Friday, June 28, 2013

iPod Shuffle: White Girl Edition

I know we all think we're original and stuff, but there are a few aspects of life in which we're all just the same freaking person.  Especially girls.  We all Instagram the same crap over and over again.  We all ask our friends what kind of haircut they think we should get, even though we know they don't give a rat's ass.  We all force ourselves to like salad.

And we all like the same music.

If you are a white girl, which I assume you are if you're reading this blog (shout out to my boyfriend being my only male reader, because I make him read/laugh at all my posts) I can guarantee you all like the same music, as listed below.

White rappers
Obviously, you like any type of rap, but especially white rappers.  Mac Miller, Macklemore, Eminem.  Ask any white girl about Mac Miller and she will be all like, "Oh my god I loooove Mac Miller.  I saw him one time on tour with Wiz!"  Play any bad rap and she will start doing some silly ass dance in which she kind of sways back and forth and kinda jumps around flinging her hands around.  It's endearing, okay?

White girls like country music because they think it was written about them.  While most country songs center around the summertime, whiskey, and trucks, there is always a shout out to an adorable girl that makes the singer feel something deeper than other girls, and wears cowboy boots and drinks a lot of wine.  So, obviously, written about me.

Just take Luke Bryan's "Drunk On You"... 
Girl you make my speakers go "boom boom."  Yes, so I can hear the music over my annoying shrieks and cackling.  Unless you're talking about something else, in which your innuendo is over my head, so whatever.
Dancing on the tailgate in the full moon.  Sounds like my Friday night.
That kinda thing makes a man go "mmm, mmm." Sure.
You're lookin' so good in what's left of those blue jeans.  I WEAR CUTOFFS LIKE LITERALLY EVERY DAY.
Drip of honey on the money maker gotta bee.  I don't know what this means.
The best buzz I'm ever gonna find. You're damn right.  Also, I never realized how stupid these lyrics were.

Rock from the early 2000s
Think Blink 182, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and any band she ever saw at the Warped Tour.  Play "Feelin' This" at a party and she will start shaking her hair around because it looks punk rock and cute.

Because duh.

"Wagon Wheel"
And not the stupid Darius Rucker version.  Bump that.  Play this song in a bar and loud screams will erupt from each huddle of white girls.  Suddenly they come alive, dancing around and yelling all the words as vodka and cranberry juice slosh everywhere.  Join in, or leave.  Those are your two options.

Decent female singers
I have to hand it to girls who have some good taste in music, but it's not without a cost.  If you've ever ridden in a car with me and Adele came on, you probably have never ridden in a car with me since.  It's a real shame because these women -- looking at you, Regina Spektor -- plant false seeds of hope in our minds that we will someday be able to play ukelele and sing a cute song in a video left on our boyfriends' Facebook walls.  Problems with that: I don't own a ukelele, and I love my boyfriend.  Never would I put him or myself through the humiliation of listening to me singing along with Ingrid Michaelson.  Except in the car.

The entire lineup of any summer music festival
Festivals are their own culture, popularized on a mass scale by Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, and now apparently Firefly which until this year I've never heard of.  Did you know Forever 21 has a whole line called the "Festival collection"?  Pretty much it's just tribal prints, cut-offs and glow sticks so I don't see how it's any different from any of their other collections/my daily wardrobe but whatever....

Anything they can twerk to

Monday, June 17, 2013

The Stages of Post-Grad Life

Exactly 38 days ago, I graduated college and witnessed a man release a dove on stage seconds before he received his diploma.  Obviously, both were monumental occasions in my life.  Since then, I have been "fun-employed,"* a term I use when answering the only question people ask me in polite conversation nowadays: "So, what are your post-grad plans?  Got a job yet, you adult, you, har har!"

*Interestingly, my research has shown that my dad seems to hate me a little more each time I say that, as he sees his retirement money dwindling away as I ask him for money to buy donuts and theme park tickets.

Anyway, the Bible tells us that most important things happen in increments of 40 days (the great flood, Jesus lost in the woods, something Moses did, etc.).  If tradition holds true, then in two days I'll either be extended a job offer or will finally solve Level 65 of Candy Crush.  Either way, these past 38 days have taught me a lot about the stages of post-graduate life, which, not coincidentally, directly mirror the five stages of grief.

1. Denial
This stage can happen as early as freshman year of college or as late as your first year of grad school.  I always thought people are really annoying in this stage, because it usually resembles one of the following scenarios:

  1. A drunk girl talking about how she's never going to graduate because then she won't be able to go to theme parties (this was me).
  2. A drunk guy talking about he's never going to graduate because then he can't sit around in his boxers all day and smoke weed.
  3. Panicked seniors joking about how they're going to fail their last exam on purpose.
In all scenarios, I'm just like, "No you're not, so shut up."  Going into it, we all know college is going to end and that we're going to eventually graduate on schedule, because if not we'd be 25 and the number 60 won't refer to how many Gs we're making a year but rather how many seconds our keg stand is.  And we all know we're going to pay some junior too much money to take over-saturated pictures of us and our roommates (who at that point we definitely hate) all over campus in stupid poses and grad caps.  Thus, denial is pointless, for this is the way it shall be.

The denial stage continues into the first few weeks after graduation.  It's fun for awhile, believe me.  You might take a trip or two, sleep in, get a pool membership and Instagram pictures of your fabulous life and strawberry daiquiris.  Post-grad is great in this stage, until....

#hardlife #nofilter

2. Anger
You start to get angry.  You get angry that none of the 30 places you've applied to have contacted you back. You start doubting your self-worth as you realize YOU are becoming the Target employee with a Bachelor's degree in English and Early Renaissance Bullshit.  You think about all the money you wasted getting wasted an education and get even angrier.  Then your parents start asking when you're going to get a job, gently suggesting that you waitress or strip for awhile, "just so you're not bored, honey."  

3. Bargaining
I theorize that this is when most people who formerly denounced grad school urgently sign up for the next GRE.  "If I just go to grad school then maybe I'll find a job doing what I actually love.  Besides, I'm overqualified for these stupid jobs I've been applying I need more education."  In two or three years, you'll restart the process, but then you'll have a Master's so you'll know how to deal with it.

4. Depression
I mean, obviously.  You can't go to theme parties anymore, your parents are your new roommates with a better social life than you, and you've heard every rejection possible from "This position has been filled" to "After meeting you and talking for an hour as you sweated your way through your button-down, we feel that your personality is lame and not suited for this company so we went with another, less clammy candidate who has a better haircut and professional experience."  Of course you're going to get depressed.  

5. Acceptance
You get a cat, look for receptionist jobs, and start seriously dating because that's the only way you're going to pull yourself out of this mess.  (This is speculation, as I have only made it to stage 4.)

So if you're still in college, live it up because someday you'll have to explain to your teenager that the only thing you did with your English degree was watch all six seasons of Mad Men in your first month out of college and write a mediocre blog.  Impressive.