Mandatory Sensitivity Training...

Fast forward seven years later, here I am.

After 2,296 resumes sent, 317 interviews, ten jobs later, cumulatively, and none the richer- here I am.

The state of the world is bleak. We're on the brink of nuclear war (like every great generation shitting their pants) led by that ugly, orange thing that grows in mulch sometimes. On the brighter side, we do have Game of Thrones, Netflix, and the twins Carter.

I am happy. I'm getting married in exactly one month today to an insane man who has no clue what he is in for, yet we've made each other swoon for the last 12 years. It should be all good, right? Not a care in the world...

Wrong. It seems like you can't make a joke, compliment, or encourage people nowadays without someone harshin' the hell out of your mellow. And I'm talkin' real bad, cowboy. You can't live. You can't get on any platform, go to any professional or family function, nor can you have a conversation with a stranger without being insulted or insulting. We have to express our ideas. I really do believe there is, though it may be extreme, nod to heart to believe in something, no matter what it is. But why do we have to hate everyone else who believes something different?

You know I always have an instance and it's always recent. We've heard and read all about the Google manifesto. Someone on a business professionals' social media platform posted an article about how he refuses to read it. He was a black man who was just tired of hearing of who is right and better and wrong and worse, he just didn't want to get into the topic of the day and the rhetoric that surrounds. He's tired. We all are. But like kids who fight sleep and troll comments and commentators, the barrage of insults came.  And woowee- they came. From being accused of fascism, racism, an entitled millenial, "a retard," and every other insult that these "professionals" can think of, they came.

Imagine not even being able to openly say "no" to negativity. To hope that someone else is as tired as you. Well, to that man, and to the man who decided to go to the extent of commenting AT me just to call me "vapid" for liking his article, I say I'm fucking tired, too, bruv. Really damn tired.

I heard from our HR lady how she's sick of the gays "living their best lives and using that as an excuse to throw parades." I've seen a man have to completely retract an admitted transgression and how he's changed in the last 25 years so he would not be harassed for said 25-year-old transgression. I certainly got harassed for thanking him for being brave and helping others. I overheard a woman complaining about inevitably having to pay for her coworker's unborn baby in taxes. And I have just one question...

Do not get me wrong, I am not above having a good vent session or gossiping like every other red-blooded American girl, but do it with your tribe. Have some basic tolerance and at the very least, have some decency in public. Don't get heated and mad and throw the book of avacado ownership at someone for living their best life, either. You are insulting and hurtful and even with that said someone will say "quite being so sensitive, snowflake." 

(Side note: Currently, one of my favorite things is when white people misuse the term "Snowflake," especially to insult one another. They always are so proud of themselves. It's adorable!)

Actual medical footage of my brain function.

I don't understand the madness and don't think I should have to ('quit being so entitled, Brit'). Why are we like this ('who asked you, Brit')?  I blame Facebook and the enabling of comments ('then just stop reading the comments, Brit').

Either way, I salute those who keep pushing forward; those who stay the course of who they are, what they believe in, and shut the fuck about it until they are surrounded by their fellow Klan members. Surely, those people still have some semblance of love in their hearts and respect for other human beings by staying mad way down, deep down, where no one can ever see their rambling, angsty blog...

It's 2017 and a homophobic racist, a transgender Arab, and a blonde can surely walk into a bar and agree that the Kardashians need to be exiled from Earth, can't they? 

Moral of the story: CHILL THE FUCK OUT, YA'LL. Keep it friendly. Don't AT me.

Risk, as made clear by Wexley

It's Friday night. I am sitting here, alone, in my newly cleaned room that I share with my sister (who said community service doesn't rehabilitate delinquent younger siblings?) and I am eating chicken nuggets for dinner. I am watching Iron Man and am completely exhausted. I am 23 years old. If you cannot decide what's more pathetic, I will give you the answer:

It's the fact that I think RDJ is hot and that you now agree.

However, let the class open their books to the chapter about recurrent economic trends. Please save annoying Facebook statuses (stat-i?) about finals. I don't care. And the more I think about I really don't care so much for government wish-wash and all the technical stuff so I would like to sum it up for you as quickly as possible.

In my last year and a half of college, all of which was my senior year, I was aware of the frantic lament of the economy. Of course my main source of news on the American job market came from the stat-i  (it just sounds cooler, okay?) of friends and that kid everyone thought was dead after middle school until, HALLELUJAH! a friend request proves that zombies do exist. They all typically spoke of failed but elusive interviews. Many also obsessed over their choice of such a useless degree, or the choice of college in general. "Not me," I declared. It'll all be cool by the time I'm out there maaaaan, I thought. Cue questionable smoke and some Grateful Dead. Turns out I thought stupid amounts of wrong.

