quarter life crisis

Ringing in the new year is a cause for celebration.  I'm throwing a party.  A pity party.  I think this one can be referred to as my "quarter life crisis."  It just hit a little closer to the beginning of 25 than the end.

My attempt to wear red lipstick was a miserable fail.

I'm pretty certain I have a mullet.

My job is the worst.  I hate it.  The kids are bad.  The pay is bad.  It's just bad.

I live far away from my family and friends and it costs me a gazillion dollars to go see them.

I cannot stop breaking down into hysterics.  Hyperventilation is a close friend of mine.

My husband is starting work ups for his ship's deployment.  Don't know what that means?  It means my husband is going to be gone.  A lot.

I can't remember to do anything.  Is this a personal problem?  A mental problem?  An emotional problem?

My friends from my small group are moving away.  This makes me sad.  I'm not good at making friends.

Molly has rabies.

Mars is going to attack any day now.

The zombie apocalypse is closing in fast.

Mr. Bigglesworth is running in the next California senatorial race.

Okay, I'll be honest.  I made that last one up.