Tying the knot at 21: Do or Don't?

It has recently come to my attention that more and more people these days are choosing to marry at a young age. Although getting married at the ripe age of sixteen used to be the norm in society, ever since the woman transitioned into the working, powerful and ambitious woman, society began to see a pattern in which women were getting married much later into their 20s and even 30s. In 2010, that trend, it would seem, has taken yet another turn. Married couples are becoming significantly younger once again. Celebrities especially have decided that life is simply too short, why wait? Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt are just one example of a celebrity couple that chose to tie the know at an extremely young age, and we all saw how that turned out- Spencer became extremely aggressive and exhibited puzzling and perplexing behavior, while Heidi proceeded to have part of her back removed in attempt to heighten her appeal, as well as quadruple her breast size (if we can even call those planets on her chest 'breast'). The fact that their choice to wed at an early age not only led them to an overly predictable divorce, but that it also destroyed the public's perception of them as individuals (Heidi is now commonly referred to as an alien with boobs and Spencer is now the angry midget with frosted tips) is reason enough to chill out on dishing those vows. You're probably wondering what prompted me to write about young couples getting married? It lately came to my attention that two individuals with whom I attended High School recently became engaged. For obvious reasons, such as the fact that I myself, am the same age as these individuals and have only ever had one relationship with someone of the opposite sex OR the fact that I currently live with my MOTHER, I found this information quite alarming. I mean, really? At age 21, you are totally positive that you are done scoping the scene, trying different flavors, and are ready to settle down, FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, with your current boo? I mean, this is marriage we are talking about, not some all-inclusive vacation to Mexico for a week of sex and pina coladas. I'm not sure if these couples are aware that while their friends will be out dancing and taking body shots off of the opposite sex (or same sex, you never REALLY know these days what people are feeling) you and your husband or wife will be sitting at home watching re-runs of 7th Heaven, trying to decide which episodes are appropriate for your future children to watch. Or the two of you might be at Home Depot picking out tiles for your kitchen- for which your parents are probably paying. Even worse, a few years down the road, let's say three years into your marriage, you may have popped out a baby or two. I'd like to clarify that at this point, you are 24 years old, married (and to someone who probably used be very attractive but due to the comfort level that now exists between the two of you, has probably let themselves entirely go and now pains you to look at and be reminded that they are your spouse) and now have children. So, while you are breastfeeding your child or cleaning up his or her fresh vomit, your friends are out clubbing, out for dinner, shopping or having crazy intense sex with someone they met on a beach in Bali. You probably haven't even had sex since your baby was conceived due to the fact that you've put on thirty pounds and decided that brushing your hair was no longer a priority and your husband can't even stand to look at you, let alone climb on top of your naked fat body. Apart from the fact that getting married at a very young age completely defaces your social life in every possible way (trust me, no one my age would go out for drinks with a married couple the same age- that would be as painful and as awkward and as featureless as their wedding day), your wedding would probably suck and be entirely unmemorable due to the fact that you are TWENTY-ONE and have absolutely no finances to pay for your wedding, let alone any knowledge to plan a wedding. Yes, as the young bride, you may have watched re-runs of "Say Yes to the Dress" but unfortunately Fairweathers doesn't sell wedding dresses. And your paycheck from Manchu Wok isn't quite enough to buy you a wedding dress that won't have you cringing when you look at your wedding album ten years from now- that is to say, if you and your spouse even last ten years, which is doubtful. Marriage at twenty-one is just not feasible, I simply do not see the logic anywhere. Number one: you are poor and lack the necessary knowledge to plan and host a wedding. For many individuals, their wedding day is the most important day of their lives and it should be made as special and as memorable as possible. The only memorable image of a young couple's wedding that I can conjure is the bride passing out after a few too many wine coolers. Number two reason for which you should avoid getting married at the age of twenty-one: you are so young and should be enjoying all that life as a twenty-something has to offer. I am not suggesting that one should break up with a serious boyfriend or girlfriend who may in fact be possible spouse potential, I am simply arguing that one should not be substituting body shots, foreign flings or alcohol-induced bad decisions for diapers, daycare or movie nights. If you're madly in love with someone then just wait it out, there is no harm whatsoever in doing that. Trust me, no matter how cool or "fun" you and your spouse may in fact be, once you're married at age twenty-one, none of that will matter. You are now old and weird and no one will want to hang out with you. And if your wedding doesn't have an open bar, I wouldn't expect myself or anyone else under 30 to show up. Tying the knot at 21 is a definite and very pronounced "Don't."

