3 "Grown Up" Things People Pretend Are Awesome But Are Literally Worse Than Cancer
Convince me I'm wrong.
I can’t keep up the facade anymore.
I need to speak my TRUTH! 📣
I wear women’s underwear and waltz around my apartment. Uh, sorry…. wrong secret.
I meant to say that I have strong feelings about things. Despite what people will tell you — or what you tell yourself — these things are WORSE than cancer.
As a member of the Cancer Club*, I’m allowed to say that.
Let’s see where you stand on these overrated, uncomfortable and difficult things.
*I don’t recommend joining this club. Entry is free but the perks are shit.
#1 - Shots, shots, shots
There’s nothing wrong with a drink… unless you are heavily pregnant or a child.
Both of those qualifiers should have you avoiding the bar. The same goes for a heavily pregnant child. That’s a big enough problem to handle without a drink in hand.
For the rest of us, I draw the line at three or more shots.
One shot = Fine.
Two shots = You’re pushing your luck buddy, but OK.
Three shots = WHAT ARE YOU DOING WHY DO YOU HATE YOUR LIFE, WALLET & LIVER?!
Shots are life’s fast-forward buttons.
9pm: You’re having a good time with your buddies. You just told a really witty joke. Your crippling social anxiety is nowhere to be seen.
3 x 🥃 = FAST FORWARD BUTTON
1:30am: You’re alone. There’s blood on your shirt, but terrifyingly, it isn’t yours. Your shoes are covered in vomit. In the distance…a child cries.
Shots did that to you!
Where else in life would you hit the fast-forward button on an enjoyable evening?
ARGENTIAN STEAKHOUSE: You don’t sit at an expensive restaurant and ask the waiter to blend your steak into a fine paste so you can swallow it in 4.6 seconds and go home.
WATCHING A MOVIE: You don’t watch a movie on 7x speed and jam a choc top down your throat like Truthful Timmy, the Blowjob Queen of Saskatoon, just so you can wrap up the night.
IN THE BEDROOM: You don’t take a woman to your racecar-frame bed just so you can get yourself over the finish line in world record time (sometimes it just happens)
So, why would you want to rush towards an inevitable blackout by slamming down shot after shot? I’m trying to figure out the end goal is what I’m trying to say.
If it’s about getting drunk as quickly as possible, soak a rag in vodka and shove it up your butt. Admittedly, this method is effective but not always easy. If you’re out drinking with Grandma, it’s going to be awkward. On the plus side, you’ll get drunk faster than you can say:
“Yes, Grandma, I’ll get you another vodka-soaked rag. Do you need help inserting it?”
I know ordering shots isn’t about enjoying the flavour because…
a). It’s gone in seconds
b). Most people make the face babies make when they suck on a lemon for the first time
I tell ya, in my nine years as a bartender, the most popular shot I made was the ‘Flatliner’—half tequila, half sambuca, and a generous dash of Tabasco sauce.
It was so-named because it was said to stop your damn heart and this was the go-to shot for people buying drinks for their mates (and super popular for Bachelor parties).
This shot was hotter than my 10th-grade Italian language teacher (you don’t know her, but she was super hot and I’ve never wanted to be molested by a teacher more).
Still, people loved to order it.
We still haven’t touched on the issue of price.
🍹 Imagine you just paid $12 for a drink…
Would you rather sip and enjoy it over sparkling conversation and good company? Or, swallow it immediately like you’re depositing a condom full of cocaine in your belly before boarding an international flight?
It’s all fun and games until you buy a round of shots for your mates and the bill comes to $96. Who needs to pay rent when you’ve got a tray full of Jägermeister? Fuck yeah!
Maybe when you get past a certain age, shots just lose their excitement. If I want to almost throw up in my mouth, I’ll ask my parents how I was conceived, not drink a shot.
So from now on, if you see me at the bar, I’ll be indulging my alcoholism by slowly drinking beers for hours - like a normal human - not slamming down shots.
I’d love to keep chatting, but I’m going out for drinks with Grandma tonight, and I’ve got some rags to soak in vodka.
Bottoms up! 😉
VERDICT: WORSE THAN CANCER 👎
#2 - Sex on the beach
To clarify, I’m not talking about the fruity peach-schnapps-inspired cocktail (which is absolutely delightful).
I’m talking about doing the dirty on the sand.
Sex on the beach is highly romanticized but there are practical problems —plenty of ‘em.
I don’t know if you are aware, but there is a LOT of sand on the beach, and sand goes everywhere.
99% of people don’t pour a bowl of cereal and think, ‘You know what this is missing? More sand.’ The remaining 1% of people who enjoy sand in their cereal should be avoided at all costs.
Outside of electrical fires and sandcastle-building contests, more sand is never the answer. Never!
Look, I wouldn’t comment on something I don’t know. I’m not proud to have had sex on the beach on three continents (I am a little bit), but I know to ALWAYS bring protection.
I’m not talking about condoms, btw (I want to be a deadbeat Dad when I grow up). I’m talking about a beach towel. This is a MUST if you want to get freaky on the beachy.
