-Recently I was telling a friend a story when she stopped me and asked how old the people I was referring to were. Instinctively, I said, “Kids. You know, our age.” It didn’t strike me as strange until later that I had just called a bunch of guys in their late twenties “kids.” And with my twenty-ninth birthday approaching this week, it has begun to occur to me that, as much as I don’t want grow up, it’s happening whether I like it or not. But although standing one year shy of thirty scares the shit out of me, the upside of being twenty-nine is that I’ve now been around long enough to pass down some valuable life lessons. So kids, listen up: here are some rules I wish I knew when I was your age.

-If you go out of your way to organize something fun for your buddies – a party, a dinner, a vacation – you will end up getting fucked. Someone won’t pay, or will break something, or will otherwise embarrass you. This is the collateral damage that comes with trying to make plans for borderline alcoholics. Figure it into your costs ahead of time.

-Unless something catastrophic has happened, don’t tell your mom any bad news. If you get into a minor fender bender or have a cold, your mom doesn’t need to know. After all the shit you’ve put her through, she deserves not to worry.

-As much as you hate your job, your boss hates his twice as much. Except he’s fifty, has kids and a mortgage, and can’t do shit about it.