They Say

They say your 40’s are pretty cool but I’ll never know...My story started in Vegas and, sure as Hellfire, it won’t “stay there.” If I help just one of you young, careerist women out there, that's OK. Only the good die young, you say? Bull. I'm barely-living proof that's a lie.Are you a postmodern ladder-climber? Dread living in perpetual Bridesmaids-Ville? Then read, learn, and "don't."They say misery loves company but that’s not my motive. My probably-already-cold corpse doesn’t need to steer you (dead) wrong. I’m confident there’s plenty of “company” in the Rings of Purgatory, where I’ll spend eternity - no doubt insufficient prayers will be going up for me. But imminent death wouldn’t have been my fate if I could have just faced reality.If I could’ve remembered the old, “if it seems too good to be true, it probably is,” (maybe had it tattooed somewhere I could see it easily and often) chances are I’d have more just a few months left on earth.But who can resist quick, easy, money, especially when their credit card statements look like mine? Even now, on the computer, beautiful people in banner ads are practically crooning my name, promising a better-paying career, or shadowing me with flickering visions of stuff I’ve window shopped for (but need a better paying job to pay for!). So, back in June with that Vegas bartender? After a few sips of something he concocted, I was all eyes and ears.And all you need to know, to stay safe out there, (or anywhere) is: stick with the bottled drinks. 'Cuz his blasted strawberry slushy recipe turned him from a half-blood hound, into a garnish-skewering, paper-parasol wielding demi-god of pre-mature death.They say, live and learn. I say, learn from me and live longer.