I'm trying very hard to be an adult, but it's super difficult. I laugh at dick and fart jokes. I say inappropriate things in mixed company. I have a wind-up toy animal army. And Legos. And children's space-themed bathroom accessories (the soap pump is a fucking glow-in-the-dark rocket ship!).
I will eavesdrop on stupid people having conversations so I can interrupt and correct them when they make inaccurate statements.
Movie adaptations of Nicholas Sparks' books give me hives. I hate grass. It smells weird and it makes me itchy. I like cats and kittens. Dogs are on a case by case basis. I like fish but they're horrible to cuddle with and no fun to pet. I like babies because they're not really people yet. I hate teenagers because they're all the worst parts of people mushed into a pimple-riddled, angst-fueled bag of asshole. I collect religious paraphernalia. And Onitsuka Tigers. And old (pre-1950s) medical books. I have a two foot tall pink Christmas tree. It has a penis wearing a Santa hat ornament. Because reasons.