Things have not gotten better in my second month of forced adulthood.
First of all, apartment hunting is not only a huge pain in the ass, but also, it makes me want to die. Like I was actually driving to work this morning and thought, “Huh, you know what would make this housing search a lot less stressful and would allow me to sleep through the night without nightmares of homelessness and shame? Getting massacred by that huge eighteen-wheeler filled with gasoline barreling down behind me.”
That, my friends, is morbid. But I’m nothing if not honest, and I figured if I got into a harrowing car accident [that I somehow survived because I’m one resilient mofo], at least I’d get a cushy stay in a hospital bed for a few weeks and could continue to Google one-bedrooms with the assistance of a morphine drip.
Because the stress of home-hunting has left me broken and battered, I have realized that I heavily depend on two things to quell my anxiety: Diners Drive-ins and Dives, and My Drunk Kitchen. It should come as no surprise that my bank account hasn’t really improved in the last month, and I’m still broke as a joke making meals out of canned green beans and Yoplait Lights (100-calorie White Chocolate Strawberry: get in my belleh), but these two shows are solely responsible for keeping me from making horrible decisions.
Number one: Instead of stress-eating (as I am prone to do), I watch Guy Fieri do The Hunch over a massive bacon-wrapped bison burger, and in my malnutritioned state of being, I can actually taste said burger in my mouth, and my stomach is satisfied. Juices dripping to my elbows, cheese grease slicked across my face, pieces of lettuce sticking to the corners of my mouth. Nom. Side note: I don’t even like burgers, which is an even greater testament to how close I am to becoming a featured charity case on a Christian Children’s Fund commercial.
Number two: Alcohol is not the answer….Until you’re forced to get your apartment application co-signed and you start crying in front of the leasing agent and all of the precious decorating plans you made for the PERFECT studio apartment you found all retreat into the distance as Nickelback plays mockingly and mercilessly in the background. Ten Months Ago Skylar would’ve picked the world up and dropped it on its fuckin head while simultaneously chugging a bottle of Pinot. NOT ANYMORE. Hannah Hart does this for me, while hilariously creating “meals” that really just consist of passing a bottle of Svedka back and forth and making witty puns that even I didn’t see coming. The best part about this is, I am distracted by my pathetic post-grad life for a good 3 ½ minutes; I get in a much-needed laugh or twenty; and for some reason (and my roommate backs me on this), you can watch these videos without a glass of anything alcoholic and I swear you’re still buzzed afterward. Maybe life isn’t so bad after all.
Stayed tuned for next month’s update! Perhaps I’ll actually be living in a place that has a roof, typing up these posts on a brand new computer, occupied by things other than a man with peroxide-blonde Dragon Ball Z hair? Dare to dream, friends.