Therefore, I give you the following:

Dear 20 Year Old LaineyD:

First of all, it’s sorely tempting to just write “RUN!” and call it a day, but I won’t. (Ditto “STAY OFF THE INTERNET!”). So, 13 years in the future, let me just say that there are things you don’t want at age 20 but you might want them later, so don’t be surprised when it happens (or not). Choose wisely because sometimes people say they want things but are actually big fucking liars.

Here’s a big “Don’t”: Don’t think you’re different from the others. You’re not. You’re just like them. Again, don’t be surprised when this happens. Try to reduce the smug/judgmental side of yourself just a hair, OK?

Strongly consider changing your major right now. Yeah, journalism sounds great – notice how you’re not actually practicing journalism at the collegiate level? If you don’t have the cajones to write for the school paper at Ball State, you’re never going to get it together to write professionally. Get a degree in something vaguely useable because you only get one gratis college degree (if you’re lucky, and you are). Try not to squander every opportunity and/or Get Out of Jail Free card that life hands you.

Speaking of jail, you know who is a very bad person. Try to remove that person from your life NOW. I know it sounds all glamorous, but, honey, he was 48 when we were 16. That’s not glam, that’s straight up chi-mo territory.

Turning 30 sucks just as much as you think it does – but soon you’ll see the rise of a group of women called “celebutantes.” The good news is that they’ll all turn 30, too. You’ll still be older than them but they’ll look older than you. You win.

Anyway, keep on with what you’re doing. In the absolute vast majority of ways, you’re doing fine. Here are some bits of gossip for you: Guess who’s been married two times (as of late May 2010)? No, really, guess! Yes, I KNOW! You take some bullets, you dodge some, I guess (so much for ditching the smug stuff, eh?). Oh, and go find 20 year old Brandy and tell her she’ll be driving a mini-van with her 3 babies inside. Exactly zero of them are fathered by Christian Slater, but it turns out she dodged a bullet too.

Much love,

LaineyD, Age 33

PS: Seriously. Stay off the internet. Unless you’re inventing something called Facebook, you should probably be studying anyway.

There is a former employee of my employer. We will call him Senor Dumbass or SD for short. He has a wife/girlfriend/fiancee, Senora Dumbass or Mrs. SD. For the record, SD no longer works for us because he failed a very important test (puff, puff).

I spoke to Mrs. SD (hmm, just realized that I am calling her Mrs. Mrs. Dumbass – oh well) a few weeks ago when she called to give me SD’s new address for his W-2. He received his W-2 and today Mrs. SD called back because something was horrrribly wrong w/ the W-2. He received two W-2s (??). I looked him up in the software and he’s only in there once so there is NO WAY he received two W-2s without something being horribly awry (or maybe there’s another choice… but wait for it!). “Youuuuuu haaaave to fiiiiix thiiiiis,” she tells me repeatedly (BTW, I think Mrs. SD would have failed that test as well…).

“But I don’t see anything wrong!” I said and told her to fax me the W-2s so I can see them. (If the $$ wasn’t for SD, who were they for?). She agrees and I end the call. (BTW, of course she is AT H&R Block getting her taxes done right that moment). But then she calls back and says she has no way of getting to a fax machine (what changed in the previous 5 minutes?). I tell her to mail copies to me. She once again reminds me that “Youuuuu have to fiiix thissss, we haaaave to fiiiiile our taaaaxes!” and ends the call.

Confused -and suffering a tiny contact high- I look up SD’s 2008 wages in the software and low and behold, they were the same as the figure on the mysterious “other” W-2. What’s so crazy is that the W-2 clearly has the year listed. It’s not written in code or Roman numerals. They all say 2-0-0-9 or 2-0-0-8. Even the tax preparer at H&R Block was confused (maybe he had a contact high too?).

Endgame: Left Mrs. SD a voicemail that basically said, “Yeehaw, Dumbass, what you got there is an old W-2. Next time, put down the crack pipe and read a little closer!”

(Well, OK, my message said that the figure matched his 2008 wages and that perhaps the 2008 W-2 got put in their 2009 file).

(Hmm, perhaps the SD family is also filing their 2008 taxes?)

(I can’t wait to go to Indiana again – this time next month I’ll be there!! Yay!)

So I was driving to Blockbuster and talking to Mom about the no cable television thing and I point out to her that if we can make it through 10 months, that is $1500 saved that we can use to pay the Visa bill or put toward the “Get Elaine Knocked Up” Fund.

“Elaine, money can’t get you pregnant! I guess we should have had the birds and the bees talk a lot younger.” (Dear mom, please Google “cost of IVF” and let me know what you find).

“Yeah, you kind of left that to stand up comedians. It was an interesting choice, albeit perhaps not a GOOD choice.”*

“As a bonus, they also taught you to curse!”**

* Okay, not really. The Girl Scouts and trashy novels helped as well.

** Hey, did I tell you about the 18 month old of our friends in MD saying “shitty” while we were there? I have my fingers crossed that it was just coincidence but I bet there’s a “$1 per curse word” coffee can on their dining room table now. Whoops. Those years between where they parrot things they hear and the teenage years (when you can start cussin’ in front of them again) are kind of the Wilderness Years.

(And also come to think of it, Mom sometimes g0t us out of bed with the instruction to “haul our ass(es) out of bed”? Mom is and was a good Mom and the above instruction is how we knew She Was Serious).

Everytime someone suggests to me that the internet has brought nothing to the world but extra easily obtainable por.nography and a zillion shitty blogs like mine, something like this comes along and I can PROVE THEM WRONG. Ha ha!

But speaking of Total Eclipse of the Heart… Gene loves this song and will always sing along to it if it comes on the radio or iPod – complete with Celine Dion arm moves. Yes, really. Well, one day I had had about enough of that* – Gene, the Boy and I were on the way somewhere in the car and I told the Boy that his father really loved this song and that in fact, Gene and his best friend were going to sing this song in the school talent show but they couldn’t decide who’d get to be the guy who sings “Brriiiiiiight eeeeeeeyes”.

(And the Boy believed me).

(True story).

(* I think what actually pushed me over the edge that day was that the boys were saying everything in ridiculously bad Cockney accents…Bloody ‘ell!)

(Not that that didn’t stop me from considering calling him and telling him *I* had been laid off, but fair is fair).

(Have also considered doctoring a pregnancy test but that’s just not funny anymore).

(Hmmm… would it be a good April Fool’s joke to bury the XBox controllers in the back yard? No, I don’t think so).

(ooh! Naked dude screensaver… now how do I pull that off, so to speak? LOL). 

(Alternate: Screensaver from The Girls of Krispy Kreme…)

(I could have titled this post “Perhaps I’m turning into a man”)

(Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll straighten up before you get here).

Pretty funny…

(that is, renaming my old database laineyd3 and then recreating it all again).

Looks like the only thing to get lost was that stupid design that I hated anyway. Maybe I’ll stay plain a little while.

Hooray!

Why, oh, WHY did I not think of that when I was packing for my trip? I could have packed a cheesecake. Maybe next time.

(Actually, I bet that security would have really wrestled me to the ground if I was packing baked goods… did I already mention how upset they were at my closed, full can of Diet Coke?)