Spared

I’m not entirely sure what spurred my recent purge of 103 people from my Facebook friends list, but for the most part, it was easy to decide who didn’t make the cut.

Met once at a party in college and never spoke again? Delete.

You finally had the oopsie baby we all had to pretend wasn’t an oopsie baby even though you purposely wore an empire waist wedding gown to hide the bump? Baby’s cute. Excitement’s over. You’re out.

You friended me because I was quasi-dating your friend? We all knew that wasn’t going anywhere even while it was happening. I appreciate you extending the olive branch. Bye.

For some reason, though, there were some people that fell into the above categories and I still couldn’t bring myself to bring the guillotine down. So, I decided to analyze it.

I really hope the following survivors read these reasonings and message me with their blessing/agreement to go our separate ways. Help me help myself.

How ‘bout you, Eyebrows?

We’ve known each other for several years and I’ve never really had strong feelings either way about you as a person. However, I have very strong feelings about your eyebrows. You either need to dye them or learn to fill them in. They disappear in photos. It’s disconcerting.

I’m hoping to forego all of my fucks one day and just comment these feelings on a photo so you might evolve into something besides a walking five head and I can finally be at peace. Or, you’ll get so offended that you’ll defriend me, instead. Either way works!

The Switcheroo

You got married when we were, like, 20 years old. It was confusing. You definitely changed your name at that time. I still cared about maintaining relationships then, no matter how stilted they were, so I didn’t delete you even when you posted pics of you and your (much older?) hubby’s new condo. This was the heyday of Four Loko, and I was busy destroying my organs. Couldn’t care less about your adult decisions.

However, in my quest to declutter my friend list, I noticed that you had your original last name again. I haven’t kept tabs on you because, like I said, couldn’t care less, but now I’m intrigued. You’ve survived until I can dedicate the appropriate amount of time to ascertain what the fuck went wrong. I’m excited!

Family/Friend Ties

I vehemently dislike you. I’ve never liked you. This is decades-long disdain.

Unfortunately, you’re friends with and/or related to people I’m friends with. We’re going to run into each other and be obligated to participate in group pictures together which you’re going to force us all to retake because you think your tooth looks weird. Face it: Your teeth are weird. The situation won’t be rectified in a matter of minutes.

You’re hateful, hypocritical, vain, and your values are completely out of whack. I legitimately hope you get the new strain of incurable gonorrhea going around. In fact, I’m banking on it.

Christopher Columbus

You’re moving across the country soon. I’m really just waiting until you post the obnoxious status update confirming that you and your girlfriend are on the plane and then it’s over.

Silent Supporter

When did we meet? I know it was in college, but when and how? I’ve had to consider this for several people and most of them got the axe, but not you. Why? Because you’re freakishly supportive of things I post and, apparently, find me hilarious. We haven’t spoken to or seen each other in at least five years and probably never will again, and yet, without fail, there you are.

This is literally all it takes to weasel your way into my good graces. A like or a “haha” reaction? Be still my heart.  

Keep doing your thing and I’ll keep doing mine, you preciously encouraging figment of my life successes.

The Disney Princess Bride

I think you’re getting married in Disney World soon. I very much want to see the photos from this wedding because I think they’ll be magically ridiculous. If you could somehow pull off repelling down the aisle a la Tinkerbell during the nightly fireworks show instead of the traditional walk, that’d be great. Happy for you.

Rage Inspiration

You do Crossfit. Ask me how I know.

Anyway, you’ve gotten in great shape and I’m very impressed by you, so I keep you around as inspiration.

You’re also annoying as fuck.

I do not care about your workouts or your diet or your supplements or your PR’s or your delts. I definitely don’t care that you’re trying to get your Pro Card at whatever bikini/figure/spray tan competition is happening in nine weeks. Regardless, you have my respect. I’ll throw you a like every now and then while muttering, “Oh, fuck off.”

Everyone else I generally know and genuinely like, or at least find interesting, or am obligated by relationship or family to be “friends” with.

So….congratulations?

How To Uneventfully Get Your Wisdom Teeth Removed

I got my wisdom teeth out this weekend.

Medically, it went as planned, i.e. four teeth were removed and I'm assuming the surgeon wore gloves. However, as is to be expected from my life, it was quite the experience in every other way possible. How does one turn a seemingly run-of-the-mill procedure into a full-on calamitous event? Wellll....