I never considered the literal meaning of the words 'unemployed' or 'jobless.' What's worse is the word 'unemployable,' but that's not a realization the last fragments of my youthful eagerness is willing to even begin to contemplate. I never thought any of them could be my reality but they are. And now, as I snack on the meaty tail of a delicious T-Rex I've named Wexley, a sentence forms in my brain. My face is contorting with the same "what the fuck, seriously?" expression I assume every time I see there is going to be another season  of American Idol as I realize: I have been unemployed/jobless for six months and counting.

That's my current reality. That, and I am out of ketchup. I've applied everywhere and anywhere wanted signs appear. Nothing pans out, but don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I humble myself by continually keeping track of the times. Literally, the Times and specifically that world: Africa section. If ever you need to shut yourself up from all the whining, head back to the Motherland.

I believe that this time shall pass. I think that the government needs to understand that they are selfish assholes because no one cares what they do- people will be people and live their lives BUT current economic climate is now fucking with my money. NO ONE fucks with my money. By now I am hoping people assume I look like Tony Montana. I am clear that whatever is going on, despite "it's on the the up" chatter, needs to do some meth and get higher. It's just weird. Like, I never understood the game of Risk but I imagine politics is exactly like that. Americans are gathered around the board. They don't understand so they say, "this shit is stupid," and the only ones who stay around and act like they know what the hell they are doing are the dorky kids. Yeah, I'm one of the cool kids but eventually those "asthmatic" kids keep playing, making shit up as they go, even throw in a Magic card once in a while and that should suffice them just fine. Like District 9, they multiply and that's how government and politics and economy and Donald Trump are born.

So to all of my fellow unemployed brothers and sisters, go back to the Motherland and stay strong! I know I'll keep looking for the wanted signs and so should you. It can always get worse but thankfully we do live in a country where shit is pretty legit and cushy.Thanks, Magic cards!! Just stay focused and market the shit out of your Defense against the French Arts degree. The horse and buggies of entry-level positions are a-comin'. Mind you, avoid all those clubs full of "gentleman" along the highway. What they want is not good. I've done the legwork. But, ya know, "fool me thrice," and all that jazz...

The reality of today's youth... R3AL RAP!

They are a growing epidemic among the American public. They have infected your everyday life but you may not notice them right away. They seem normal at first glance at your local mall, Starbucks, and/or movie theater. It is even said that within the next few years, they will have replaced Hipsters in terms overall wastes of space. That's right, they are the average teenager. They may seem innocent, but take a second look and you might lose a small bit of yourself... specifically your lunch and soul.


I started my sociological study after countless hours of wishing an aneurysm upon myself after listening to my fourteen-year-old sister's asinine phone conversations. Sure, if I am bored at work or my boyfriend and I want a hardy laugh then we will scour her Facebook page for the drama that only high school freshman can provide but this was the kicker. And I quote, "I wonder if there was a tsunami here.... like, would my mom keep paying my cell phone bill?"


I felt my lip twitch and took the cigar slowly out of my mouth. The camera zoomed in on my face as I slowly uttered in helpless and disgusted astonishment, "Oh my God."


I weep. I weep specifically the future of my sanity. These kids are damn crazy! Forget the fact that yes, I was a boy-band-loving, jean-and-hoodie-wearing, reckless-driving, drunk-on-colleges-I-didn't-even-apply-to-tours-teenager a mere five years ago. This is different. Times have changed and the world has gone crazy... er.


Young boys wear jeans as tight as Barbara Bush's smile . Teen moms are getting paid to punch their fat boyfriends in face on television and not watch their kid. And my sister? Well she is on the path of the most absurd. Here are a few clips from her and her friends' Facebook pages:

• AYEO I NEED SOME TALENT FOR DIS LANCASTER GOT TALENT JWNT TO WIN $500 I NEED 4 PPLZ DAHT CAN DANCE REALLY GOOD REAL RAP !!! HMU ON DAH INBOX IF YU DWN !!
• Yus were tryna get mhe to say sumfin dum but ik it was yus the whole tym Dats y I was lyk ik who it is bcc they txted the same way yus do

• I'm his girl to the fullest♥ If he's shootin up the place, I'm bringing the bullets (;

Now correct me if I am wrong, bt ah thnik iht be takin WAY mo' effort to tlk lyk dis, yo, REAL RAPP. It also takes a lot more effort to even read that so I thank you for the 2,500 brain cells you just wasted. I also hope this is the point in this post where everyone is now up in arms about all the huge budget cuts in education but I don't have the energy it takes to talk about that bullshit right now.

