IF HIGH SCHOOL WAS LIKE THE MOVIES

Remember high school? Some people loved it, some people tolerated it, and some people wanted nothing less than to get out. Regardless, one way or another you made it through! For better, or worse, high school happened and now it’s a distant memory for a good portion of us. No matter what your feelings were during the experience, and probably even to this day, can we all agree that it was nothing like high school is in the movies?

I’m not sure if screenwriters skipped high school, went solely to the most expensive private high schools where money can buy you a degree, or if they have the memory of a goldfish and forgot the minute they left, but how they portray the puberty nightmare is very different than what the real world is like. All of the made up drama that goes away just so easily … where everyone is accepting of you and is willing to change overnight … where kids have no chores to do … and money is endless … what planet is this high school scenario on?

Let’s take a journey down memory lane, but reimagine it as if we were movie stars and always had a happy ending. Starting, of course, with freshman year. Day one, specifically. New school year, new school, obviously, have to start with some circumstantial drama or else viewers wouldn’t stay engaged. The most popular kid at school notices you and takes an interest in you. Ergo, overnight you become popular and have successfully quelled the ‘will I get invited to parties’ hurdle.

Your first year goes seamlessly and you enter the summer on top of the world. But alas, everything is about to go horribly, horribly wrong. You get caught in a romantic moment with someone other than your partner. That secret crush of yours that you’ve been eyeing since you first saw them, but was already taken so couldn’t act on it. Instead of having an adult conversation about it, your current partner jumps to a conclusion and starts to act stand-off-ish. Out of revenge, or confusion, you do the same. Rumors start and by the time Sophomore year comes around you’re the jerk who everyone hates. Everyone except your secret crush.

You spend most of year two repairing broken relationships, that, again, could have easily been avoided by not believing everything you hear. In a remarkable twist, by the end of the year you’ve grown into a more mature person and are once again back on top of the food chain. Until it comes out that despite having seemingly endless amounts of money based on your leisure activities, your family lives on the not as wealthy side of town.

Once again you enter the summer, but this time with a solid group of real friends around you. Despite having people in your life who don’t care about how extravagant of a present you’re going to get them, you feel sad. And start to ditch your actual friends to chase the elusive popularity once more. Annoyed, as they should be, your real friends get tired of your nonsense real quick and decide to stop inviting you to things. So you head towards Junior year angry and alone yet again.

If this is all starting to sound like a ridiculous cycle of unnecessary drama and unbelievable forgiveness you would be right! Can you believe that Junior year you eventually apologize to your real friends and start to finally be comfortable with who you are? You stop caring so much about what other people think and start to make decisions for yourself, and not because of how many likes it will get you. You cruise through your last two years like a freaking pro – end of story. You live happily ever after and become a tech entrepreneur, or highly successful author, or a professional chef, or something where you for sure make a lot of money and people want to be you. What possible discrepancies are there between that and how it actually went? 

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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CAN I SEE YOUR ID?

There are several key birthday milestones that you count down to growing up. Your 10th birthday, for sure. I mean, double digits! You remember getting so excited to be double digits without really realizing that there’s a good chance you will never leave the double digit range … think about that for a second. What was so great about 10 anyways? That’s a whole extra candle your parents had to buy for the cake. 10 is selfish is what it is.

Plus then you’re on the verge of the pre-teen years which are fun for absolutely nobody. Not your parents. Not your friends. Not you. Not your teachers. Nobody. It’s a phase that is frustrating, stressful, and confusing. And that’s all before you hit the joy of puberty. Which is also frustrating, stressful, and confusing. But also scary and sad and exciting and you realize you’re nearing the next milestone which is the sweet sixteen. Ironically, the only sweet thing about being 16 is the ability to drive. Which is expensive so once again who’s really winning here?

Then there’s 18 and you’re finally an adult! Again, though, not as exciting as we hype ourselves up for. You can buy cigarettes so I guess it’s a good way to learn about consequences. Although you only partially get treated like an adult. You get to go to college, which IS an awesome milestone. Even there though, it’s not quite the same as the monotonous, expensive, and exhausting world that is post-college.

Among the birthday milestones that we trick ourselves into getting pumped about, the 21st one is the best day of your life. No more worrying about getting caught with a fake, or having to bribe your older friends into getting you some bottles, or swiping extra liquor from the very back of your parent’s cabinet hoping they don’t use those. You can waltz into the grocery store. The liquor store. The gas station. The club. The bar. Wherever and slap that ID card down and get whatever your little heart desires.

