Bras, What Are They Good For, Absolutely Nothin’

Here at NoPantsToWork we take on hard hitting news stories. Today, we discuss boobs, a.k.a. breasts, bosoms, tits, melons, jugs, sweater puppies, mounds, knockers, etc. While I don’t like wearing pants and find them to be an unnecessary nuisance…girls feel similarly about bras from what I gather. Special thanks to the ladies who offered their opinion on the topic and helped write this.

You wake up in the morning ready to attack the day.

Everything is fine and dandy with your heavenly jugs tucked away nicely. The puppies look great today!

You have a couple meetings and feel like a million bucks.

Then it starts getting a little sweaty in there.

Shit, the left one slipped out.

Then, it’s official…boob sweat.

You hope no one notices…they probably don’t…still, you nervously sweat away.

Not only are you sweating – you realize that your luscious lady lumps are being smushed together.

And suddenly, you’re trapped. You can’t breathe. WHO INVENTED THIS THING ANYWAY? In your head, you’re doing this…

…but in reality, you subtly tug on your bra and battle the world’s worst feeling, BACK FAT. #SEXY

You wiggle to fix it and end up looking like this. [CUE coworker stares]

You think to yourself…

FINALLY at 5 p.m. you make a break for it.

You drive like you’ve never driven before. Complete ninja focus.

You barely make it through your front door before you get straight to business.

You Tazmanian Devil your way outta your work attire. Who knows where everything landed…and who cares.

Because, it’s time. The moment you’ve been waiting 97 hours for. And in one swift motion…

 Complete and utter satisfaction.


According to the females who helped write this, boobs are quite the burden (apparently even for Victoria’s Secret Angels). Well try having something that hangs between your legs all day! JK, you guys give birth…you win. As usual, tell us all about your boob issues, or tell us how bad this post sucked, on Facebook and Twitter!

MegaMillions, MegaAwesome

THE MEGAMILLIONS JACKPOT IS AN ESTIMATED 636 MILLION DOLLARS. Let me me say that again in case it didn’t register. THE MEGAMILLIONS JACKPOT IS AN ESTIMATED 636 MILLION DOLLARS!!!!!!! The cash option is 341 million dollars. That’s 341 with 6 zero’s behind it. 341,000,000…man, that looks sweet.

I’m a casual lottery player/gambler. A little sports betting, poker, some scratch-offs and the occasional lottery ticket. However, when the jackpot gets as high as it is currently, I can’t stop day dreaming about how cool it would be to win, what I would do, how awesome I’d be at being filthy rich, and debating whether I’d actually have a heart attack after realizing I won. The part that really sucks, is, every time the jackpot gets this high, and I don’t win, I get severely depressed for about an hour. I mean, I genuinely expect to win for a split second. Then, extreme disappointment. Do you know what you would do? Here are my thoughts.

My biggest anxiety in the whole winning-the-lottery-daydream-process is when I actually find out that I’ve won–WHAT DO I DO WITH THE TICKET.  I’ve done some research. You’re not supposed to really tell anyone, and you are told to contact a lawyer/financial advisor type figure. I’d love to Tweet and Instagram it eventually…I think that would get a few likes. My anxiety comes from holding a piece of paper that is now worth 341 million smackers. In my day dream, I put the ticket in an envelope, I seal the envelope, I place that envelope in another envelope. I place the newly formed package in my pants. I lock myself in my room, turn off all the lights, get under the covers, call my parents, tell them something terrible has happened and need them to come over immediately, contact the police and tell them I need an escort. Isn’t that what everyone does?

Money changes people and I’m sure many of you have heard insane stories of people winning massive jackpots only to lose all of it, become terrible people, and become bankrupt in the years following. I’m Jewish, so that would be pretty much impossible. I have money management/saving skills in my DNA, folks. Once my advisor told me what the hell to do, I have a number of plans. I wouldn’t want people hitting me up for money all the time sooooo, I’d call my closest friends, tell them to meet me at the airport, bring nothing but your phone and your wallet.

