It’s 1:30 in the morning on a Friday night. I am completely sober.

I just Irish goodbye’d a party of about 14 people deep. I have no regrets. I kinda wish I didn’t go out at all, but I actually love these faces and enjoy their company. I went to be social, I’m just getting to be too old for this shit. Fact: 90% of the people I was with are roughly around the same age and were complaining just as much as I was. I just bit the bullet and dipped before anyone could have the opportunity to try and talk me out of it.

I feel as though the “Can I live?” portion of my “youth” is near it’s end. I’m using the term “youth” as loose as possible. I turn 33 this year and I am internally going batshit crazy at that number.

The desire to go out on Friday or Saturday night is at all time low. I just completed my Party Bucket List. The last remaining piece to that puzzle was to experience Holy Ship and trust me—it was a hell of an experience. Do you realize how much of a feat that is? I have an entire bucket list dedicated to partying—DONE.

I just want to settle the fuck down.

Way. Way. Way. Way down.

You know… Netflix and chill, hobbies, maybe arts & crafts… shit like that. When I was married I did needlepointing. FUCKING NEEDLEPOINTING, YOU GUYS. It was cool, he would sit on one side of the couch, we'd watch sports and I would sit on the other trying to figure out stupid patterns while picking out which thread swatch I liked best.

FUCKING NEEDLEPOINTING. That sounds good right now.

Trap Queen is retiring, officially.

Seeking a fellow retiree (with good D), who wants to do regular shit like go grocery shopping in the middle of the night and wants to watch Netflix documentaries in nothing but underwear. We can do the most boring shit in the world, as long as you wanna do it with me.