Closing Time - Part I: We're not Struggling Twenty-somethings Any More

What's life like for a twenty-something?

My parents, aunts, uncles, elders, neighbors, etc. are always good about staying up on what us kids are up to nowadays. Rightfully so - this world is vastly different from theirs.

But spelling things out for them can get tough. Life as a twenty-something can be described in pictures: somewhere in between THIS* and THAT. I mean, don't fall into some pit of despair and don't get too carried away - strive for that happy medium.

When Cubicle Land was a newborn blog almost 3 (*gasp) years ago, I was closer to the "holy sh!t, m*ther fck, gag me with a spoon" stage of twenty-something. That stage is characterized by a lot of freaking out about your future (since the one you had imagined is obliterated by the Real World, federal taxes, and having your parents as roommates). It's an unfortunate existence.

And I'm kind of sick of everyone telling us how to be. Let's get our own agendas, shall we? Auntie Em, we're not struggling twenty-somethings anymore!

Closing Time - Part II: Is there Life after Cubicle Land?

Have we made it? Nah. But we're getting the hang of it.

After college graduation, I had unpacked the last bundle of clothes in my childhood room and stood there to wonder why my expectations of finding a rich husband at college had fallen short. "Where," I wondered, "is my sugar daddy?" My parents, like most of yours, were married between age 22-25.
Wtf is that noise, right??

Let's draw a quick comparison chart:

• 24 I was single...very - 24 my parents were HITCHED
• 24 I had just lost my first job - 24 my father had been promoted at his job...sorry, CAREER
• 24 I had just moved back in with my parents - 24 my parents were already settled in their HOUSE

Now that the obvious has been made more obvious - let's find someone to blame for why we can't have everything we ever wanted. Just kidding.

As this blog sprouted and flourished it afforded me more fun, a better outlet, and numerous (sometimes prosperous) opportunities. Advice moment: find a hobby and go with it, if you can make money doing so then great; but if it does nothing more than make you smile and connect with this world and other people in it, then that's gold and don't let it go.

During that time between 23/24, we kicked more into the twenty-something groove. It's less scary, but sometimes we had to wonder if we were settling. Don't think that. Know that you're enjoying, taking it all in...like, yolo...right? I mean don't literally sit around doing nothing; always move and work towards something - otherwise you WILL get stuck in this vortex. Simply put: Just make sure you know people who've 'made it', and hang out with people who want to 'make it' someday.

At some point in between the THEN and the NOW, we grew up. Cubicle Land is a place that we all know, but we aren't there physically or mentally any more. Trust me...Cubicle Land can be a mentality if you let it...DON'T. I'm just glad that those times, memories, and cracks weren't missed. They'll forever be here on the interwebs.

We have real jobs now. Some even have careers. We're making our marks!

A whole lot of growing up happened and I don't really know when, but it did. Cubicle Land had a purpose - it was to give a voice to the telemarketer, the intern, the entry-level, the first-timer, the newbie. Google 'twenty-something' right now.  There are a LOT of voices out there. We should be so proud.

Closing Time - Part III: The many thanks

So before the final sign off, there are many thanks:

The FWG - for some reason, this blog showed you that I was up to snuff to write for you. I don't question your judgement. I appreciate all of the opportunities. Now that your blog has incidentally started spamming my email address, I can't help but wonder if it's karma for getting too busy to keep up with FWG. For that, I'm sorry. FWG was a good time.

Cubies - hahahahahahahah WTF WERE WE THINKING

Pod Snack-A-Lot - the originals (please refer to the first post ever)

My roommates new and old - bitch sessions, laugh out louds, and stories; let's keep a good thing going.

J-woww - we still send mostly-daily emails with Internet goods, gossip, and anything else that gets us through the day. Forever cube buddies. Thanks for getting me to the bar.

J-fizz - if anyone knows everything it's you. What's that saying...a good friend bails you out of jail; but a true friend is sitting next to you in the cell.  A story has a beginning, a middle, an end; a listener, a teller, a character or two. Thank you for being all of those - and for instigating, jesting, and humoring all/most situations that I end up in.