I’d charter a jet to Vegas, take everyone shopping for fresh duds, and spend a weekend living and partying like Floyd Mayweather. I’d pay off any debt my parents had, buy them a dream home where ever they wanted to retire, buy them their dream cars, and a loft in NYC, since that’s always been a dream of theirs. I’d also just cut them a check for a shitload of money because my parents are awesome, hard working, and they deserve it.

After that, I’d buy some real estate, nothing too huge because I need a cozy joint to lay my head down at night. I’d build an indoor basketball court, a ridiculous pool, buy a new car and then I like to think I’d continue working on this website and some new projects. I’d like to donate some moolah to Make-A-Wish because I think what they do is incredible. Then, I’d travel. Ya know, cool places like Italy, Cleveland, and Bali. I’d Eat, Pray, and Love all over the place!

The odds of winning are 1 in 259 million. You have a better chance of getting hit by a tornado than winning tonight. You have a better chance of getting struck by lightning than winning tonight. You have a better chance of getting eaten by a shark than winning tonight. You have a better chance of getting eaten by a shark, while simultaneously getting struck by lightning while being swept up by a tornado, than winning tonight. That last one isn’t confirmed but we are having our math interns run the numbers for us.

I am a firm believe in “money doesn’t buy happiness but it sure does make things a hell of a lot easier.” Yea, I mean, you can still be miserable, buttttt I’m already pretty happy go lucky, so I think I’d be alright with 341 million brajoles in my bank account.

Lets assume you take the cash option of 341 million bones. We’ll forget about taxes for a second for arguments sake (or the fact someone else might win and you have to split).

You could buy this house 17 times. You could buy 428,930 Golden Retriever puppies named “Santa Girl.” You could even buy this website 341 million times!!! You could buy a bajillion of everything on this list as well. Everyone has had this day dream. What would you do? What would you buy? Would you place the ticket in your pants and hide under the covers too? Let us know on Twitter or Facebook!

On a more serious note, if you win the lottery, or don’t–and have a few extra dollars to spare for a non-profit my friends works with, it would be very much appreciated. You can read more about EmancipAction here or watch their video below.

Runway Laps and Thigh Gaps

Saddle up folks, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show is back in action tomorrow! The music, the pageantry, the breasts, the butts, the Angels…all of it. Let’s all get in the mood with some acoustic Bieber from last year’s show. Enjoy…

As much as we hate to admit it…Bieber kinda killed it. Drop the mic, Justin. Honorable mention to the sketchy dude in the vest playing the guitar at the beginning!

Now, the VS Fashion Show serves many purposes and causes many different reactions/emotions.  It’s informative, entertaining, sexual, depressing, ridiculous, outrageous, mesmerizing, vain, comical and plain ol’ American! Twitter pretty much explodes during the show, even making it educational. What a well rounded event!

For example, I had no idea thigh gaps were so important to women. I mean, if your thighs don’t touch, you don’t have to worry about chafing, and leap frog is probably a little bit easier, but besides that…is it really THAT important? Leading up to the show, every girl undoubtedly makes a joke, Tweets, or tells a friend something along the lines of, “OMG Sally, I am like NOT eating a thing ALL week because these VS Angel betches are all so effing skinny. And their thigh gaps… UGH. Thigh gaps are SO fetch.” Girls have their VS Fashion Show viewing parties, sipping wine, talking about their woman crushes (“OMFG, I’d like totally go lesbo for Adriana Lima, wouldn’t you?” “Totes.”), secretly, or not so secretly, being depressed about their own bodies in comparison to the models and vowing to start a new diet tomorrow.

Don’t worry girls, if a guy is lucky enough to be in the same room with a girl in her underwear, they aren’t worried about the stuff you think they are. We are genuinely so appreciative and excited that a girl has agreed to be alone in the same room with us – half naked – that we aren’t seeing straight anyways. Seriously, it’s like if you’re standing on a frozen lake and the ice starts to crack and everyone yells DON’T MOVE A MUSCLE. Same principle, if there is a half naked girl in the room DON’T…MOVE…A…MUSCLE and maybe she’ll stay like this.