Step 1: Arrive on time yet completely unprepared to fill out the paper work. Where is your insurance card? Beats me. Where is your referral form from your dentist? I actually do know, but the answer is not, "Right here in my purse." Did you fast for six hours? Yes. No water either? Nope (lie). Shake violently out of nervousness.

Step 2: Meet with your surgeon. Get reprimanded once again for not having your referral form (no one told me!). Have a group chat to examine your x-rays and decide what needs to be done, as if we're renovating a sunroom. Find out that while all four teeth are impacted, the bottom two are stuck in your jaw bone and the roots are either cuddling with your inferior alveolar nerve or have it in a chokehold. Removal of the bottom teeth could leave you with permanent nerve damage in your jaw. Cute!

Step 3: Be presented with three options: completely remove all teeth, do nothing to the bottom two and wait for them to get infected thus prompting emergency removal, or get a Coronectomy aka chop off the tops of your teeth but leave the roots intact so as not to disturb their sexy time with your nerve. Ask surgeon why none of this was ever brought to your attention before because uhhh it seems a bit serious. He avoids the question. Ask again. He avoids. Start crying and yelling at him that dentistry is horseshit. Essentially watch the scene from Knocked Up play out right before your, your mom's, and the assistant doctor's eyes:

Swap teeth for vaginas and this is exactly what happened

 

Step 4: Surgeon will ask you to consider all options and come back in a week.

Skylar - Actually, I'm moving to New York in two weeks so that's not going to work for me.

Surgeon - *Scoffs at your ambition*

Tell him to give you five minutes. He scoffs again. Continue to cry. He storms out of the room.

 

Step 5: Surgeon returns. Have him shove consent forms in your face without explaining what's going on. Apparently you're agreeing to the Coronectomy because that's what he thinks is the best idea. Good talk, bro.

 

Surgeon - This is the hardest procedure I will do all day.

Skylar - OH REALLY THAT'S COMFORTING.

 

Step 6: Surgeon will speak to everyone in the room except you. Mom steps in and says, "Uh, she's right here." He tells doctor's assistant to prep Room 6 and leaves. Immediately burst into tears and throw in some hyperventilation for good measure. Everyone tells you to calm down, which obviously helps a ton. 

 

Step 7: Get escorted to Room 6. Immediately notice Ryan Reynolds look-a-like assistant and suddenly feel calm, cool, collected, and angry at yourself for not wearing any makeup. He puts a blanket on you, which seems a bit forward considering the other people in the room but hey you're down if he is. Unfortunately he seems more interested in doctor's assistant. Grey's Anatomy is real.

Scrubs optional

 

Step 8: Get tubes shoved up your nose and offer up your arm so they can insert the IV, which goes off without a hitch because you have very prominent veins. Shout out to doing bi's and tri's last week. #killinit #fitfam #weightlifting #swole

 

**GET HACKED UP**

 

Step 9: Come to in a holding room with your mom laughing at you hysterically.

Skylar - Do I look good enough for a beauty pageant?

Mom - Oh definitely.

Skylar - K good because I have one next week.

Mom - You do?

Skylar - Mhmmmmm.

 

[guy in next room singing "I Gotta Feeling"]

Skylar - Tell him I can join in if he wants, I totally know this song.

 

Skylar - Mom, when they tried to put my IV in I had to look away because I hate needles and blood.

Mom - I know.

Skylar - On campus in Louisville they always asked me to give blood and I always said I wanted to but I didn't weigh enough....*whispering* but I doooooo.

 

Step 10: Go directly home and pass out, but not before Snapchatting this picture to all of your friends:

 

 

 

 

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24 Pieces of Advice for 18-Year-Old Skylar

My 24th birthday is tomorrow. I know, I know, so exciting, I wear a size XS/S, I like everything Kate Spade, dahlias are my favorite flower, yadda yadda whatever. Despite the fact that I will now be entering my "mid-20s" and leaving "early 20s" debauchery behind (....), I'm not one of those people that freaks out about suddenly being old.

24 is not old. Not even close. Works for Hugh Hefner!

