wear sunscreen?

[Heather Honerkamp <heather@mindspring.net>]

Here's a revised version of that commencement speech/song 
"Everybody's free to wear Sunscreen"  



Don't drink White Zinfandel...

Even if you like it.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, this would 
be it.

The fact that drinking white zin causes individuals to earn 
irreversible reputations for bad taste has been proven by 
sociologists the world over.

The rest of my advice, on the other hand, has no basis more 
reliable than chain e-mail sent to me when I really should 
have been working. I will dispense this advice to you now. 

Enjoy the power and beauty of your virility. Oh, never mind.   
You will not understand the power and beauty of your 
virility until you're choking on Viagara like a freaking 
multi-vitamin.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that 
worrying is about as effective as trying to solve an algebra 
equation while reading Salman Rushdie's "The Satanic Verses" 
backwards while balancing a plate on your head. 

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never 
crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm 
on some idle Tuesday, when you decide to surprise your wife 
and come home from work early, and your best friend's Corvette 
is parked in the driveway.

Do one thing every day that scares the crap out of you. Like 
walking into South Central L.A. with a hood on your head.

Don't be reckless with other people's cars, especially if 
they're more expensive than your own. Don't put up with people 
who are reckless with yours, unless they have lots of 
insurance.

Get drunk.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, 
sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, you 
can always get plastic surgery and trade up anyway.

Remember compliments you receive. Return insults a 
thousandfold. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how. I 
love a good laugh.

Keep your old love letters. The love letters will remind you 
of how your wife wasn't always a nagging bitch. Throw away old 
bank statements. Especially the ones from the secret account
your wife knows nothing about.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they 
wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting
40-year-olds I know still don't.

They tell me about it all the time as they wrap themselves up 
in a blanket and roll their shopping carts down Broadway in 
Santa Monica, mumbling "skittles, skittles, skittles."

Get plenty of calcium. Maybe you'll be featured in a "Got Milk" 
ad and make lots of money, like Steve Young, and 
Jennifer Love-Hewitt.

Be kind to your knees. Be kind to your breasts. You'll miss 
them when your breasts are at your knees.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have 
children,  maybe you won't. And maybe you're going to be the one 
that saves me, and after all, you're my wonderwall.

Remember that you can't congratulate yourself too much, or 
berate other people enough. Life is half chance, so if you come 
out ahead, God must love you more than other people.

Dance, even if you're white.

Don't read directions. They're just a ploy engineered by paper
manufacturers to sell unnecessary paper to the world.

Do not read beauty magazines. Porn is much more fun.

Get to know your parents. They're always good for a couple of 
bucks when you're in between jobs.

Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past, 
and might make more money than you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but Star Trek on UPN is 
forever.

So are a few good friends. Work hard to bridge the gaps in 
geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more 
you need the people who remember you when you had hair.

Live in New York City once, but leave before someone ties you 
up in your apartment and chops your head off.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before you start 
wearing leather and start hanging out with a guy named 
Mr. Bagwell.

Burp.

Accept certain inalienable truths: You will always work too 
hard, for too little money. Your wife's boobs will sag. So will 
yours. Prices will soar, and no matter how much money you make, 
you won't be able to afford to buy the house you really, really 
want.

You, too, will get old, and when you do, you will fantasize that 
when you were young, your wife's boobs didn't sag, prices were 
reasonable, and you didn't care how much money you had, because
living in a filthy apartment with four other guys off-campus 
with a cabinet full of Ramen Noodles and Lucky Lager was all you 
needed.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Unless they're really, 
really rich.

Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. 
But you never know when either one will be dipped into by 
someone else.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be liberal with supplying 
it. People love that.

Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing 
the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly 
parts and recycling it so that somebody else, younger than you, 
can get screwed over just like you did, and you can point and 
laugh.

But trust me on the white zinfandel.