I think we can all agree that guys watch for very different reasons… with very different motives. We watch to see half naked women walking around in outrageous underwear. Our minds also wander to very different places… I know you can’t actually buy most of the absurd crap the models are wearing, but what if you could? I mean, taking off a bra is one thing, but what if we had to remove your wings before sex? What if a girl took off her shirt and pants and was wearing a full on peacock outfit equipped with feathers, and we were expected to remove that. I’d leave. AHAHAHAHA, totally kidding, I wouldn’t leave…what am I, crazy?

I particularly like the behind the scenes stuff of the models, when they are acting goofy and stuff. Why? Because for those few seconds, they seem like normal human beings that I could actually interact with and maybe get an OTPHJ from. When they are walking down the runway, they are not human, and I avoid direct eye contact at all cost. NEVER LOOK A VS MODEL DIRECTLY IN THE EYES!

We’ll be live Tweeting the whole event on Tuesday, so make sure to follow us on Twitter, or make sure to unfollow us before then! We’ll close with some runway bloopers. See, models ARE human!

Pick Up Basketball

A couple months back the geniuses over at DudePerfect created one of the most relatable videos I’ve ever seen. Check it out below. Anyone who has played pick up basketball at any point in their life, has run into at least one of these stereotypes…or, is one of these stereotypes.

My friends and I play pickup basketball and in Men’s Leagues way too much and take it way too seriously. We treat it like the NBA Finals most days. We bicker like our lives depend on it. We sometimes don’t speak to each other for days over things that occur on the court. We all think we are way better than we probably actually are. Quite simply, its beautifully awesome.

Once you graduate college and come to terms with the fact that the NBA or NFL doesn’t want you, intramural sports is all that’s left. Some people play for the purpose of getting exercise, or getting away from their wives/girlfriends, but most, in my humble opinion….play to relive the glory days. Uncle Rico used to be able to throw that ball a quarter mile. Everyone knows an Uncle Rico and everyone has some sort of war story from the greatest athletic performance of their lives. I can remember in college, the days we had basketball or flag football games, zero work was accomplished. Paying attention in class? Not a chance. It’s definitely not to the same extent anymore, but yea, I get pretty excited to go out there and compete/dominate other 20-somethings. SO BACK OFF!

Most of the guys I know are ultra competitive athletes coming up on the tail end of illustrious careers. Many of these people played college football, basketball, baseball, and other sports at Division 1 schools. Now, pick up basketball is all they have left. We all play through rolled ankles, bad backs, bad knees, bruises all over our bodies, aches, pains, jammed fingers and just plain ol’ being tired. We all complain about the refs, having to play at 10pm some nights, and our bruised bodies. But, deep down, I know everyone loves it and will genuinely be sad when the fat lady sings.

Most girls don’t get it. They think we are ridiculous, they can’t understand how or why we take it so serious. They don’t understand why, after losing a game, we don’t want to to speak and act like it’s the worst day of our lives. They don’t understand how or why we could yell at a referee, over a meaningless call, and get thrown out of a game. They don’t understand why there is absolutely no foreseeable reason that would cause us to miss a game against our friends teams. Maybe a natural disaster or a death in the family, that’s about it.

I guess once our playing careers come to an end, and we get over the initial depression, we pray for athletic children, so we can be the scary parents on the sidelines. The parents that bore their children with their old war stories, yell and scream embarrassing things at the officials, yell and scream embarrassing words of encouragement at their children, and live vicariously through their children’s athletic accomplishments.

Cheers to having athletic kids! As always, give us your thoughts on Facebook and Twitter!

Thanksgiving Thoughts

There’s plenty to be thankful for this year. I run one of the biggest websites on the Internet a goofy website, I have been out of Corporate America for almost a year now, I lost 35-lbs the last 18-months (which I plan on gaining back today), I have my health, a loving supportive family, some pretty cool friends, and I’m pretty happy with life in general at the moment.

Now’s the time of year to get all sentimental and mushy about our loved ones, to spend time with family you don’t get to see often, and for sending out passive aggressive annoying mass Happy Thanksgiving group text messages! This has been a pretty crazy year in my life and I definitely have plenty to be thankful for.

