There are times when I look at my life and I’m like, “I did it! I’m an adult.”
But I’m just kidding myself.
Sure, I may have moved out of my parents’ house. I do go to work at every day and buy my own groceries. I even floss my teeth … every once in a while.
So how do I know I’m not an adult?
Because not two Wednesdays ago I came home really drunk after a Recess game (Recess is the sports/drinking league I’m on) and was ravenous.
I get the most insane drunchies and probably hadn’t eaten a meal since dinner (a full three or four hours before) so as you can imagine… I needed to put something in my belly.
I had not been to the grocery store in about a week and the only thing I had to eat was a can of Chef Boyardee raviolis. In my drunken stupor, I opened the can and briefly debated about heating it up on the stove, but I mean, come on. Like I was really going to find a pot, wait for my meal to heat up, and then feel guilty about not cleaning my dishes (because there was no way I was washing dishes that night)?
The next option I had was the microwave, but that would have taken, like, minutes.
So, as you may have guessed by now, I grabbed a fork and ate the tiny little meat-noodles straight out of the can. Cold and covered with that sodium filled sauce that tastes a little too metallic to be made of real tomatoes, those little treats did the trick.
I also scooped out the remainder of that sauce when the raviolis were done because I am that much of a monster.
Oh, and do you really want to know how I know I’m not an adult?
Because I just lied in this blog post.
That night, I wasn’t really that drunk…
Just really, really lazy.
There, that should make all of you feel so much better about your hump day. You’re welcome.