Sorry I didn’t get this out to y’all last night. I’m sure it ruined at least six of your evenings and maybe three of your todays. Never fear, something something here’s my post on Thursday. Unless of course you’re not reading it on Thursday. Maybe it’s a Tuesday for you. Maybe it’s November 19. Yeah dude reading this on November 19, I just predicted your future. I knew you’d be here reading this. Stay away from Lacy, she’s bad news and used to be a dude. Anyway, you’re still mad I didn’t get this out yesterday. I was at a wake. Yeah, buddy, don’t you feel awkward now. You have to damn it, everyone does when you say that. But in actuality I had a busy day and god knows I don’t plan ahead for stuff like that.
So what I really wanted to talk about today was one of the many misconceptions that are had about being in your 20’s. This is the 17th biggest misconception in fact. If you’ve read the title before mindlessly clicking you might already be in on what it is: you don’t get any more zits once you’re in your 20’s. Unless you have my sister’s flawless complexion you’ve probably had a zit once or twice in your life. If you’re a normal person who rammed through puberty like a mack truck through a field of mountain goats, full of awkward boners, clumsy growth spurts, and naive future expectations, then you no doubt experienced a little pizza face along the way. One of the things we were told, nay promised, was that by the time you got to your 20’s you wouldn’t have to worry about these pesky pus-filled pustules. Sure, maybe you’d get one here or there but you won’t have to worry about them since you’ll be too busy curing cancer, cashing checks, and drowning in pussy to have them be a real concern.
Wrong. About, well, all of that actually but we’re here to talk about the pimple part. Sure, I definitely don’t get as many zits as I did when I was 15 or so but I still get enough to be pissed enough to write a post about it. “But you’ll write about anything Corey.” Wrong, I won’t write a post about fucking your mom last night. a-Zing! But that’s the thing, we were lead to believe that we wouldn’t look in the mirror after waking up from a night of glorious sleep only to be greeted by a horrible bulging red spot on your forehead. You try to pop it but it’s way premature, so now you just have fingernail imprints in your head with maybe a little oily ooze if you’re lucky. Definitely not going to help you in any facet of life, unless you happen to have a single kernel of unbuttered popcorn. What can you do besides wash your face with some acne fighting shit and throw some on-the-spot treatment on that sucker, the same shit you’ve had to do since you were 12 or 13? They say if you eat well your skin will look better. Not an option, shitty food is the only delicious food. You can use sunscreen and make sure you’re skin’s moisturized. Fuck that, you know you need to get your tan on. Apparently you can also drink more water and keep your stress levels down. Actually that’s fair enough, I’ll consider this one.
I assumed that at my current age of 23 I’d be pimple free and suspect that at some point you thought the same. Or maybe I’m the only fuck that still experiences these remnants of adolescence. I think not, since your face says otherwise (yeah, we all notice zits but nobody gives enough of a shit to say anything; we’re too worried about our own). This doesn’t even take into account the trade-off of having to deal with razor-burn and ingrown hairs once you start growing them on your face (or if you’re a lady, dealing with that shit near your lady bits). That shit’s the worst and really takes all the fun out of gliding a razor across various parts of your body with compressed dino DNA as lube. But alas, as many of us early to mid twenty-somethings are finding out, many of things that we thought would be true about this time in our lives aren’t quite as true as we thought they would be, or in some cases were flat out lies. This is one of them, which is why it’s the 17th biggest misconception you had about your twenties. Maybe you’re wondering what all of the others are, at the very least 1-16. In due time. Or maybe not, sometimes I don’t feel like sharing. Now go do something with your upcoming weekend. Rock on.
P.s. Who else is fucking excited for some football tonight?! Can’t wait for Stressful Sundays. Fantasy owners, you know what I’ sayin’.