I asked some friends what they were thankful for this year, one normal and one unconventional. The answers were pretty funny…enjoy!


The Usual: family, health, my awesomely fun friends, all the opportunities God has given me, my job, having incredible friends and family who are willing to do whatever it takes to see one another — even if it means traveling across the globe for only a few days, my sisters, that my family and I get to be safe in America together, the air in my lungs, friends, and my luck in this world.

Unusual: being rich enough to not have to go to Wal-Mart on Black Friday, sticky boobs, crystal light, high heels, leggings, grilled cheese, Powerade Zero., lacking a gag reflex, always being regular, the feeling I get when I take my bra off after work, puppies, and NoPantsToWork giving me a break from my workday.


The Usual: My wife, that my family gets along during the holidays, my job, my brothers, being able to work for myself, my dog, my girlfriend, an awesome boss, and my parents.

Unusual: Getting paid to poop sometimes at work, NBA TV, NFL TV, my bookie, girls in Yoga pants, boy shorts on girls, good bourbon, morning blowjobs, Fantasy Football, and leftovers.

If nothing else was learned from this, it’s when you ask a guy and a girl the same question…the girl is going to give you a much longer answer. Guys are thankful for sex and sports…go figure! Girls, I still don’t understand you…maybe next year. So, HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! If your family is anything like mine, you’ll fight and make up 700x today, get in awkward conversations with family members you haven’t seen in a while, and consume lots and lots of alcohol. Good luck!

Potty Mouth

While we haven’t been immersed in Corporate America for almost a year now, this NPTW contributor has. He puts his pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us but over time has meticulously cultivated a list of unique individuals that exist at most companies. 

For those of you that, unfortunately, are forced by “the man” to wear pants to work, you have undoubtedly encountered various types of obnoxious work place behavior and stereotypes. On any given workday, we all come face to face with little annoyances, that when piled up, make you wanna go Office Space on your printer. People are weird, we get it, we’re kinda weird too. But, today, we tip our caps to the lunatics who take social norms and etiquette to a whole new level.

You’ve probably got nicknames for these people at your office. Pit-Stain Jerry, because even if it’s 12-degrees outside, Jerry is hot like fire and dripping in sweat. Crying Sarah, who, just has a lot of feelings. However, today, we want to delve into the phenomenon of “talks on the phone in the bathroom” guy.

This guy will make everyone trying to peacefully relieve themselves uncomfortable by holding any segment of a personal phone call while in the restroom. This includes but is not limited to:


This guy will enter the bathroom, do the standard “check under stalls to see feet of other people pooping,” see other people are clearly pooping (or just sitting so they can be alone for a moment..don’t lie guys, we’ve all done this), and STILL, has the audacity to make a phone call, have a conversation, and hang up. ALL of which takes place, pre-wipe. You sir, give zero shits and we applaud you for it.


This guy is either lazy or too weak to hold a phone to his ear to listen to that life or death voicemail that was left. Therefore, he goes the speakerphone route. This typically occurs while men go #1, as they are using their hands to, well…you get the idea.


This guy makes his phone call before entering the bathroom. He is typically speaking super loud or laughing obnoxiously to signal to other bathroom dwellers that he, in fact, has arrived. Why end the convo before coming in the bathroom? That would be ludicrous. This is usually followed up with a “post hang-up secondary reference” to the person they were on the phone with, many times referencing a nickname that no one has any idea the meaning of. “Dude, that guy is a nut!” or “Bro, Butters is the funniest dude I know, he’s definitely getting fired soon!” Either way, they want you to know they are cool, they talk on the phone with cool people, and they use nicknames on the reg.


This guy takes “casually ends conversation while entering bathroom guy” to another level. He continues the conversation while he does his business. This usually entails pinning the phone to his ear while getting ready/performing his business. He usually enjoys talking about stuff either super inappropriate or uncomfortable like his date that went horribly wrong last night or his kids’ football team that can’t seem to run the ball like they did last year. “I know…I KNOW, but if Arthur’s kid could block worth a damn, we’d have a shot.”

