I’ll admit it.I’m actually twelve.
See, I snicker at things young’uns find funny. For example?
If I see the number 69 come up on a gas pump, a register receipt, a notification count, an email count… doesn’t matter. I snicker. Because I’m SO MATURE like that.
I also snicker when I hear euphemisms for genitalia and body parts. Not because I’m embarrassed. Nope. I actually use the anatomically correct words. But because I think the substituted words are funny.
Better yet is a certain Speaker/Representative’s name. I can’t keep a straight face when I hear it. Sorry.
HAHAHAHA!!! See? Funny!
OK, maybe it isn’t. Pout.
Body functions also make me laugh. Come on, you mean when you’re in the grocery store and you hear a little tyke or an older member of society let one rip REALLY, REALLY LOUDLY you don’t snicker just a little bit?
Because I do.
Yep, I know. Mature, right? I’m an awesome role model, what can I say?
I’m a kid at heart, honestly. I like to have fun. I like games, music and pop culture. And wearing my hair in pig tails. I like to watch cartoons and teen dramadies.
(You mean you DON’T? What’s the matter with you?)
I like Christmas and holidays, amusement parks and carousels. I like parties. And licking cake or cookie batter from my cookies when I’m making them. (Shhhh, don’t tell anyone who eats food at my house I do this.) I also hide cookies from my kids so I can eat them myself. I know. Mother of the year!
It’s probably time I grow up and act my age, right? Cut my hair, dress like a 40-year-old woman? Stop watching cartoons and stop blaring music in my so-cool-it’s-almost-hipster minivan?
NEVER. And you can pry my pink fuzzy bunny slippers and flannel Christmas elephant pajamas from my cold, dead hands, mmkay?