Three Cheers for Being a Grown Up: Part 2

Let’s keep embracing life after elementary school.   

Lane Cummingsby Lane Cummings

We look at becoming one with your inner adult.


Feel  like wearing flip-flops in January? Feel like walking around in your pajama top? Do it. Remember when mom would evaluate your outfit before you left the house, vetoing anything she found insensible? For girls this would be hoochie skirts and for boys, it would be forcing you to wear that winter’s hat that ruined your carefully spiked hair. Well you can light that communist regime on fire, comrades!  You can walk around in red and green plaid boxers on Easter morn with your balls flapping in the wind as you mosey down the street to get a peach smoothie.


Your money, your call. A few weeks ago, I was at a country fair, and I spent $35 on tickets for the games, as I was trying to win a stuffed pig. And you know what? I eventually won that stuffed pig. And I won that pig not because of some sort of skill that I possess, but because I spent enough money and eventually got lucky.  And that’s bloody hell right. I wanted that pig, and I was more than happy to spend the $35 that it took to win him and have the glory of jumping up and down at the OC county fair. Do you think that would’ve happened when I was a kid? No f-ing way. My parents never liked to spend a dime on anything they considered frivolous or tourist-y. As an adult, you want that Police Commissioner Gordon collector’s statuette? Done.


Feel like driving to Vegas today? The beach? Road trip? Giddy-up.  As a kid, you went where people took you. You begged for rides from siblings and the neighbor that smelled like sour milk who had a present in his pocket. You hoped people would pick you up when they said they would. Now—the open road awaits you. Get in the car, drive to God knows where, and take as many bathroom breaks along the way as you like.


You have a place to shag other people as loudly or as frequently as you want. Remember your high school years, when you had to wait until your parents left the house or had to have those quiet-as-a-churchmouse sessions when you had to stifle your orgasm to the sound of sigh? As an adult you can go nuts! Scream for mercy, slap her arse and punch the wall! Throw a jar of grape jelly against the window when she comes! Sing Annie, get your gun as you’re ripping off your boxers!


Now that’s what I call freedom!