This same person sometimes likes to name drop. Perhaps they saw the brown Steve Madden’s of their boss in the stall next to them and realized, hey, here’s my shot to make an impression. “You know my wife’s cousins daughter is in Will Smith’s kids class, right? Yea, Jaden. YES, that Jaden. Yes, he goes to school. That Karate Kid really sucked” The person on the other line has little clue as to what’s going on usually…


Tough to say, but maybe try not talking on the phone while doing your business. What are you, a wild animal? The men’s room is a sacred place devoid of drama and stress. Let’s keep it that way gentlemen. That’s what texting is for.

As always, Tweet or Facebook us with your comments, concerns, praises, or to tell us we suck!

The Hunger Games

With the 2nd installment of The Hunger Games opening this week I felt it was important to discuss a different kinda Hunger Games. Working in corporate america, at a publicly traded company, with lots of rules, policies, and politics taught me some things. My biggest takeaway? People behave like wild animals and get indescribably happy/excited over free food. I call this phenomenon…THE CORPORATE HUNGER GAMES!

I’d be sitting at my desk, see I had a new email…and before I had time to check it, the sounds of a nearby stampede. It’s like in Jurassic Park, when the T-Rex is approaching, and the glass of water starts trembling. What’s going on? Is there a fire? “OMG, DID YOU NOT CHECK YOUR EMAIL?!” THERE IS FOOD IN THE BREAK ROOM! WE DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS OR HOW MUCH THERE IS BUT WE MUST PRESS ON! FOLLOW ME, FOLLOW ME TO FREEDOM.” You can learn a lot about a person by how they act around free food. I’m from the “just go for it” school of thought. Most people kinda linger around the table. “No, I’m not even that hungry, I couldn’t dare eat another sandwich.” But, if they were alone, they’d be 4 sandwiches deep with mustard on their shirt and a case of the meat sweats. Everyone wants the food, and if you make the first move, you get the best leftovers. Don’t be bashful people, live a little!

There were multiple levels of insanity associated with the various levels of leftovers. My company used a lot of outside vendors who would regularly come in for status meetings. For those meetings, standard libations included Jason’s Deli, Panera, Rising Roll, and other local sandwich joints. Leftovers would include a few sandwiches, some potato salad, usually warm from being out all day, and some pickles. Doesn’t sound like much does it? Cue absolute pandemonium. Ever see someone eating warm potato salad with a chopped up pickle and some crushed up potato chips on top…with a GIANT smile on their face? I have, and it’s not a pretty sight. Shame goes out the door when leftovers are around, you do what you gotta do.

A few times a year, “The Board” would come to town.  More like “The Bored” am I right  or am I right #CheapJoke?We’d receive emails about cleaning up our cubes and to be ready to put our best foot forward. We all really knew what that meant…caterers and lots of leftovers.  There was a gentle calm in the air those days, like soldiers getting ready for battle. No one spoke about it, but everyone knew. Today is the day we’re going to eat, and we’re going to eat like kings!!  Salmon, roast beef, fancy salads, the works. You didn’t know when it would come, or when you’d need to be ready, but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. And then, finally, your Outlook inbox dings and you see the email. “There are leftovers in the break room if anyone is hungry.” If anyone is hungry? Of course we’re hungry, are you nuts!? Utter chaos ensues. People calling each other at their desks. HURRY! MEET ME IN THE BREAK ROOM, BE SWIFT!

The board members would usually come for a week or so, so for an entire week, the entire office was on edge. I’ve never seen more people show up to work on time than during those times. The Corporate Hunger Games is a real thing, and I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute!

Be honest, scale of 1-10, how excited do you get when there is free food or leftovers in the break room? Are you excited to see the actual Hunger Games? What are the odds Jennifer Lawrence reads this? Tweet us or hit us up on Facebook with stories from your office.

Pregnant and Pants Do NOT Go Together. Period.

