I've reached the point in my life where I'm starting to worry about the future: Jobs, bills, money, apartments, girlfriends, wives, girlfriends' wives, dandelions. It's enough to drive you insane. What I'm really worried about, I guess, is what I'm going to be when I grow up. I know what I say I'm going to be, and what I'm majoring in at college, but that doesn't seem to have much to do with anything.
I've been worrying about this so much that I've taken my sixth grade guidance counselor's advice and compiled my dream list of what I want to be. She's probably dead now, if it's true what they say about cigarettes and water bottles full of vodka, but I'm sure she's enjoying this from her uncomfortable chair in the great teachers' lounge in the sky (better known as Secondhand Smoke City). I thought many people might be having similar quarter-life crises, or one-third-life crises if they're Irish. So with no further ado, or at least limited ado, I present my list of dream jobs:
Presently it's taken, but what a job. Not only are you fighting crime, but you're getting laid all the fucking time. Sure, that MJ Watson upside-down kiss in the rain was enough to give Stephen Hawking an erection, but I'd rather be Batman any day. He's the only one whose secret identity actually makes him more desirable to the comic book ladies than his badass superhero persona. Bruce Wayne is rich, famous, and a man more secure with his sexuality might even say he's handsome. Plus, imagine picking up high school girls in the Batmobile. High school girls love the Batmobile.
Professional Baseball Player
I maintained to everyone that I was someday going to be a major league baseball player up until I turned 19, five years after I gave up little league, three years after I gave up stickball, and one year after I gave up leaving my house. I still watch a lot of baseball, and I think if I had any talent at all, I would be a hell of a left fielder. Why left field? Because stop asking so many fucking questions, that's why.
I'm still holding onto a thread of hope that at 21, I'm still just a late bloomer, and there's more coming my way. If so, I will be the greatest actor the porn world has ever seen. If not, I will continue to be the greatest customer the porn world has ever seen. Every teenage kid considers a career in porn at some point, but many fail to think of the potential negative consequences, including" okay, I can't think of any. I guess AIDS? I don't even think that's a real issue anymore. Damn you, puberty, why must you be so frugal?
Again, when you're like 14 and you think it's all champagne and roses down there, this sounds glorious. Then your parents get DSL and you figure out what's up, only hours later dropping your Bio class and renouncing your faith in a God that could create such a gross, oozy flapperdapperdoodle.
I've never wanted to be Adam Sandler, but after coming up with that "flapperdapperdoodle" word, I thought of how easy it'd be. He just makes up gibberish and he's like a billionaire. Schnappywappydeeeeee! It takes no effort at all. Flingflangflooooom! Skaboobityboo!
All kids want to be astronauts at some point, and it's not just for the bureaucratic nightmares and potential for a fiery death. It's because Rocketman is a great song. That "ground control to Major Tom" song, that's a great fucking song too. Is that one even about space? Okay, so what I'm saying here is that you go through some minor training, get an awesome spacesuit, play Rocketman the whole week before you leave, and you're set. Your emotions are fulfilled by the song, your balls are stroked by chicks whose emotions are fulfilled by the song, and you get to push a lot of buttons in the meantime. What could go wrong? Don't answer that.
So basically my life has been a waste. Everything I've ever wanted to be, including tall, I've failed at. I'm destined to die alone, unhappy and weeping in some Canadian motel room, ethnic porn that I was going to deny ordering in the morning blaring on the nailed-down television. I'm not going to be a gynecologist, porn actor, baseball player, Adam Sandler, or Batman, and unless things change, even the simple task of going to space seems out of reach. At least I decided on two safe, reliable fallback majors. Thanks, Film and Creative Writing. At least you weren't Theatre.
For more information on the life and times of Thornton Papadopoulos, please consult PunchPanda.com.