Being an Adult = Being Boring

I remember the first time I saw Star Wars.  It was awesome.  My dad read the intro to me because I couldn’t read that fast yet.  I didn’t ask how the cars were able to fly or how the ship was able to travel through space.  I didn’t ponder the plausibility of laser guns and explosions in vacuums, either.  I simply sat back and enjoyed the ride.

When we’d watch Star Trek, I never asked where the mouths of the Tribbles were, I just knew that they weren’t supposed to be fed.  I never wondered how the Silver Hawks were able to glide/fly through space when there wasn’t any wings.

I simply accepted this wondrous, fictional world created for my entertainment.  There was no conversation on the physics of Star Trek/Star Wars, or anything else, for that matter.  Just simple, unadulterated entertainment.

So why is it that, as an adult, I picked up Neuromancer by William Gibson and had to read the first three paragraphs four or five times before I was finally able to let go enough to slip into the story.  I almost gave up on it (after throwing it across the room) because it didn’t explain anything about where or when it was set.  It didn’t tell me about the world it was in.

I got so frustrated I started yelling about it to my roommate, who then asked, “Did anyone ever need to explain Star Wars to you?”

“Well, no.”

“Ok, then.  Pretend that book is Star Wars.”

And then it clicked.

We, as adults, are so rooted into our world of numbers, bills, paychecks, school choices, and, simply, caught up in life in general, we’ve forgotten how much fun it can be to simply sit back and imagine.  Some people, be they actors, writers, mimes, whatever, are able to let go in this way.

I think the rest of us can learn from those adults, and the children surrounding us, a very simple lesson:

Don’t be so serious, let go, and have fun.  This is our only chance.  Do it right.

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And what do YOU wanna be when you grow up?

I want to be a DINOSAUR!  RAWR!*

Actually, I want to major in Physics and Art.  Yeah, I know, what a great way to become independently wealthy.  But at least I won’t have to be a starving artist, like now, working at some dead-end job and spending all my money on art supplies and praying I have enough ramen noodles to last until next payday.*  I can go work for NASA and spend all my money on art supplies and pray I have enough ramen noodles to last until next payday!  How much more exciting would that be, eh?

But actually, those are my two passions, and that’s what I would like to do, go to school for Art and Physics.  I keep trying to misspell “Physics” as “Physicalics”, which, thankfully, isn’t as bad a Freudian slip as, say, “Phallics”.  I think if I were to start typing “Phallic” all over the place I’d just shoot myself because, honestly, if things were that bad, I’m obviously either too psycho to even qualify for a desperate one-night-stand, or too ugly.  But thankfully there is porn and I’m okay with that.  Porn doesn’t tell me to not drink so much, clean up that mess, do the dishes, or scream at me because I didn’t buy the right brand of toilet paper even though I saved $3 fucking dollars by buying the BETTER quality toilet paper and I really don’t give a fuck about “toilet paper” lint being left on my ass because, HELLO, it’s better than having SHIT left on my ass because the MORE EXPENSIVE BRAND you INSIST upon using doesn’t wipe NEARLY as clean as the stuff I grew up with you stupid, ignorant, bitch! Whew, sorry, flashback to a prior relationship.  I should really get some help with this whole PTSD thing from her, but, meh.

And, yes, that actually WAS a real argument I had with someone I date and it actually lasted for a good solid month before I finally explained, “FUCK YOU I HAVE MY OWN FUCKING BATHROOM AND WILL USE THE TOILET PAPER I SO CHOOSE TO WIPE SHIT OFF MY ASS UNLESS YOU WANNA LICK IT OFF OF ME YOU FUCKING WHORE!” and it was settled.  And there might have been about twenty more expletives than that in the actual argument but my memory kind of fails me because I was black-out drunk at the time and that was about the point I came to and then I said something about being hormonal and horny and having low blood sugar and to not cross me anymore when it came to my bunghole because that was my own personal space nobody messed with and the last person who tried wound up in Guatemala and nobody’d heard from him for the past two years.  That’s also kind of a true story.  The Guatemala thing.  The toilet paper thing is TOTALLY a true story.

*RAWR means I love you in Dinosaur.  G-d, don’t you people, like, read and stuff?

Surrounded by assholes, and not the good kind

I’m moody this week. And tired. At least there was a drunken holiday and good food in the middle of the week. But that just made me more tired. Going to bed with a belly full of beer and rich food does NOT make for restful sleeping apparently.

Nor does a red bull and vodka, which is what I had last night while playing WoW. It’s an ok game. Loads of fun and a MAJOR time suck if you’re bit careful. But the strategy it takes…

No one should have to think that hard to play a video game unless it’s Zelda. If you don’t know what I’m talking about try playing Ocarina of Time.

Also, I’m told I’ve been promoted. Which is awesome because this means I get bonuses when we do a good job. Bonuses mean more savings. And right now, that’s a good thing.

And my boss just discovered women’s tits are two different sizes. How he didn’t know, I have no idea. I told him the human body isn’t symmetrical and that one of his nuts was bigger than the other. He freaked out for ten minutes and said he was gonna have his wife check. Ummm, really? I was taught that in health class. Maybe it’s just the whole gay thing. I think it’s just because I actually paid attention in class. Yes, I was that guy…DO NOT JUDGE ME!!!!

Also, some stupid bitch pissed me off.  I know, I work in customer service and someone pissed me off.  Big surprise.  But this chick took the cake today, even beyond the “I’m just gonna cut everyone off in line because I think I know everything even where your name comes from because you’re obviously completely illiterate because you work at a gas station” jack ass I had earlier.  Her car was broken and it was my fault and apparently that means she has to whine at me for ten minutes when I have other, more important things I need to take care of.

Winner of the Stupid Bitch of the Month Award goes to………………………….THE IGNORANT CUNT AT PUMP 12.  Come on down and claim your prize.  You have now one the title of Stupid Bitch of the Month and will be receiving the worst customer service ever from now on and will be treated like the idiot you are.  How do you feel?