The most feminine post in NoPantsToWork history. Here comes a post from a long time friend who just so happens to be 20-something and preggers. Not like MTV 16 and pregnant style. She’s got her act together. Apparently pregnant women really really hate pants, so, obviously, we’re cool with that.  
I used to love a good skinny jean. Teal, yellow, orange, blue jean…they were all fantastic. My legs looked great, they’re comfy, and can be worn year round. Then, I got knocked up…
The first couple of weeks of pregnancy have their ups and downs, but vomit, headaches, and constipation aside, clothes still fit and you are just flat out excited. Fast forward to 4 months in…and I’m singing a different tune. It’s all fun and games til’ you can’t button your favorite pair of Sevens.
Finally, I gave in and made a trip to Destination Maternity. Thankfully, I found a pair of jeans that resembled the cute skinny jeans I could once wear. I proceeded to strut towards the checkout. Woohoo! Maybe I’ll be one of those pregnant women who look hott and have a healthy glow! Being a newbie at this whole pregnant thing, I naively asked the checkout lady if women typically stay in the same size maternity pants the whole 9 months. The seemingly pleasant woman standing there told me that as long as I stay within a 30-lb weight range, I should be fine. I said “ok, well I am 15 weeks and have gained about 10lbs so far, but I think I am on a healthy track.” What followed, I wouldn’t wish upon my first enemy…the look of shock, the smirk, the laughter that soon followed, made me want to crawl in a dark corner and cry. I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? THESE PANTS ARE A SIZE XS YOU SMUG BEEYOTCH! ALSO, IT APPEARS I STILL WEIGH LESS THAN YOU AND IF MY UNBORN CHILD WASN’T WITHIN EARSHOT I’D KNOCK THAT SMUG LOOK OFF YOUR FACE! I’m sorry you had to hear that, unborn child of mine, mommy’s usually not that fiery.
The experience brought me to the realization that pants are a waste of time for the next 5 or 6 months. The following are reasons why, as a pregnant woman, I ain’t got time for pants.
  • Plain and simple, THEY DO NOT FIT. I’ve tried cute belly bands. You know, the things that allow you to keep wearing your same skinny jeans but unbuttoned? Eff those things, completely overrated. They’re tight but not tight enough, they fall down, and they expose your now-too-small thongs. Ugh, sexy underwear..I’ll see you again soon. I promise. 
  • This next one is hard to say out loud, writing it was equally as difficult. Deep breath, here I go. I, have a muffin top…all the time…all the way around. It gets worse when I have to pee and after I have eaten. Have to pee AND a full belly, double whammy. The absolute definition of being uncomfortable.
  • Even in comfy pajama pants or sweatpants, I find the urge to pull them all the way up to my boobs because otherwise, they are falling down or hugging my most rotund and unflattering area. RIP skinnies, you were good to me, I was good to you, we were a great team and I hope to see you again soon.

As you can probably tell, I am an absolute joy for my husband to come home to!! Damnit, this baby better be good. Good luck ladies, it’s rough out there for a preggers OG…enjoy those skinnies while you can.

Have anything to add to this one, ladies? Guy’s you can add something too, but I’d be terrified if you have much to add. Tweet or Facebook us!

Hey, What’s Your Major?

Katie is a 5th year senior currently finishing up her victory lap at The University of Georgia. She has battled anxiety, restraining her sarcasm, and being too short to ride roller coasters her entire life. Take it away, Katie!

Editor’s note: Kinda intense/deep post, we recommend listening to the soothing sounds of Enya while reading.

It hasn’t been until recently, and by recently I mean in the past 48 hours, that I’ve gotten excited about graduation. I get to take pictures, I get to see my grandma and I get all sorts of cash from family members to party and spend time with my family. My bff is graduating as well and our families are going to do a brunch together. We’re white girls, sooooo brunch is a pretty big deal and cause for massive amounts of excitement. Plus, I’m not going to have any more exam-induced break-outs, thank god. It’s all going to be great. Oh but here’s the thing, aside from the accomplishment of attaining my college degree, my problem with graduating is this: I have no fucking idea what I am going to do.

