, the bagel was sub-par but whatever I didn’t buy it.

Well, whatever the mud they called coffee actually is, it ran through me quick and I had to stop at a rest area. Plus it gives your beau a half hour to stretch their legs while they cart your Ms. Daisy ass around.

Rule 2:

If you stop for bathroom breaks, take your sweet time. You’re gonna be on the road a while, and even if your partner doesn’t have to go, you don’t want to rush.

Also, in the event you clog the rest stop toilet, I know you are wondering and yes, definitely tell your boo as you exit the bathroom. They will be proud and they will congratulate you with things like:

“Those things are made to take down anything and everything…just…how?”

“You’re so pretty”

Rule 2a:

Fart.
Fart a lot.

Rule 3:

If you stop anywhere for an hour or two, and there is a mall nearby, and you’re a man, prepare to be there for three to four hours. I don’t plan these things well, and I like shopping, but somehow whenever my new boo takes me to the mall to grab

“a strapless bra”

it really means

“new flip flops, a maxi dress, wait maybe this maxi dress, or this maxi dress, can you pick one of these the navy with gray striped maxi dress or the navy with charcoal striped maxi dress, never mind I’ll get both, new hat just in case there’s sun, probably a soda, but no not that soda, I want the soda from that place, ew this one has zero carbonation, probably a haircut at this Sears salon would be cost affective and convenient because we’re here, don’t you need sweatpants oh well whatever I’ll just wear them, oh I work here so I get a discount we should walk the perimeter of the store eight times just in case I can use my store discount maybe, do you think it’s warm enough for flip flops maybe I should return them, oh and did you want to stop in the Chik-fil-a we originally came here to eat at?”

Rule 4:

As a passenger, it is your absolute duty to entertain the driver. They are going to get stressed, and you are going to hit traffic, and when you hit this traffic and they double down with exhaustion and anxiety and all they want to do is sleep and stop driving, that’s when you have to up your game and prove you are the best car co-pilot ever as well as a useful lover not just during the secks.

Tell them how good they’re doing. Things like:

“Honey, you’re overreacting you just need to learn how to merge properly.”

“That was the exit a half mile back you just chose not to get over so we’ll just find the re-route.”

“Your emotions are surprisingly tame for having your period, that in itself is something you should be proud of.”

And when THAT doesn’t work, pull out the big guns, and distract the other drivers trapped in the gridlocked hell by smushing your beautiful face against the passenger side window. Your driver will laugh through her tears and that four car fender bender you cause will be a distant memory in thirty to forty minutes.

Rule 4a:

Definitely take a lot of pictures of your girlfriend even if they don’t want you to, like in the rain or when they’re trying to “snuggle” or whatever.

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Rule 5:

No matter how good of a person you are, don’t fuck with the universe by saying things like “we made it safe and sound” a block from your destination…

…because the universe will summon animals, like Bambi…

…and your driver/girlfriend will barrel into Bambi’s skull at a high rate of speed…

…and she will have another panic attack because this is the first deer she has ever hit EVER and she will of course, have just been talking about how nothing has ever gone wrong with her car since she’s owned it just before this occurs.

Definitely keep your thoughts on safe arrival to yourself.

And whatever you do, don’t refer to your lover as Bambi murderer or Venison creator for the rest of the trip.

Rule 6:

Take some time for you. Get a pedicure. They are fantastic.

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The chairs assault your back like you owe it money, and they do all kinds of things to your feet that you never knew you could do. Like shave them, lotion them, and give your legs a massage that could make a paraplegic moan with joy.

Rule 6a:

Don’t make paraplegic jokes. Ever.

Rule 7:

Visit all the novelty gas stations/grocery stores/fast food joints you don’t get to in your shitty overbearing town of Albany, like Wegmans, WAWA, Wegmans, Sonic, Wegmans, White Castle, Chil-Fil-A, Wegmans, IKEA, and Wegmans.

Seriously, Albany, fucking Wegmans. Stop being so lame and just sell booze at the grocery stores this is ridiculous.

