My first kiss…


My first kiss gets an extra ‘ugh’ when I think about it because I was a senior in high school when I finally reached this slobbery milestone. I was 17, cat lady single, and desperate to get my first kiss under my belt before college. Up until that point I would use that time in preschool when I kissed some kids back when we were playing tag on the playground as my ‘first kiss’ in order to keep myself from curling up into the fetal position every time boys were brought up in conversation. I am still unsure if I am proud or ashamed that that was the closest I had come to kissing a boy until that fateful evening 12 long years later.

Lets set the mood and do some math, shall we? The camera pans to two teens reeling in excitement from the homecoming dance, a sky sprinkled with stars, and an old blanket laid casually on a trampoline. It was scene you probably could have copied out of my fourth grade diary. If I would (could) have kept my streak going, they would have called me the trampoline tramp. Or not. They still would have called me Gertrude** because no one would ever believe a story where all the fellas were lined around the block for me/a trampoline.

**Name changed to protect author from embarrassment and being constantly photographed by the adoring public

Guys, first kisses are the worst. I for one had no idea what was happening…Was he trying to get my entire face covered in slobber? Is that what kissing was? Oh man I really know A LOT less than I thought. If it is actually possible for me to move on this trampoline right now what should I do with my hands? Should I close my eyes? He looks like hes sleeping…Oh no we just made eye contact, that was weird…I’m gonna close my eyes now…Is that mint? Chapstick, maybe? Oh my gosh, I bet my breath totally smells like those chips and salsa I ate earlier…

This is awkward.


Those friends who turned into acquaintances…


You all have those people.You used to be best buddies and you would tell them all about your first kiss and how unfair your algebra test was and how Stacy was acting weird around you ever since you became friends with her ex-boyfriend and all that jazz. And now, maybe a few months or years later, you are lucky if they invite you to a group dinner when all the old crew is back in town or even write a generic ‘Happy Birthday!’ on your Facebook wall.

It’s sad really. But is it? I mean if you really wanted to stay friends, one of you would have made the effort…and maybe you did at first…but LIFE HAPPENS PEOPLE and there is no way that you can stay close with every single person you ever considered a friend. Think about it. Do you really want to tell you ‘friendquaintance’ about how everyone at work thinks your name is Marcy when its Macy? Do you want to share with them how hard it was for you when your sea monkeys died (RIP little guys)? Do you think they care that the quesadilla you had for lunch made you so gassy you had to cancel that movie date with Brad?

You don’t want to tell them and they don’t care. And there is nothing wrong with that!

But when you run into them at your best friends brother’s graduation party and you both realize all this while simultaneously trying to decide if you should hug them or just make small talk, it will be glaringly obvious that…

This is awkward.

Getting a big girl job…


Guys and gals I have crossed the threshold into adulthood, or at least dipped my calloused big toe into the water. It has been four roller coaster days of non-stop insanity punctuated by hurried trips to the ladies room and bad coffee.

Okay so maybe that is not an accurate depiction. Honestly, “Administrative Assistant” is a just a bad-ass name for someone who can always be found filing papers, playing with extra staples, or silently crying as she accidentally (and repeatedly) paper cuts her fingers.

While this may not sounds like fun to some, I have found that I thrive in an environment that as ordered at the filing cabinets that I spend every day laboring over. I get to be all fancy-secretary like and type things into the computer and everyone smiles and is nice to me because they need me to do the work that they don’t want to do.

There are other perks too. I GET MY OWN CUBICLE!!! What more could a girl want? Nothing. The answer is nothing. BUT WAIT, there is more. I was introduced to Doughnut Joe and I think I found my new best friend. He is a guy named Joe who works at the office. Every Thursday he walks around with a box of doughnuts and offers them to you. Delivers it right there to your cubicle. This is the dream man. Doughnuts delivered to your own personal cubicle.

Sadly, I am the only person in the office under twenty and not engaged nor married (and with no hope on the horizon). The age gap is glaring…as is the maturity gap because I am a twelve year old boy trapped in a nineteen year old girl’s body. As much as I try to enjoy my job, when I am sitting at the big table in the break room by myself, just sippin’ my juice box and munching on the turkey sandwich my mom made for me, watching the other employees laugh and interact, I can’t help but realize….

This is awkward.