Last night, my sister searched for her iPod touch among the piles of trash in her room for two hours all the while on the phone with one or five of her friends whining, "This cannot be happening to me right now..." No, no it most definitely is. What cannot be happening right now is the population of a million kids just like her thriving as dumbasses who will go on reality shows like "Pimp Mah Spaceship" or "Super Sweet 16 and Pregnant Pact."

So this is what I am really trying to say: Kids- stop fucking up the English language and listening to Nicki Minaj, or whatever that bitch's name is. Schools- stop giving a million and one conflicting "measuring" tests and actually teach. Not in "blocks" and not periodically. Teach them until they sound like Stephen fucking Hawking, computer voice and all. Parents- care more, DICKS! And to the older siblings who never remembered acting that way so long ago, or such a dismal present- stay strong because I imagine Justin Bieber has a younger brother who is just going to piss him off one day... wait, I'm sorry that just made me happy.  

 

Other than that,  I mean, I'm lyk speechless. And that is REAL RAP, yo. Real rap, indeed.

If Charlie Sheen is cool, then I'm Mel Gibson's homosexual Jewish cousin Kanye.

So I'm partying in a movie theater on New Year's Eve. Why in a movie theater, you ask? It was the best resort. I would say 'last' but that just undermines my swag and besides that no place is bad if there are friends there. Can you say you've ever done such a thing? Jealouuusss. Anyhoo, I'm watching for sharp edges as I whip my hair back and forth and I realize something as actively channel Miss Smith: I am completely sober.

No, I'm no kind of addict unless you count a 15-year old obsession of the boy band 98 degrees and an ongoing ritual to watch a good episode of Intervention while I drink heavily with my best college friends. And just in case you're wondering, good episodes consist of someone freebasing meth bought with money from their immobile grandmother. I am also addicted to run-on sentences.

Anyway, I am completely sober because I am a good friend.I decided to DD with the hope that I get to tell everyone of their bad decisions the next morning and act high and mighty. You know you do it too, Judgey McJudgerfuck.

So as my friend, Erica* (the name has been changed because she is the shit) cradled her bottle of devil's piss, we had this out of body experience together. We had come to a consensus before that 2010 sucked and as I looked into her unfocused, glassy eyes that moment happened; We knew immediately that 2011 was going to be incredibly different. Better different, to be exact.

That next morning Erica texted me to tell me she didn't throw up. I texted back saying it was indeed noon and my mom was already finished with the traditional pork and sauerkraut AND it was actually delicious. With these two epic wins of the year, we coined the phrase TwoThousandAndWinnin'.

Don't act like you're not impressed. Two weeks fresh out of college and I was already putting my marketing degree to good use. TwoThousandAndWinnin' was solidified at least once a day. Sale at the liquor store: Winnin'. A good episode of Jersey Shore: Winnin'. A day where I didn't get stuck behind a school bus or horse-n-buggy on the way to my internship as I went down on a bagel: WINNIN'. And like all good Americans, we forgot about our little fad a few weeks later. Yes, it still would resurface once in a while but for the most part it's just a clever memory... until now.

Now I am all about a good celeb freak out. I like a good offensive rant with my cheerios in the morning. When I heard about this crown jewel though, I was livid. I felt like something had been stolen from me. I thought these things were always like time bombs but so you wouldn't be surprised when they actually did happen. This brought me a whole new element of surprise, though. This motherfucker STOLE a rant... and that is the worst kind of steal-sies.

Just to be clear though,  I want to say something. Fuck off. Fuck off and I salute you, Charlie Sheen. Not only did you re-coin a coined phrase but you are also taking millions of Americans along on your tiger blood acid trip... and that's kind of dope so yeah, save me a seat on that bus. I have a feeling it's already on it's way out, though.

So sorry, Charlie. It's on to the next. And to further conclude this topic, I do believe that this year is still better than the last; Rebecca Black will be the next coked-up teen queen who will steal a car and flick off a nun... on Friday and when that happens I will have been right and you'll think to yourself one simple thing: WINNIN'!

You're welcome. Now forget about it.