However, 30 is getting there. You're still workin' it, but you're expected to have your life slightly more together and could potentially have a baby. Whoa. A lot can happen in six years, and while I'm excited for all of those opportunities, I realize there will be a lot of lessons to learn along the way. I'll probably look back at my current self and think, "Really?" mostly because that's exactly how I think of 18-year-old me.

If I could go back in time, I would try my best to save myself and avoid being such a dumbass. Clearly I turned out [arguably] normal, but there are some unnecessary events that could've been avoided with some guided wisdom. Here is that wisdom:

1. Change your hairstyle - You look like a little lad who loves berries and cream.

2. You're still growing - Your body is on like a three year delay, which is jussst adorable. Hold on to that green dress, it'll look better on you in a few years.
3. That girl's actually kind of mean - Don't hang out with her anymore.
4. That guy turns into a huge hippie - I know, right?!
5. That guy turns extremely religious - Hahaha. I mean good for him.
6. Step up your party clothes game - Who wears a cardigan to a house party? This is embarrassing.

7. This is the last year you'll be able to eat meatball subs every single day without consequence - Cherish it. For the love of God cherish it.
8. Never take an 8:30 a.m. class, Math or other, ever again - We both knew that was a terrible decision from the get-go.
9. Say yes to [almost] everything - Everything's an opportunity, everything's an experience, don't miss out on any of it just because you were tired. Surprise: you'll be tired no matter what. Just say yes and go.
10. Save every piece of your writing on an external hard drive - Your computer crashes in four years and you lose it all. Fuck.
11. Wear less eyeliner - It's just a better look.
12. Stop making inappropriate profile pictures using FaceinHole - Funny, sure. But your head on Miranda Kerr's body isn't getting you a job after college and it makes your mom sad.
13. "Ugh I miss you we need to hang out! Lunch soon?" - Use as necessary.
14. You are a trendsetter for hating Twilight - Congratulations! And stay strong, it catches on.
15. Breaking the rules has zero consequences - Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar. You'll have much better stories down the road.

16. Have patience with the difficult people - They'll come back around, and you will have been the bigger person. Snaps.
17. Getting embarrassed is a waste of energy - No one remembers when you just laugh it off, so just laugh it off.

18. Your AP Government teacher who told you you probably wouldn't amount to much because you couldn't care less about PACs? - He can respectfully go fuck himself. And if you had told him so to his face it wouldn't have mattered in the long run. Hindsight is 20/20.
19. A walk of shame is not shameful if your hair looks good - Finger comb, shoulders back, work it.
20. Call your grandma - At least twice a week. She enjoys this. She will like you better than the rest of the family. They will argue this point. They are wrong.
21. Running on the treadmill for 15 minutes doesn't count - Permissible because you've still got a rapid fire metabolism on your side, but refer to #7. Step it up before it's too late.
22. Most of the guys you know today will look like 40 year olds in six years - Cut your losses, it's for the best.
23. Succumb to saying "y'all" for the time being - It's not the only regional accent you'll adopt in your life, might as well just enjoy it while it lasts.
24. Keep writing - It's working. :)

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My Life According to Buzzfeed Quizzes

One of my favorite lunchtime pastimes of yore is MASH. Countless hours were spent figuring out if I'd be living in a mansion with Brian Littrell and our 37 kids, working as a trash collector and driving a hearse; or in a shack with the school janitor and our zero kids, working as a firewoman and driving a BMW, aka the more plausible option.

 

I put a lot of stock in these games. If it was down to my crush or the kid who saved his boogers on the underside of his desk [for later, natch], my world was shattered when Fate chose the latter and I was forced to imagine my future life of eternally cleaning snot off the coffee table.

There was no chance in MASH.
MASH was real.

Luckily, Buzzfeed's newest trend of posting personality quizzes satisfies my 20-something need to "find myself" in the most accurate, foolproof way possible. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, so despite the fact that it's physically impossible, it's nice to know that were I capable of growing a beard, I should grow a goatee--because I'm a "trend setter."

My life is supposed to go a little something like this:

• First of all, my dad is not my real dad. Fortunately, Phil Dunphy is an excellent stand-in for the-man-the-myth-the-legend Bill; i.e. TV Dad and Actual Dad are essentially the same person, and this is neither a gain nor a loss. 

• As much as I adored my time in Louisville, I was apparently better suited for THE Ohio State University. Both have a killer football team, show off how good I look in the color red and let me throw gang signs, so this sounds like an easy swap.