Rule 7a:

Something to keep in mind when traveling is that your bowels are on a fairly strict regimine. Disruption in the form of temperature change, altitude change, or even the stress of having to criticize someone else’s driving for a week can block you up for some time and that can get uncomfortable.

Definitely DO NOT get food at the above locations and pile it on top of the compounded issue.

UNLESS! You have never tried them before…

In which case, in order get the spicy chicken club sandwich with waffle fries, IKEAS Swedish Meatballs and a salmon dill wrap, McDonalds at least twice, a buffalo chorizo based egg dish for breakfast at a kick ass diner, any and all breakfast sandwiches at WAWA, seafood at the Virginia Beach shore in grilled and fried format, a gigantic bagel sandwich at a cute sandwich shop, a giant bagel schmeared with cream cheese also because YOLO, and a creamy chicken and spinach Alfredo.

But be warned, piling this internal organ layer of food together leads to the next rule.

Rule 8:

When you stop up your hotel rooms toilet, you absolutely positively need to notify your lover first. It doesn’t matter how invested in the current episode of ‘Flip it to Win it’ they are, you shut it off, look down at the ground shamefully, and then inform them that you’re going to have to be a little late to the free beverage and cheese hour at the hotel lounge because there is an inch of toilet water on the floor in the bathroom.

Then call maintenance. Priorities.

Then when maintenance arrives, say something to the effect of:

“I have no idea how that happened”

or

“Does this happen often?”

Then, because your insides didn’t suffer enough the last five days, go eat enough cheese and creamy pastas to block up someone with IBS comparable to that of Pompeii’s eruption.

Rule 9:

Because you got a great deal on Priceline from that guy from Star Trek, you are located on the 8th floor, in a private bode where silence is encouraged and loud noises are frowned upon.

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Take this opportunity to prove to the world that even though you’re not super well endowed (thanks a lot mom and dad), you can still get the job done.

I’m not saying to have the sex loud and rambunctiously while you’re on vacation, but I am saying you should at least spend some time slamming your palm against the neighbors wall while you make noises similar to the ones you’re going to hear when you visit the zoo the next day.

You’ll feel better. I promise.

And you definitely won’t cry by yourself eating leftover room service from the night before because your girlfriend “needed to hit the steam room for some alone time”.

Rule 10:

When you visit the museums your bae wanted to see, definitely opt for the audio tour. Even though they will complain afterwards about how much of a pain it was, it earns you an hour of silence while you pretend you’re listening to your tour but really are enjoying not hearing about how “tired” someone is from all the driving she has done.

Rule 11:

Other states don’t have the concept of always being hungry grasped, so you need to be aware, places like Richmond and Virginia Beach, close down their restaurants at 2 p.m. right at peak “grab a samwich somewhere to tide us over” time and then they don’t re-open until 5 when it’s dinner time.

You should definitely look like a man in front of your new girlfriend and freak out because you’re hangry and there is no where to get a god damn peice of food that isn’t from a seven eleven and you should definitely blow it out of proportion and pout because girls love that shit and when they tell you to stop being dramatic you should definitely blow that shit out of proportion and say things about how you should just break up then because obviously she doesn’t value your relationship when you can’t get a fucking sandwich after walking around all goddamn day and only eating a handful of goldfish.

(I used to have a temper problem and I’ve really been working on it at the request of my mother, and I think we can all agree looking back on rule 11 that we learned a really valuable perspective on how well we’re doing because we haven’t had an outburst like that in a while, and we are super fortunate to have a girlfriend who will at least wait until we get back home to break up with us so that we don’t lose control in a foreign state)

Rule 12:

If you do get pouty, definitely make sure when getting off your exit to go back to your relatives, that you exact revenge on the driver for calling you a princess and telling you to calm down by telling them you know where you’re going, and then saying left here, right there, for fifteen minutes before you end up in a church parking lot and then admit you have no idea where you were going and then when your girlfriend gets upset you have the upper hand and can say things like:

“Now who’s being the drama queen?”

You win.

FINALLY, Rule 13:

Make sure you tweet everything that happens. Broads love twitter. Document the trip, you’ll be better off:

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Still taken but unsure why,

Me.

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