I, myself, was drawn towards some putty today while shopping at Wal-Mart, and though it took 10 minutes and 3 round trips around the store so I could casually come across the putty a few more times, I came to the decision to not buy it. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS? I am becoming an adult.
I could easily have nabbed that silly putty, swiped my debit card, and no one would have known about it, except me and my precious putty-wutty. I would have gone back to my dorm, shown it around its new home, stretched it, popped it, pressed it onto newspapers, kissed it, licked it, put it in my pants...and no one would have ever had the slightest clue that my hobbies include touching my putty.
But this time was different. This time, I refrained from touching my putty and instead touched a banana, which is now sitting in my kitchen.
Though the brisk walk from the silly putty was emotionally toilsome, since perhaps I was never to see that putty again, or its silliness for that matter, it caused me to wonder...am I the only individual my age with this problem? Am I bread outside of the breadbox? A crack whore in a nunnery? That one peanut who caused all the almond companies to put on their almond containers, "may contain peanuts?" Surely it isn't so! I could not possibly be the only person to randomly possess sentimental feelings toward material objects I happen to glance at while strolling through the aisles of Wal-Mart.
Am I the only one who has haphazardly bought the soundtrack to Coneheads? Surely it isn't so!
Am I the only one who has impulsively purchased Batman trading cards from the '90's? Surely it isn't so!
Am I the only one who has unconsciously paid for a deck of Playboy cards? Now I know that isn't so.
College is a malicious place for those of us with tight budgets. If we must buy food and water for ourselves, how can we possibly purchase the things we thrive on for survival? How can we possibly purchase items such as mood rings! We need to know our mood, don't we? Or toe socks! Our phalanges need to stay warm, don't they? Or fanny packs! History tends to repeat itself, doesn't it? How can we possibly go day to day without any new things? Without anything to look at without having to shove it in our mouths? Or anything to play with without having to guzzle it down our throats? I'm sick of it, I tell ya, sick of it! I want to be able to go to Walgreens and buy a leopard-printed Snuggie! I want to feel guilt-free when I charge an orange-haired troll doll on my card! I want to sense no shame in purchasing a pair of wooden shoes just for the sake of owning some damn wooden shoes! Cause they're awesome!
But I'm an adult. I'm an adult. I'm an adult. Adults don't need fanny packs to put their things in. Adults need briefcases to put their things in. Adults don't need trolls to play with. Adults need vibrators to play with. Adults don't need wooden shoes to wear out. Adults need spouses to wear out. I'm an adult. I'm an adult. I'm an adult.
While repeating this mantra, I decided to research the history of silly putty. It was accidentally invented in 1943 by an engineer named James Wright while he was attempting to create a substitute for rubber during World War II yadda yadda yadda. But do you wanna know what else I found out? IT WAS A TOY FOR ADULTS BEFORE IT BECAME A TOY FOR CHILDREN.
I'll tell you one thing: screw adulthood; next time, I'm goin' with the silly putty.