• While I may be celebrating my 24th birthday this summer (June 11th, if you had tossed around the idea of getting me anything in the price range of $50-$450 from Kate Spade), I am actually 35. This is because I'm "training for a half-marathon," prefer Twitter to Tumblr, and consider clothing a necessary extravagance. Since I have the face of a preteen I might actually look 24 by the time I'm 35, so yet again this doesn't make much of a difference.

• All of this is happening in the 50's, because that is the decade I belong in. Anyone who is aware of my proclivity for poofy skirts, Charlotte York, and wearing an apron when I bake will completely agree with this. Anyone who is aware of my dirty sailor mouth and general disdain for rules will not.

• My soulmate is someone named Matt. Call it a hunch, but these quizzes might not be completely accurate.

• On the other hand, I will take the results as the gospel because the city I should actually live in is New York! If you weren't aware (which kudos to you for achieving, because I mention this at least twice a day), moving there and becoming a writing powerhouse is all a part of my three year plan. I'm glad I finally have proof that it can has to happen. Buzzfeed, you beautiful little genius, I'm sorry I ever doubted you.

• Living in NYC could allow me to live out my childhood dream of being Annie on Broadway; however, as destiny would have it, I'm actually supposed to star in Wicked. From two years of being around choir kids in high school who felt the need to belt out showtunes at a moment's notice, I happen to know all the words to "For Good," so I suppose I'll leave my ginger-headed aspirations behind in the name of predestination.

So there we go. I'm apparently meant to follow the wisdom of Phil's-osophy as a 35-year-old student in Ohio in the mid-50's, where I'll meet a Matt who will agree to move to New York and watch me night after night in the role of Elphaba.

We can only hope that this Matt guy isn't put off by a little female facial hair.

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My Life in T-Shirts

If I were ever on an episode of "Hoarders," they wouldn't find me buried underneath years of old newspapers, dead cats and broken Precious Moments figurines; it'd be something more along the lines of leadless mechanical pencils, shoe boxes, and event t-shirts. I would have no problem getting rid of my grandmother's centuries-old china set, but I'd literally fight whoever tried to dispose of my pee-wee soccer jersey.
 
I finally bit the bullet the other morning and decided that owning multiple fraternity philanthropy event t-shirts--identical in everything but color--really wasn't that important. I also probably didn't need the high school spirit shirts from activities I didn't even do or the professional sports team shirts for teams I don't even like.

I did, however, find some gems, and realized just how interesting my life has been through giveaway t-shirts alone. Follow me on an adventure through my life in 100% cotton:

MCI Commercial Try-Out Shirt: If there was ever hope that I could be a child star, it was shot down when I tried out for an MCI commercial at age five. Here's the thing: I don't like liars. The girl who was conducting this audition handed me a telephone and told me that Goofy was on the other end and that I should talk to him. Excuse me, bitch, but I can see you standing right in front of me with another fake phone to your ear putting on your worst Goofy impression, and I'm not amused. I remember just standing there, looking at this girl completely confused and a bit offended that she would take my childhood innocence for stupidity. I did not get the part, surprisingly, but my mom did get me a popsicle right after so it was still a success.

Cool Frogs Field Day Shirt: Field day was the most wonderful time of the year in elementary school. You got to wear your bathing suit to school and run around outside all day throwing water balloons at the kid you liked to show him how much you cared. Also, since I'm a June baby, Field Day almost always fell around or on my birthday. In second grade, I had an awesome teacher who helped us make these t-shirts, and ignoring the fact that the frog eyes I chose are particularly creepy, it's a pretty sweet artifact of my younger days. Even cooler is the fact that good ol' Facebook has connected me with the majority of the people on the back.

"Cheerleading" Shirt: In sixth grade, to promote a healthy rivalry and make sure that we would all enter middle school knowing which elementary school dominated the community, the PTA put on a friendly basketball game between our school and another. Naturally, I opted for the spirit section, because A) sports involving my hands are a no-go and B) I had just seen "Bring it On" and now had dreams to fulfill. I took the role to heart, doing high kicks and screaming my tiny little lungs out while simultaneously wishing the rest of the girls had their shit together enough so we could properly execute a basket toss. Instead, we performed our halftime show which involved half of us forgetting what we were supposed to cheer and one girl holding a sign upside down, leading us to inspire our team to "GO! PANDAS! OG!"