While being an alcohol drinking adult has its perks, like most good things, there are downfalls. That downfall is being asked to show your ID. Don’t get me wrong, that first day you reach purchasing freedom, you want to brag about it! You want everywhere you go to ask for that card so you can whip it out. Then wait awkwardly for them to have to triple check the date to make sure it’s the very minimum legal age. A powerful feeling.

During the post-turning-21-hangover, having to pull your ID out of your wallet every time becomes … annoying. Especially as you start to age towards your mid and late 20s. How young do you have to look to be closer to 30 than 21 and be asked to prove yourself. There’s always the one friend who will get carded, even when nobody else in the entire group does. I am that friend. I could go out with my parents, and only I will get carded. Not even my younger, not even 21 year old, sister gets carded. She just gets drinks. But I’m the one who looks underage. Ok.

If everyone in the group gets asked to prove their age, that’s one thing. The server is just protecting their job. And probably the whole establishment. But to single one person out, what is the purpose of even asking? Why waste both of our time? What was the thinking going into this? If one of them is at least 21, all of them must be 21? How does that work? Some of my friends have even decided to take No Shave November all the way through the pandemic and look like they belong in a frat house. And still I’m the only one who gets carded.

Clearly I’m unbothered by my young face. If I still look like a high schooler maybe I’ll look like a 20-something in my late 40s so there are perks. Eventually. So they tell me. Once you hit 21 you get a few consecutive solid exciting birthdays, though. Taylor Swift year, Jordan year, Kobe year, rent a car year. And then you’re in your late 20s and it becomes less exciting from there. You have to wait for 30 and by that point the over the hill jokes are coming out. So you’re excited on the outside, but sad on the inside.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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REASONS I’M NOT SINGLE, BUT SHOULD BE

Have you ever been in love? Let’s back up, have you ever been in a relationship? Mmm, further back, have you ever liked someone? AKA, been single and ready to mingle? If that’s you, no worries at all! There is still more than enough time and plenty of fish in the sea. Don’t give up hope – your person, or people … not here to judge … is out there. This is the ideal time to live your best freaking life and do all of the things that make you happy. No asking, no schedule arranging, no double booking, no awkward in-law interactions, no trying to conceal your quirkiness. Just pure you.

While I fully support a solid, soul enhancing, single period of your life, most of us, at some point, want to find the peanut butter to our jelly. And I have to say, there is no better feeling than meeting someone who you just vibe with. Who you love spending time with doing absolutely nothing. The person who is your travel buddy, picture taker, food explorer, and best friend. Someone who pushes you to be a better version of yourself and is your biggest cheerleader. That feeling is special.

True love, or infatuation, if you’ve felt it, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re anything like me, however, the longer you’re with your partner, the more comfortable you get with them. And thus, the longer the list becomes of just truly questionable things that you do where you wonder how you aren’t single. How someone would watch you do something so off the wall without batting an eye and move on like nothing happened. If you’re really jamming on the same keyboard with your partner, they might even respond back, matching your weirdness without a second thought.

For my singles peeps, I’m sure you can also think of several reasons keeping you from finding your soulmate. Although I would argue that they aren’t preventing you from meeting that special someone, you just haven’t found the right person who loves that about you. To be honest, sometimes you have to pick through a lot of weeds to find a beautiful flower. Some weeds may look like a catch on the outside, talking to you dandelions, but when you start to dig deep you realize they’re toxic. So don’t beat yourself up! You deserve someone much, much, much better.

Anywho … enough mushy talk. In case you’re embarrassed by your quirks, or are in denial that you’re a weirdo, I’m more than happy to share some of my strange habits to make you feel better about yourself. Starting with the fact that apparently I make dinosaur noises at random points throughout the day. I never really know when it’s going to happen. One minute, I’m a professional, and the next I’m channeling my inner pterodactyl to communicate my hunger to my partner. Who usually just responds with a dinosaur noise as well, so if that isn’t a soulmate I’m not sure what is. 

