My application for the 2018 Darwin awards

I’m thrilled to submit my application for the 2018 Darwin Awards. My boyfriend says I stand a good chance this time. Last year I bathed with my iPhone every night, but nothing happened. Why? Turns out you have to charge your phone during the bath, and then actually drop it in the water. Don’t worry, I’m doing things right this time. Fingers crossed.

Winning a Darwin award would mean so much. My parents stopped talking to me recently. They think I’m a lost cause. I’ve never won anything. And my Instagram following hasn’t made any money yet, but Guy Fieri did like a selfie of me eating a cheeseburger yesterday.

So that’s something.

Honestly, it was my boyfriend’s burger. Not mine. I just took one bite for the pic and then spit it out. He got kind of mad at me about that. Oh, well. He wants me to stay thin, right?

Anyway, the Darwin awards. It’s such a great idea. An award for the regular people. Something the liberal elite can’t snatch away.

I’ve just been happy for my honorable mentions over the past six years. Like that time I almost got hit by a car because I was reshuffling my workout mix and fell into the street. Don’t ask. Okay, I’ll tell you. I was angry at something Katy Perry tweeted and decided to demote her in my playlist. It was a matter of personal integrity.

And then there’s the time my friends and I tried to backpack the entire Appalachian Trail one weekend.

Seriously, we had no idea the trail was that long. Who makes a trail that goes on for hundreds of miles, with no Starbucks or even a charging station? I’m not even joking. That’s ridiculous.

We ran out of food after Stacy ate the last oatmeal bar, and our smartphones all died because we kept taking selfies of each other. But we kept hiking until nightfall. Can you believe how dark it gets at night out in the woods? We couldn’t even see anything.

We learned a valuable lesson, that Google Maps doesn’t work on an empty battery. The state park officials told us that it’s not that helpful for hiking anyway.

Can you believe nobody’s put the trails on Google Earth?

Lame.

Anyway, me and Jennifer got hypothermia. That marked my first honorable mention on the Darwin Awards website. We were so excited. I took a screenshot and made it my Instagram header. It felt so great for someone to show me a little recognition once in my life.

Ever since then, I’ve been determined to win one of their prestigious plaques.

You do get a plaque, right?

I love plaques. They’re just the best. My dad has five over the fireplace. My brother has six. They won’t share. I even tried to compromise. “Just engrave my name under yours on one of them,” I begged. “Please? I’ll have sex with you.” But then I remembered he was my brother.

Nope.

So selfish.

My friend Stephanie won a Darwin award last year. She did her own plastic surgery with a hobby kit from Wal-Mart and developed an infection. So jealous.

I’m trying a bunch of strategies this season. For starters, I’ll see if I can float by swallowing an entire tank of helium. If that doesn’t work, at least I’ll have permanent chipmunk voice.

Next I’ll try to ride a tiger at the zoo. I know a guy who works there. He said he’ll let me into any exhibit if I have sex with him. Totally worth it.

My backup plan is drunk gymnastics on the ledge of my apartment while my friends take selfies with the flash on.

My favorite Darwin winner? It’s a tie. On the one hand, I admire the guy who buried himself alive as a prank, but forgot to tell anyone first. But I also have mad respect for the girl who tried to make a flaming dress for Halloween, like the one from the Hunger Games. They’ve gone down in history. People will always remember them. So special.