Another One Bites the Blonde

When I first moved to New York, I dreamt of being a go-go boy. Seriously. I told myself that if I ever had one of those bodies that was rock hard, I would get a super trendy haircut, maybe a piercing, an awkwardly placed yet meaningful tattoo, and then proudly strip down to my underwear and dance on bars for dollars.

Oh, and I would wear neon colored Nike high tops.

Thankfully for my parents' pride but not so much my body, I lack the dedication and drive it takes to successfully complete the necessary workout regimen for anybody to toss even a nickel my way. I continue to look like a hot dog that was cooked in the microwave but removed JUST before the skin popped.

You get it.

Then my 26th birthday came, and I thought of all the crazy things I had dreamed of doing in my early twenties. I decided that I needed to stop wasting my time reflecting on what could have been and start working on my reflection now.

Also, Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" was on the radio, and I was FEELING. IT.

First I thought piercing, but my attached earlobes can't even pull off a hoop and my nipples are too flat. Then I thought tattoo, but my list of meaningful options included "dinosaur" and "Mickey Mouse."

I would have bought the high tops, but then I was like, "I'd need matching underwear, and then maybe a baseball cap, but my head is a weird size," and that snowballed for an hour before I said F*#@ IT. I knew what I had to do.

I got in my car, drove to Rudy's, and stripped.

Well, bleached. Rudy's is a hair salon (also a man who took me to dinner once, but pretended we were going to split it, so that ended.)

I must say, the new hair is exactly the right amount of social media attention I needed to make 26 feel worth it. As my notifications continue to pour in, I'm starting to peruse workout regimens. Maybe one day, I'll achieve my dream of dancing on bars for dollars.

Don't worry Mom. I still have to figure out what I can pierce first.

Double tap to like,

TJB: Making It

Welcome to the World

I thought I had seen the last of eventful birthdays. Then, I was reminded by Obama that I will be kicked off of my health insurance at the end of this month.

The big 2-6. That feels like a pretty random age to boot somebody off of their parent's health insurance. Verizon could care less how long I stay a child. Perhaps Congress thought I'd finish undergrad at 22, have my JD or MBA by 26, and then my big-bad big-boy job would pick me up from there. I think the Affordable Care Act and I both had higher hopes for me post-2010.

Luckily, I'm not only a waiter, I'm a corporate full-time waiter. That means for the small price of my food allowance each paycheck, I can have my own healthcare. I say "food allowance" because there is no way I'm decreasing my red wine budget or not purchasing every episode of Dance Moms on iTunes because

THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN BLURRY STREAMING WHILE  TRYING TO WATCH THE NATIONAL GEM THAT IS MADDIE ZIEGLER.

I'll just stop buying fresh deli meat and bananas. That should save enough to see a doctor.

Looming adulthood had me down. Not only was I forced to have my own health insurance, I did my own taxes because I couldn't afford to pay somebody else to do them. Now I'm convinced every missed call is the IRS because there is no way all of my number typing should have yielded the results it did. And even though I should be happy with my return, I'm shouting like my grandpa cursing the government for robbery.

I decided I couldn't hold on to the blood money any longer. There were too many ill feelings seeing it just sitting in my bank account, earned by me, stolen from me, then thrust back in my face like a guilt-soaked apology from Uncle Sam. I did what any self-respecting millennial would do.

I went straight to the Apple store and bought a new MacBook Pro.

That's right. I knew the day after they announced all the cool new shit, they'd try to flush out all the dated shit, and I will drink from that toilet like a thirsty dog.

Surely all ten of you reading this are doing so on a Mac, but I am typing this from my first. Let me tell you, I have been living in the past. I can achieve anything just by swiping my fingers across the touch pad. Honestly, I pretty much typed this whole thing just by looking at the screen. Apple is MAGIC.

Maybe 26 will be uneventful or complete Hell, but at least I'm approaching it like a true adult: with healthcare and lots of Apple devices.

Ah shit, I probably should've paid my rent instead.

"Siri, remind me to pay my rent next month."

Baby steps to adulthood,

TJB: Making It

Papa Can You Hear Me?

The older I get, the more I realize how lucky a guy like me is to have a dad like mine. The older my dad gets, the more I realize how much I like him. Today he turned...well...the math feels really hard to do right now and he kind of stopped aging after 45, so we'll say he's somewhere north of that.

Yes, he colors his hair. No, he doesn't care that you know that. The dude is a baller and still has hair, so just pray I inherited those genes and not the mother's-father ones.

My dad (A.K.A. Dr. J) is a psychologist. Being raised by a psychologist is probably the biggest blessing and curse God could hand a child. My sister and I were not free of our F-ups, but any problems we did have could easily be overshadowed by any genre of psychological literature we'd find lying around the house.

Well, until we hit puberty. Then we gave those books a run for their money.

But Dr. J handled us in stride. There is only one occasion in which I remember him even raising his voice, and that was after my sister and I pretended to have "gone missing" and hid in our neighbor's basement for an hour. And that was pre-puberty, so just imagine what shit we pulled later. The dude didn't even blink.

My dad (and shout out to Mom) is (are) so cool that I even considered moving home this year. I was like, "Yeah, I could handle that." But Dad was not as cool with it, so he handed me his old jalopy and said, "Get your ass to Los Angeles because I believe in you."

Don't misinterpret that. My life is not being bankrolled. I am poor. Very poor. My Dad is not, but I am, and I'm proud of that. I have something to aspire to.

And since I am so lucky to have this father that has bestowed such gifts upon me, I thought I would share them with you, since you're probably not as lucky because how could you be? So, here you are.

The Wisdom of Dr. J

NOTE: This advice would normally cost you a lot of money to be given professionally, so feel free to Venmo me any donations you'd like. I'll make sure my dad gets a cut. 

1. "Short term pain for long term gain." OK, starting with the least original yet incredibly crucial. I'm still sort of living this one out, so let's not dwell on it. You get it.

2. "A lot can change in a day." Every time he says it, you feel ominous shivers through your spine. I spend endless hours stressing about the future until I feel nauseous, but my dad is always there to remind me that we control very little about what will happen tomorrow, next week, or next year. We can only ask ourselves to be our best right now.

3. "Book Smarts are not Street Smarts." Dr. J was very clear that growing up, he did not do very well in school. In fact, kids used to call him "Short Bus". I was a snotty valedictorian, and every time I gave my dad sass he would remind me, "I may have rode the short bus to school, but I was always looking out the window." That was his way of reminding me that remaining perceptive and relating to people on a human level can be far more important than intellectual ego.

4. "We are legends in our own minds." Speaking of ego, this is one of my favorites. I was raised to be humble, and I like to think I maintain a sense of groundedness. Yes, I think I am awesome, but I try to remember not to expect others to believe the same. Whenever I felt like I didn't receive the praise I deserved or was overlooked for something I should have had in the bag, Dr. J threw this piece of wisdom at me. Work hard, expect nothing.

5. "You get a gold." To this day, this is the most rewarding thing I could hear my father say. No gifts, no accolade, no real medal could compete with hearing this simple confirmation from one of the most inspirational men you've ever met. Whether it was a well executed cannon ball into the pool or getting into the school of my dreams, this is all I ever needed to hear. You don't need a trophy, you just need to know.

I could write books full of wisdom I learned from my father, and when I'm famous enough to make money off of them, I probably will. You, on the other hand, just need to know that there is nothing you can't make it through with just a little bit of motivation like my dad's.

And if life ever gets too much to handle, just plan a quick trip to Disney World. That is Dr. J's surefire cure-all.

I love you Dad,

TJB: Making It