The other day I took a life-changing test on facebook. Oh come on, stop dissing facebook tests, how else would I know what kind of appliance I am (blender) or what kind of car I am (Volvo station wagon)?
At any rate, this particular test was ‘Guess Who I Am’, and it authentically and scientifically reveals who you really are.
Turns out I am a male in my late teens.
That means I’m sick, man. So sick. No, no, I feel perfectly well, thank you, I’m just sick. You see . . . oh never mind.
Thing is, a teen boy gig is totally cray. I mean, come on, a teenage boy? How easy is that? Sure I’m a noob at it, but how long can it really take to figure out how to say ‘sick’ several times in a paragraph, find baggy pants 20 times too large, and scout out a tube of acne cream?
Pants low as they go, yo
Wait, I’m going to need me a board. And thinking about those skate parks, maybe some insurance.
Best-up about this gig is that I no longer have to wear out my face smiling all the time. I just have to don a righteous scowl and voila, I’m set for the day.
I don’t need any scrilla, either, because my mains will back me hundo p, they’ll do me a solid. If they don’t, that’s okay too, because hey, I’m a teenage boy. I’ve got my XXXXXXXXXX large pants, my scowl and my board. What else do I even need, in this best of all possible worlds? Oh yeah, the acne cream. If she were still alive, my moms could maybe give me some scrilla. Maybe she wouldn’t, though, because she’d be all, like, “Yo, get outta my face, bro”, or something.
Now my mains, well, I’m kinda worried there. I’m wondering how they’re going to handle the new me. Maybe there’ll be some derps in the mix who’ll be chirpin’ at me, but hey, I’ll moss. And if there’s some serious haters, well, I’ll just dip.
Props to my homie
You know, I think I can pull this off without an epic fail. Hell, unlike my new yute friends, I don’t even have to worry about POS while I type this, although a certain amount of rolling-over-in-grave is probably happening. Yo, Moms? Pops? You’ve been pwned.
It’s the bomb diggity, man. Now I gotta bounce, yo.
Read more Old as dirt. Twice as gritty. articles
The views expressed are strictly those of the author and not necessarily those of Castanet. Castanet presents its columns "as is" and does not warrant the contents.
- Said no one ever Jul 27
- The bubble burst Jul 13
- Hold on, are you sure? Jun 29
- Happy-o-rama Jun 15
- Peeve-o-rama Jun 1
- Greenway wars May 18
- A real mother of a day May 9
- The letter May 4
For more stories from Jo, please visit the Old as Dirt. Twice as Gritty. archive
(Click for RSS instructions.)