Dinosaur noises may sit at the top of my list, but please enjoy all these other quirks that comprehensively should make me single according to social standards:

  • In general, my life is very organized. I keep a highly organized Tupperware cabinet. Meaning I can match lids to bottoms so quickly. Everything gets folded – laundry, pajamas, blankets, etc. and the majority of my shoes live in their original boxes
  • I’m way too in love with my dog. If I had to choose between my partner and my dog, that’s a hard answer for me
  • My communication timing is usually less than ideal. For example, I always think of questions for my partner while they’re using the bathroom so I ask them through a closed door. Usually I announce plans at the last minute so it’s a right then and there kind of movement. Like we have to be at a brewery in 15 minutes – let’s a go! 
  • Apparently I’m not an overly loud person and choose to ask questions while walking away so my partner can’t hear me. And sometimes I ask honest questions, but very directly, and it comes across as somewhat judgemental
  • I can have full fledged conversations with my partner where I will answer all of my questions by myself and they will say absolutely nothing. It’s effective, though, I must admit
  • There have been times when I may, or may not, have dramatized things a bit. Or a lot. If you’ve read any posts on here this should not surprise you
  • Competitiveness is my biggest flaw. I will argue with a child playing Chutes and Ladders if I’m not winning. It’s bad
  • I’m not good at sharing, specifically space on the bed. I can, and will, take up 95% of the available room. I’m also a cover thief
  • I eat Goldfish as an entree
  • My dancing skills leave a lot to be desired and so I stick with what I’m good at – bouncy movements
  • Shockingly, I am restless. To the extreme and am unable to relax. I’ll change positions four hundred times in a 10 minute period. I’ll have to take breaks during a 2 hour movie to move around. I’m a busy body
  • I keep a year round CHRISTMAS countdown
  • When it comes to drinking adult beverages, I will smell every drink before I take a sip. Especially if it’s a shot of straight liquor as I like to know what I’m getting myself into. I have also been known to voluntarily get on the floor when past a certain line. Just because
  • All of the cars that I’ve ever owned have been named
  • I still have all of my stuffed animals and I keep a somewhat robust rubber duck assortment located in various places around the house
  • We all know traffic is one of my favorite subjects, and as a self-described traffic critic I am a terrible backseat driver. I’m not proud of this, but if you’re seeing someone brake in front of you and our speed isn’t changing, I’m grabbing the Jesus handle for sure
  • Despite a strong love for food, I never, and I mean never, know what I want to eat. I’m never really craving anything specific either. Neither food type or restaurant which my partner LOVES. Just kidding it drives them insane – not really sure why they keep asking what I want to eat. If you put food in front of me, chances are that’s what I wanted. Unless it’s dessert and in that case I’m always craving something
  • Honestly, I’m a terrible liar. My facial expressions always give me away. I have a guilty conscience what can I say
  • I will try to play things off whenever possible. Sometimes it’s a success, sometimes it’s not, but I won’t know if I don’t try

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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IF MY DOG HAD A LINKEDIN

Dogs are amazing. We love them. That is really the theme of my life and I don’t know why everyone is not on this train. Then we have the opposite of the bliss that is a puppy, which would be work. Little devil that is my Monday through Friday routine. With work, you have to deal with fun, professional, technologies. Such as Slack, an HR platform, some sort of organizational tool, Google Sheets, and obviously LinkedIn.

As many of my hardcore fans are aware, I’m not the biggest fan of LinkedIn lately. It is professional SPAM. And who has time for that? Not me. I have a financial advisor. I have insurance. I am not in charge of decisions for apps that my company uses. I am not actively job hunting. Stop bothering me. Let me come to you if I have questions, or any possible life needs. Side rant aside, LinkedIn is a thing if you have ever been in college and been in hunt of a job.

To recap, us humans use the LinkedIn. Imagine for a second, though, that our lovely pets had a LinkedIn account. What would they even do on it? How many connections would they have? Why would they need one? What kind of engagement would they have with it? How would they even create an account since they can’t read … and don’t have thumbs? Why would I even be thinking about this? Lucky for you, I spend my free time, and my work time, thinking about these kinds of things.

I have a strong feeling that my beautiful puppy would not be able to create a LinkedIn account. I think if she somehow figured out how to use a computer in general her first social media account would definitely not be a professional networking option. But, if for some reason she decided that she needed to get paid for all the fabulousness that she is, I guess she could end up writing a resume and seeking out people she might have jumped on at some point.

In my mind, my dog would use LinkedIn to solely promote herself. It’s hard to imagine that she would want to actually post business related branding materials, so it would probably be more like a Twitter feed. Ironically, I think her genuineness would garner a huge attention and her number of followers would be gigantic. Her connections, on the other hand, would be 0. Because she doesn’t have time to accept connection requests. She’s too pretty for that.