Unless you want to be an accountant or a chemist or something else career-specific, companies will hire you whether you have a Political Science, Education or PR degree, right? Side note: can we chill the fuck out on PR, ladies? Like, my quota on listening to you talk about how you want to plan ~events~ for the rest of your life was reached a long time ago and if I have to listen to anymore I will gladly step in front of the next bus I see (sorry, every friend I have). Experience is as stupid as it gets. Don’t have any experience? Enjoy waiting tables and/or bartending because you’re going to be interning, unpaid and suckling at the teet of Corporate America™ for the next year or three. Have some experience? How does one obtain this mysterious “experience” you speak of if no one will hire me?

I’m getting my B.S. degree in Human Development and Family Science. Just to clarify, B.S. stands for Bachelor of Science, not bullshit, which I minored in, ZING! Some people study Human Dev to go on to grad school and become big fancy doctors. Then, there are people like me, who enjoy what they study yet have no clue what exactly they’re going to do once they acquire that fantastic piece of paper they’re working towards, other than picturing it framed on the wall of their someday-office. God, my office is gonna be so awesome one day.

My major requires me to read a lot of heavy shit, too. Every syllabus I have basically says, “course material in this class may be difficult for some students and could possibly bring up unresolved issues…here are some phone numbers to available resources if this occurs.” Unresolved issues? Cool, sign me up, who doesn’t like digging the skeletons out of the closet and taking  trip down depression memory lane!?  So, here I am, neurotic enough as it is, and I’m reading about social injustices in America or depressed adolescents committing suicide or parents who don’t know how to properly take care of an infant and wondering WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION OTHER THAN GET UPSET ABOUT IT???

It’s comforting to know that there are people like me at every college in America. There has to be, right? There’s not? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW! What to do with your degree, when you don’t want to use it as a career choice? Definitely not PR…every chick in America already has that covered. Thanks ladies!

My other issue is that I am a crazy person. In the words of comedian, Rob Delaney, “I generally have a pretty sunny demeanor” and I genuinely like to laugh and make others laugh. However, I have a ton of anxiety. Of course everybody has anxiety but the frequency and intensity of it is what sets us apart. I may not be a type-A-stick-up-my-ass anxious person, but believe me it’s there most of the time. I harbor a lot of shit that I don’t need to harbor. Harbor? Who says “harbor” besides sailors and fishermen? Did I use that correctly? I’m too lazy to Google. I digress.

Because of this, somewhere along the way I depleted enough neurotransmitters in my brain that I began experiencing episodes of depression. This prompted me to take time off from school and prolonged my graduation date. When you’re dependent on a daily cocktail of anti-anxiety/depressant medication and realize nothing is working, in fact, miserably failing, you have to step back and take a timeout. Since I am very aware of it now, I work to control it everyday, and I stay in touch with myself by going to therapy, and among other things. But still, life doesn’t put itself on hold for your situation. Especially for someone who has anxiety about the fact they have anxiety.

My escape from getting wrapped up in things like this is comedy. If I’m being completely honest with myself, I know what I’d *like* to do upon graduation. I’d like to explore the world of comedy and see if I can fall into its universe somehow. How am I going to do so? Not sure yet. And that is a terrifying thought. Exploring the real world with essentially zero starting points? HAHAHA. Right, okay. I’d rather hang 10 and binge-watch a series on Netflix for eight hours and only reflect on my life choices for a few seconds in-between each episode, thanks.

I feel guilty over these things, too. I feel guilty over the fact that I have to see a therapist, or that I’m anxious over shit beyond my control, or even things completely within my control. I have this awesome life and this wonderful family and parents who have supported me financially (and emotionally) through college. When I graduate, I have this safe haven of living at their house, conveniently located near all of my friends. I have friends who live in awesome parts of the country who are begging me to visit them. BUT OH, STILL, LIFE IS JUST SO DIFFICULT! But you know what? Life IS fucking difficult. This isn’t me trying to get sympathy or even empathy, it’s merely a statement. I’m not trying to sound like a white chick who posts philosophical bullshit on Facebook, either. My intent is to allow people to try and identify with the fact that being in your 20s and figuring out what you’re supposed to do with your life is a hard thing to take on. Sure, we’ve all heard this before. But it’s another thing experiencing it. I like to believe it helps hearing somebody talk about it from his or her personal standpoint. Especially from someone in the midst of the transition. Or, maybe I’m just narcissistic and want to talk about myself. Am I too narcissistic? Great, add that to the anxiety list.

