The true sign of adulthood is not what you might think. The official end of adolescence does not come with the purchase of a scratch card, enlistment in the army or a newborn babe. The moment one becomes an adult is actually the moment one properly cleans up their own vomit at their own will. No thirteen year olds whose parents forced them to do it are allowed into the adult club. Also, no half-assery allowed in the adult club; we're talking without a trace cleaning. Strategically placed hats to hide your vomit are no good.
True adults do not let their parents, or their friends or movie theatre ushers clean up their vomit. Adults know where the carpet cleaner is and although they may be afraid to do so, they summon the courage to get in there and put in as much elbow grease as is necessary to remove offending intestinal grease.
Of course there is the argument that adults know their limits and should prevent unfortunate vomit instances. But lets be real here, that is just an old wives' tale. Adults can puke just as good as any Malibu-guzzling tween and we all know it. The difference is the tween lies and cheats and never goes near that shit after its been heaved up, whereas the adult swallows their pride (along with the remainder of last night's dinner) and goes for the rubber gloves.
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