i can usually adapt well in any given element.
it is a quality that i find to be acutely essential, if not exorbitantly valuable…
especially as we begin to mature and are placed in more situations that necessitate those sorts of personality readjustments.
accordingly, as i continue my journey towards adulthood, i find myself being surrounded by more and more children…
you know, since getting pregnant is like a “thing” when you are older?
regardless, i honestly do not know how to talk to adolescents past the goo goo gah gah infancy stage…
and oh my god, do not even think about talking to me during puberty!
i am just a cluster fuck of wrongfulness.
so as luck would have it, i was given an opportunity to test out my incredible “diarrhea of the mouth” with my friends’ 11 year old daughter…
and what commenced was quite a series of entertaining (see also: stressful) conversations, in which i felt as though i was jumping rope with my own tongue.
i showed up to work on a Saturday morning after having spent the previous evening debauched during Oktoberfest…
my only savior was a huge jug of water and plenty of greasy calories provided by the McDonald’s breakfast menu.
i had just finished inhaling my meal when my coworker showed up with her descendant…
and i had the nerve to try to engage in an adult conversation in the presence of a youngster.
typically, i can hold my own and be somewhat methodical…
but when i am teetering between two to three hours of sleep, have this incredibly delightful hangover, and have to censor my confabulation, then everything is just shit.
so i began describing my night to my workmate, remembering to replace the term ‘beer’ with “water” and mouthing particular events that i deemed inappropriate when her daughter would turn around…
but to my surprise, her mother told me that her child was aware of what alcohol is and for some reason i took that to mean that i can cuss freely, hold a semi-serious conversation with this little girl about the then upcoming Presidential Election, and ask her if she is in love with any of the boys at her school.
it was only after i called her non-teenage offspring a “Republican” in a haste of fury that i realized that maybe i do not actually know how to converse with most youth, and that i was in fact the only juvenile present.
with that being said, “Hide Yo’ Kids”, because i obviously have no fucking filter…
last year, only mere moments after indulging in gratuitous amounts of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls and a thick slice of pumpkin pie cloaked under a mountain of whipped cream, i laid in my bed and rightly began to contemplate all of the things that i was thankful for in 2011…
shekardaneh 