I am off to find my marbles…

Technically I am an adult. Although I am still relatively new to this whole adulthood business I remain constantly and inappropriately shocked about it. If someone told me my mother enjoyed consuming the live young of other humans I’d probably respond by saying that explains a lot about my childhood. If someone refers to me as an adult I stammer and ask them whether they have misplaced their manners.

‘I am not an adult’, I huff, ‘I am an -.
Then I remember I am an adult and the law has given me responsibility for myself. Shocking!

In fact if I so wish with just a whisk of my own pen I could decide for myself if I wanted to be sexually exploited within the pornography industry. I don’t think I have the kind of emotional intelligence or contract savvy to sign that kind of agreement, but there you go. I am only one legitimately recognized signature away from being sold into the sex market.

Surely there must be a solution. There must be a way to get out of this growing up business. And there is, friends, family, people who have randomly googled something and come upon this page I will be going on a journey to Neverland. Sure I am older than most of the Lost Boys but surely they need some matronly figure to warm their milk and bandage their knees since Wendy left them. Plus poor Tinkerbell must be bored sick of listening to the quiet angst and rapture of pre-pubescent boys discovering themselves.

Some may say there is no Neverland, but they don’t have the highly secret map I have obtained in exchange for my magic beans. So I’m off and when I come back, if I come back, I’ll bring you by some wonderful tourist trinkets from their gift shops.

Otherwise this is the last you’ll hear from me, unless Neverland has a good Wireless connection.

My imaginary puppy

For the past fourteen years of my life I have wanted a puppy. I have begged, pleaded, screamed and picked up random pieces of poo to show that it doesn’t gross me out. To this my parents have occasionally yelped at me, and told me that they’ll be a puppy for me. It wasn’t very funny to me the first time, and it hasn’t gotten any funnier since. Even the time, when they tried to really drive the point home, and my dad rolled onto his back, whilst my mother scratched him on the stomach. It wasn’t even funny to me then.

So I stopped bringing up dogs. I just let go of the idea altogether.

That was until this week, this week for some unexplained reason I was finally going to get a puppy. A real, female puppy that had all the optional extras.

I have had a kind of tough time lately. Not a bad time, just a tough time. So I thought a puppy would be just the ticket to get me back into Happyland. So I took a few necessary steps in preparing myself for my puppy.
I:
• Did a happy dance.
• Did a happier dance.
• Named my puppy.

I called my puppy Zissou. She was named for ‘The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou’, I am quite fond of that film and so it seemed a fitting name.

Then someone told us about the special time in a girl puppy’s life. The time in a non-desexed girl puppy’s life. The time when she grows up and experiences her cycle.

So we ran back and said put our name down for a boy. Too late.

We thought about still getting her anyway, and then I did what I always do. I conceded to whoever screamed loudest at me about the situation, and this time the side that screamed happened to be anti-puppy. Although surprisingly, this time the anti-puppy team didn’t consist of my parents.

So now I’m stuck dreaming of a puppy that isn’t coming. That isn’t all bad, I don’t mind spending time with my imaginary puppy. With my imaginary puppy I don’t have to feed it, walk it, or really pay it any attention.

It’s really like having no puppy at all.

Except an imaginary puppy has a name, and a dog collar it will never wear.

GI Feyz.

I don't think I'd look okay as a bald person...