Basically, she would leverage LinkedIn the same way some people do and use it for attention. And nothing else. Which is ironic since the last thing she needs is more attention. Let’s be honest, even when she doesn’t want to be loved, we can’t keep ourselves away for long. She’s too adorable and soft and fun to make chase balls and fun to just dog watch in general. Especially when she’s doing weird things like trying to catch flies that are on the outside of the window when she’s on the couch indoors.

Most likely she would harass people to make playdates with her. Or to give her human food. Her puppy dog eyes are irresistible so I think that the Internet would not be able to resist. She may even end up with a GoFundMe for a backyard makeover that she could use to play with her puppy friends. Other than that, I have a hard time believing LinkedIn would be her jam. Especially if you bring the squeaky ball out. Then it’s game over for the Internet.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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TIMELINES ARE OVERRATED

Everyone loves a good deadline. An estimated time of arrival. Tracking information. A saved date. Any sort of deadline that helps you understand when you will get what you want. Because then if it’s late, you have a justified reason to be annoyed. Or frustrated. Or sad. Or any sort of feeling you need to feel. Maybe you’re excited – there are probably deadlines that would be appropriate to celebrate a swing and a miss on. How long a loved one is expected to live? That feels like a good one to exceed.

My favorite kinds of deadlines involve food. Uber Eats. Doordash. Any sort of pizza delivery service. Wait time to get a table at a restaurant. Wait time to get into a restaurant. The amount of baking time left on pretty much any sort of dessert item. The amount of cooking time left on pretty much any food item, really. Be it 30 seconds in the microwave or 75 minutes in the oven. I. Am. Ready. For the food. To eat the food. I love the food. The food doesn’t always love me, but that’s how it goes with humans too so I might as well get to eat something delicious before the storm.

Speaking of 75 minutes in the oven, hello Stouffer’s reps … what is happening with your frozen meal options? I opt for frozen meals when I want to eat quickly. Why are most of your products 45+ minutes of bake time? For that, I could make something from scratch. And the whole point of submitting myself to who knows what chemicals and an ungodly amount of sodium in the frozen meal is to not have to put in any effort. And yet, here you are with a cruel mindgame of a grocery option.

Regardless of my newfound annoyance with my previously favorite macaroni and cheese brand, we all want to know when things are happening. Clearly my need for a timeline leans towards the digestive system, but another fun option is shopping. Right? Especially today when online shopping is basically the cornerstone of our economy now. Who needs to put in effort to drive to a store that may, or may not, have what you want when the Internet for sure does. All the sizes, in all the colors, and in all the styles. What’s not to love? Other than the waiting part for your box to arrive, obviously.

As much as I also enjoy a solid delivery date, I find most timelines for life to be overrated. You know the ones I’m talking about. The non-tangible deadlines. When you should start dating, when you should graduate college, when you should find a career path, when you should get engaged, when you should get married, when you should have kids, when you should get a house, when you should have a LIFE CRISIS, when you should retire, when you should move into a retirement home, etc.

Aren’t those fun? Feeling the unspoken judgement of people. I’ve never been good at following the timelines, because I think they can end up leading to settling. If you feel like you have to find your soulmate by a certain age, you’ll find someone by that age. Soulmate, or not. You will find them. I personally think life tends to work out better when you just go with the flow. Maybe that means you are your last single friend for … a while. Maybe that means you take a few victory laps to get your degree. Maybe that means you bounce around to different jobs because you like learning new things. Maybe it’s deciding that you want to rent forever. Maybe that’s deciding to retire in your 20s and travel the world working odd jobs. 

You do you. Don’t let other people dictate your actions. Don’t let societal pressure make you settle because you feel like if you don’t, no one will take you seriously. Don’t care what other people think. It’ll work out when the time is right. The universe can’t be rushed no matter how bad you want it to speed up. Just breathe. Relax. Kick up your feet, crack open a cold one, and chill.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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MY MOM THINKS I’M A HOE BECAUSE I MET SOMEONE ONLINE

The older I get, the more aware I am of all the social stigmas that exist in society. And there’s a lot of them. A lot a lot. An unnecessary amount of things that other people use as some sort of basis for judging your life. You know what I’m talking about, right? By what age you should be married. How old is too old to have children. What is an acceptable job coming out of college. What is an unacceptable job coming out of college. The amount of drinks you should consume at once, and in a week. How often you should use the microwave to make a meal. The list goes on and on.

