Tutorial Tuesday: How to be an Adult

This summer I worked as a camp counselor for 10- and 11-year-olds. I had a great time feeding them lies, like that I work part-time as a taste-tester for Cheetos, that I’m related to the Duggars, and that my dad owns a quarter of the Amazon rainforest (seriously they are stupid and will believe ANYTHING). But aside from getting paid to play games that involve hitting kids with balls, I learned a valuable lesson. Being an adult is just like being a kid, except you pretend to know more things. It’s all about being able to fake knowing what the hell is going on (which at any given time I usually have no idea about). Think about everytime you asked your mom a question when you were growing up. The answer was a lie. Adults know nothing.

About halfway through the summer we had to take our campers on a backpacking trip. They would ask me how far we had walked, and I would say “about three miles.” EVERY TIME. I have no idea how long a mile is, besides that it’s five thousand something feet which also has no relevant meaning to me. But because I’m a few years older and said everything with a serious face they believed me, no questions asked.

So when people say that high school or college didn’t prepare them for the real world because all they learned to do is bullshit, I say “exactly!” That’s the point. I’m fully prepared to BS my way through the rest of my life, pretending like I know what I’m doing.

A lot of my peers, including myself, have a pretty vague idea of what we want to do with the rest of our lives. I like to tell people I want to be a war-coverage journalist, but let’s be serious. I am a biddie, and although I do have a weird attraction to army guys there is NO WAY I am about to head into a war zone. And let me be a feminazi for a hot minute here and say that more often than not, women have to choose between a family and having a career to which they can devote their full potential. And yes, while I have considered trying to be the next Chelsea Handler, the truth is I will probably write for a small newspaper part-time and have four kids. Don’t get me wrong, I am totally okay with that. It just means that I have to give up a lot of other dreams of mine, like being a rap hype man, gypsie, or a Jeopardy contestant trainer. So my kids better freaking appreciate my sacrifice. :)