Wear your pajamas to work. Or, if you already wear your pajamas to work, but your heart and soul yearn for a job for which you can dress up in a bullet bra and red lipstick, do that. Do the thing. Be that person. Stop wasting time at a job you hate, even if it means dismantling your illusion of success and job security. If you are miserable at your job, find a new one. I went to school on borrowed money to be an x-ray tech because that was a “growing field” with an average annual salary north of 50 grand. I loved taking x-rays, but I hated most of the bitches that I met along the way. A handful of them are still friends, but the job was unmitigated ass. 12-hour shifts that routinely became 13- and 14-hour shifts, patients who were stupid and inconsiderate beyond reason and constantly exchanging one opportunistic virus for another quickly wore thin. One angry Facebook rant later, and I am negotiating my real dream job via private message with my friend (now my boss) who owns an estate sale company. I get paid to be nosy and root around through other peoples’ stuff. I have virtually no dress code. My coworkers and I occupy a house for a few days, sort it, and sell it, then move on to the next. I still have my x-ray license, but it’s the fall-back-on job. Go find your dream job. Start now.
Clean out your purse. Or your car. Seriously. This is one area in which you have complete control in a world filled with things over which you have exactly zero control. Get rid of the crumbs, the bobby pins, the slightly greasy pack of gum that has been in there for six months – clean that shit. You are literally carrying garbage with you and you are allowing it to interfere with basic life functionality. No more. Find those unwrapped, free-floating tampons and throw them away. The receipt for your birthday lunch? Lose it. All the earrings you tucked in the pocket? You are going to lose them or break them if you don’t take them out and put them where they belong, and then you will have one more thing to feel badly about. Trust me.
Buy decent makeup. If you are still wearing Cover Girl liquid foundation and Wet’n’Wild lipstick to your kid’s graduation, it’s time for a system upgrade. Unless you are literally a French whore, the season for cheap makeup has passed. You deserve better. You deserve it. Treat yo’self.
Fix the ***damn washing machine. Or get the alignment fixed, or finally get double-paned windows. Whatever it is that has been slowly eating away at your soul as you imagine what horrible things not fixing or replacing said item will do, fix it. You’re gonna feel so much better. Give yourself permission to improve the quality of your life.
Get outta town. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Go somewhere you have been, but do it differently than last time. See the USA in your Chevrolet. It is really gratifying to say, “I’ve been there.” I was scared to death pulling out of the driveway, but everything turned out okay. I’ve been to Heinz field. I have ridden a funicular. I ate a Primanti Bros. sandwich. I’ve been to the Cadillac Ranch. I’ve seen the arch. My kids finally saw fireflies. I hung out with cousins I haven’t seen since I was little. I frolicked with gigantic dogs. I’ve seen the world’s largest rocking chair and I’ve rung the world’s largest windchimes. That stuff is out there. Go find it. Take pictures. Eat potato chips in the back of a Prius for 2500 miles. Do it. Start planning now.
Meet one online friend and make them an IRL friend. I’ve done this at least five times, and it’s so much fun. If you think that someone is funny online, spend a day with them and there is no telling what can happen. You might find yourself visiting thrift stores in Ferguson, MO or you might end up with explosive diarrhea from a bad McMuffin. Those are random examples. I have no firsthand experience with those specific situations. They seem quite common.
Commit to being your authentic self. Get a tattoo. Give burlesque a try. Write a book. Learn to ski. Bare your midriff. Whatever it is that feels right for you, do it. 20 years ago, I might not have imagined that the dowdy new mom in stirrup pants (yes, you read that correctly) and oversized shirts with her hair pulled back in a Scünci would become the published author covered in tattoos and vintage clothing, but here I am. Do the thing. You won’t regret it.
Stop weighing yourself. Yeah, just stop. Scales are for fish and musicians. If your clothes still fit, you’re fine. If you are worried, go dancing. I weighed myself this morning. Nothing earth-shattering happened. Eat a Hershey Kiss, instead.
Laugh often and heartily. Laugh so hard that you wheeze and cry and pee a little. Laugh so hard that you can’t even tell people why you are laughing because you are laughing so hard. Never apologize for laughing. It feels so good. Misery no longer loves company. Comedy does. Comedy loves company. Seek funny, embrace funny, be funny. The world appreciates humor.
Stop buying pants that have front pleats. Nobody looks good in them, but people still keep buying them. Front-pleated khakis are a symbol of conformity. Wearing these means you have been assimilated. You are not Jake from State Farm. The pleats accentuate belly fat, and the pockets gap open guaranteeing you will look like someone who bought these pants because you thought it was a workplace requirement. Front-pleated khaki pants are the free-thinker’s kryptonite. Wear a petticoat. Wear a kilt. Wear parachute pants. Be you.
Visit this website often. The door is always open. You are always welcome. Refills are free. We are just a group of brains, athletes, basket cases, princesses, and criminals who write about stuff we like. We are The Gentlemen Media.
Welcome to 2016!