My parents - you may have been resistant to read the blog; and that's okay. Now sometimes you read without telling me! Sneaky parents, you probably shouldn't be privvy to a lot of these stories. But I think we're on to something great here so remember: everything I am is despite of and because of you. Thanks.

My grandmother - my grandmother is so cool. She texts, Skypes, and knows how to have a cocktail. She has the good grace to put me in my place when I was blogging in haste and remind me that actions have consequences.

The neighbors - thanks for enjoying the stories, and ya know supporting my career.

Gym peeps - for laughing with me, and at me. You've made mornings fun, and give me something to look forward to after a long day under the flourescent light. Thanks for giving me hope that there's life after Cubicle Land...and for the bits of advice and lots of support in life (and now my career). Clearly, I've needed it.

The Office - ah, some formidable years. Hopefully I'll never walk the 8th again, but maybe someday up to the 12th wouldn't be so bad.  The Management could have used some...I dunno...boundaries, legal implications, and/or moral compass. However, there was no better place to start. Really we can only smile because it can only get better than that.

The New Office - you aight. The Office may have jaded me; so pleaseandthankyou for your patience.

Cubies (again) - the reign and times of Cubicle Land are being carried on by Barstool. Get after it:  Barstool Cubicle Chronicles

Is this the end? Yes. For Cubicle Land, it absolutely is. This blog has served its wonderful, frightening purpose.  Since there's still living to do, I'm sure you'll find my latest ventures somewhere in the spin cycle of Google searches.

Or maybe I'll start posting pictures of my meals and bombing Facebook statuses with terrible insights and daily milestones. Yolo.

Final thoughts: Make some stories. And rock it out. Don't be regretful, know that it was exactly what you wanted at the time. People will judge you. Whatever. Now go tell someone because they can probably one-up you and make you feel way better about yourself.  Oh yeah: and when in doubt, put out.

On the office communicator

Me: This time last year, I was baking on the Italian Coast. Soaking up the Mediterranean rays.

Andrea: Yes that's depressing to think about...eating amazing food and drinking good wine.

Me: This year I'm planning on staking out the Jets' pre-season camp so I can stalk Tim Tebow. Priorities!

Andrea: lol - at least you're going to NYC soon!

Me: Exactly. To NYC with Tim Tebow!

Destiny's Child in the women's bathroom

To whomever posted the Destiny's Child and Beyonce quotes in the ladies' stalls upstairs: thank you. hard.

After all. It's 11:30 and the club is bumpin'.

Hayy.

Duckface STFU moment

Hahaha! We've all seen the duckface pics that chicks are putting up these days. J-fizz sent me this very educational post on the duckface and its origin.  Yolo fa'sho sho.  Hahaha, make ya think twice before striking that pose.  Or maybe it seems all too familiar to you...

Ish. Anyways.

So I laughed after seeing that text.  Then I went to my kitchen (crawlspace).

I rummaged. Grabbed the carton of milk and looked around to see if anyone was looking while I drank out of it (nobody was looking. phew.) - right as I took a swig I saw this tacked up on our fridge:

LMAO. Right????? STFU. Hard.

P.S. I dropped the carton of milk. Haha.

US cougar capital caters to mother fckers

This ad is pretty awesome and may possibly be America's saving grace.

Can you imagine driving past that on 490? Hoodrats would be in a 30 car pile-up screaming all that 'well I NEVER...!' and 'OH MY WORD!?'.

Right. "I would never want a younger man to hit on me" said no housewife ever.

That is direct marketing at its finest. A good way to make sure you're reaching your target audience is to completely offend/repel others. I'd respond very well to something like "we got balls"...you know, for any lacrosse equipment I may need.

Still though, what ever happened to the thrill of the hunt? Just because these broads are mom'd up and coked out doesn't mean that all romance should be cast aside like their fake eyelashes and 6" stilletto at 4am from a weeknight bender. Hopefully those mother fckers can sack up.

