- You’re going to have to fix shit. Yourself.
You’re going to be elbow deep in a toilet tank thinking … ‘this is my life now’ … and let me tell you, when you fix that sonovabitch you’re going to feel so good! Then you’ll crack a beer or pour a non-adult size glass of wine … from a box … and sit back and revel in how bad ass you are. You can fix anything!
- You’re going to cry.
It’s going to be Sunday… I’m sorry, but it’s inevitable … And Sundays aren’t fun for Adults. You’re going to be hung-the-fuck-over and your fridge will be empty. You will have no clean laundry and the Karma Gods will rain pure hell-fire and defeat over you as you give up on life and just lay down and press the power button on that remote to stare into the vast mind-daze that is Netflix … and then your internet will be down. And you’ll cry. ‘Sunday Funday’? Yeah-fucking-right. No wanna-be professional in their right mind (unless a raging alcoholic that is able to function under extreme intoxication) is going to drink their hangover away all day on Sunday and be functional for Monday morning. Unless you don’t value food and shelter and see it fitting to show up to work shitfaced. #adultlife Sundays are for misery and dread and meal prepping. Get used to it.
- You’re going to stare at your stack of bills and wonder how in the actual hell you’re going to stay alive this month!?
Pay day is exiting for 5 minutes… then you get your calculator out (like a real adult) and deduct your mortgage, electricity, gas, internet, cable, car payment, student loans … and you’re negative 5 million dollars and realize that you’re fucking poor. Then you begin to rationalize your spending — If I go out and just pour the vodka from my freezer in this flask I’ll spend nothing! Or I really need to lose a few pounds any way so I’ll just eat like 1 piece of lunch meat a day and drink coffee at work … that should be fine. Until it’s 12pm on Tuesday and you find yourself in a drive-thru binge eating oles and tacos because you’re slowly starving to death. Now you’re just fat and sad. Oh, and poor. Fat, sad and poor.
- Car Insurance & any car expense is a personal attack.
I don’t want to have to pay for this! Why didn’t my parents tell me it was so insanely expensive to own a car!? I’ll take the BUS, for the love of God I’ll take the Bus! How much for new tires!? Do I HAVE to put new tires on this thing? Do I really neeeeed to be insured though? Is there any way I can counterfeit that little sticker for my license plate? All of these are questions I have disappointingly asked my parents.
In short, being an adult is utterly disappointing. It’s expensive, depressing and ultimately a fucking disaster. Stay in college as long as you can. Or live at home. Forever.