You can’t make me grow up

“I need to start acting like a goddamned adult,” I tell myself.  My head throbs and my alarm is blaring.  It’s 7 am Monday morning.

My body feels every ounce of cheap beer I consumed last night.  Every morsel of sweet, sweet processed pork and beef.  Every game of flip cup.

Luckily I can’t recall every foolish thing which I had the misfortune of saying out loud, but hey… no regrets, right?

Passed out drunk

“Yeah, but I’m saving a shitload on my chiropractor bill.”

When I was younger, I figured by the time I was 32, I’d have it all figured out.  Wife, kids, white picket fence.  You know, the whole deal.  But probably with more video games.

My entire Facebook feed is slowly morphing into a gallery of other people’s children.  They’re adorable, but boring as fuck.  Most of them have only rudimentary political positions and their feelings about the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping revelations are vague and unclear.

Child looking contemplative

“I don’t know, I just think the Executive Branch is overreaching and needs to respect the separation of powers.”

Meanwhile I’m just trying to figure out if I’m ever going to feel like an adult.  If I’m ever going to wake up on Monday morning and think to myself, “By gosh, dear chap, you certainly handled that set of circumstances in a mature and responsible fashion.”

It’s more like, “Hey, my consecutive streak of not being arrested is at a new personal best.”

A generation of children… ?

I’ve read countless articles from “lifestyle columnists” and other journalists remarking about my generation’s “extended adolescence” or “delayed adulthood.”  How we’re focusing on our careers and backpacking Europe and finding ourselves (and hard drugs) rather than settling down.

Apparently, we’re not all in a rush to get someone pregnant and start grinding away a 9-5 until we drop dead.  Or at least that’s what the columnists keep telling me.  In reality, I’m just one dude, so making sweeping generalizations about my “generation” based on the lovable idiots I play kickball with seems a little on the ignorant side.

Time Milleneals Cover

Dear Time magazine, fuck off.

I am not the representative of a generation.  I’m just a dude trying to find some balance between having a good time and trying to keep my job.  In retrospect, I’m not sure rambling incoherently on my blog is a smart career choice, but eh… what can ya do.

Some of my friends have wonderful children.  Some of my friends have wonderful alcohol problems.  I even know a few especially talented people with both.

The grass is always greener

Sometimes I’m jealous of my friends and their adorable families.  The too-cute-to-believe it kids mispronouncing pretty much everything.  The supportive husbands and wives, always pushing them to achieve more.  Their redecorated houses and family gatherings with aunts and uncles.  Their trips to Disney World.

But sometimes I wake up and think, “Fuck it, today I’m gonna sit around in my underwear and play video games and I have no fucks to give about who doesn’t like it.” (There’s probably some sort of equivalent for those of you who enjoy drinking wine and watching The Bachelorette here, so just imagine I said that.)

And it’s pretty fucking great.

Playing video games in underwear

I’m pretty sure this is what Siddhartha meant by nirvana.

Some of my married friends seethe with jealousy.  “Oh man, you can just do whatever you want, whenever you want.  If you wanted to move to Brazil tomorrow, you could.”

Well, yeah, I suppose I could, but then I’d have to put pants on, wouldn’t I.

Growing up means whatever the fuck you think it means.

As a generation, we may be taking longer to get married and have kids.  We may be delaying our child rearing to focus on careers.

But don’t worry, there’s plenty of people out there having sex without a condom.  (Heck, one of my high school buddies famously stated after getting his girlfriend pregnant, “I just assumed she was on birth control.”)  Humanity is in no danger of running out of mouths to feed.

If you want to settle down and have kids, great.  If you wanna get drunk every night and still make it to work in the morning, fantastic.  If you want to smoke meth and be a dental model, that shit is not going to happen.  But I admire your rather stupid dream.

Do I think someday I’ll probably settle down a little and drink a little less beer and play a little less video games?  Yeah, probably.

But is that shit gonna happen tomorrow?  It doesn’t seem likely.

Don’t worry, faithful reader.  I’m sure someday I’ll bombard you with pictures of my horribly adorable offspring doing horribly mundane things.

In the meantime, here’s a picture of a cat with a gun, because fuck you, that’s why.

crazy cat with gun (9)

 

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