for the kids

Dear Children of America,

Heyyyy. It's your favorite Aunt Rachel over here. I know I'm super cool because I spent most of my time getting drunk and being the center of attention. Also I wear trendy clothes and I made you feel like less of a whore that one time you went all the way with that kid you met in the bar who smelled like Patchouli and Filet-O-Fish. You know that my advice is sound. So grab a cold beer for your auntie, sit down, and listen up.

Fuck your dreams. Seriously, unless they involve a career with limitless growth and opportunities for pay raises no matter the economic shit hole your country is in, fuck your dreams.

Too harsh? Fine. Reevaluate your dream. Classical Pianist you say? Sure, except instead be a Pharmacist. The next [insert author/photographer/actor of your choosing]? Right, of course, by which you mean Engineer of pretty much any caliber.

I'm not saying you need to give up your dreams. That's mean and I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about this little note.

Focus on what's really important.

Dental Insurance.

You can do pretty much anything once you have a job with insurance. Sure, you'll be doing it on the side and it will mean that overtime you'll get less sleep. But you can sleep after sex, so really just do what I tell you.

I know that there are those sanctimonious douche bags out there who say that if you have a "fall back" plan you will inevitably fall back. And that might be true but its dumb and pricky to say. What these d-waffles should be saying is, "get a degree, get a job, figure out how your dreams work themselves in."

I am not saying I regret the choices I've made in life. Mostly because I don't like the satisfaction that will give various people I don't like and also, I don't. Because I can now be a billboard of what your life can turn into if you're not careful. Also, I'm deliriously happy for about 3 hours a week, and I get to get shithoused on like, Tuesday, with very few consequences - mental or otherwise, and I wear sweatpants probably more than is appropriate for any person over the age of 7.

So, think about it. I've heard that government work will probably turn you into an abusive alcoholic, but it will also give you the opportunity to have someone else pay for your absurdly expensive dental procedures. Two sides to every 3-dimensional object, my friend.

Love and Kisses,
Rachel

ka.boom

Dear Airplanes,

Please stop falling from the sky.

Love,
Rachel

gah

Dear Rachel,

Please stop buying jeans.

Love,
Your Wallet.

Mail bag

Dear Sarah Paulson,

Please stop being on Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. You're ruining everything. I'm sure you're a super nice person and a great actress but you are distroying this show. So please, just stop.

Love and Kisses,
Rachel

So lame.

So. It's Friday night and because of some poor planning I am not out enjoying New York City but rather sitting in my pajamas watching Titanic.

You could not judge me any more than I judge myself.

Right now I'm thinking of it as a temporary set-back. It's not even 11, the night is young. I haven't brushed my teeth and Six Feet Under comes on in 7 minutes, the night could turn around at any minute.

Anyway, if I wasn't lame enough at this point, the story gets better. So I am in the middle of a Harriet the Spy level of mystery. Today I arrived home to find a UPS slip saying that they had apparently tried to deliver something to me today.

At first I thought it was for my roommate, for our names are quite similar and those UPS fellas aren't really known for the expert penmanship. But nope, they got all the letters right and in the right order. And so now I'm trying to figure out who the fuck is sending me packages care of UPS.

My birthday? Is in October. There are no major gift giving holidays in the recent past or coming up (Easter, if you ask Cougar, is not a gift giving holiday). I haven't been shopping in real life or on ebay since before Ash Wednesday...I think (--as I go check my recent ebay history and make sure I haven't been sleep-shopping-- which can happen when you go through withdrawl).

Most people in my family who have the heart to send me a care package would do so a)to my post office box and b)via USPS, because UPS sucks.

According to handy UPS internets tracking the package originated in MI, which after a long fight between my roommate and I, we established is Michigan (though, if we're wrong I'd appreciate being told). I don't know anyone in Michigan--I don't think...which means its probably some sort of catalogue.

Seriously?! This is gonna be killing me until Monday when (hopefully) it'll be delivered before I have to leave for class at 9:15. And the fact that I'm so excited pretty much makes me want to kill myself.