Please. I started saving the world when I was still in the womb.

"Christian: Is it James Dean or is it Jason Priestly?
Cher: Carpe Diem! You looked hot in it!" -Clueless

So, it's official. The Olsen twins are 22. 22 years and three days.
I used to think it was cool that Mary-Kate and Ashley are my age. I felt like they were my friends, in a way. I mean, Melissa Joan Hart and Larisa Oleynik were too old for me. But, MK&A were just three months my senior.

Now, however, it makes me feel a little bit useless. Not in the sense that I am seeking pity or losing confidence, but to think that they have been America's twins for two decades, now, and I'm only just beginning to think about my career is a little bit depressing.

It's the same feeling I get when I watch (OK pretend to watch) the greatest athletes in the world partake in Indiana University athletics.
I remember watching them, thinking they were so mature and big and cool. And now, most of them are younger than me. It gives you that feeling where you wonder if you're getting old. You fear that your twenty first birthday really was the last birthday you'll ever look forward to (I hope, with all of my heart, this is impossible).
It makes me want to write a book, or create and invention, or at the very least, a shocking You Tube video. It really adds a little weight to Carpe Diem.

I guess I should be grateful, though. You know, the Olsen's are inspiring me. They are right up there with Mark Zuckerberg and Jason O'Neill. They give you a reason to keep going and be a little more creative. I certainly can't catch them, but I can strive for a close second.

I'll work a little harder, sleep a little less, think a little more. And every time I feel weak, I will ask myself: what would MK&A do?

If the shoe doesn't fit, don't wear it.

The drawer is jammed?

Don't force it.

The shoe is too small?

Don't force it.

The relationship just isn't working?

Don't force it.

It's a phrase applicable to every aspect of my life, coined by the one and only Dave Biber.

The time I tore the leg off of my American Girl, Molly, trying to get off her shoe...I wish I wouldn't have forced it. And the time I tore the strap off of my semi-formal dress trying to tie it tight enough (as we were walking out the door, by the way)...I wish I wouldn't have forced it.

It may not be eloquent. It may seem to simple. But there is really some merit, and maybe a little bit more depth than you initially realize, to the simple phrase: Don't force it.

So today, on this fine Father's Day, I think of everything my dad has shown me. Of all of the life lessons (which are abundant) he's taught me, this one has taken me the furthest.

Pair it with "It stops on a dime" (his car), "Put it in the warsher" (the washing machine) and "Just cut the mold off" (expired food) and you're talking like Dave. He's truly one of a kind.

No one I know loves consumer reports quite like he does. I've never met a man who is more willing to share his food. And never in my life have I known someone so willing to stay on the phone with me for 2+ hours in order to give me directions.

So, here's to you, Skippy (a nickname that I must confess, we forced). Happy Father's Day, I love you!

Tim Russert

After years of asking the hard questions we were all afraid to ask and getting the uncomfortable answers we all wanted to hear, Tim Russert has died. He provided inspiration for journalists around the world. He forced us all to challenge stagnant politics. And in his 58 short years, he had a greater impact on America than most of us will in a lifetime. To Tim Russert, who will not be forgotten.

Save your quarters. Invest in a washing machine.

Friday October 13, 2000.

As I put on my new Express jean jacket and checked myself out in the mirror, I was feeling good. I turned off Freaky Friday (hailing from a time when Lindsay Lohan was more innocent...and straight) and grabbed my All Sports Pass.

I arrived at the football game with my friends and we made the rounds. We clearly did not go into the bleachers immediately, as we had to linger around the concessions for a bit in order to see who made an appearance.

Once we made it to the stands, I found my boyfriend of one month, Tom, and stood by him. I held his hand and smiled adoringly at him, pretending to care about the football game. We talked about how he'd be out there next year and how I'd be lonely during the games; but I'd wear his jersey and be in the attendance rain or shine, home or away.

At halftime, I departed the stands and called over my friend, Ryan. I said, "Ryan, go get Tom and tell him to meet me under the bleachers."

As Tom approached me, standing under the dark bleachers all alone, he was smiling. He knew what was about to happen.

This was the point where I realized the instructions I had given Ryan may have been a little misleading. You see, I was beckoning Tom so, in order to break up with him.

I told him about how I thought we should just be friends, really good friends, but I just didn't see the relationship going anywhere. (The insight of an eighth grader is astounding!)

Undoubtedly, this was my most memorable- and horrible- Friday the thirteenth. So, today, in honor of the pseudo-holiday, I thought I'd try to make it memorable as well.

This is why I made my maiden voyage to a Laundromat.

I was disappointed, to say the least. I guess I was anticipating a little more glamor. I imagined walking in to a room filled with the aroma of fresh Downy and a touch of bleach. I was certain I'd be surrounded by big Bosch washers and dryers and maybe even a Diet Coke fountain. I thought music would be playing and it would be full of beautiful people folding their fluffy laundry. I created a scenario in my head where I'd drop my favorite shirt on the (sparkling clean) black and white check floor and I'd lean down to pick it up, landing face to face with a cute boy who would smile and hand it back. He'd simultaneously hand me his number and tell me to call if I ever wanted to do laundry...or whatever. Essentially, I was expecting a Jessica Simpson music video.However. This was not the case. I think that the machines were circa 1972 and the floor, on which I dropped about five clean items, was far from sanitized. The only thing shining about the entire room was the light reflecting off of the head of a bald man, who had a lingering stare and shaved legs. For some reason, I highly doubt he will be an extra is Jessica's upcoming video.

As rough as it was for me to face the reality of what a Laundromat really is, it's a growing experience. And I have certainly learned a few lessons: Next time, I'm keeping my expectations low and bringing snacks.