Adult Swim

Adult swim. Two words that, during youthful days of imaginative play and endless hope, were as soul crushing as any you could ever dream up.

Have you ever accidentally stepped on a firefly, only to watch it crumble and sparkle as it dies it's elegant ass death? Fireflies, summer manifest in an insect: glorious, beautiful, free, shiny and short-lived.

Well, adult swim felt like someone was stepping on a firefly on purpose. And you were the firefly, crumbling beside your purple fun-noodle, glowing with the white-hot heat of rage.

Adults were always allowed in the pool, so why did they also get an appointed time where you weren't? Begrudgingly, you would pull yourself up the side of the pool, feeling the hot stones of the concrete sink into your palms, and scratching your knees against the pool's fiberglass side. Moping, you would drag your feet over to the patch of grass where your family had set up for the day, all the while tugging at your persistent bathing suit wedgie. Sorrowfully, you would sit down on your Little Mermaid towel and stare down at the pool full of adults with eyes of Pure Hatred.

And then, at some point, we all grow up (or at the very least, we age) and become part of the "adult swim" demographic. And, if you're anything like me, you're desperate to go take a dip in the public pool. But you're not so desperate that you would dare brave the throngs of small children in order to do so. And there are small children in mind-boggling numbers; they form sticky-fingered mobs, pee in the pool, and glare at you with Pure Hatred when it's time for "adult swim." It's frightening and unhygienic.

 What about if the pool has swim lanes, you might ask? Bitch. Please. Do I look like I want to exercise right now? It's 90-190 degrees outside, it might even be too much effort for me to get to the pool, let alone to get there and decide I'm going to swim 50 laps because HEALTH and WELLNESS. No. I want to float about at my leisure with a goddamn margarita in hand. I will also accept a pina colada. If I wanted to exercise, I'd dance around to some Wii Fitness game in my living room. With the blinds drawn, because I'm too fat from all those margaritas and all that time not doing lap swims. Neighbors do not want to see that.

So clearly, while I was driving around in my hoopty with no A/C, I started to think about "adult swim." I also started to hallucinate because HOLY GOD it gets hot out here on the Atlantic Seaboard, and I am a Bay Area girl who can only tolerate temperatures up to around 80 degrees before slipping into a coma.

Where was I ? Ah yes... Adult swim is a metaphor for the entire crap-ass situation we call adulthood. I mean, some people call it that. I don't. I call it: pretending to have my shit together, despite not even knowing what that means. The adult world is like this massive pool, spanning continents, full of awesome stuff like: waterfalls, castles, legal prostitution, you name it! And we, the adults of the world, only get a few measly minutes of "adult swim" time in that pool. The rest of the time, we're responsible for making sure the pool stays clean, feeding the inhabitants of the pool (self included), and paying all the goddamn water bills for the pool.

When you're a kid, life is all about riding atop ice cream clouds on sugar ponies, and even when life sucks: it's still your time to swim, 90% of the time. As an adult, your moments of joy are meted out to you in small doses. You work 40, 50, 60 hours a week and your reward? 30 minutes of "adult swim" (e.g.: watching the Real Housewives of Bombay Beach cook meth on their camping stoves). Also: hemorrhoids. So the truth is, ADULT SWIM SUCKS as a kid, and it sucks as an adult. No matter what age you are, you feel like you're a sparkly little lightning bug being stepped on by a a thousand feet.

SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS HOLY.

What I wouldn't give right now for 10 delicious tacos and a private pool/cabana.

But I'm in Baltimore, so I'll have to settle for some crappy tacos and my cat-hair-covered couch.