It seems to me, that one of the biggest categories for these stigmas is the dating world. Especially in today’s society where we have these fun little things known as dating apps. Not all of them are winners, but there are definitely options for everyone. And I do mean everyone. Yet, as with pretty much all things in life, people feel a certain type of way depending on what name you drop when asked how you met your current significant others.

I also think people like to assume that using dating apps means you’re hindered in the personality department. Since meeting someone casually in a random bar and striking up a conversation and falling in love isn’t overly common today. Because we have smartphones. And, thus, no longer have a need to talk to strangers at a bar. We wait for our friends to arrive. Or, more accurately, we play on our phones until we finish our drink and then leave. I don’t know a single person who would go out and just willingly approach other social groups to introduce themselves with zero reason other than to hopefully make a new friend.

Enter technology. You know I love technology. I’m a millennial – technology is practically my middle name, after all. The best thing about technology is that now you no longer have to be socially awkward and approach strangers unless you’re simply that extroverted. But if you’re that extroverted, chances are you’re there to meet your friends anyways. And approaching other groups of people when you are in a group of people is exponentially easier. So, basically, you can meet other humans on your terms and not feel like you’re intruding on a private conversation. How fun!

In this new age, you match with someone, then decide if you like them enough to meet them in person and actually talk to them. If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to. You no longer have to sit through a dead end conversation with someone who only talks about themselves. Or who only knows how to answer questions with one word. Or who could not be less interested in learning anything about you. Anything at all. Not that dating apps eliminate bad dates, but at least you get some sort of a chance to weed out the duds beforehand.

Anywho, assuming you and your match are super compatible, and you actually like each other *gasp*, then you start going down a more involved path. Whatever that looks like to you. Dating, a relationship, friends with benefits, talking to them once a week … I don’t know you, but I know you know what I mean. If it goes a route where you talk about them to your friends and family, well then they always want to know how you met. Enter our friend, the dating app stigma.

Not all dating apps are created equal. Not all dating apps attract the same types of people. Not all dating apps typically end a date in the same way. Ergo, the stigma around the names. So if you fall in love on Tinder, that’s fantastic! Just know that chances are higher that people will question the long-term validity of your relationship. Much how we question how real the engagements are on the Bachelor and Bachelorette. If, however, you fall in love on eHarmony, more than likely people will be expecting wedding invites at some point in the future.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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MINIONS ARE THE ULTIMATE SOULMATE

Finding real love is hard. Some people don’t ever really find it. Some people find it every other week. Some people find something close enough to what they wanted, so they make it work. Some people get lucky and do find the kind of love they always dreamed about. Wherever you fall along Cupid’s arrow, I think we can all agree that people want to find love. I would argue that most people want to find their soulmate. Whether it’s one of many that will walk into their lives, or the only one, feeling that connection is special.

Feeling that connection with dogs is too easy. Easy enough that I fall in love with every cute little pupper that I see. Why? Because it’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die! Is this a problem? Some people in my life might think so. However, as much as we all know I could talk about dogs for pages and pages, this post is not about falling in love with our pets. It’s about the challenge of finding that strong feeling for human people. Whaaaaaaaaaat?! Indeed. Love between two human beings.

If right now you’re thinking, ‘you got to be kidding me’, totally valid. Hear me out, though, I believe that Pixar has solved all of our issues when it comes to soulmate expectations. Sure, sure, there are plenty of movies out there that do the complete opposite and fill our heads with thoughts of how our love story should look. Realistic, or not, it’s our current reality. Thank you social media and technology and Hollywood. It leaves a lot of us confused. Or worse. But instead of going down that rabbit hole of something awful from the past, let’s instead talk about happier times.

Lightbulb! Enter everyone’s favorite little yellow banana men. Dave, listen up please! I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and I believe that the minions may be the ultimate soulmate created in an animated fashion by an entertainment giant. They’re extremely loyal, for starters. I mean come on. Unless they’ve been injected with some evil liquid that messes with their DNA and literally makes them a different species, they would die for Gru. With zero questions asked. It’s a simple existence, with minimal stress. Get directions, follow directions, look back and laugh at the complete misunderstanding of said directions.

Let’s move past this blind full send mentality of theirs, because that’s not an appealing quality for everyone. The minions are highly adaptable and resilient to everything in life. Do they ever get hurt? Can they even die? Do they ever get sick? Can they even feel pain? Imagine how much money you’ll save on doctor’s bills, lab bills, life insurance bills, etc. You could go on so many nice vacations for that! Or get so much food and beverages of choice! 

