Murtaugh List

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I shouldn't like the show How I Met Your Mother. The premise is annoying and some of the actors on the show are fairly questionable. But I don't like it. I LOVE IT.

One of the episodes gave me an amazing idea - the main character (Ted) tells how he's created something called a Murtaugh List. As you all (should) know, Detective Murtaugh was Danny Glover's character in the Lethal Weapon series of movies. His famous catch phrase was "I'm gettin' too old for this shit".


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So the Murtaugh List, of course, is a list of things you're gettin' too old for. And it doesn't really have as much to do with your actual age, but more with your personal maturity level. For example, I'm too old to consider Ramen Noodles a meal. I'm too old to consider US Weekly a credible news source. I'm too old to find anything about Miley Cyrus appealing whatsoever. I'm too old to buy my makeup from a grocery store. Things like that.


I decided yesterday that I'm gettin' too old for Thanksgiving Eve (or as the elegant folks call it, Skanksgiving). Here's why:

This past Wednesday night, I struggled with whether or not I was going to go out. My friend Kristen and I were trying to figure out our logistics when I thought to myself, "Hey - it's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and everybody is going out. Don't be lame." So I put on my version of a Skanksgiving-appropriate outfit (a red tank-top and jeans) and was ready to hit the town. I looked outside and noticed it was pouring down rain so I had no choice but to don my non-skanky trench coat. My friend Lindsay came over and met me at my place so we could ride together, and since we had called a cab to drive us out, we each downed a glass of white wine. The cab arrived and we ran through the rain to meet it. On the way I accidentally stomped in a huge puddle and ruined my brand new suede heels. But the night was still young, so I decided to shake that off. The cab cost us $40.00 to take us downtown and by the time we got there (at 10:30 pm) it was raining even harder. We got to the front door and (wouldn't ya know it) there was a cover charge. Who carries cash anymore? We made a pit stop at the ATM, paid an extra charge to check our coats and then finally made it inside where there were approximately 30 people. Lindsay was gone in a flash when she spotted some other friends, so it was up to me to find Kristen. When I finally did I realized that she was there on a double date. Being at home on my couch with a frozen pizza and my cat wasn't looking so lame anymore. As the night progressed, so did my drunkenness. Kristen had disappeared with her date and I was wandering around looking for somebody interesting to talk to - when I found my friend from college Michael. The bar was closing soon and Michael said he had a party bus that was going back to his house for after-bars. I grabbed Kristen and we hopped on the bus to go back to Michael's with a crowd of people we didn't (still don't) know. But Michael's a good guy so I knew we'd be alright. We got to his house and everyone headed straight to the kitchen to play beer pong. Kristen "fell asleep" on the couch, and I stopped at the bathroom. Upon exiting, I noticed an interesting staircase to the basement that was right in the middle of their living room floor. I have scoured the internet looking for an example of this sneaky staircase but have come up empty handed so you'll just have to trust me... it was fascinating. I started to make my way down the steps very slowly - and then it literally went downhill from there. I fell off the steps and over the side of them since there was no banister and landed right on my keester. At the time, of course, I thought it was hysterical until I noticed my leg was bleeding. "Alright", I slurred to myself, "Time to get out of here." I bid my adieus to Michael and co., threw Kristen over my shoulder and called a cab. When Kristen and I got in the cab, we realized we weren't going to the same place -not even the same city. The cab driver (graciously and expensively) agreed to take us to both destinations - but that he was going to take Kristen home first. Fine by me. We drove the thirty minutes to her house, she paid for her share, and then it was off to make the fourty five trek to my house.  I offered him my debit card and he let out an exhausted sigh. "My company doesn't take cards." "You have to" I said snottily, "it's the law". "It is the law, you're correct. But my company is brand new and very small and we can't afford the machines yet. I'll turn the meter off and we'll go find an ATM." GOD DAMMIT! CAN I NOT CATCH A BREAK?! We drove the three minutes to the nearest bank and I made a mad dash through the rain into their lobby to their ATM vestibule. It was 5 o'clock in the morning at this point. I sincerely just wanted to be at home in my warm, dry (unless my cat had peed on it again) bed. When I finally got home, I fell into bed, wet clothes and all, and stayed there until my alarm went off at 10. Time to get up and be with family for a fun-filled Thanksgiving meal! One problem... I was still very very drunk. I stared at myself in my bathroom mirror for about 15 minutes just trying to will the alcohol out of my system. "Be sober. Be sober. BE SOBER!!!!!"  When I realized that wasn't working, I got in the shower. Nothing worse than sitting next to your dear old grandmother reeking of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and bad decisions. In the shower I discovered the coaster-sized bruise I'd given myself from falling down the steps. I had been wondering why my butt hurt so bad since I'd regained consciousness, but didn't realize why until then. Stellar. I put on the most comfortable outfit I could get away with for this semi-dressy event, and gave myself a final once over.

"Oh Jesus. I'm gettin' too old for this shit."