The jokes on me

April 1, 2016

Picture it:

We are at the lakes. I’m not really sure who is all there, but I know
that at least a few of the people are Amy Schumer and my mom. Amy convinces me to rent jet ski’s so I do it. Then we are racing on these jet ski’s and I’m flying on this jet ski because I want to fucking win. I look back and Amy is hysterically laughing because now I realize that I’m being chased by a shark. I flip my jet ski on a log and start sinking to the bottom. Then Amy flies by and pulls me up on her jet ski. By the way, in my dream she must be really strong because I don’t think anyone could pull me up on a jet ski, and
then we both start hysterically laughing and talk about how we really want hot dogs.

Alarm goes off (Which the tone is the theme song to the
Ellen DeGeneres show). Girl hits snooze, twice, then finally gets up
to rush around to get ready for work. She storms out of the apartment
(The Beyonce Credits Video beat starts playing, because for some
reason it’s the first song that always plays) and it’s raining, then
the girl literally trips on the sidewalk trying to catch the bus.

Most days I feel as though God is constantly laughing at me. Majority
of the time I’m the girl who is consistently tripping and falling flat
on my face.

For example: Yesterday, I had a piece of toilet paper stuck in my
pants that a co-worker had to inform me about.

I’m currently, still living from paycheck to paycheck. I find it
ironically weird that in college I had more money. I could afford
alcohol and vacations. Now, I’m just trying to pay that shit off. So,
my social life consists of me, a piece of baked chicken with lemon
juice, a side of ramen noodles, and Netflix. I’m still waiting for
that college degree to pay off. I worked so hard for that damn degree,
working full-time at Lowe’s.

On top of that, I’ve gained so much weight I look like I’ve already
had three children.

Cheers to being an adult. I love it. It’s great.

I was really fooled yesterday when I woke up truly believing I was
still 17. I’m 24, single, and broke.

I wonder if I’ll ever have my shit together.

Shall we reminiscence on the first time I moved to Chicago? A bird
shit on my head on my way to work, so I was left washing my hair at
work with the hand soap in the bathroom.

So, here I am. A grad school dropout and barely employed. My friends
convinced me to start writing a blog, since my dream career is to
write comedy for Comedy Central or SNL or something like that.

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