I am not a kid.
I really am not.
I may be a bit immature and I may find it real funny to look at videos where guys get hit in the nuts.
And I may also find it ridiculously pleasurable to eat ice cream in a cone.
And I may still face trouble in removing a t-shirt over me head.
And I could possibly have difficulty in balancing myself when getting up from a seated position.
And I may think that doing pelvic thrusts aka Ace Ventura is an appropriate method of reflecting joy.
And it could be true that swings hold an unhealthy control over me head.
And it has been said by some that I should no longer walk around in shorts and a t-shirt to places which are a bit uppity by nature.
And I should really not be sharing my ambitions to have the most diverse GI Joe collection eva!
And those WWF trump cards should no longer be kept in the drawer where they are removed now and then and played with an imaginary friend.
And I could most definitely try and tone down the impulse to burp loudly while chatting on the phone.
And admittedly, I should learn to resist the impulse to chase flies and try to catch them with my mouth.
But the truth remains.
A child, I most definitely am not.
Go fuck yourself.
A Dilli Chick Moment is what happens when your brain suddenly freezes and you say/do something so incredibly stupid that you wonder whether your forefathers were retards of the highest order.
It can happen to anyone.
It can happen at any time.