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As kids we had a lot of bad habits. Biting our nails. Slurping our drinks. The nostril pick ‘n flick. Some freaks even sucked their thumbs past preschool. But now we’re older, we’re mature, and though we’ve outgrown our childish habits, new demons have emerged.
Putting things off until the last minute just makes the most sense, right? Wrong. Time and time again I’m guilty of pulling the old, “I’ll get to it tomorrow,” then scrambling to complete whatever painful task I was avoiding. When it was studying, I would put it off until the night before, rationalizing that the closer I studied to the test the more information I would retain and recall, leading me to countless all-nighters and dangerously high heart rates after binging on uppers.
Now you’re so exhausted after a long day at work, even basic things like laundry gets thrown into the “I’ll wake up extra early to take care of it,” pile. No clean underwear? Go commando, kick your feet up on your desk (boss’ absence permitting) and let it breathe. Procrastinating never felt so good.
2. Indulging in Tobacco Products
In college it was just the typical, “I smoke when I drink” line. You’d tell your judgmental friends, “Look I can quit after college. Back off, bro,” then inhale back-to-back Camel Lights. Now somehow it’s two years later and not only are you smoking smiths like a chimney on your commute to work, but you’re secretly packing your lower gums with a little lip sauce when your boss is out of the office.
You’ve gone from term papers stressing you out, to real-life work stressing you out and now you can’t seem to find a good enough reason to put down the vice that gets you through the day. After a long week maybe you just want to floor it out of the office parking lot, roll down your window, rip a heater and relax. I get it.
I’ll never forget the first time I heard the F-bomb. It was recess, fifth grade, outside on the asphalt battlefield AKA four-square court. Someone spiked the ball in a fit of rage and the next thing I heard was, “Mother FUCKER!” I was equal parts shocked and obsessed. That moment I knew the big F and I were going to have a sweet, harmonious relationship for years to come.
Sure, I try to watch my language, but it’s increasingly hard when every few minutes I have to suppress the urge to call someone a “Limp-dick-taint-licking-motherfucker.” It just feels so good to really zing someone with the extra oomph that comes with a curse word thrown into the mix.
4. Laughing at Bathroom Humor
Remember in grade school when the teacher would be scribbling unreadable nonsense on the overhead projector, then someone’s flatulence would cut through the dead silent classroom like a bat-fart out of hell? You’d try to hold in your giggles, but eventually it would become too much, and you’d burst out in hysterics, looking around to identify and shame the culprit.
Now, you sit at your cube, holding in all offensive body noises until the clock strikes five and you can waddle to your car and release in peace because you’re an adult, and adults have manners. But there’s always the case of the guy who indulged a little too much on Taco Tuesday and accidentally belches hot death loudly around you and your clan of cube mates. Sure, you could continue plugging away at your excel sheet and pretend like nothing happened, but somehow you can’t muster up the self-control to keep from laughing and telling the burp-offender what a sick bastard he is.
5. Drinking in Excess
I fear this may be a habit I am never able to break free from. Will I wind up a raging alcoholic? Am I too far gone? Can someone get Dr. Drew in here to sort my life out?
Now that we’re productive members of society it’s no longer socially acceptable to blackout on a Tuesday. Fine, I get it. But what about on Friday? Saturday? The 48ish hours you are free of your coworkers should be used exclusively to get as belligerent as possible to forget the fact you are a glorified paper pusher with a Masters Degree.
Chances are I won’t give up too much anytime soon. I’ll continue putting things off, stressing myself out, abusing mind-altering substances to cope, cursing myself out in the aftermath and holding onto whatever immaturity I have left. After all, technically you’re not really an adult until 30, right?