Certain relatives of mine are in BIG trouble. You know who you are.
I know some of you guys actually called me and got met with my voicemail. I saw that you called. I just can’t call you. My phone got stolen the day before my birthday (sucks, right?), so I’m currently using a spare phone that I keep in my closet for such emergencies as this. It’s the original Motorola Droid, if that doesn’t tell you how old it is, and half the touch screen doesn’t work so 95% of the time I can’t unlock the dang thing and 95% of the time I can’t answer incoming calls. It’s hard on the yard, man. It’s hard.
What did I do for my birthday, you ask? Well Friday I hung out with my friends (i.e., “we ate pizza and watched movies and baked secret smores”), Saturday I did a little shopping, and Sunday I had dinner with some of my relatives at Outback. Wanna know what I did before my birthday?
I bought myself a car! That’s right, folks: I know longer have to bum rides off of people, or get dropped off anywhere, or have to wait on someone to come pick me up when I go places! No one is happier about this than me. Except for my mom. And probably my friends who have been ferrying me around since we got our licenses. Shout out to Jordan and Mollie. Y’all are troopers, man.
This is my car! It’s a 2002 Kia Sportage and people keep telling me that it “fits me,” which is good, I suppose, considering I’ll be driving it even after I get that much coveted 3-series BMW. Or an Audi. Audis are nice. I’ve decided that my car is a girl, and now she needs a name. I name EVERYTHING. If anyone has suggestions, let me know. Seriously. I can’t think of one, and I’m about 5 seconds from calling her Elvendork. I don’t want to call her Elvendork, even if it is unisex. (someone please understand that reference or I will lose faith in humanity)So now I’m 24, and even though 24 isn’t considered a milestone birthday I’m going to say it is because for the first time in my relatively new adult life I actually feel like an adult. I don’t know what happened, but on Sunday at midnight it kind of hit me in the face that I’m really not a kid anymore (or a stupid teenager). I have 1.5 college degrees and certifications from fancy foreign offices. I have a passport (with stamps in it!). I have insurance. I have bills. I have loans. I have credit (good credit, too). I have a job (so what if it’s only part time). I haven’t asked my mom for pocket money in MONTHS. I’m in the market for a savings account. I spend more time on LinkedIn than I do on Facebook. I hate going to the mall on weekends because there are so many freaking teenagers and none of them have any home training (people who had kids in the 90s/early 2000s, I HATE YOU). I paid for my car in full. I pay taxes. I pay tags.
Can we talk about that tags thing for a second? Do y’all know I paid $200+ for my license plate? Isn’t that labor subsidized through the prison system? (srsly, isn’t that where tags come from??) WHAT DO YOU NEED $200 FOR, SOUTH CAROLINA?? CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE THAT MONEY GOES BECAUSE IT FOR DANG SURE ISN’T FOR EDUCATION.
The point is, after years of thinking how awesome it must be to be a grown up, I finally find myself with one foot firmly planted in adulthood. Is it awesome? I don’t know; I’m not all the way there yet. Is it scary? Not really. It’s a lot like college, only no one drinks on Thursdays anymore and you have to pay for your football tickets. Am I alright with that? Yes. Yes I am.
But being alright with it didn’t stop me from going, “...nope!” once I realized it and starting a 3-hour marathon game of The Sims 3.
Don’t look at me like you’ve never played The Sims for 3+ hours. You’re a friend of mine. Of course you have.
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