Skip to main content

What's your age in maturity?

I'm no longer in elementary, high school, or even college yet in many ways I have not matured. I got to a certain point in maturity, decided I was good, and stopped. I have no desire to progress beyond my current maturity age either. I will be 85 and emotionally a 7 year old who wants what I want when I want it, especially ice cream and kittens.

My 7 Year Old Maturity or ways I am like a 7 year old

1. When there is a playground, I bolt towards it. On my recent friend camping trip we stumbled upon a rope's course on a walk and rather than wait for the entrance, I went scraping through the underbrush and ran straight for it. When it was time to go, Amber said we had to, I whined and dragged my feet. My 7 year old's impulsivity meant we also missed the GIANT No Tresspassing sign at the entrance. Oops.

2. I have been known to order ice cream for breakfast in restaurants. I have done this even when other children were present who were not permitted the same choice. Ha! What good is age if you can't hoard it over actual 7 year olds!
mmmm ice cream
"You're such a yummy looking bite, Yes you are, yes you are"

3. I still dream that someone brings me a puppy and consider this my best dream (other than skiing dreams see 12 year old) and I wake up sad there's no real puppy.

4. I love stupid jokes. That includes knock knocks, and especially puns
most recent joke
"What's the difference between pea soup and chopped liver?"
"Anyone can chop liver but you can't pea soup."
love those jokes. Oh and
"What's brown and sticky?"
"A stick!"

5. Speaking of, I like playing with bugs. I get real excited, as does my mom I might add, when I find a walking-stick.
walking_stick

My 12 Year Old Maturity or ways I am like a 12 year old

1. See #2 above. Can't feel all that bad, what good is it being 12 if you can't hold it over a 7 year old?

2. I dream about skiing regularly. In my dreams about skiing it is in a video game world in which I can ski on everything including power lines and tree tops and I flip and do spinny fun things off of everything. When I wake from these dreams I usually want to play.

3. I think dirty jokes and fart jokes are funny all the time. No joke, Rob and I really own a self-reinflating whoopie cushion. Its fast too.

4. I am flat chested. Its sad I know, but what're you gonna do.

5. I think wrestling is a completely acceptable way to express affection. Ask Rob, I routinely push him over on our bed. He he. I like him.

My 17 year old maturity

1. I think naming peepees is fun. I like to call girls "nanny or fun pouch or love pita or twat" For boys... well we all know a million for that but new ones are always welcome and I'll giggle I'm sure if you send me some.

2. I occasionally dream I'm pregnant and have a similar reaction to that dream now as I did when I was actually 17. Fuck you, no my name is not Bristol. I'm not actually 17. I recently dreamed I was a pregnant turtle and was very concerned about whether or not my shell would expand to hold the baby. Yes I know they have eggs, it was a dream.

3. I complain about how unfair things are and sometimes bust out a pretty snotty teenaged voice to do it in.


My 22 year old maturity

1. I still think making up and playing drinking games is a blast. My brother and I used to play the Madden drinking game while watching football and I'm a rock star at both flip cup and beer pong. Not too long ago Meghann, Kurt and I made up a variation of beer pong which involved a shuttlecock and we called it cockpong. It introduced a whole new set of positions including "cock blocker"
shuttlecock
She's a cock lover, and so can you.

2. Do 22 year old's do something other than drink? I guess I relate more to my younger maturity likenesses


So how old am I in maturity years. I figure to be on the safe side, I'll go with the average of the four which makes me 14 1/2. That sounds about right.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Home birth- The real fuckin deal

So the end of pregnancy is for the fuckin birds. I'm sure plenty of you out there know this. There's nothing to say but that you're sick of being pregnant. You're a little sick of the sweet smiles and knowing looks from strangers. You're just all over sick of it. You're spectacularly sick of the: when's your due date how far are you are you having a boy or a girl I bet you're sick of this what hospital are you going to, conversations. You miss when people used to ask about the soccer game you played or the book you're reading. You're sick of swollen handsfeetfaceneckanklesEVERYTHING. Oh and from the beginning of pregnancy until FRIDAY, I had NO stretch marks. Friday my entire lower abdomen erupted into one. giant. stretch mark. So all weekend, I thought, please let this be over soon. Every cramp I felt I welcomed and thought, "whatever work my body does now, it doesn't have to do during labor." Little did I know how much

Having Babies at Home

My whole life, I've heard the story of my cousin Anna's birth. And her sister's too. But I hear more about Anna's. My aunt didn't exactly have a lot of love for the medical profession. And her first baby had been a horrible experience. She'd had him wrenched from her at least as much as she "gave him up" for adoption by nursing staff who leered at her and called her unpleasant names. And she loved him when he was born. And she found him when he turned 18 and loved him till the day she died. When she had kids for keeps, she did it differently. She read books and assigned duties and had them at home. She was brave and surely faced many people who disagreed with her decision. But she stuck by her convictions and her desire for a natural birth and won 2 beautiful girls. My mom was there when Anna was born. So was her sister, Kristina. They both still get this sparkle in their eyes whenever they talk about it. My mom says it was one of the most

Dear Book Pimp

So I wrote this book and I think it's pretty decent. That's the feedback I'm getting anyway, which is bitchin' really since I have a degree in Education, NOT writing. Plus, this is my first try, so really I should be happy, right? But, turns out writing the book is maybe the easy part. The publishing is another story. You have to find a Literary Agent. To do this, you have to write a 1-3 page letter to many literary agents to convince them to read a sample chapter. Send it with a Self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) and wait. there's more but I'm already experiencing a high level anxiety just writing about this part. In my letter, I'm supposed to explain who I am, what my book's about, why I'm qualified to write it, why its sicky illy good, who'll read it, and on and on. AHHHHHhhhhh! This shit scares me. Also, I'm supposed to be witty, clever, literary, and junk. Oh and explain a 300 page book in a sales pitch. I'm not a frea