People Got to be Free! Shirt: In seventh grade, I was in show choir. Our teacher decided that we should be the cautionary songbirds of our generation and take our talents on the road, performing a live-action Don't Do Drugs PSA for all of the elementary schools in the area. We took [ahem] "popular" songs of the 70s and 80s to communicate our message, such as Lonesome Loser by Little River Band (1979). Basically, I'm all for telling little kids that crack is whack, but these were my formative years, and between my snaggletooth and the fact that my body was developing from the feet up (it was a mess to watch me dance, seriously), this was not helping my street cred whatsoever.

Seventh Grade Musical Shirt: I was in the school musical in seventh grade as well, because God forbid I waste my talents on "Get high on life!" sing-a-longs alone. Krazy Kamp was about a summer camp, and it was crazy. That's pretty much all I remember. I was an ensemble member, aka I tried out for the lead and got shot down. If you're guessing a theme to my life so far, you're on the right track.

Chuck E. Cheese Shirt: One of my best friends has a penchant for doing ridiculous things for her birthday. In college, she had a party at Taco Bell. When she turned 18, she had a pizza party at Cici's and then we went to the mall where something that qualifies for a 10 year secret happened and I'd rather not discuss it. When she turned 16, we went to Chuck E. Cheese. That's probably the last time I've ever been to that place, but it's an entirely new world when suddenly you know how to effectively cheat at skee ball and you realize that the guy dressed has Chuck has a particularly pungent cologne of weed and dumpster smell emanating from his fur. I'd like to think I won this shirt from my booty of tokens, but I probably bought it; and I'd like to say I regret it, but I definitely don't.

Official Hooters Tank: I take my Halloween costumes extremely seriously. I'm all about authenticity and when I go for something, I give it my all. My freshman year of college I decided I wanted to be a Hooters girl for Halloween, and went so far as to go on the Hooters website to see what the qualifications for employment actually were, just in case I was so comfortable in the tank top that I chose to pursue it as a career. I had my orange shorts, my tube socks, ugly white Reeboks that I happened to own, and hit up three different restaurants in order to score myself this little number. I keep it, thinking that maybe I'll break it out again some day, when in reality I put too much stock in the holiday do to repeatsies.

No Kangaroos in Austria Shirt: The majority of the people that I went on my study abroad trip to Austria with came back with souvenirs that were special to the country and reflected the culture that we had immersed ourselves in for a month and a half. I....came back with this. Do you know how many "Dumb and Dumber," "Let's put another shrimp on the barbie!" moments I put people through? Do you? It was the joke that never got old. I bought my family authentic beer steins and Bavarian blown-glass ornaments, so it's not like I completely dropped the ball, but this shirt was just too perfect to leave behind. Full disclosure: I also bought it in magnet form.

Louisville National Champions Shirt: My school is better than your school in every sense of the word. Yes, I had been graduated for almost a year when this happened, but they could (and will) do it again and again for many years to come, and I will get every single one of those commemorative t-shirts as well. Kentucky pride runs deep, y'all.

I have a feeling the next chapter of my life will involve a lot fewer t-shirts and more promotional goodies like mouse pads and letter openers emblazoned with company logos, and I'm fine with that, but there's just something about wearable memorabilia that makes a life event that much more significant. If I'm not presented with a "You got engaged!" shirt right after my man pops the question, or a "You got your hip replaced!" one when I turn 85 then it's like those things didn't even happen.

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Craigslist Chronicles: Missed Connections

Craigslist personals are my guiltiest of guilty pleasures. I can’t get enough. Sometimes I hear ridiculousness on the news and think, “There’s no way there are people out there that are actually that strange” but then I read some of the absurdity on Craigslist and I say, “Just kidding.”

 

I’m not ashamed to declare that my hands-down favorite personals section is Missed Connections. In the olden days of 1995, people would write notes on old receipts and stick them on windshields in Home Depot parking lots hoping to foster some romance.

 

Hey Hottie, lookin’ good in those high-waisted jeans. You are too pretty to be carryin’ that hose all by yourself, how about you give me a call and we discover the secret garden together?

