Well...I'm immature. I know, I'm sure you guys knew this already, but clearly I'm the last to know everything. But yes. I am a child who still makes fart jokes. I'm watching Ryan Gosling on Conan and doodling hearts in a diary. Earlier this evening, I gave a very impassioned speech about the biological similarities between pooping and giving birth and am still not done laughing about it. The only thing I know about a 401(k) is that the "k" does not stand for Kardashian (apparently). I've got a long way to go in terms of growing up.
Never is this fact more clear than when I hang out with people who are grown ups and are chronologically my own age. For instance, I had Happy Hour tonight with my pals Valerie and Lana, and my maturity totes got pwnd.
I spent the first 20 minutes or so complaining about Facebook and Cougar Town, so we were off to a smashing start.
After our first glass of wine, Val commented to the server that she wanted a different type for the 2nd glass because there was sediment in her first. I was all "What is this, Prom in France!? Pound that!" But then I noticed what she was talking about at the bottom of her glass and went "OH. GNARLY. See, that's why I love PBR." Yeah...so mature.
When Valerie mentioned that she had flown to LA to see her boyf for the New Year, I wanted to be all "Wait, you were on a plane ALONE?! Weren't you TOTALLY freaked out!?" But I kept it together long enough to regale them both with stories about how I once flew alone and played Bejeweled the WHOLE TIME.
Meanwhile, Lana is like 100 months pregnant and couldn't look more stunning or be more put-together. Her clothes matched, her hair was done and from what I could tell, she had totally showered that day, which puts her LEAPS AND BOUNDS ahead of me. She never complained or made jokes about whether giving birth was like pooping or not, and she was just a normal, mature human being.
Oh! THEN! We went back to Lana's brand new house - WHICH SHE AND HER HUBBY OWN - and I felt about thissmall. Her house ruled so hard. It reminded me of the house I grew up in. I was all "OMG, you could totally hide in all these nooks and crannies!" And they were all "Pharon...get out of that cranny." The two of them chatted about load-bearing walls and lighting concepts while I tried my darndest to stay out of all the nooks. I was just a onesie away from being a troublesome toddler. Maybe it was good practice for Lana and her husband...you know, show them in advance which areas they'd need to childproof/Pharonproof.
I love these girls dearly. I think they are brilliant and interesting and fun and mature and successful and hilarious and awesome and I super love hanging out with them. However, I mentioned at one point tonight, as they discussed their mutual disinterest in carbs and sugar and TV, that I was confused as to how they could be friends with me, while I shoved another piece of bread and mozzarella in my mouth and looked up the episode guide for the Walking Dead. They laughed and reassured me that I was a good time, but deep down, I suspect that I'm some sort of community service project for them. Except then I told them about Reddit, and totally ruled everything.