Sports Blogger Asks: Which is Worse -- Blackhawks or Ex-Girlfriend Porn Star?
When I was a kid, I read those Narnia books, and dreamed of going to another world. When I was a little older, I would watch baseball games and dream of becoming the greatest shortstop who ever lived. A little older than that, and I spent my third guitar lesson ever dreaming of playing sold-out arena tours, not to mention the various groupies I would defile in ways so creative the dudes from Motley Crue would fall to their knees and worship at my altar.
The highlight of my day yesterday was taking a laxative and having it hold off working until I was home from work. I actually thought, "Man, I really timed that out perfectly," and nodded to myself in a very self-satisfied way. I then realized how pleased I was, and why, and was immediately much less pleased with everything.
I get it that not everyone can be Batman; the last time I actually tried to pretend I was the Dark Knight I sprained an ankle jumping off the roof when my cape got tangled up in my feet and I landed awkwardly. The HR person at work wasn't particularly impressed with my doctor's note, either. Remember how much fun go-karts were when you were a kid? Now I ram my car into people and I just end up in court. And don't even get me started on dating. Twelve years old, I could hand a girl a note with a question and two boxes, one for yes and one for no, and I could get a clear response. Now I do that, and what do I get? Nothing! I mean, sure, I'm not twelve anymore, but the girls are. Shouldn't the note thing still work?
Adulthood is very, very disappointing.