How To: Get Kicked Out

It has happened. I’m no longer a recent grad as the class of 2012 has now thrown their horribly awkward square hats into the air with misty eyes as they remember the first time they blacked out from jungle juice and with full hearts bursting with joy and hope for their successful future as members of the real world holding a degree.

Well, get real, guys, because all of the desperate, pathetic tweets you’ve been reading from your elders the past year are now your reality.

A reality in which your parents have semi-kicked you out, for some (aka me). Let’s break this down. Apparently my parents don’t understand that my sometimes snappy attitude and rude comebacks are only because I love them. Sorry I acted like my world was going to end because you asked me a million questions about my sister’s birthday cake, mom. But when I dramatically say, “Don’t worry, I’m moving out!” in a huff and get behind the wheel after downing a few of my dad’s craft beers to drive to the local suburban watering hole that makes me feel like a rare gem of a beauty queen due to the leering wannabe bros who probably haven’t made out with anyone since that awkward half-cousin family reunion scenario, I definitely didn’t mean it.

But apparently you can’t take that back, who knew? I guess speaking words are just Tweeting something; once it’s out there, it’s out there for good. And let me tell you, nothing hurts worse than the slap-in-the-spoiled-brat-face text — yes, text — from your father saying the money you’ve saved in an off-limits account is now yours and he’ll help you find a new apartment.

Whoa whoa whoa. Someone hand me another cup of this cheap pitcher beer. Let’s slam on the brakes, dad. Commuting out of the city, aka where I’d inevitably find an apartment, to the suburbs where I frequently work after hours wasn’t really what I had in mind just yet. Plus, that account he’s saying I would now have access to would let me live maybe two months tops on my own. I was just joking!

Please start ignoring my sharp tongue, parents. Don’t take my threats seriously, don’t kick me out and please don’t make me live in a box trading my shoe collection for packages on packages of Ramen noodles. I CAN’T GO BACK TO THAT BROKE LIFESTYLE I HAD IN COLLEGE YET!

Needless to say, my advice to these recent grads from a recent asshole daughter tenant and not-so-recent grad, if you’re shacking up with your parents, keep your mouth shut when your mother yells at you about using the garage instead of the front door or not taking your laundry out of the dryer the second the buzzer goes off, or you may be Googling “cheap brothels leasing rooms” faster than “entry level jobs.”

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