Sunday, April 19, 2009

Coming of Age

What in the hell am I doing here??! Airing out my cooter?

And I'm sorry to say that it looks as if I am filling my britches with an exceptionally large dump!

I'm sure you all will be happy to know that my birthday went off without a hitch! Turns out that I frigging love Dave and Busters, not that that's any big surprise. I went running through that place, game to game, like a seven year old kid. Again, not that that is a big surprise to anyone on the planet who has ever spoken to me for even 5 seconds. Not that it mattered to me in the slightest, but it seemed that the people who accompanied me had a good time too. . . not that I even noticed.

I even wore a "special" birthday outfit. It was a little weird, and I am quite certain that the people who went out with me were a little embarrassed to claim me. But that didn't even come close to deterring me from wearing it. I had on my knee-high camo rubber boots over a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt that said "STINK BAIT" on it. Needless to say, I looked fucking HOT!

So, I was thinking about it and thirty-one seems like an awfully big number. I can remember when I thought eighteen was old. You want to hear a funny story about when I turned eighteen? I don't really care if you do, I'm gonna tell you anyway.

When I turned eighteen, I decided that I wanted to take full advantage of being that age. . . by buying cigarettes. . . even though I didn't smoke. I happily and proudly strolled into the nearest gas station to buy a pack of fags (for all you morons out there, that's what English people call them). I enthusiastically told the clerk that I would like to buy a pack of Marlboro lights (because that's the brand that everyone that I knew smoked), and to my delight, he asked me for my I.D. He studied it closely, looking from it to me about fifty-two times. I can't say that I blame him for being skeptical about my age because I'm fairly certain that I was still wearing a training bra at that age.

When he finally agreed that that was indeed me in the picture, and that it did in fact say that I was old enough to buy the smokes, he reluctantly sold me the pack. In that moment, I remember truly feeling like a grown up. I rushed out of the gas station and jumped into my boyfriends car, showing off the token of my adulthood.

At that point, I decided that just buying the cigarettes was not enough. I thought it best to smoke one too, you know, to prove my grown up status. Keeping in mind that I was not a smoker, I instructed my boyfriend to pull over into a vacant lot. At the time it seemed like the most logical place for an adult to smoke.

I hopped out of the car and opened up the pack of cigarettes. I threw one in my mouth and asked my boyfriend if he had a lighter (I didn't think that far ahead!). He dug around in his car and found some matches. I pulled a match out, struck it, and lit up my cigarette. For a brief moment I felt super cool and mature. But then I inhaled deeply and all of that cool mature bullshit ended abruptly!

My whole world started to narrow and fade to black. I started sweating and my knees felt weak. In case you haven't guessed what was happening, I was fainting!!!! My boyfriend had to grab me and sit me down in the car before I passed out and busted my head open. I took that cigarette and threw it down on the ground. At that moment I felt very young and naive, and I guess looking back on it, I was exactly that.

I mean, seriously!!! Fainting from smoking a cigarette?! What a lame-ass! If I could go back in time I would punch my young self in the taint for being such an idiot!! Clearly I had not yet blossomed into the mature and insightful adult that am now. Yeah, I'll just leave you with that thought. . .

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