boo fucking hoo

as part of my adjustment to adulthood, i've been spending the past month in my lovely apartment apologizing to people. "i'm sorry i ran out of cumin and this soup is less-than-perfect!" i've bemoaned. "i'm sorry, i wish i had cleaned more before you got here! i've just been so crazy," i keep telling people. "oh, i'm so embarrassed about the state of my bathroom - you must forgive me!" i've demanded. i can't help it; i'm on compulsive hostess with the mostess behavior at the moment, wanting every single tiny thing to be just so, every minute detail to be absofuckingperfect. thankfully, i'm a realist and have learned to just sorta live with that box in the bathroom and the as-yet-unhung art laying around wherever, but today, as i faced the prospect of my first real-life houseguest, i was not surprised to find myself on all fours, vacuuming the shit out of every square inch of the place.

i'd done some heavy-duty cleaning in the kitchen, master bathroom and my bedroom (which is now making a very strong princess statement thanks to the most questionable impulse purchase of my life, the purple velvet tufted headboard which is totally cute but really, um... purple), and was about halfway through the living/dining room when the most unfortunate thought crept into my head: "god, it sucks that this place is so big. it takes forever to fucking vacuum." umm, yeah, i'd like to officially nominate myself for most obnoxious statement of the year, because omg who complains about that shit? like, "ooooh, yeah, my life is too awesome and i have waaaay too many nice things and it sucks so hard to be me!" i do, i thought to myself, instantly nicknaming myself captain complaint; and, per usual, i'm fucking right.

i've got to admit it; i'm a bit of a complainer. i really, truly don't mean to do it, guys (thank you to anyone who is still my friend and for not stabbing me every time i've sighed and said, "i'm hungry," which is admittedly kinda really-semi-frequent, but i like to nosh, so leave me alone), but apparently complaining has been as much a part of my life as cats and near-narcissiscm have, for like, ever. i mean, i guess the word "apparently" isn't exactly appropriate, as i've known this about myself since 1992, when i was a awarded one of the highest and most meaningful accolades of my super illustrious life: best frog catcherSLASHbiggest complainer. yup, fancy!

you're probably wondering what type of institution would issue such awards, and i'm proud to report that i earned that title at the one and only sierra ski and pack club sleep away camp, where my parents deposited me for two consecutive years, once as the youngest (by 2-3 YEARS, aka motherfucking eons in kid ages) in the only female "tent" in camp, and the next year as the eldest amongst the first and only boys-and-girls group thing, which included little boys two years younger than me falling in love with me (and resulting in a very awkward conversation, negotiated by my C.I.T. who was maybe three years older than i and, ugh, seriously fucking horrible as some little kid explained that he was only mean to me because he liked me. barf.). however, the title of biggest complainer was only bestowed upon me once, and i think probably pretty clearly reflects that i had no friends and totally hated camp, but no hard feelings, mom and dad. i sure hope you enjoyed your two weeks of kid-freedom, you selfish jerks. jkloveyou!

anywaaay, i'm rather certain my endless sighs of, "are we there yet?," "i'm tired," "i'm hungry," among other whiny things that undoubtedly escaped my lips, had something to do with my unpopularity, which in turn fueled my admittedly freakishly good frog-catching skills. our tent was right next to this gross swampy sort of creek-thing, which housed hundreds of ping-pong-ball-sized frogs, buried in the mud. while my troop-mates (i'm not sure that is correct camp terminology, but like i said, i wasn't that into it) spent their free time laughing with each other, braiding each other's hair and talking about which boys they had crushes on, i was usually elbow-deep in mud, endlessly digging around for frogs, catching them, naming them, and promptly releasing them. i'm rather certain these cool older girls thought i was a total freak (um, i don't really blame them), and i think the "best frog catcherSLASHbiggest complainer" award sums up their feelings about me pretty accurately. they might as well have said, "best annoying weird kid," and they probably wanted to but the counselor wouldn't let them.

so i guess i shouldn't be too surprised when i find myself complaining, despite the general awesomeness of my life, but i think i'm turning a new leaf, and thinking of curbing my complaint-quotient. when i griped needlessly as a child, poppa b used to always say, "i'll give you something to cry about," in a very archie bunker way, like he was going to smack me around or something (which he totally didn't. no libel here, daddy!), and i feel as though i need to start saying that to myself now that i'm a real-life adult and can admit that hungry as i may be, i'll never know real hunger. truthfully, my life is an embarrassment of riches, and i could do well to remind myself of that sometimes rather than bemoaning the minor hiccups, inconveniences and bumps in the fucking pink sparkly road that is my life. so, there you have it, folks! no more bitching! i'm an all new me!*

ugh, i have to get in the fucking shower and go to my stinkin' job. ugh, so annoying. ugh.

*starting next week, i promise.