Growing Up Blows. Big time.


I remember being mad at my parents when I was a kid, you know when they said they wouldn’t buy me [insert random obnoxious kid toy here].  I remember thinking “Man! When I grow up I’m gunna buy all these things!  Live in a big house, have like four bikes!” so on and so forth.  Blah.  I thought being an adult would be sooo much fun.  It would be easy, of course there’d be no school, so I’d just have fun with my friends and buy stuff.

For some reason my child mind was too naive to think about jobs, bills, food, and well… basically how much being an adult sucks.  Holy shit it sucks.  I can’t tell you how many mornings I want to sleep in and then go hang out with my friends (Okay.  Every.  Single.  Fucking.  Morning.) or go shopping for some new clothes (but goddamn that gas bill!!).  Hell, I’ll be on my lunch break, get the urge to go on a long drive… but wait.  I caaaan’t.  I have to go back to work.

Ha.  Adulthood.

What a joke.

Oh and for the record.  I’m STILL not using Algebra.  A big ole FUCK YOU to my 8th grade math teacher.

Adults.  Heh.

When you’re a kid, getting your driver’s license is exciting.  “Oh I’ll pick up my friends and we’ll go to the music store for CDs then go drive to the beach.”  My stupid teenage mind didn’t comprehend.  To drive you need Insurance (Money), A Car (Money), License Plates (Money) and the ability to not attract every moron on the road (see 3 out of 4 of my accidents) (Lack of said ability = Money).  Fuck.  Remind me why I didn’t move to a warm city? You know one with public transit and no snow.  Walking (Less Money).

Oh and those rebel thoughts when I was young?  “Fuck-a-cerfew.  I can’t WAIT to move out!  Soon as I’m 18… I’m OUT OF HERE!”  Yeah.  Living on your own, Rent/Mortgage (Money).  Utilities (Money).  Food (Money).  What the fuck.  I think I want a do-over.

You know what all that means?

A Job.

Which means, less time to act like a kid.

Which means, money made.

Which means, money spent.

Which means.  Crap.  My gas bill just took precedence to going out on the weekend.  Ha.

Growing up blows.  Pass the wine (whine).




But hey.  Even though I have to go to work during the week, I can still walk around naked, blasting metal, and paint my walls blood red, in my OWN house.  Adulthood sucks…. but so do the teenage years.  :)


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