I have a problem with being an adult. I just constantly do shit that is childish. Not even childish in the pejorative sense but rather just shit children do. But always with some preternatural baby-woman touch. I drink chocolate milk in individual boxes, but always with a cigarette. I like running around toy stores and playing with all the goodies, but usually I’m drunk. I love watching Nick Jr. but it’s mostly post-coital. Basically, I’m normal.But, a few weeks ago I took my immaturity to a new and nerdy level. I was google image searching “Pebbles,” my Flintstonian namesake, and I came across something wonderful: internet coloring books. Doppppppppppppeeeenesss. It seems obvious when you think about it but somehow, it just never occurred to me that scanning coloring book pages and then putting them on the ol’intranet for all to see and use, free of cost, minus your paper and coloring implements of choice, is brilliant. Not only did I find Pebbles, Bam Bam, Fred, Dino, Barney and Wilma but Ariel, Jasmine, Belle, Tender Heart, Sunshine and Secret Bears, Hello Kitty, Barbie, Garfield, Scooby Doo, Lady, and even, the Tramp, just to name a few. Since I had a long bus ride in my near future, I printed out a slew of the boring outlines and searched my apartment for something to color with. I figured I might find an old tin full of 12 or so mismatched colored pencils of varying lengths and sharpness. But lo and behold, behind all of my crumpled ConEd bills and my 1989 OG, busted ass Game Boy, which lives, oddly enough, in an old Balenciaga wallet bag (welcome to the baby-woman-ness that is my life), was a pristine box of 64 Crayolas. Seemingly untouched, I thought they had been left there by a kind crayon fairy, or a particularly large and disgruntled cockroach artist, rebuffed by the other waterbugs for his childlike love of colored wax you can draw with.

Either way, I was prepared. I had all the supplies I needed to embark on my coloring crusade. I popped down in my New Jersey Transit seat and whipped out the goods. At first, my color choices were tentative; should I make Ariel’s hair red and her seashells purple, like they’re supposed to be? Like Disney says they should be? I guess… They created her, so they must be right. I soon discovered that this needless slavery to “the facts” was the very lame, certainly conformist, adult part of me coming through in asupposedly carefree activity intended for those under 10. Finally, harnessing the sailor mouthed tot inside me, I said, “fuck it.” Ariel should have a tri-colored, shades of purple top, very 70s of her, and multi-tonal hair. Jasmine should floss purple and silver zebra stripes and Betty and Wilma should rock the fuck out of their hyper colored stone age gear. Why the fuck was Wilma’s dress plain ass white, anyway? Cerulean, asparagus, robin’s egg blue, burnt sienna, these were my tools to make the changes I wanted. And I jammed out with my clam out. I colored like a champ for three fucking hours and then, that night, I secretly colored some more before I went to sleep. And let me tell you, little known fact, Cinderella, not supposed to be a blonde. She looks a whole hell of a lot better as like a medium brunette. And green is way better for her complection than blue. Real talk.

Now if you excuse me, I’m gonna go grab a Juicy Juice and vivid tangerine and see what Snow White looks like as a gingey.