I Like My Bars Dirty

How do I like my bars? Dirty. I love a good dive bar. The more sections of wall that consist of tacky wood paneling, the better. The more creepy townie men who stare inappropriately before turning religiously back to the sporting show on the fuzzy TV, the better. I don't want to pay a cover, I don't want to have to look cute just to get sticky alcohol spilled all over me in on an overcrowded dance floor and I don't want to have everything bathed in a shade of weird purple 'trendy' lights.

Also, I am not skilled enough to order drinks at these hip bars filled with dancing, flirting, glittering 20somethings. I still order drinks like I'm in a frat house, because that's where I learned to drink. I like my drinks strong, and I prefer them in a solid glass mug or something non-breakable. Once, right after I moved here, I told a bartender that I wanted a Dr. Pepper and vodka. He was in shock. He asked me if that was a fancy drink from Michigan, because he had never heard of it. I just went with it and said yes. In reality, I could not tell you the difference between a mai thai, a cosmo, a martini or a rock collins. I am used to simple drinks: liquor, chaser. Two ingredients. Or maybe three, if we're going to get wild and make pink panty droppers (beer, vodka, pink lemonade).

So give me the dive bars: the ones with the best food, the weirdest people, the dimmest lights, the dirtiest floors, and the least decorated walls.

This is the actual level of lighting within the bar. I can barely see the back wall. 

Perfect.

Bars using posters of Gossip Girl will be given extra points in my book.

Just look at the dirt and the wood and the bottles. Clearly, you don't come here to flirt. You come here to drink. (Also, on the wall behind me there was a collection of mammoth beehives. Why? Because they can. Or maybe it's their version of a breathalyzer. When you start believing bees will actually come out of them, you've had enough.)

But the following really took the cake. This backwoods, old-man bar had squirrel decorations. That's right. Dead squirrels. Posed. Costumed. In shadow boxes. Like it was no big deal. Like this was a completely normal thing to do. And the closer you looked, the more squirrels you saw. 

Oh Missourah, you take the cake on old man bars. Cheers to you. 

Linking up with my boo Steph to celebrate her one-year blogiversary! Happy blogabirthaday, babay. 

Letter to the Graduates, via GIFS

I think I might have found my calling guys. My "blog niche" so they say. Letters via GIFS. Eh? 

Anyways. It's graduation season. I literally had a panic attack reading everyone's graduation statuses the other day and had to remind myself that I already had a job and a place to live and didn't need to go into full on panic postgrad mode. Rough life. Then I heard a Pure Michigan commercial in Missourah and almost started crying in the car. But that's besides the point.

Dear Graduates:

It's your big moment. Which you will undoubtedly forget is your big moment because you'll be too hungover from the celebratory parties the night before. Well. It's still your big moment. Here's some advice, or general musings from someone one year out.

Post grad life is hard. It's freshman year all over again, except with more bills, more responsibilities, and less people your age standing around equally confused and helpless.

People envy your youth, your relative freedom and your wide open availability...but they also would never switch places with you. What they don't tell you: postgrad life is lonely. You go from seeing your friends 24/7, to maybe three times a week. If you're lucky. Sometimes, you count it as a good week if you have one social event. Sometimes, one social event per week is all you can handle.

But when you get lonely, remember: your phone isn't just for tweeting and roughing up selfies with vintage tints on Instagram. 

It's also for calling people. So when you get lonely, use it. 

And NOT to call your bartender. That brings me to my next point.  Bartenders are not your friends. At first, you will glory in happy hours, drink specials and the buzz of social activity that you find there. But remember, for both your emotional and financial health, their purpose is to rack your tab up. They "care" about your problem or story so long as it is a story that requires more liquor. Be careful.

I know. I'm disappointed Nick Miller isn't my bartender too.

Get off of Facebook. Get. Off. I know. You "miss them." But in the middle of stalking people who you're used to being able to reach out and touch every single day...you're going to see a lot of things that will drive you mad. Engagement announcements. Job announcements. Self-realization announcements. You're going to go crazy if you sit there and compare yourself to everyone. How did she get that job? Why am I not that comfortable with this new phase of my life? How did she make that new friend? 

The green-eyed monster is not your friend, so by all means, please don't invite yourself into his home (Facebook) and sit for a nice long chat. Get off.

You'll be broke as fuck. 

Many people will encourage you to make a budget. Do. And then realize that no matter how hard you budget, half the time you will still have no idea where your money went. Your first year is a giant teeter-totter that you can never balance. You need friends, and the surest way to make friends is to go out and do things. Repeat: you're broke as fuck. Know when to skip invites (hint: work lunches are the first to be cut), and when to say yes.


I know that this all sounds really, really harsh. And I'm sorry. But I wish above all else that I hadn't rushed into things. That I hadn't rushed into the "perfect" job, moving out and doing "adult things." You will have your entire life to work, so don't rush into it. Fill out applications. Look for jobs. But also lay in the sun. Get a book. Breathe. You just went through a four mile marathon of insanity. Breathe. Don't freak out over the fact that "everyone else has a job, I'm so behind." You're not. For every person that does have a job, there are five more just like you still pulling their hair out searching the web and living in their parents' basement. Don't move out of your parents' basement prematurely. Evil things wait for you, things that you think are "adult." Calm the fuck down. You will have 85 years of your life to do "adult things" like pay the bills and buy your own groceries and clean your bathroom. Six more months of not having to do the mundane shit you call "adulthood" is worth the small annoyance living with your parents is. Don't rush into the rest of your life. Because once you're there, you can't go back. One day, your parents won't be there. So enjoy the extra dinners while you can.

How the rest of us feel when you say how excited you are to just "be and adult" and do "adult things" in the "real world."

You never get this time in your life again. So live every day. Every day. Some days will suck ass. Some days will be cloud nine. I am telling you it's going to suck. But when it sucks, remember: it's supposed to suck. And yes, it does feel this way to everyone else. You're not alone in the fact that you're pissed off and wish you had never graduated. So in those moments, take a deep breath, get a drink, sit outside, sit on your bed. Breathe. And remind yourself it is 110% okay to feel completely lost. Stop pushing yourself. (Granted, in "my day," we didn't have a Taylor Swift song glorifying this god-awful stage in life so I'm sure now that you do being "totally lost, confused alone in the best way" is hip. You probably don't even need this list because that song told you everything you need to know (sarcasm, people).)

Anyways. Have fun, kids.
Love,
Autumn

What advice would you give new graduates?