I’m back from New York! And MAN do I feel like I was running on a treadmill for the entire weekend and by Monday I jumped off and (yep, it’s confirmed) still feel like I’m moving at wicked speed. New York does a lot of things to me (ruins my shoes) but specifically makes me feel very strong and acute to my likes and dislikes.
In New York, I decided I love East Village brunches, Australian food, greasy pizza, the eccentric style of all of the vampires that live in Greenwich, decorated lattes, TopShop…the list flows on.
In New York, I decided I hate materialistic people, people in general (most of the time), staying out too late, spending $20 to get into a club, the hierarchy of Le Bain on a Saturday night, how frumpy/clumsy NYC makes me feel and how I feel constantly overwhelmed and on sensory-overload.
Long story long, New York made me learn a lot about myself, even if I didn’t want it to; kind of like oh…life itself.
From one twenty-something to another, live a little.
Rule #218: Get yourself a nice bed or a bed-frame. AKA get your shit together.
If you’re sleeping on the same bed you did from high school, maybe it’s time to just buy another one. You have a job; you’re buying yourself nicer vodka now and Starbucks every day Friday. And if you’re sleeping a few feet off the ground without a bed frame, stop. You don’t live in a college frat. Have some personal pride.
Rule #219: There is nothing better than a bed time, Tea Tree face mask, Netflix and a glass of Rose.
During the beginning of your twenties you run around until late at night, sweating and dancing on a sticky beer dance floor. And you love it; you’re so free! Twenty-seven patters by and nothing sounds better than sprawling out open-legged on your couch with a personal pizza, Essie nail polish, The League on Netflix and crawling into bed at 10:30pm MAX. Godspeed, you animal you.
Rule #220: Unless you’re rich and 35, stop trying to be like Lauren Conrad.
No, you don’t need to host fancy brunch with cupcakes and pink shit; and dinners with the newest fancy dish. No, you don’t need to look absolutely perfect in a headband and become the next elite blogger and Instagram account. Hosting parties aren’t worth it anyway, especially if you don’t have a dishwasher.
Rule #221: Know how to ask a guy out.
Guys are WEIRD these days. Texting and social media are making them way to comfortable with having awkward “hey, LOL, sure, what’s up” conversations at a constant rate. Man up, and know how to ask a dude to come hang out with you and some friends at the bar. Be casual, bold and stop caring about the end result. If he doesn’t like you because you know what you want and emasculate him. Who gives a flying bird shit? You’re old enough to decipher that now.
Rule #222: Best trick in the book? Groupon for Fitness classes, LivingSocial for beauty regimen items.
Congrats! You now are mature enough to maintain yourself. But you’re not making tons of money. So dip into Groupon and LivingSocial and buy yourself a week of yoga and a haircut/massage/blowout/conditioning for twenty bucks.
Rule #223: Stop sleeping on couches.
Let’s be honest; the days of sleeping on your friend’s futon are dead and gone. I bet if I were to take a poll, I bet 90% of you would say you’d rather do weird shit to get home from a bar if it constitutes sleeping in your own bed. Sleeping on couches does weird stuff to your body. You ain’t got time for that.
Rule #224: On Instagram, stop thinking you’re a free spirit.
Cut the crap and stop sitting in long, tall grass while you’re looking off into the distance. Who naturally sits like that? Besides, I discovered in New York this weekend that’s its super awkward to walk out into the street or look up at a building, just to attempt getting an aloof, wanderlusty photo. I’m still working on this, just stop for a moment and be yourself. I am full of shit, wound for sound on most accounts and way overemotional sometimes. I promise to work on not lying through Instagram.
Live A Little, Wild Child [Twenty-Something Rules]
