Post the First: Why I'll Never Be an Adult

Let's first start off by paying homage to a certain Allie Brosh, creator of the oh-so-special Hyperbole and Half. I was inspired by her post “Why I’ll Never Be an Adult”. I read it a few months ago and thought “My sentiments exactly”.  So Allie, I hope you don't think I'm stealing any of your ideas. I am merely inspired by a genius. 

I decided to start writing this blog because:
A. I have come to the conclusion that I will never be a fully fledged productive member of society and maybe this blog will help.


B. The Interweb is starting to get super lame. Facebook? Old hat.


And C. My anxiety disorder has come to a point where if I don’t unbottle some of this noise, I will have to turn myself in to a robot and program myself to use my laser vision to burn down some buildings. How will I do this? I don’t know, but I’m sure I can find it on the Googlebox.

What was the tipping point for the birth of this monstrosity/blog? Why have I decided to become an anonymous blogger, writing things at 5am? You asked for it (maybe you didn’t) so here it is: 

I had two of my old college buddies over for some good times last night and I realized that my 12X13 apartment wasn’t in ship shape. I actually haven’t cleaned it in 3 or so weeks. This is a long time to not clean such a small space. My reason for not cleaning seems simple enough. It’s spring and I want to do some “OFFICIAL SPRING CLEANING”. This a wonderful adult-like-idea that hasn’t translated into an adult-like-deed. I haven’t found time to do this because everyone knows the weather has to be wonderful so you can open your windows and birds can fly in and help you, but I live in Michigan and winter holds a grudge until June (and that’s early). I also live in Detroit and all the birds have been subject to white flight (Racist bird pun! Zing!). The other thing is that my job is an energy suck and when I come home I push everything into a pile, and then curl up with a book or the Interweb. I am officially not a person you want to be having children. My other theory about cleaning is that you do all of it once a month and then watch things disintegrate around you. It’s always a mystery to me that things don’t just stay clean. My mother and significant other are probably rolling in their future graves/urns. Don’t get me wrong, I love a clean apartment, I even enjoy cleaning as an anxiety-reducing-cleansing-ritual, but keeping things clean is not my strong suit. In the pursuit of being wrapping this story up, let’s move on.

Fast forward: My apartment looks presentable if not sparkling. There are some dishes in the sink, but they are soaking (and probably will be for another two weeks). I also realized that I haven’t bothered making myself look presentable in a few weeks either. I attempt a half-hearted French braid (because my friends love it when I look glamorous) while simultaneously Black Berry Messaging my friend, Herbert Goldblum, awesome catch phrases that I am cultivating (sorry for mentioning Black Berry Messaging, I feel like a complete turd for saying it. Pretend I said was actually Hologram Messaging him. At least that has some sex appeal) I realize that I haven’t cut my nails in a few weeks either. How did this happen? Well, nail growing is the same phenomenon that cleaning is. I just can’t believe you have to maintain more than once. I have to cut my nails, but I don’t want there to be nail clippings everywhere (adult-like-thought alert, don’t make a mess and then you won’t have to clean it up). So here’s my genius thought: Open the window and cut your nails outside! (Nailed it! Ha!) Maybe that doesn’t sound super crazy, but it’s a culmination of choices like this one that have become a staple in my life. So here we are.

Further along in my evening, after my buds and I partook in some delicious BBQ sandwiches (and by the way I forgot my wallet so aforementioned buds had to buy me a sandwich) my dear friend Martin VanSchnitzle told me that after a year in his apartment, he has just now bought a can opener. Before that he was puncturing holes in cans and popping the lids off. And Martin has a real grown up type job! He has a bedroom! If my friend was half man, half otter, I wouldn’t be surprised. After that we tried some Frankenstein walking. And no offense Frankensteins, we did it to honor your contribution to society. And like you, maybe all we wanted was a friend to call our own.

And just so my other bud (Jean Blumfield, wife of Carl Blumfield) doesn’t feel like she is left out of this story: She definitely started a dandelion fight. 

To some I may look like an adult. I am 24 years old. I have my own apartment. I comb my hair. I have a 9 to 5 job. (Well I volunteer full time and get a stipend for it) I am even marginally responsible and don’t ask my parents to bail me out all the time. (Unlike the Big 3! Ha ha, political joke! Zing!) But sometimes I pay my bills days late because I think money is going to appear in my bank account that I’m not going to spend on a Segway Tour. Sometimes I eat a box of Cheese Its instead of dinner. I may look like an adult sized worker bee, but I am actually a larva. What’s between larva and worker bee and larva you ask? I will answer your question with another question: Who cares? Whatever stage of bee it is, trust me it’s lame. It doesn’t provide anything for the hive and it doesn’t get the special pampering that larva does. To the Bee experts: Discuss

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This blog is the attempt of all blogs everywhere:  To get perverts to read them gather them together and have a real hoot and hollerin’ pervert party. Well no, that’s not really it. But it would be kind of cool to know that even perverts get to let loose. Cause being a pervert is probably not an easy job. People are mean to you.

Real reason: (End of post coming soon, I promise)

The reason is to find like minded individuals and make sure that I’m not the only person out there who feels like a faux-adult. Because I am not, as the great scholar Antoine Dodson pointed out, “Climbin’ in your windows, snatchin’ your people up.”  Which translated means that I am not sure what other people are doing, but I’m positive that I am not the only one.

So to all of you out there who may be grappling with your self (ooer) I implore you to embrace your immaturity. Thank you for reading this drivel. I went off topic a lot. Thank your for time and energy. Come back soon!

Please look forward to some other ideas I am mulling around:

• What is an adult?
• Why technology scares me
• Social Interactions in which I fail
• Going to the doctor
• Taking care of a plant
• Things I like
• Cooking is for people who are not alone