You know what just absolutely sucks the absolute worst about growing up?

No. You know what, I started this one off kind of in the red. Let me bring you in on some positivity: You're not dead at this very moment.

That's adulthood, ya'll. If you were expecting some kind of sappy story full of inspiration and flowers, well, then you've not fully reached your cynical potential. (Just wait, adulting does it to us all, eventually.)

What was I saying? Oh, yeah.

What sucks the most about adulting and adulthood... Bills.

Okay, we all knew that already. I just want an excuse to rant, but like, who doesn't? See, I understand that this is a capitalist market, and to obtain goods, you must exchange currency. I want a car, so I have to spend money purchasing said car. Cool. Want a new iPhone, so I must purchase a new iPhone. I want electricity, which offers access to air conditioning, water and the ability to store food.

That's gonna be $14,763.82 per cycle. But during the summer, the rates are gonna sky-rocket, because reasons. Need to go to the grocery store and buy food to remain all living and stuff? That's probably $57 for a loaf of bread and a bag of stale croutons. If you hit a sale, you might be able to get out with some peanut butter too. Wait, what was that? Oh you have a food allergy? Here's that same loaf of bread... except now your weekly grocer-bill is like, a small loan of million dollars.

Businesses and companies are out to make a profit- that's the point of owning a business. . . But your boy over here just trying to make some Velveeta and stay warm during the harsh North Carolina winters. Like, can you cut me some slack? Like, why do the necessities have to cost me two organs and my first born?

I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be born and forced to pay bills vital to my existence! Do us a real favor and upcharge Chipotle or Cookout or something, that'd really help me out! (Seriously. I'm still packing on the winter weight and it's almost spring.)

Let's just hope your paycheck covers all of your bills, with a little left over, because if your car breaks, or you have to go to the hospital. Boom. Pick a bridge, any bridge. That's your bridge now, bud. Ask me what I do everyday when I pull up to my mail-box to check it?

I pass it.

That's right, children, I drive right on past it and ignore my bills like I ignore the rest of my responsibilities, the way adults should. Basically, I ignore it until I'm forced to concede and meet all of the deadlines in an anxiety induced panic. Bills are like crazed ex-girlfriends or boyfriends. They pop up when you least expect them, send a bad feeling down your spine, and randomly break into your house at 4 a.m. and steal your car. Okay, maybe that last part is just about the ex. Whatever.

Remember, if you check your mail and it's empty, No mail is better than bill mail.