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Young at Heart

July 14, 2009

You know how people say, “Oh, I’m 65, but I’m young at heart?” It always makes me wonder if they are serious and what that even means. Do they go out drinking with a fake ID? Do they TP their neighbors houses? Or maybe tape people’s butt cheeks together? And if they are so young at heart, why do they eat dinner at 4:30 and have plastic covered furniture?

Don’t get me wrong, when I get old, I’m gonna be young at heart. But I’m gonna be young at heart like the Golden Girls. The facebook quiz told me I’d be Sophia, so I’m going to stick with that. And hopefully my friends will all live long enough to fall into their respective roles as Blanche, Rose and Dorothy (note to self: find a scowling, slightly lesbian friend to play be Dorothy).

You know who you are. Thank you for bein’ a friend (if you die though,  you’ll be replaced).

Thank goodness I look good in teal.

Thank goodness I look good in teal.

Anyway, what got me thinking about this was the fact that I consider myself “young at heart” even though I’m not really that old. Maybe you’d call it, holding onto my child-like innocence? Maybe you’d call it, acting like an idiot?

Either way, I’d like to think it is a contributing factor in the case of me getting carded to get into RATED R movies, telemarketers asking me if they can speak to my mommy and the general scrutiny of my ID at any and every place every place outside of TN in which I try to buy alcohol.

You’re wrong! The scrutiny is not a result of my DL photo making me look like an Arab taxi driver/serial killer. Shhhhhh

Ted Bundy ain’t got shit on me.

Right, young at heart. It’s a perfect guise to draw in the innocent victims.


Anyway, the whole reason I started this post is because…drum roll please…

Why do I keep using creepy baby photos?

Why do I keep using creepy baby photos?


And they’re having a big celebration. I know some people hate Spongebob or think watching cartoons is childish and immature. You know what I call those people?

Stupid dummy faces.

Just because I watch Spongebob, own a Spongebob pillow case, color in my Spongebob coloring book and am considering recording all 10 new episodes premiering this weekend, doesn’t make me childish or immature.

It makes me fun and awesome. Or at the very least, entertaining.



How many other people do you know who will color you a picture for your birthday (and leave the other side un-colored so the present is interactive)? Or tell you corny jokes when you’re crying? Or race you on shopping carts in the store? Or blast Spice Girls until you sing along because I know you know all the words?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

For me, cartoons & coloring are the much cheaper alternative to massages and “talking it out.” There’s nothing quite as therapeutic as coloring a person green, purple and orange and the sky green and the grass black and not having someone to tell you it’s wrong.

Seriously, try it.

And then mail me the picture. I’ll even put it up on my fridge.

One Comment
  1. July 15, 2009 1:04 am

    Coloring is fun, I draw things up when I’m bored although they’re never good. Spongebpb and Patrick are goodness.:)

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