What 12:30pm means to me (a poem)

*this post was inspired by J-woww

I really have nothing else to say
If you text me, halfway through the day
Declaring: I'm just waking up

Oh. Sorry that you're well-rested
But my patience is getting tested
Because the rest of the working world has been up since dawn.

We've gulped down coffee, eaten several meals
Emailed the hell out of co-workers and convinced ourselves that gremlins are real
(Seriously because everything is missing from the fridge)

Yes. 12:30 pm means I'm knee deep in Corporate waste.

Lunch is from 12 to 1
Were you under the impression that I could scoot out for some fun?
Wrong.

I'm debating a 20minute nap, trying to drag my ass through the next four hours at my desk.

*************

Is that some sick joke? Waking up after noon?? That's when I go for a midday cruise and a motivational pep talk (from self) to scrape through the remainder of the calendar's events. Wtf.

Thoughts in passing

Passed a woman who was leaving the bathroom.

She was carrying a book, a pack of cigarettes, and a banana.

Plenty of thoughts ...but no words.

I do have a life. I think?

I don't know. Sometimes I wonder...

My good friend from high school, Becca, has a good friend from college, Kate. Kate currently lives in NYC with her fiance and a theee-legged cat, Dilly (silly Dilly).

Kate has been blogging about her life after college. Google her blog: Ummm now what

I love creeping on Kate's life. Her notions are amusing, writings are witty. It got me to thinking: does any shit in this blog even make sense?

Right?? Of course not. Office stuff has zero continuity because it's mostly derogatory and of I said what I really meant then I wouldn't have an office to bitch about. Plus it's tough to keep nicknames straight.

Gym stuff has its own blog and flava. My life otherwise is boring...HAHA that's a lie. It's not boring. Just mostly inappropriate considering that my parents and other authority figures have been known to read Cubicle Land.

No. My childhood was boring. vanilla. bland. Ick.

Now. The first thing out of my mouth in the morning is the dirtiest thing that I did last night.

Since writing that down is kind of frowned upon (discretion is not my forte.) and since I find other people to be far more interesting, this blogging is mostly sly and underhanded. It's dark. See!? Even the black background is dark and heavy!

It's dark, in hopes that society will lighten up (so totally 1984-George-Orwell of me.)

There's a reason for the psychosis.  So now it's time to play the ol' Blame Game. I blame: Obama (duh). I blame: women who breastfeed 3yr olds (seriously you're liberal enough to have tit fits over that and, now that you've got kids, can't remember that you used to bend and snap like any other ho??) I blame: your mom (I'd blame mine but she takes the brunt of most of my blames already.)

Shark attack.

On Wednesdays, we wear pink.

Let's thank the Interns for this new weekly ritual, courtesy of Mean Girls. I kind of like it...APPROVED.

Btw. Butter is not a carb.

Reminder: this is 1910

Email received:

Ladies, It was brought to my attention that shorts and short skirts are not adhering to the corporate dress code. I appreciate your efforts to be compliant at all times.

------------

HAHA. Wait. Seriously? I'd have to hike this thing up a mile to get any real work done in it.

Looks like Mock Turtleneck Friday is now every day that ends in -day.

Also. The Intern and I are wearing the same pink button down blouse. Except he's a he.

In case you were wondering about the intern

Pretty sure the rain gear sums it up:

America is about to beat obesity with glazed donut vodka.

Glazed donut vodka. All's I gotta is: wow.

Kirstie Alley is about to turn her back-fat on Jenny Craig in 3, 2, 1...

The MSN article boasts full flavor and fewer calories than [get this]: an actual glazed donut.

Next time the secretaries order Friday morning pastries, you bet your thunder thighs that I'm demanding the vodka version.

Wonder where this will fit on Michelle Obama's new food wheel...and AA's 12 steps.

Epic passive aggressive bathroom note

AshCash hit me up from downtown Cubicle Land with this message.

Word up to the Public Service announcer! That is like a federal offense at the office.

