The Endorsement: Things I'll Never Do Again

I say this neither snidely nor lightly. Don't be surprised if you hear a dial tone when talking to me during conversation because that just means I'm off the hook. whatwhat!

Which is why your mom loves me. She fancies my aural grin, manly timbre and winking inflections that smack of wicked wit and outrageous charm.

But it pained me to use a your mom joke today because I realized that I had completely exhausted its utility for the last 10-15 years of my life. Not to mention, it's no longer trendy to use it in common conversation if you are older than 5 and are able to read and write. I'm beyond your mom now.

I beat it like the dead horse that it truly is. Wrung it dry, milked it for all its worth. Forced laughter from people despite their determined grit to not laugh. I had a good run with your mom (jokes that is) but our time has come to an end. I will never use a your mom joke. It's just an easy way out of coming up with something more complex and witty. Nevermore, bitch ass mom jokes.

Responsibility. I like it, but don't exercise it nearly enough. So the next time I walk into the bathroom at work and there is a giant log of shit coiled in the commode, sitting there because its unsuspecting owner sneaked out when he realized there was no way the mammoth turd was going to flush, I will NOT sit there and try to flush it myself. It is not my responsibility to tend to bastard shits seeking foster parents to take care of them by flushing. Because as soon as I walk out, unsuccessful, the next person who walks in will begin a rapid fire vicious rumor about that work in the toilet belonging to me. FUCK that. I'm announcing it to everyone the next time that shit happens. Literally.

I will no longer strike with the speed and alacrity of a stealth puma when it comes to eating BBQ at smoke-impregnated rib houses. Eating/inhaling faster than chewing only leaves you with an unsatisfied feeling that creates magma-hot 'oh-no' juice in your stomach that exits your body in quasi-vomit form as you burp and sigh and writhe in pain.

I will no longer roll my eyes at the happy car consumer and environmentalist who feels a bit more morally superior because he/she owns a Prius, sips soy lattes, and cradles a snooty waft of air on a pretientious veranda. Why? Because it's everywhere in Austin now. What the hell. Time to find a new hip city to call home maybe?

Next, drinking six days in a row. Perhaps when I was 22, I could drag my liver through the mud and safely afford to not attend every/any day of the week without consequences. Not any more. Last week was a rude awakening and I promise I will not douse myself with beer in a gross attempt to magnify the sun's rays on my body.

I will never tell a girl that I am a journalist. Instead, I will tell her I am a hard working junior analyst and she will realize that I am the 30k millionaire douchebag incarnate that we all hear about in West 6th Street. I fucking hate that area.

Nap schedule permitting, I will no longer stare at work tasks with a crushing indifference and slip into a staggering sleep while at work. Speaking of work, I will be less glib too.

Word.