The ups and downs of temporary unemployment.

Before I begin, I would like it to be known that I am not forever unemployed and that this fantasy world in which I am currently residing is just temporary- I officially get off my idle ass as of June 20th. For now, however, and since my return to the suburbs of the GTA, I have been, for lack of a better term, a bum. I have been on a thirteen-day vacation. I wake up every morning around 9:30 am by choice (after an untroubled sleep averaging ten to eleven hours- the result of going to bed at the elderly hour of 11:00 pm), make myself a very flavorful and nourishing smoothie (courtesy of a wide selection of fresh fruit, yogurts and juices- all of which I did not pay for), relax either on the couch while channel surfing some of the most wretched morning television to exist or curl up on my porch with my latest novel. After I've digested my wonderful smoothie it's time for my daily exercise: a run along the gloriously polluted Lake Ontario. Seeing as everyone else in society is at work during this time, my runs are peaceful, uninterrupted and judge-free (thanks to a deviated septum and the fact that air enters and exits only one of my nostrils- sexy, right?- I often fall short of oxygen and emit sounds and noises similar to that of a dying bird). I return from my runs feeling both tired and alive, yes, all at the same time. I then spend some time on my living room floor with Jane Fonda from the early 1980s, toning my inner and outer thighs, buttocks, and abdominal muscles. When I turn Jane off, it's time for a nice shower and then a well-deserved lunch. By the time I've eaten my lunch, cleaned up and downloaded the latest episode of Vampire Diaries (Season 1), I'm usually quite exhausted and before I can do anything else, I need a good nap to recharge my batteries. Upon waking up from the most serene one to two hours of my day, it is time to spend some quality time with Ninja Video, my cat and the undeniably appealing cast of Vampire Diaries. By the time I get through two episodes, my mother comes home from work full of energy and conversation. She either starts making dinner or has to go to tennis or some other rendezvous, to which I am not invited (which is never a problem with me). Either way, I am bound to delight in a delectable dish, prepared by either myself or my mother. I always offer to clean up afterward- I mean it's the least I can do, right? These are all the "ups" of being unemployed; I have countless hours to spend as I wish, with little to absolutely no parental supervision, and nobody to make me feel guilty about it in any way. The "ups," however, come to a sudden halt just as the last of the kitchen counters are wiped down. My mother, who has a life and a job, either putters away in the garden for the remainder of the evening, locks herself in the dining room to mark schoolwork (she's an elementary school teacher) or jogs off to some fitness class at her gym. And so, I am alone again. However, it is not so blissful and carefree at this time. Why, you ask? I am suddenly oozing with guilt. Despite the fact that my mother is so happy to have me home and have someone else to talk to other than the cat, she casually reminds me, without fail, every night, in between bites at dinner, that I am making absolutely no money right now, not a cent. And she is so right. I have absolutely zero income at the moment, absolutely nothing. Now, that I am staying at home, with no bills to be paid and no groceries to be bought, this shouldn't lead to me losing sleep at night- and trust me, it doesn't- my means to go out and spend money do not exist. I do not have the financial cushioning to go out for dinner with friends, enjoy a few rounds of happy hour, go to Starbucks and pretend to enjoy an over-priced coffee, or go bowling. As a result of my temporary unemployment, my life and self-confidence no longer exist after 8 pm- nor does my social life. As I struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch (which was SO effortless earlier that day) my mind is racing with anxiety over poverty, idleness and self-doubt. I am no longer enjoying myself, I am suddenly bored, nervous and ashamed. I feel trapped on that couch, alone and afraid that this feeling will never go away. After watching a wide variety of crap on the television- crap that I used to be able to enjoy so easily- provided by either Slice, TLC or the Women's Channel (unusually fabulous by the way, just fabulous) I decide that I can no longer endure any more "downs" of temporary unemployment and decide to call it a night. I head upstairs with low spirits, brush my teeth, wash my face (meh, if I feel like it) and crawl into bed. I usually just lay there for a good five or ten minutes, reflecting on the failure I have become and I begin to panic over the possibility that I will forever lead an idle, undeserving and pathetic life. It isn't until I remember that I really want to know how Olivia, the main character in the novel I am presently reading, is doing and what type of conundrum she's gotten herself into, that I quickly push my woes to the back of mind and reach for my book. I turn my lights out about twenty minutes later and before dozing off into a splendidly long sleep, sigh a big sigh of relief knowing that I won't have to worry about a thing, more specifically my current and very temporary unemployment, until 8pm the next night.