...along with clipping your toenails at your desk.

vom. everywhere.

The first time you see your old boss

Hopefully, you never get fired.

But 93% of the workforce will get canned, pink-slipped, cut loose at some point (totally made up that statistic).

Last year I had a miserable parting of ways that was dragged out over a month's time. The chick I was working with ended up being a two-faced bitch (but knowing that her ass is comparable to a vat of jello makes me feel better).

So I was 'let go'. And my VP, the one who make the cut, couldn't even do the work himself.

And I saw him last week for the first time...while I was on a first date. Yes, we were seated right next to that swine.

That's my life. LAUGH IT UP, CHUCKLES.

The boardroom smells like it's in need of anal bleaching.

That is what we call an 'HR nightmare'. So sue me.

Fifty Shades of Grey = Fifty Shades of Awesome.

Did y'all see the SNL skit for this juicy contraband??? I identify with the momma in the laundry room...

Hell yeah!  Fifty Shades of Grey.  Every girl ever is reading it.

And. Apparently that includes my grandmother.

I called Gma last week and she kept me company on my lunchtime drive. Told her I won a Kindle Fire. She starts up, "Oh my friend told me about a series to download - and Nicole, do not download it. She told me it was about a young girl who meets and older man and teaches her all about love..! It's NOTHING LIKE THAT."

Haha!  Aw geez whiz Gma, that's Fifty Shades of Grey and every girl ever is reading it. It's about REAL love. I've had it downloaded and been workin those pages for months.

So Gma goes on, "Well I usually hate trilogies I don't know why they can't finish things in one book - why does it have to drag on?  It's just a waste of time and money but...I think I'm going to finish this series."

Ha. Act like you didn't want to, Gma.

Remember friends, get the e-version if you can.  Or be like my friend who sent her 10-yr-old son into Barnes & Noble to ask for the print version...hayyyy!

Rhonda's coming to the office to sell popcorn for the fundraiser

Get ready for this one:

Sitting, freezing in my poled cubicle, I overheard some of the Executive Assistants (EAs) chit-chatting.

My attention was had at "Rhonda's coming to the office to sell popcorn for the fundraiser tomorrow."

I. Must. Meet. Rhonda.

To make Jwoww jealous, I hit her with that text.

Jill: Of course she is.  Her son's a boyscout.  Did her husband with nerdy glasses want to help be the troop leader to?

Me: Visual - their family photo for the holidays...or wait. Do you think they do one of those long letters where it's like 'Johnny grew 4 inches and now plays the french horn! He is growing up so fast'

Jill: If she's fat then no letter just a 'kids only' shot hahaha she'd be too lazy for a letter but if she's medium sized ya never know cuz little Ashley almost making the cheerleading team but cut at the last minute would be important for Aunt Louise in Memphis to know.

Damn it. Love this game. So hard.

Play more of people's lives with me next week with: Dan Dan the Maintenance Man.

When I was 24 ... (this is where i reminisce and air the dirty laundry)

If you're wondering about the mini washing machine and giant cupcake (with naughty sprinkles)...then wtf have you been? Seriously.

J-fizz had the funnies for my big day: I went from a complete-mess-of-a-24-year-old to a still-slightly-out-of-my-mind-25-year-old.

Now I get to impart some stuff on those youngins; stuff that I've learned over the year.

Here's some really awkward, vague, reflective wisdom:

• Neglect social graces and opt for no strings
  
• Get fired.
• Children. If you don't have some of your own, find someone else's. Share stories with them, laugh with them, play with them, and teach them something (even if it's how to 'drop it low'). You won't regret it.
  
• Hit up Bingo on a Friday night. Instant self-esteem boost.
• Try dating. Then snap out of it.
• Light up a few cigars.
• Sift through your people. Keep the good ones. The ones who know your shit when you can't...and bail you out when you lock yourself out of: your house, their house, their parent's house when you're dogsitting ...

The birthday celebrations lasted for 4 days. I have some pretty awesome people to thank for it.