Make a list, check it twice, then burn it so no one can bring it up to shame you. Then beat the list-bearing asshat to a pulp.

When I turned 40, one year and one month+ ago, I caved to the folly of youth and made a list of shit I thought I needed to do to stave off being one of those old people that everyone avoids eye contact with at the bus stop.  I thought that I'd update that list that I was so obviously drunk when I made just to fend off any naysayers/haters that don't think I follow through on my shit.  I also follow through on Bub's shit, but that involves my hand wrapped in a plastic bag searching through the tall grass for dog turds, which is neither here nor there.

The update, in bullet form so you don't pull a muscle like you did that one time masturbating in the Greyhound Bus restroom:

I, Whiskeymarie VonPartypants, do hereby vow to:

• go skinnydipping more often (Nope.  Not for lack of trying. Does dipping my boobs in a cocktail count?)
• wear inappropriate and unseasonal clothing whenever I can (Yup. I've recently embraced short skirts and allowing my bra to peek out of clothing with no shame whatsoever.)
• try to overcome my intense dislike of shellfish and bivalves (Yeah...not so much.  Just, the texture.  The TEXTURE.)
• finally try and work hats into my "look"   (Yup. The straw fedora is a fave- I'm channeling my inner Duran Duran whore)
• shave more than just the bottom half of my legs on a regular basis  (Yup again.  Mostly due to the wearing of shorter skirts, but also out of fear of, now that I'm older, having a stroke or something and going to the ER with Sasquatch legs.)
• jump in more puddles  (This was an easy one.  I forgot how fun it is to totally go whole hog into a puddle, water be damned.  The neighbor kids that got muddy leopracy water in their mouths from me jumping in unexpectedly can chalk that up to one of "life's lessons")
• occasionally embrace my curly-ish hair (Not only do I embrace it, but I'm learning to love the pseudo-rastafarian mess that it becomes after 1-2 days of not washing it.  I don't even have to comb it- I just mold it into interesting shapes, like hats or shoes, with my hands and go on my merry way.)
• tell people to fuck off more often than I do already  (This one was way easier than it should have been.  People are assholes.)
• finally wax my cooter into a smiley face  (Not yet, but I have a Groupon for a waxing place that's burning a hole in my pooner.  I might even shoot for a smiley face WITH a lightening bolt.)
• quit apologizing for and validating other people's issues that aren't my problem  (Once I typed this out, this one was incredibly easy.  I no longer apologized for other people's bullshittery, including relatives.  I placed the blame fairly where it belonged, walked away and felt no remorse.  This. Was. AMAZING.)
• stop monitoring my neighbor's masturbatory practices (KIDDING!  I'm totally still checking)  (Still totally checking)
• keep feeding the squirrels and bunnies, even though it pisses the (other, non-masturbating in public) neighbors off (Still feeding, but limiting their feeding to seeds & greenery, as the fucking squirrels love hiding peanuts in my potted plants, very often destroying expensive and difficult-to-find plants by casually tossing them aside in favor of a hiding place for their nuts.  Fucking squirrel nuts.)
• stop feeling responsible for other people's happiness ( Half yes, half no. I'm inherently a people-pleaser, such is my lot in life.  We all know how well I've been pleasing the hobo population down by the tracks.  Can I get a what-what!)
• Instill even more fear of "me" into my students (Not as much as I'd like, this next semester my goal is to make one of them cry while peeing in their checked pants.)
• fart in public on purpose, just once (Nope.)
• tell the people and animals in my life that I love them as often as I can- well, until it sort of weirds them out, anyways.(Totally weirds them out, still doing it)
• get my shit together, for realsies  (Again, halfway here.)
• And by "shit" I don't mean poo.  I wouldn't know where to put that anyways.  I mean life- you get that, right? (Halfsies)
• talk to random strangers even more often than I do now  (All the time!  No fear, and I've made new friends!  Even ones that don't rob me when I'm not home!)
• on that note- willingly accept candy from strangers  (This one is funny- I totally wrote this as a joke, then this kind of cute guy that works at Trader Joe's started giving me salt water taffy and such every time I go there.  I don't know his name, so he counts as a stranger- me for the win!)
• quit worrying if I vacuumed today and worry more if I had fun today  (Halfsies- I still worry about the vacuuming as we have 5 furballs, but I make a point to have some fun/have some me time pretty much every day.)
• inspect my pores MUCH more closely  (Affirmative.  Score x2 for also obsessing about imaginary stray facial hairs and using WAY more Biore' strips than recommended on the box.)
• stop pretending to care about people's kids that I really don't know or- you know, care about.  (This one was easier that I should probably admit.  Once I decided to not give a shit, I instantly didn't.  But don't worry- I still think your little boy/girl is adorable and I'm sure they'll grow up to be President and totally not a cautionary tale on the Lifetime Network for Women.)
• ignoring my politics (rabidly liberal) or lack of religion (hey- atheist here!) just because I am so very tired of hearing about other people's religion and politics and really don't want to debate this shit. (Done.  Outed myself as an Athiest, and blocked most of the rabidly conservative/Tea Partier yahoos from FB.  Aahhhhh...)
• get surgically sterilized- tired of hormones, don't want to spawn, and at my age they'll likely be born with tentacles anyways.  (Not yet, but I'm reading brochures and working my Kegels in anticipation of any changes to my lady-bits.) (Also strangely fascinated lately with anything bearing tentacles.  Keep having the word "Octopus" in my brain.  Oc. to. pussss...)
• take more pictures (Nope.  Actually took LESS.  I blame this on the communists.)
• crash at least 2 weddings/parties/things I wasn't invited to (Nope- actually kind of forgot about this one.  Oh well, wedding season is upon us and I can wear heels again, so bring on Kool & the Gang- Celebrate tonight, come on!  Ugh.  I died a little inside typing that.)
• wash my hair more often  (Due to a much shorter haircut than anticipated and my obsessive overuse of Bumble & Bumble's "Surf Spray" This one was a "Yes", purely out of necessity.)  Crunchy really long hair = Bohemian.  Crunchy slightly shorter hair = low-budget stripper working at the Crab Shack)
• continue lying to my dentist about flossing  (Check.  Though, I tell them that I do it with gardening twine, so I really only need to do it once a month anyways.)
• Bring back me & my girl's "dare for a dollar" concept.  Any dare, no matter how extreme, was only worth a dollar.  It leveled the playing field, so to speak, and always resulted in awesomeness. (Nope.  This was another one I forgot about.  Note to self" Challenge Blondie to make out with the Subway sandwich artist this weekend, all while wearing a tutu.  That's totally worth a dollar, I think.)
• Savor every fucking moment, instead of waiting for the next, bigger, moment.  I'm a lucky girl with friends and family to spare, buckets of fun, and a life that is actually pretty goddamn fabulous.  Now I just need to appreciate that fact & get out to enjoy it...  (This one is less measurable, but I'm going to say I was totally half-assed in a good way on this one and give myself half credit.  I'm still waiting to win the lottery so I can move to that island where they let rich people have other rich people as slaves, but until that opportunity presents itself I'm content to enjoy bossing my dog around and seizing the moment when I pick up his poo in a green plastic-covered fist and happily toss it into the garbage can with all the other stinky dog poo. I'm also content to snuggle with that same furry little nugget when he curls up by my belly when I'm sleeping on my side, making me briefly wake up and smile that all is right with the world, at least for that brief, smooshy moment.  Things ARE pretty goddamn fabulous, indeed.)

