Worst . . . generation . . . ever

I remember feeling a tangible pang the day someone told me I was too young to be part of Generation X. I suppose I'm technically part of Generation Y, a little on the old side, but that always seemed like an also-ran term, like all the second-rate sociologists who didn't catch the GenX train decided to go one step down the slacker food chain. They made us seem like GenX's adoring and naive younger sibling, which I guess we [I] are [am]. So, in place of Wynona Rider and Ethan Hawke, so cool and carelessly groomed, prematurely jaded and preternaturally hunky, who are we but Macaulay Culkin and--I dunno--Kirsten Dunst? Downright lameasses, a group I want no part of.

But alas I am part of it, and Time, a magazine I loathe, has forced me to admit it.

In the upcoming issue, GenY is effectively rent asunder, split into those of us who are old enough to buy cigarettes and those of us forced to steal them from our parents. The article states, however, that while the 18-25 year-old segment of this budding generation may be old enough to legally buy cigs and booze, we'll probably continue stealing those things from our parents anyway because most of us haven't moved out yet, preferring instead to shirk responsibility and flounder in dead end jobs.

I thought I was going my own way on this, but we're so big we've been named. They're calling us twixters, a seemingly odd mish-mash of candy bay and licorice brand names that actually derives from betwixt, a word that would get you beaten up where I come from. Twixters, it seems, are no longer the economically depressed victims of recession that our grunge forbears were, but a "distinct and separate life stage, a strange, transitional never-never land between adolescence and adulthood in which people in their 20s stall for a few extra years."

This phenomenon has analogues in Canada and much of Europe as well, and while the ostensible excuses vary from country to country, the underlying factor cuts across cultural divides. Those who retreat back to the nest are still promiscuous and irresponsible parasites contaminating an already thin gene pool like GenXers, but now our numbers are great enough to be considered representative of a whole crappy generation.

But parents looking for a silver lining in spending their golden years helping offspring dodge creditors don't have to look far. Dr. Jeffrey Arnett says that, in not wearing pants most days, I'm actually doing "important work to get [myself] ready for adulthood." That's true. Today an egg I cooked--by myself--fell on the ground. After careful consideration, I decided not to eat it. I just left it there for my mom's Cairn Terrier to take care of. In that simple non-action, I avoided cross-contamination like the Lysol Anti-Bacterial woman said, and I also did a little something they call delegating duty; that's a trait of good management.

Also since coming home, I've taught the dog to selectively cull my unwieldy hentai collection and spongebathe me as needed. I'll be using him as a reference next time I apply at the multiplex. They're going to fire the kid with cystic fibrosis, I can feel it.

Related: I just filed for deferment of my Stafford Loan.