What do you guys think? What did you go through, or are going through in your transition to adult life? How are you making it? Let me know…or don’t. Either way, I’ll be over here doing enough freaking out for all of us.

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5 Types of People You Meet On an Airplane

Traveling is an ordeal, and no matter how short the flight is, it’s usually an all day affair. You hurry to get to the airport, you wait in lines through security. You get the distinct pleasure of taking off your belt and shoes and placing all your belongings into a plastic bin. If you’re lucky enough, you get groped by TSA. Then, you wait at the gate, you wait on the plane, you wait on the runway. You land, you wait on the runway again. During this whole process where people watching is king, you meet a fair amount of characters. Lets focus on a few people you meet on the plane.

1) The people who stand up the SECOND the plane lands and grab all their stuff…with nowhere to go.

These are arguably the worst human beings on the face of the earth. Not really, but these people make me more mad than anyone else on a plane. I have one simple question for you? WHERE THE EFF ARE YOU GOING?! You’ve now grabbed your bag from the overhead compartment and are hovering over me with that same bag in my grill. Unless you have a connecting flight…sit down ya jerk.

2) The crying baby

We get it. You’re a baby. You’re in a weird place. There’s a lot of people around. Your ears are popping. Time to grow up kid! I used to walk to school, in the snow, uphill…both ways. You have the ultimate life. Take advantage of it because it’s only downhill from here. Take a nap, drink some milk, be cute, play peekaboo…anything but scream at the top of your lungs. I beg of you.

3) The hot girl who I will never get to sit next to.

I am zero for every flight of my life in this department. When I get to the gate I immediately scout out every hottie on the flight. I then pray as hard as possible I sit next to them. I then start thinking of something stupid to say to them if in fact, they do sit next me. “Hey, how much does a polar bear weigh? Enoughtobreaktheicehimynameisdanny.” or “How bout we put this arm rest up and really get the party started.” The biggest tease is when you get on the plane, you sit down, and the seat next to you remains unoccupied. As each hottie passes by or takes their seat in front of you, you grumble to the airline gods. “What did I do to deserve this!?” Then, the final hottie takes her seat, 2 rows away and the overweight husky gentleman with an O’Charley’s to go bag sits down next to you. Jusssssst my luck.

4) The armrest thief.

Armrest thieves are terrible people, plain and simple. They know very rarely will someone say something to them, so they play the odds and take advantage. Have these people never been to a movie theatre? Do they steal armrests there as well? Were they not hugged enough as kids? You go forward and I’ll go backwards, pal…see how that works? Now we can both use the armrest.

5) The absurd people who try to strike up conversations with strangers.

Is putting your headphones in not the universal sign of “leave me alone I don’t want to talk or interact with anyone at the moment”? Pretty sure it is.

“Hey man, crazy weather were having here huh”  ”Can you believe this delay” “Are you done looking at that magazine” “What kind of work are you in”

The weather is of no concern to me. Yes, as a matter of fact I CAN believe the delay. No, I plan on reading this magazine every day for the rest of my life. I’m a serial killer. 

That’s what I’d like to say to these outrageous human beings, but of course, I do not. When I’m on an airplane I don’t want to talk to strangers. I pretty much don’t want to talk to strangers ever, why would a plane be different #NoNewFriends? I’m doing everything possible to keep my anxiety at bay and not think of the fact that I am floating in a steel box 30k feet in the air, excuse me if I’m not in the mood for small talk….unless you’re a “hot girl I’ll never sit next to”…because then, feel free to chat away!

Have you encountered this cast of characters on a recent flight? What other airplane stereotypes do you deal with on a plane? Leave us a comment or tweet us @NoPantsToWork.