You may all congratulate me! I live in the second most stressed out city in America according to Forbes magazine! In honor of this list, which came out today, I’d like to give you my list the of the times I have been most stressed out.

5. 11th Grade

I had to write five essays every week in my AP US History class, which I naturally waited until the last minute to do. I had to apply for colleges and was so overwhelmed that I only applied to ONE (my mom made me send in applications to a few others, but I really half-assed ’em). I was still getting used to driving a car. Did I mention AP US History? Man that class sucked.

4. 1997- Forced Ropes Course

On the seventh grade class trip to a ropes course in the canyons of Malibu, the counselors pointed at this hanging, decrepit rope mess high up in a couple of pine trees and said: “We’re all going to do the zip line! Line up to get your helmets and harnesses!” What I heard was “What we have here is some unstable and rotting string that we’d like you to put your faith in. This is required for your grade, so grab your useless safety equipment and start praying.”

3. 1985- This:

I don’t actually know why I was so stressed out here, but it looks like my Uncle Clint and I were caught exchanging soviet launch codes or something.

2. 2006- First Post-College Job

Now, I don’t want to name names, because I’m sure I signed some crap that made it illegal for me to do that, but Holy Balls, you guys, have you ever hated a job so much that the very act of arriving in the morning gives you a sense of relief because at least you’re already one step closer to being able to go home?

1. Summer 2009: When My Dad Told Me He Had Played In A Chicago Coverband

We always have a lot of questions for my dad about his youth, because we’ve only ever known him as a well-groomed health professional who drives working vehicles and knows how to carve a turkey. We are fascinated by the notion that at one point my dad may have been as close to falling over the Cliffs of Failure as we are! “Dad! Tell us about the class you hated the most! Tell us about how you made Uncle Jeff break his arm! Tell us again about that time you drank a conservative number of beers, yet puked all night long, like a damn baby!”

I almost fainted, actually. I can’t even remember what he said about why, or when, or how. I was at once overjoyed at the idea, enraged I hadn’t heard about this sooner, and freaked out by the possibility that there may have, for some reason, been leather pants.

Los Angeles is one of the most stressful cities in the nation and I have consistently been one of its most stressed out citizens.

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