30 Things That Prove You're Almost 30.

I'm getting old as balls.  And old people keep telling me I'm not that old, but I feel old.  I need like 10 hours of sleep now and I feel like shit if I eat Smashburger more than three days in a row. The horror. I'm going to start putting sticky things on the bottom of my bathtub and installing toilet seat heaters in all my bathrooms.  I turn 30 in a mere six days, and I've started taking note of the 30 things I do that prove I'm almost 30.  Here's how you know if you're 29 9/10+...

- Your hangovers are worse than Norovirus.  I've never had Norovirus, but I've developed hangovers that make me want to admit myself for a short hospital stay.

- You can smell hangovers.  I purchase hairspray based solely on smell... "Does this one smell like Tito's?  PASS. Actually, I'll just let my hair air dry."

- You've napped in your car during a lunch break.

- You own an iron.  And have used it.

- You have obnoxiously asked about ingredients at a restaurant.  "Is this fried in peanut oil?  Sunflower oil is TOTES inflammatory and makes me gassy.  Diet Pepsi?  No.  I'll just have a seltzer water with four lemons if you don't have Diet Coke. <sigh>  Is your arugula organic?  It's not grown with wheat, is it? Does the quadruple fudge cake have gluten?  Can I just have a bowl of whipped cream?"

- You love fat babies on social media.  You used to tell yourself how much you hated assholes that posted their kids' pictures all over the place, but now you get joy out of a baby that has a body shaped like a droopy post-Halloween pumpkin with olive-garden-breadstick-shaped limbs.

- You find non stainless steel appliances personally offensive.

- You appreciate getting hit on in absolutely any form (but you will still act repulsed and horrified by it).  A group of construction workers whistled at me the other day. I did this:

 Then, got in my car, gave myself a high five, and fist pumped to the Biebs on the way back to work.

- You would rather take a long relaxing walk through Target than visit a bar past 10:30pm, any day.

- You buy actual gifts for people.  Buying a blowjob shot covered in seven inches (which gave us unrealistic expectations at 21) of whipped cream for someone's birthday is no longer considered socially acceptable.  You've learned the art of gifting Anthropologie candles and Chili's gift cards.

- You HATE chain restaurants. CHAIN RESTAURANTS ARE SO 2003. We're FAR too fancy to eat at fucking Chili's anymore.  Can you believe that bitch gave us a gift card to CHILI'S!? WE SUPPORT SMALL BUSINESSES.  They probably use GMO sunflower oil.  Assholes.

- You take a probiotic.  And you can't shit for four days if you miss a dose.  And none of that King Soopers crap, either, you pay $50+ a month for Whole Foods organic, vegan, bazillion bacteria probiotics... because GUT HEALTH IS CRITICAL.

- You can no longer drive anywhere without a bra.  Because... gravity is painful when you hit a speed bump.

- You've actually tried to fold a fitted sheet.

- You either play Pokemon Go obsessively or have posted a social media hate rant about how much you despise it and the people playing it.

- You've spent more time than you'd like to admit watching those stupid fucking "TASTY" videos on social media.  I swear to God, those videos are sending us subliminal messages from the government to convince us to play Pokemon Go and watch The Celebrity Apprentice.

-  You've silently judged someone on their food choices, and then proceeded to go through a drive thru less than an hour later.

- Regardless of if you rent... you judge anyone over 30 who still rents.  (Even if your dad helped you put the down payment on your house... which I know nothing about.)

-  When you finally do buy a house, you refer to it as "property" like a hoity toity asshole.  "Oh yeah.  We bought property up north, because you just get so much more square footage for your dollar right now..."

- You've done kegels during a meeting.

- You've evaluated the state of your vagina in the mirror...

- You've stopped saying "OH MY GAWDDDDD, I CAN'T EVEN KEEP A PLANT ALIVE.  I'M LIKE THE WORST GARDENER" and have started talking about the specific kingdom, class, order, species, and genus of the plants growing in your garden.

- You call the cops for any SLIGHT inconvenience.  Downstairs neighbor playing that damn "Panda" song too loud at 9:04pm?  "IT'S QUIET HOURS.  WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS?  A COLLEGE DORMITORY?  I'M CALLING  911.  I SHOULD LOOK INTO BUYING PROPERTY TO GET AWAY FROM YOU HOODLUMS."

- You have learned the hard way that there is a difference between 911 and calling the police. And that calling 911 for hoodlums is frowned upon.

- You can no longer imbibe any liquid that originated in a plastic bottle or that contains with words "Key" or "Light" because... PTSD.

-  You've swept out your garage.

- You have legitimately wanted to get it on with yourself, but don't want to get out of bed to clean or retrieve your battery operated boyfriend.  I'm not saying this has happened to me... I'm just saying it's probably happened to a lot of you.  And then you've probably just laid in bed and looked at home decor on Pinterest as opposed to having an orgasm.... until you want a cookie.  Or a string cheese. You will get up for a cookie. #priorities

- You love Diet Coke more than beer, but are embarrassed to drink it in public or in front of friends because aspartame is SO TABOO and their judgment makes you wildly uncomfortable.

- You own bleach. Because if someone or something shits on the floor, you need bleach. Organic, plant based sanitizers just don't fucking cut it when it comes to poop or vom.  Including your own.

- You've had a hemorrhoid... and didn't know what it was, so you spent four hours googling it on WebMD and then, again, inspected it in the mirror.  You saw things you can never unsee.

Getting older is hard.  I hear that your 30s are the best years of your life, but it kind of feels like the beginning of the end.  

Either way, I am blessed to have all of  you who are reading this blog and so many people who love and support me!  

Cheers to not having an illegitimate pregnancy in my 20s!  I bet my parents are so proud.

Thanks, bitches.  Love you.

~k~