Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Go forth – and be awesome.

Being cool is practically a full time job. Sometimes the pressure just makes you want to cancel all your plans, buy a Snickers bar at the nearest convenience store, and roll up in your comforter until you’re a giant fucking puffy burrito of lame.

Don’t do it, my friend. You don’t need sleep, hydration, or space! This is the year you’re going to show everyone just how damn awesome you are!

Okay, fine, let’s back up. How the hell is “awesome” accomplished? Well, think of someone you know who you are always down to hang out with – no, not your lover – and figure out why that is. Chances are, they aren’t meek, flaky, or idiotic. Am I right? Are they funny, eccentric, energetic and up to the task? Yes? They’ll hang out until 4 in the morning on a week night? They’ve traveled? They enjoy cocktails and cupcakes, or have a weird pet? They think pirates are awesome, so they actually sail on a regular basis (instead of just drooling over Johnny Depp)? They love music, so they actually perform in clubs, cafes, etc? They enjoy writing – so they got their shit published?

Being cool is about having the chops to back up what comes out of your mouth. Anyone can claim anything (“oh emm geee, I just lurve Irish bands! Name one? Uhmm, you know, that one that…errr….”) but it takes a cool fucking person to talk from experience, rather than some vague desire.

So here you go. Britt’s guide to cool:

Don’t be throwing pity parties. Man, nothing brings me down more than having to listen to you whine about how your mom isn’t nice to you and your thousand-year-old great grandma might pass away soon while I’m trying to get fucked up on vodka. Save that for your therapist. There are a billion people out there who are much, much worse off than some suburban 20-something – especially one whose parents provide an allowance and pay rent on an apartment so their precious child can live “on their own” while attending community college.

Don’t wimp out. Oh, so, you’ve been talking about how awesome it would be to go to France for, like, the past year and a half – but now that we’re booking the tickets you think it’s a little dangerous and expensive and far from home? Screw you. We’re gonna have a helluva time tappin’ French ass and drinking champagne in the Eiffel Tower while you sit on your mom’s couch watching reruns of The Office. Oh, you can’t come out to the going away party either? Your mom doesn’t want you out that late? Dude, I never want to see your ugly momma’s boy face ever again.

Have an original thought once in awhile. Okay, you’ve been saying “That’s great!” and “You’re so funny!” for an hour and a half, and not once have you produced anything that makes me want to say the same back to you. If life were Facebook, you’d be the idiot going around posting one word comments on everyone’s statuses – but never updating your own. Yes, I know I’m witty, charming, and hilarious – but what the fuck are you?! Are there any hopes, dreams, or fun anecdotes in that cavernous noggin of yours? No? Oh, you think I’m being funny and sarcastic? No. No, I’m not. You really do suck.

Realize that you’re not surgically attached to your boy/girlfriend. Hey, man. It’s cool that you brought your ball ‘n chain to the bowling tournament – I mean, she doesn’t know anyone here, or even like bowling, but – oh, okay, you’re not going to bowl now? You’re going to sit in the corner and hold her hand? Wait dude, you’re our fucking star player! Can’t she just watch you play? Oh, I see, she gets upset when you ignore her, and you want to get laid tonight. She couldn’t hang out with her friends? Oh, okay, she abandoned them all when you two got together? You guys are the center of each other’s universes? You’re a douche bag.

Don’t try to relate to shit you know nothing about – it makes you seem stupid. Oh, yeah, sky diving was awesome – I just needed something to blow off some steam after that astrophysics final. Oh, you know what I mean? Oh – yeah, umm – I’m glad you got yourself a Wienerschnitzel chili dog. Good, good, I’m happy that it made you feel better about flunking your ceramics class. Wait, what the fuck? How do flunk a ceramics class? You just made bongs the whole semester? Where do you go to college – oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you are a 25 year-old high school student. Yeah, no, that’s astrology you’re talking about. No, astronomy is different. But, yeah, sure dude, we’re totally going through the same thing.

Take care of yourself. So – let me get this straight. You’ve got serious confidence issues that stem from men not hitting on you at the bar. Sweetie, maybe that’s because your teeth are a permanent yellow color and you look like you haven’t brushed your hair in a month. Oh yeah, and yesterday’s eyeliner is smudged underneath your eyelids. Oh, that’s today’s makeup? You wanted it to look like that? Your hair is just like that “naturally”? Yeah, that’s why the rest of us use fucking straighteners, curling irons, and blow dryers. Oh, okay, you don’t like that stuff. Well, then, stop fucking crying. It’s just not going to happen – you ever hear of having to work for what you want? Yeah, well, it applies to catching a man too.

Handle your shit. What do you mean, can I spot you on the rent? You lost your cell phone? You borrowed my favorite dress without asking and ripped it, but you don’t know the name of a seamstress? Fucking google that shit. Balance your check book, don’t leave your phone at bars! Life is not this hard. Rent is the same every month. I am not responsible for you blowing all your cash on blow. Wait, you blew it on Blu-ray disks? We don’t even have a Blu-ray player! You’re retarded. It sucks that I have to be so much smarter and more prepared just to make up for your complete lack of common sense.

Well, there you have it. A few pointers for being awesome.

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