If that alone isn’t appealing, have you ever had to pay a medical bill before? But fine, ok, moving onwards and upwards to more exciting things. Let’s talk about the instant number of new followers you’ll get … I mean, there’s hundreds of them and they’re all best friends. So if you nail down one, by the nature of the minion loyalty pact, you are in with all of them. Imagine Thanksgiving dinners. Wow! So much entertainment. So many shared dishes brought. Although, let’s be honest, the majority will probably be bananas but those are good to prevent leg cramps so you can stretch to your heart’s content.

For all the banana haters of the world, never fear! Think about all the challenges you have with communication. Imagine a world where that would not be an issue. Nobody knows what they’re saying. And they don’t really understand you. So it would be this fun world where you just had to interpret, to the best of your ability, what they told you. Lots of siren sounds would for sure be in play, which could be good or bad, but who’s to say which way. 

Like with all soulmates, though, there are downfalls. Nobody’s perfect after all. They have the maturity of a toddler. They light things on fire. They’re tiny so there would have to be appliances of different sizes in the home. Might have you yelling ‘curse you tiny toilet’! Trying to get them away from Gru, Agnes, Edith, and Margo is pretty much impossible. We don’t know what human food does to their digestive system. They have a lot of combat skills, one would assume, given the nature of the work they do. And to wrap it all up, they’re technically villains.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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DEAR TRIVIA: I THOUGHT I WAS SMART, THANK YOU FOR THE EGO CHECK

Have you ever wondered how smart you are? Not book smart, per se, but life smart? How much general knowledge do you contain about things that may, or may not, be helpful to you in some capacity throughout life? If your answer is no, then why even continue? I have to believe you can guess where this post is going and it’s pretty much strictly for anyone ever who thought, I need to prove my brain skills against strangers at a local bar on a weeknight – AKA trivia night.

I know for a fact that my general knowledge, and overall trivia skills, are pretty much worthless. There isn’t a lot of room in my head for random tidbits of things. Because it’s full of other items like how to do my job, how much I love my dog, figuring out how to feed myself a healthy amount of times each day, remembering to do chores, memorizing every single Chipotle location within 15 miles of where I live, etc. You know, crucial survival skills basically. 

However, my job title makes people believe that somehow my IQ is at least average, if not exponentially above that mark. And so they frequently tell me how smart I am. Which causes some internal dilemmas until my ego takes over and I make poor decisions … like smack talking other trivia teams. Despite knowing deep in my soul that I’m not able to back it up. Remember growing up when there would be kids who would crush school and kids who would crush life? Book smart versus street smart. And I always believed you were somewhere on that spectrum. Until I became an adult with free evenings and friends.

There is a third type of smart, I’ve learned. Trivia smart. This is a person who just knows things. Not current things necessarily. Not political things necessarily. Not natural events necessarily. Not history necessarily. Not even sports necessarily. No. These people know stuff in every possible category over all of eternity. How?! I genuinely want to know so I can stop losing and embarrassing myself every Tuesday night. 

For starters, where are you getting this information? Google? Reddit? The newspaper? I honestly don’t know. I scroll through the major news headlines every day and have yet to contribute to a current events conversation in one of my group chats because the stuff they talk about I have to re-research. And by the time I have any facts the convo has taken a massive diversion and I’m just confused again. It’s a cycle of playing catch-up and not in a good way.

My next question for these trivia geniuses, is how do you retain this information? My boss has to remind me every morning of our daily standup meeting and I’ve been working there for months. One would think that I would have learned how to open my calendar by now, and yet here we are. Especially if it’s some random fact. That usually goes in one ear and out the other. If you asked me 15 minutes after reading it what the statue’s name was and why it was taken down, it would be a good day if I answered half of those questions. Maybe I never really learned how to “read”? Because it seems to me like I read to get something over with and other people read to learn. So clearly one of us is doing it wrong and one of us is winning trivia. I’ll let you figure out who goes where in that equation.

On the bright side, every trivia team needs that person who is simply there for entertainment, friendship, and alcohol. I am that person. I own that spot on the team. I’m also great at writing their answers down. So they don’t have to stop eating the plate of nachos in front of them. My greatest contribution to my team thus far, has been embellishing us with a name worthy of all the trophies. Not saying that I nailed it, but like, I absolutely nailed it and we are iconically the best-named team each week. No big deal, I’m kind of great at being creative, though apparently not as great at knowing useful things. You decide which is more fun.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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