- Someone sends you (in some social media-y way usually) a word that you have never heard before and don't believe exists in the English language and then you have to break down and ask (or in the case of Urban Dictionary, search) what the hell it means.
- You see a billboard advertising the 20th anniversary of a movie that you saw IN THE THEATER.
- Packing for a Girls Weekend involves trying on every item of clothing you have, throwing it all on the floor and heading straight for the liquor cabinet.
- You get to the liquor cabinet and try to cheer yourself up that at least you *have* a liquor cabinet because as a kid you used to think it'd be great that one day you'd have one and it wouldn't have a lock on it but then you open it and realize it has all the same boring crap in it that your parents' had and no, like, Zima or Bacardi or anything.
Then you remember that that stuff is all disgusting and that gin and bourbon are better anyway.
Which is SO something an old person would say.
- You consider buying Sensodyne toothpaste.
- Some woman on Dr. Oz is talking about her three simultaneous strokes, which OBVIOUSLY doesn't apply to you since you're in your mid-30s, and then says that she's 38 years old.
- When people say things like, "You are too young to remember this but..." you actually *aren't* too young and you totally remember and, what's worse, you can remember things about it that they can not.
- Some gal in class is listening to Sheena Easton all ironically and, when you make a comment about Ms. Easton's odd foray into bilingual vocals, she looks at you like you're retarded.
- You say, "gal".
Because it makes me feel better that I'm not the only one who has daily moments of HOLY SHIT I'M EFFING OLD mixed in with other equally horrifying moments of HOLY SHIT I'M A TOTAL NERD.
Like I was saying about today, for instance, when I was attempting to pack for our Girls Weekend and realizing that the way I pack is totally nerdy.
And that everything in my life is getting pretty nerdy.
I am a nerd.
See, for me to pack for any trip, I have to write out a list of everything I'm bringing (I have a Google Doc template and if you're secure enough in your nerdiness, you may request it and I may give you the link. NERD ALERT. And you guys are officially nerds, too, so here you go.).
Then I have to take that list on my laptop to my bedroom and pull everything for each outfit from the closet/shelves/dresser including underwear, socks, bras, accessories and shoes.
Then I have to try on each outfit to make 100% sure that I like it the same way I used to/that it doesn't make me suddenly (or still) look like a total heifer/it hasn't been mysteriously ruined/you can't see my nipples.
Then I'd like to say that I pack the outfits away into my bag and I'm done, but that quite literally is never the case.
No, inevitably, there is at least one outfit that needs major adjustments or burning in the yard.
Today, as I confidently pulled out the pieces for my Girls Weekend 2012 weekend, I thought I was going to experience Time #1 when everything would be just right.
I'm so dumb.
I tried on all the outfits and a few of them were OK (FYI: I count jammies as an outfit. THANK GOD.), but some were horrific and I thought briefly of locating a lighter. So, I had to do that put-on-everything-take-everything-off-give-up-and-go-with-the-first-outfit thing that is my worst nightmare when I start this whole process.
But not before creating a giant heap of clothes on my bed and deciding to just bring everything. Which, for the record, is my second worst nightmare when starting the packing process - the I-don't-know-what-to-wear-fuck-it-just-bring-everything thing. Thankfully, I didn't have to resort to the pre-Vegas weekend packing strategy of Just Wear Whatever Shows The Most Cleave.
But I'm afraid I can't break myself of this packing ritual of mine and, worse yet, I'll have to summon the endurance for a weekend of confident strutting about in these carefully chosen outfits as though I meant to do this, yes my boobs are supposed to stick out that much and no I did not pack everything I own.
Because certainly I am the only one who is this neurotic about packing.
Also, I have two ditty bags so that I can keep my clean underthings separate from my worn underthings and also so that my worn underthings don't touch my dirty clothes.
And my shoes all have bags.
I think that's it.