The problem is that you can carefully lay down a towel, make sure every corner is flat, and put in your best work, and you’ll STILL find sand in your underwear for days.
Plus, the police frown on people getting handsy in the sand(sy).
It’s all fun and games to be busted by the cops until you can’t go to the pub with your friends because it’s within 500 feet of a school and you’re a registered sex offender.
Plus, what if a curious shark swims to the shore and bites me?
Or worse, I confuse the shark's curves for my partner's, and suddenly, I’m sleeping with the fishes—literally!
We still haven’t touched on what happens when the deed is done.
Good sex should finish with dehydration levels similar to a Kenyan Olympic marathon runner. If I’ve been eating the C-word, does that make it acceptable for me to drink seawater?
I don’t have all the answers.
I’m just a son of a beach with underwear full of sand.
VERDICT: WORSE THAN CANCER 👎
#3 - Buying lingerie as a surprise gift
Buying lingerie as a surprise gift seems easy because you know what you like.
Hot pink. Classic red. Full-body latex gimp suit that requires a safe word before purchase. There’s something for every taste, budget and sex dungeon.
It’s an exciting fantasy but here’s how it pans out…
You’re ready to surprise your special someone with something special so you stroll into your nearest Victoria’s Secret store (or discount equivalent…I’m not made of money), and things become difficult FAST.
For a start, lingerie stores are so incredibly well-lit that they immediately expose your inner secrets and fears to the 21-year-old store assistant.
STORE ASSISTANT: “Hi, my name is Ashlee. Can I help you find anything today?”
ME: “I wore a wig to a party once and thought I looked cute. Does that make me gay?!… I mean, yes I would like some help.”
From there, you’re faced with an endless list of styles and types.
Lacy bodysuits
Black thigh-high stockings
Playful rompers
Colourful babydoll nighties
Garter and suspender sets
An old garbage bag tied together with shoelaces
There are more choices than a fat kid at a buffet. But the work isn't done (it's never done). Next, you need to know your partner's bust size.
“I’m not sure, like a couple of handfuls?”
Don’t think for a moment you can ask Ashlee, the store assistant, for help. A proposal like, ‘Could I get a feel of yours and see if they’re about the same?’, invites more problems than it uncovers solutions.
I won’t make that mistake a third time.
We still haven’t touched on the lengthy list of questions you’ll need answered. You’re a forward-thinking consumer, so you’ll probably want answers to queries like:
“Can you wash goat blood out of this fabric?”
“If I finish early while my partner is wearing this, can I return it?”
“Would a man with my exact body shape, who is definitely not me, be able to wear this?”
It’s best to leave these questions unasked (especially the last one).
My advice is to go in with one hand covering your eyes, point at something to buy, and let the scantily clad Gods decide what you should buy.
Best case, you bought exactly what your partner would have wanted, and they look amazing in it (go you!). Worst case, you accidentally tried to purchase a 21-year-old retail assistant named Ashlee, and you’re up on human trafficking charges.
With this strategy, it doesn’t matter if you end up in bed with your partner that night or in jail with a heavily tattooed cellmate—either way, you’re probably having sex.
VERDICT: WORSE THAN CANCER 👎
There’s still one thing WORSE than cancer…
OK, maybe I was too harsh.
Truthfully, I’ve retired from drinking shots, having sex on the beach and trying to buy lingerie as a surprise gift — but that doesn’t mean you need to.
The only thing worse than cancer is someone who genuinely believes you should live your life according to their set of values, beliefs and ideals. You know people like this — and they suck.
You don’t owe them, me, or anyone an explanation of what you like, so f*ck anyone who tries to make you feel bad for being you.
That’s your message of the day.
If there’s something in your life that other people are trying to make you feel bad about, just remember that their opinion holds a mirror to themselves, it’s not a reflection of you.
Whatever you’re passionate about, I support it. Whatever you want to achieve, I believe in you. And whoever you are in your core, I’m here for it. 🙌
So whenever you take a step towards your goals — whether that’s a giant leap or a brave shuffle — I’ll celebrate with you.
Please, let’s order anything but shots.
With love,
New World Porter
P.S. If you enjoyed this post, leave a like or comment with the button below (takes 0.46 seconds) so I can think terribly filthy thoughts about you.
The second one reminds me of the awful story of the woman who got caught stealth masturbating on the beach, the police were called on her, and she ended up being charged for sex offense and ultimately committing suicide after being unable to cope with the consequences and social shame.
People often don't appreciate how terrible criminal prosecution can be, especially for anything even smelling of sexuality. What should have resulted in no more than a fine and maybe a stern talking to ended up with lifetime sex offender registration on the table. And when you look into what that entails; how life-alteringly restrictive it is, I can completely understand the impulse towards suicide.
Had she felt able to hold on, it's possible that her attorney could have negotiated it down to some lesser charges which don't require sex offender registration. But when people are killing themselves because of a criminal prosecution, the prosecutorial system needs to be changed. Because these are not the results we should be seeking. This is not corrective. This is creating much more needless harm and suffering than the criminal act itself.
Hahaha this made me subscribe (though I thought I already did?!). I totally agree with all 4, especially the last one.