When I re-read posts from the dawn of Pye in the Face, it’s been so long ago now that it feels like someone else wrote them. Especially if I haven’t seen them since the day they were published. Today’s throwback made me laugh out loud. Hard. I had to share.
Gremlins make poor Exorcists. Funny stuff.
Back in 2005 I mused about growing older, bemoaned how long I’d been in the same Boston apartment and started facing the fact that at 31 it was time to grow up. At least a little. My first baby step was to redecorate my bedroom.
Let me just say what you’re all thinking – My bedroom looks like the Chinese curio shop in Gremlins, if it were managed by a 12-year-old homosexual.
Little did I know at that time the evil set of circumstances which was about to befall my immediate family. Almost five years on from when I first wrote this I now really know what it means to mature. And I suppose everyone’s reasons for eventually doing so differ from person to person. I was forced kicking and screaming into it nearly 20 years after I graduated from high school. You might have felt it hit you the moment you were handed your diploma. You might also be divorced now, never see your kids and work in a miserable middle management job which forces you to consider eating a gun every night by candlelight. So I’m comfortable with my former Peter Pan ways, Tink.
Read my full post about growing up and I hope you get a giggle.