307-271-4303

Love, Rick

 

Now, all Rick has to do is post a similar note up on the internet and hope and pray that Hottie is as desperate as he is. THIS IS LOVE IN THE NEW MILLENIUM, PEOPLE.

 

I used to just mess around on Craigslist for fun with my roommates, reading the creepy messages in appropriately creepy voices and spending ten minutes arguing about who should respond, only deciding in the end that thanks-but-no-thanks we were all too busy for rape that night. Then one fateful afternoon, I was casually reading through and came upon a message that fueled an entirely new obsession:

 

Dear Waitress, Sorry my friends n I were so loud and obnoctshus last night. LOLZ. We all agreed that u were really cool n hot, especially with those big blue eyes n blonde hair. U looked great in ur short denim shorts. LOLZ. I’d love to hang sometime. Msg me if u see this.

 

This was about one of my roommates.

I was positive.

 

I texted her immediately and told her that she had found love in a hopeless place and asked if their first child’s name would be spelled “Hayley” or “Heighleah.” For whatever reason, she was not amused or interested in this character, which is her loss because clearly he’s going places. However, I now knew that Craigslist encounters could be real, and thus Detective Skylar was one the prowl.

 

Louisville Missed Connections were interesting, but the Northern Virginia ones are where it’s at. NoVA is by no means a small place, but you can go to a Target 40 miles away from where you grew up and still see your soccer coach from when you were eight. Nowhere is safe.  Naiveté would lead me to believe that “Strbcks Jenny” couldn’t possibly be the girl in my ninth grade biology class, but optimism reminds me that there’s a chance, and compassion wants her to find and marry the tall black man with beautiful green eyes who ordered a venti, non-fat, no foam, no water, six pump, extra hot chai tea latte.

 

Could “Costco Hot Blonde Mom” be my next door neighbor? Did I teach dance to the daughters of the “MILFs of South Riding”? Is the guy pining after his ex-wife of 15 years seeking therapy, or is he also the one posting about a discrete NSA lunchtime affair in Casual Encounters?  I am riveted.

 

"SWM brown hair, fit, loves music"

I’d [probably] never respond to one of these ads for the sake of curiosity. I like pushing the envelope for my own entertainment, but if it comes down to seeing if Brian from Loudoun is really referring to me when he says he saw a petite brunette at Walgreens who looked like Denise Richards (flattery gets you nowhere, Brian) or having my bones made into wind chimes, I’d rather just sit in my sweatpants and Google new hobbies to take up.

 

That being said, I really hope “G” finds Teresa from Coastal Flats. He’s posted about her like five times in the past ten days and I really think there's something there.

The Five Phrases We Should All Let Go

I believe that every word that comes out of a person’s mouth should have emphatic significance (see what I did there?).

 

Whoever introduced synonyms to me in elementary school should be kissed by someone who knows how and promptly bought Chipotle. I love to talk, I love to force others to listen to me speak, and the sole reason I abstain from smoking cigs is because I’m terrified I’d have to get a tracheotomy and my sweet sweet voice would be replaced by robot sounds.

 

As far as I’m concerned, language is a privilege, and my love for it is consistently ruined by people who pollute the air with god-awful catch phrases and misspelling of the word “congratulations” (there is no D. Stop it). Below are the five phrases that I think we should all agree to retire.

 

1.       “That’s all.” Typically used when someone makes an opinionated statement about something that they’d rather not have disputed.

Ex: “The University of Louisville is the best at everything. That’s all.” (p.s. SHOUT OUT TO THE SUGAR BOWL WINNERS HEYYYYYY)

Can also be used when something weird/out of the ordinary has happened and a person wants to play it all nonchalant.

Ex: “I was just told I have the potential musculature appropriate for a career in female body building. That’s all.”

Why it bothers me: It’s used totally hypocritically. If you tell me, “Fuck you. That’s all,” that is definitely NOT ALL and there’s about to be a (what?) girl fight.

 

2.       “Epic.” Typically used when someone wants an event to sound much more impressive than it actually was.
Ex: “Dude last night was so epic. Tyler puked in a girl’s hair and then helped her clean it out; Chris snuck into the DJ booth and played like four Hootie and the Blowfish songs; we went to McDonald’s and John ate his fries with mustard; and then I DD’d everyone. Fuckin wild night, bro.”
Why it bothers me: People have actually told me stories like the one above. I feel bad for them. Epically bad for them.
 
