adult life.

I may or may not be back, writing again. This time it'll be less whingy-exam-time-teenager and more like the time I worked for a website but got fired because my boyfriend at the time was a giant boring chasm of creativity, or because I got too distracted watching people auto-tune the news on YouTube. One of those.

I'm kinda just going to throw this blog at the wall and see if it sticks.

To prove that I'm an adult now, and therefore capable of exploring subject matter outside high school and artistic pictures of nipples I shall allow you to be privy to the deep, adult conversations I have with my boyfriend who, as I write this is asleep in a book with his arms crossed.

Before I write this, you should understand that he has a spooky, kid-from-the-shining-like insight into my mind, he knows when I'm too afraid to poop in other peoples houses, he knows when I'm going to eat all the caramel biscuits, and he has the uncanny ability to pick out exactly what I'm laughing at.

It begins here;

Me: *twitching* baaaaaaaayyyyyybeeeeeee, I need to peeeee!

Boyfriend: So? Go pee.

Me: I can't. Fred is here and I don't want to put pants on. (Fred is our room mate)

...

...

Can I pee in the bed?

Boyfriend: No. *trying to find a trace of humor in my expression* Noooooo. NO.

Me: I'll even go on my side. (because relationships are all about compromise, amirite?)

Here he ignored me for a while and when I eventually realized that I couldn't muster up the cruelty to nag him to carry me I turned back to my blogs.

After about five minutes of reading I was doing that silent sort of giggle that isn't supposed to disrupt anyone but shakes the whole bed and ends up in making sputtering snicker noises akin to a pig having rough sex with a horse.

Boyfriend: *barely glancing at the page* Are you laughing because somebody mentioned diarrhea?

There is really no limit to your entertainment about that, is there?

Me: *giggling* Its like the bacon of my humor (I often wonder if death is my only limit when it comes to the consumption of bacon). I could start a blog though...Would you read it?

Boyfriend: (trying to get back to his book) Maybe. I don't know. *sigh*

Me: I could call it "Why diarrhea is the bacon of my humor".

(after a few minutes of my obligingly staring at him in hopes of encouragement, and him patiently reading his book and clearly wishing I would just let it go my ADHD monster* got the better of me)

*trying to bring forth some sort of response*

We wouldn't be having this conversation if you let me pee in the bed!

After five solid minutes of twitching, sighing, tweeting and wriggling my feet I finally succumbed to nature, and the overall wish that when I grow old I will not be completely incontinent and I gracefully made my way to the loo. Because putting your pants on backwards and sniping 'FINE. Have it your way.' is graceful, in my world.

*I'm not being facetious, I really do have a behavioral disorder.