Attempts at adulthood

I bought a new cell phone and naturally got a new number. Most of you who know me know that I average about 3-4 cell phones a year and with each cell phone comes a new number. So, what makes this time so different?

Well the key factor here is that I actually signed a two year contract for a cell phone. Sadly, this is probably the most adult decision I have ever made. I have been a prepaid phone user for far too long. Naturally, when I signed this contract I had a small panic attack and died a little on the inside.

My point is, I am making my way towards becoming a functional adult in this crazy mixed up world. One small step for my phone bill, one giant leap for my personal development.

A lot of you are probably thinking, "Dis bitch for real? It's just a cell phone..." But trust me, at this point in my nearly 24 years of life I am way behind where I probably should be. And don't give me that "you're fine, you are who you are, yolo" peace loving bull shit.

I just felt the need to explain myself and make everyone aware of why my cell phone number changes so much. In case you were thinking I was a drug dealer or running from the law...well, I am really not that interesting. I just have Cellular ADHD and severe commitment issues.

Moving. On. Up.

Oh...what a night!

Last night I hung out with my new favorite person Michaella. To no ones surprise, shit got obnoxious.

The highlights:

Helping a Dominican girl learn English. How, you ask? By having her watch Baby Mama with subtitles. Great success.

Fixing the curls in a strangers handle bar mustache at the bar like the freaking mustache whisperer that I am.

Attempting to heat up a can of soup by putting the sealed can under hot running water and then realizing I don't own a can opener.

Waking up this morning to a text I had apparently typed to Stephanie that read "Not until Rob Schneider ties his shoes" and never sent.

Long story short, we are freaking awesome.  

Oh hey, Elliot Stabler!

Today some awkward teenager came in to the gallery and tried really hard to put the moves on me.

"You're beard is way hot, I wish I could grow one!"

"That piercing is so cute on you!"

"What are you doing after work?"

Three of my favorite quotes.

Don't get me wrong, I am not saying I was too cute for the kid, but he was no older than 16. I am not about to end up on some sort of list and spend the rest of my life having to introduce myself to everyone on my block everytime I move.

Sorry kid, not this time. But thanks for the boost to my ego!

Are you real?!

The other day I was working at the gallery. You know, selling paintings and feeling superior in general.

Then, out of no where in walks an angel. At first I thought to myself "Holy fuck Cody! Are you dead?! Is this heaven?! IF THIS IS HEAVEN WHY AM I STILL ON MACKINAC FUCKING ISLAND?!"

But no, I was not dead. The angel was real.

My little angel was a chubby little girl sporting a fake mustache with a toy gun across her back.

When I said hello, she stuck her hand out. Naturally I took hold to shake her hand and little did I know she had a toy zapper in her palm to shock people. I yelped and she pulled out a rock candy, popped it in her mouth and skipped away laughing.

She was perfection.

She was my hero.

I want to be her when I grow up.

Cody vs Natural Selection

This morning while I was still sleeping the fire alarm in our house went off. Not just the smoke detector, the giant alarm that rattles the entire house. Naturally my first reaction was to be annoyed that it woke me up.

I imagine most people would jump out of bed and figure out where the fire was then vacate the building in a neat and orderly fashion.

My reaction however, was to roll over and look outside to decide that if it came down to it I could jump out my second story window and most likely survive, then fell back asleep.

Thankfully I woke up a few hours later to find that the house had not burned down and that my beard was in no way charred. Phew.

So I learned that in any sort of emergency or epidemic I am certainly going to die if it happens while I am sleeping. 

Cherry Snow Cones

We currently have a school group in house and I am sitting here speculating many things about these kids.

For example, what are they doing with so many buckets of ice? I mean, they are like 8 years old so I assume they are not trying to keep their beer cold, none of them seem smart enough to perform any sort of operation to remove someone’s kidney and none of them seem athletic enough for a pulled muscle. So, I have ruled out the option that they are filling a bath tub with ice. Maybe one of them is running an under ground snow cone franchise from his hotel room and is cutting anyone who brings him a bucket of ice a small portion of his profit. If that’s the case, some one better be bringing me a damn snow cone. Cherry please.

Another thing, so far they have clogged like five toilets. How? These kids are like four feet tall and can’t weigh more than like sixty pounds. The toilets in our hotel could probably flush the better part of a discarded baby. So, what are these kids being fed that is causing them to clog so many toilets….and does it have anything to do with ice?! 

The presence of these children has raised more questions than I could have ever anticipated. However, I’m not sure I actually want answers. Unlike Jane Goodall, I am perfectly fine not knowing if it allows me to avoid being hit in the face with a turd or having to run for my life from some sugar crazed fourth graders out for blood (in my head the under ground snow cone business among Americas youth is very cut throat).

My Face: The Cat Feast

The other day I realized how and why I am single.

The answer? Texting.

When conversing on the phone or in person I can do a much better job of keeping my shit together and acting normal.

When texting I do the exact opposite. I become 2% self control and 98% special olympics. It is obviously worse when I am drinking and lose track of a few chromosomes. For example:

Stupid beer always taking over my brain.