3.       “Fail.” Typically used when someone doesn’t go out on a Saturday night because they’re too busy looking up memes on (what else?) FAILblog.
Ex:

Why it bothers me: The grammar Nazi in me can’t get past the obvious fragment going on here, and anyone I’ve ever met who uses “fail” in everyday conversation is incredibly annoying so it’s the associative property at its finest.
Why it really bothers me: People usually use “epic” and “fail” together. I can’t even…
 
4.       “Is this real life?” Typically used when someone is easily entertained.
Ex: “It took me less than thirty minutes to straighten my hair. Is this real life?”
Why it bothers me: All it took was a drugged up child with two fingers who thought this was going to be forever to start this phenomenon. My friends are drugged up all the time and it’s never even made a blip on the pop culture radar….UNTIL NOW:

5.       “Mind blown.” Typically used when someone realizes something that the rest of society figured out a long time ago.

Ex: “Just found out that Fez's name on That 70's Show stood for Foreign Exchange Student. MIND BLOWN.”

Like Facebook, Google, and speakerphone, our parents will revive this phrase about 5-20 years after it’s worn out its welcome with the rest of our vocabularies.

Ex: “My microwave has a Popcorn button. MIND BLOWN.”

Why it bothers me: I’m just a really huge know-it-all and nothing fazes me.

Graduation Acceptance Speech

Wow, I really didn’t see this coming! It was an honor to even be nominated! I don’t even have anything prepared. Just kidding, here goes:

First, I would like to thank the Business School for weeding me out after first semester of freshman year. I thought since I was successful at DECA events in high school that I really wanted to be a Marketing major, and could potentially turn that into a career in PR. Luckily, by forcing me to take math, science, and bullshit gen ed classes before I even stepped foot inside of a marketing classroom, you ensured that I would change my mind and fall back on the one thing I’ve ever actually been decent at: writing. I owe ya one!

I would also like to thank my parents for not telling me “Well why not stay in state for school?” They also did not force their alma maters on me, and my dad calmly accepts defeat when Louisville beats UConn twice in one basketball season. They sent me care packages and did not have me delivered to a mental institution even when stress freak-outs caused me to start crying over the phone for no particular reason. When I came home on breaks after living off of nothing but Ramen and apples for three straight weeks, my mom plumped me right back up. Basically, they’re awesome, and if I ever become rich and famous I promise to pay them back for my tuition. Way to be, Mawm and Faja!

A big shout-out goes to my adrenaline levels for forcing me to eek out multiple all-nighters without the help of Red Bull, Monster, coffee, Adderall, or any combination of the four. I am very proud of my ability to stay up all night fueled entirely by procrastination, self-loathing, and the fear of failing out of school, and it goes without saying that I’m just an all-around better person than anyone that is incapable of doing so.

To all of the pref night and formal dates I have had, you are all stud muffins and thank you for inviting me to get drunk in a pretty dress at a hotel fo’ free. Not everyone can say that they slept in the hallway as the night maids vacuumed around their freezing body; or stepped in the puke of another girl who was unable to handle her Heaven Hill; or did the Cupid Shuffle on Bourbon Street while horse cops took videos on their iPhones; but I sure as hell can, and the memories (or at least the pictures) will last forever.

Every cop that has broken up a party and forced me to hop fences in heels; every professor who has taken a liking to me and allowed me to turn in a paper a week late just because I didn’t feel like doing it on time; every time I hit the refresh button to view my grades at the end of the semester, only to find that my Comm grade STILL WASN’T UP; every girls’ night spent talking about the Dud Friend and/or whichever guy screwed us over that week; every time the Campus Preacher told me I was a harlot who was headed straight to the fiery depths of Hell; every outlet in the library that was conveniently being used when my computer was on 2% battery and I would lose the last eight pages of my paper if I didn’t plug it in like now; every free food event hosted by a student organization I had no intentions of joining; every time someone asked me if I was in a sorority, and I said no, and I got the response of “…Well that’s okay;” every random person that I have ever come across that I now say “Hi” to even though neither of us is really sure how we met in the first place; and of course, every year living in the lovely city of Louisville that has given me an inexplicable hatred for anything UK related:

Thank you. It’s been real.