Man Up! by Ross Mathews Read Free Book Online

failure. I distinctly remember, whenever an adult would ask me, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I’d always respond, “A television talk show host!”
    I was ten and I already knew it was my destiny to be on TV. I mean, seriously though, what other career choices did I have? Can you picture me as, like, a cop? With, like, a uniform and a real weapon and everything? I’d be all like, “Stop, bad guy! Wait, get back here! Please?!? Come on, I’m serious. For reals. That’s, like, totally against the law. Don’t even make me use this gun! Pretty please?!?”
    It was obvious. I had to be on TV.
    Of course, there is no clear path to becoming a talk show host. I mean, you never see ads on craigslist that read, “Talk Show Host Wanted: Earn millions while fulfilling your dreams and riding in limousines.”
    So at eighteen years old, armed with only the $500 I had earned working the entire summer, I hightailed it to the Hollywood-adjacent University of La Verne. I pulled away from my parents’ house and drove down Interstate 5 with a head full of dreams and a tank full of gas in my blue Ford Tempo.
    When I arrived in California, my car nearly scraped the ground under the weight of all my worldly possessions. My favorite items, in no particular order, were my VHS copy of Steel Magnolias , the complete boxed set of the Little House on the Prairie books, my framed autographed photo of Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, and, last but by no means least, my beloved TV Jessica.
    College life agreed with me. To be honest, I spent the majority of my freshman year of college gossiping in the dorms with my newly acquired besties while snacking on Sour Skittles, listening to Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears albums on repeat and making regular late-night runs to In-N-Out for a Double-Double with extra sauce and grilled onions. Life was so good. I couldn’t see my feet, but life was good. I was shopping in the husky department, but life was good.
    The best part about going to college, you guys? Two words: dining hall. Now, I know what you kids are probably thinking. “Ross, yuck! The food in the dining hall is, like, totally gross, dude!”
    But let me explain something to you young’uns. I’m telling you this as a grown-up with life experience. Food is like sex. If you’re getting it on a regular basis for free , even if it’s bad, be grateful, ’cuz, trust me, you’re gonna miss it when it’s gone. These valuable life lessons come at no extra charge with the purchase of this book. You’re welcome.
    College seemed to fly by with more speed than I’d gobble down those In-N-Out Double-Doubles. In a hot second, it was suddenly senior year and I was on the brink of graduating and entering the workforce. Granted, I had learned a lot after four years of college classes, but can I let you in on a little secret? I had no real skills. When it came to the real world, I only knew two things for certain: one, always wear sandals in a public shower; and two, it is indeed possible to memorize every single line in the movie Pretty Woman . “You work on commission, right? Big mistake, big, huge…”
    This realization hit me one day in my dorm room, knee-deep in empty BBQ Baked Lay bags and waaaay too caught up in the fourth and, sadly, final season of Felicity . Grown-up life was quickly approaching and, until I became a famous talk show host, I had no idea how I was going to make a living.
    I imagined myself as a college graduate at the unemployment office being asked to list my professional capabilities.
    “I can, umm, tell you if a spinach plant is a boy or a girl. And I like to watch movies, and if a movie is really bad I’ll, like, say it and be all, like, ‘That movie wasn’t very good.’ Also, I can name all the members of ’N Sync, the Backstreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. I can even list all the guys in 98 Degrees, and that’s really impressive because no one knows all their names. Most people only know Nick