Dogs: Are they really a man's best friend?

Ever heard the saying, "A dog is a man's best friend?" I'm going to assume that you're a member of society and that yes, you have in fact heard this saying at one time or another in your life. I'm going to argue here that not only do most dogs suck, but that they are actually the opposite of a man's best friend. Best friends do not expect you to feed them on a daily basis; best friends do not expect you to voluntarily pick up their warm, fresh feces without you even having to ask; best friends do not expect you to set time apart from your day, EVERY day to take them on walks (during which you will be expected to pick up their feces with your hands); best friends do not wake you up in the middle of the night because they have to take a piss; best friends do not eat your shoes (unless something is seriously wrong with them); best friends do not expect to make sure they're healthy by organizing yearly appointments with their doctor; best friends do not expect you to decipher what a loud "woof" or a soft "woof" actually means; best friends don't expect you to take time out of your day to throw various objects including sticks, balls or frisbees for them to chase after and retrieve. Nope, none of my best friends have ever made partake in any of the above- UNLESS, I was getting something in return. Dog lovers reading this may be entirely appalled by what I have just said. Some of you may be thinking, "Well, of course I get something in return for all of these things I do such as loyalty, love, protection and....friendship from my dog." Oh, you are a sad soul. Do you think your dog actually likes you? Do you think he respects you? He doesn't- he is simply hungry, striving for survival, and has become so accustomed to you as being the provider for things such as food, warmth and shelter that the illusion of him actually loving and needing you is so easily created. Are you really convinced that when you come home from work, errands or merely being away from the house for an extended period of time that when your dog comes dashing to the door, it is because he wants to talk about your day at work, or what you got up to on your lunch break, or how fresh the produce was at the grocery store? No, do not be silly. That dog is either hungry or has a full bladder and knows that you are the person who will be able to relieve these two things. Do you actually think the dog wants to chat about life? Catch up? Discuss current news? Wrong. And what about when most dogs (I say most and not all due to the fact that some dogs are so pathetically small and have no way of reaching) greet you by shoving their muzzle in between your legs? Is it normal for one's best friend to sexually violate them every time they see each other? I should hope not. Perhaps I will ignore the random boob graze or awkward butt rub with a best friend as a result of one too many cocktails, but on a regular basis? Absolutely not; no best friend of mine will be shoving their face in between my legs, forcing me to endure a form of sexual harassment and then expect me to pick up their poo. The concept that a dog is a man's best friend is simply absurd and idiotic. And to be quite frank, any human that actually does consider their dog to be their best friend has some pretty low standards when it comes to BFFs. You should be having fun with your best friend and partaking in fun activities such as parties, pedicures, going to the movies, going out for dinner or going shopping! Picking up your best friend's shit should definitely not be on that list.