Employmentification, kind of like fornication, yet all anyone seems to want is anal.

So, as I stated previously, I was having some issues with ye olde job, and due to the stressful nature of impending unemployment/potential hookerizing/hobo wrangling, I needed to step away and spend my time with other worthwhile pursuits, such as reading celebrity autobiographies, drinking cheap wine, and having body odor contests with my dog (against the Vegas-established odds, he won.)

Here's the deal:
I was enjoying the comfort and complacency that only comes from working a job longer than any other that I've worked in my life, when the inevitable stray monkey threw a steaming pile of poo into the works.  Up until recently my employment has been considered "temporary" and "part-time", despite working not only full-time, but overload for the last 5 some-odd years.  It's kind of like refusing to admit that your crack addiction has reached "Intervention" status, even though you sold your younger sister AND a kidney last night for a bit of the rock (yes, I'm watching a lot of addiction-based reality TV lately- it's like I'm addicted to it- HA!  I slay me.)
I was working my ass off, yet I wasn't considered a "real" employee yet.  Such is life. 
My arbitrary status was freeing, in a way.  I did not feel obligated to fully participate in 2-day workshops, choosing instead to go, check in, then leave towards the end to go and have a nice (semi-liquid) lunch and do some shopping midway through many of them.  If hating "breakout sessions" with every fiber of my being is wrong, I don't wanna be right, dammit.  I've never really been any good at that corporate-esque brand of bullshit anyways.  Also, I never felt all that bad about not getting to know the names of most of the people that worked in the building with me, other than the janitors and "that dude that wears funky shoes." 
That's a name, right?

Anywhat...I, along with 2 of my coworkers, were notified 3 months ago that our jobs were being "posted" (being put up for permanent status), but we'd have to apply, interview, and sweat it out just like any other schlub trying to steal my job from me- stealer! (And several schlubs did indeed try- and fail- to do exactly that.  One of the contenders was compared to Julia Child, a la Dan Aykroyd via SNL in the 70's.  I guess it was hilarious- I'm sad I missed it.)

Long story short- three months, one night of trying to figure out how to write a cover letter (I seriously haven't had to apply for a job since 1999), two grueling interviews that made me consider becoming a nun, one teaching demonstration and endless obsessive (bordering on mental illness obsessive) e-mail checking later, I'm in. 
Like that Flynn guy. 

So now I can go back to my regular life, whatever that is.  I'm choosing to think it involves making out with Clive Owen on a daily basis, as well as having a personal masseuse,  eyebrow groomer, and toenail trimmer.  Until anyone tells me otherwise, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

Yours in gainful employmentification,