You're too unique for me

I'm starting to notice that this blog as a running theme of "You're not as special as you think you are." Here's another post detailing that.

Remember high school? Of course you do! It was high school when that one thing happened. The one that scarred you for the rest of your life and made talking to girls damn near impossible for me. You. Impossible for you. Fuck you! Anyway, high school has this retarded tendency to make people stupid. "Shit, really?" Yeah! I know, right? But I mean really stupid. It's only getting worse.

Quick history lesson in Counterculture.
In the 60's and 70's we had these guys:

The 80's gave us those problematic punkers

The 90's is when things started getting really retarded. Now, I know that there could potentially (not very likely, but y'know.. Potentially) be some older readers who would argue "No, the hippies are the worst damn thing to ever happen ever." I would normally agree with that if it wasn't for the fact that my generation is the worst thing to happen. You want proof? Here's fucking proof.

I'm fighting the man by buying all my clothes at the mall!

"Counter"culture has only gotten worse since the new millennium. We now have more counterculture than we know what to do with in America. Hell, our entire culture is based on being counterculture. It's a mass madness so awful that not even the Dark Lord Cthulhu could have come up with it. In the year 2010 we have

Hey, it's okay. Don't cry, guy... Girl? Um.

And then we have the even worse hipster problem to worry about. Counter culture is a dumb idea. I've never had a decent encounter with someone from ANY of these "rebels." What does that mean? It means that we need to reset society. Humanity has become too stupid that not even Natural Selection can help us now. Here's a story.

I stood in line minding my own damn business. The night had been interesting so far and I was looking forward to the show I was about to see. Then I heard them. No! I thought. Not right now! Tonight could have been so good! Teenagers. Not just any ordinary teenagers, though. Of course not. By going to a certain musical I placed myself in a situation I should have been prepared for. Super rebellious goffik-emo-teenagers. Ever the optimist, I hoped that maybe they wouldn't be as bad as I expected.

"So yeah, I totally lied to my mom about where I was going to be tonight," said one.

Fuck.

"That's so cool, Raven," said another.

Fuck. Really?

"Yeah, I totally told my dad off tonight. He was all 'You need to watch your sister' and I was like 'Fuck you, Dad! I'm going to go no matter what you say!'" the third commented.

This is why abortion should be legal.

I can't remember for sure if I actually said it as loud as that or if I said it just loud enough for my brother to hear. I'm pretty sure I said it loud enough for everyone to hear. That would explain what these little shits said next.

"Y'know it'd be really cool if we each had psychic powers so we could hear what other people were thinking. But, y'know, like, limited so we can only hear each others' thoughts and not share them with anybody else."

Actual quote. Actual fucking quote because it's too damn retarded to make up. I don't remember much of what happened next. The next thing that I clearly remember is speeding down a dirt road with my brother going on and on about the gore that I seemed to be drenched in. I may or may not have killed three people that night. So, theoretically I should be on the run from the cops. But I'm not!

Wanna know why?

"Because you didn't actually do anything, you stupid fuck"

Wow. Killed all momentum. I had a really good joke running in my head about how if I actually had killed them it wouldn't have mattered because seriously everybody was getting sick of their stupid shit. But no. That joke is gone because you killed the momentum. Man, I wish I had psychic powers so that only certain people could hear my hilarious thoughts and nobody that I didn't want could get in because that'd be totally awesome right? Yeah, totally awesome. Totally! Cool. Hurhur.

Back to the story. After that little comment, I stood in complete shock. Had I seriously just heard that? Did somebody ACTUALLY say those words in that fucking order? After confirming that I had indeed heard the single most retarded sentence ever spoken by a human being, I figured that the madness would stop there. The hole went no further. Nobody on this plane of existence could go beyond that monument of stupid, right? The only way would be to take a retarded gothic-ized version of Alice's trip to Wonderland. And come on, nobody's stupid enough to do anything like th

FUCK!

"I can't wait to get inside. I saw on the website that they have these contact lenses like vampire and werewolf eyes. I'm totally gonna use my mom's debit card to get me a pair." Figures that I would stop carrying my knife the day that I needed it most. I'm not interested in taking another human's life or anything. I just wanted it to end my misery. I thought about snarking at them some more. My only defense when it comes to people like this is what passes for wit with me. I feared, though, that these people were far too dense for such tools to be effective. I sighed and took a step forward in line.

Once upon a time, I would swear to you that people like this didn't exist. All those stereotypes you heard about were just gross exaggerations. Caricatures, if you will. Then I met these people. I lost my will to live that day. Unfortunately, the Powers to Be has (have?) a cruel sense of humor and I didn't drop dead on the spot. If they wouldn't help, then I'd have to resort to gathering up enough will power that what I desired would manifest itself physically. My head didn't explode like I so desired. All right, thought I to myself. Maybe I can't destroy the thing that I'm using to create my will-power. I'll just destroy their heads with my psychic powers. Then I remembered psychic powers don't exist.

Pbbbbth!

At this point the average blogger would likely make fun of these kids for wanting to be vampires and/or werewolves. They would probably proceed to make a reference to Twilight and start making fun of that as well. Since I am not your average blogger, however, I will instead say, "Nnyeh, I am far too sophisticated and above such petty, obvious insults. Mm. Yes."

But seriously, guys. Fuck teenagers.

Another shitty post by

Mr. "Oh God, Why Do I Do This to Myself? Fuuuuuuu--" Sandwichman

HAHA! Rape! 2: Rape Harder, the Electric Boogaloo. Of rape.

I'm a pretty attentive person. I'm usually well aware of all my surroundings at all times. You never know when an insane woman from your past will decide to come bursting through the window with a flamethrower, ready to scorch you for scorning her.

It's typically why I avoid phonebooths

I try to defend myself by keeping my back to the wall. That way, I know nobody can come at me from behind. It's the first rule of being an Auror, after all. CONSTANT VIGILANCE. The strange looks I get whenever I'm in Target are better than having my stolen belt tied in a noose thrown around my neck. You just can't keep your hand at the level of your eyes all the time.

Well, the other night I was hanging out with my friend Mike. Mike is a good guy. Like any other filthy, no good, worthless Scotch-Irish nicotine-addicted drunk, he needed to get some cigarettes and I decided to accompany him. I'm just that good of a friend. We pulled up to the gas station and are sitting in his car for a few moments because he "wants to hear the end of this song, dammit!" I just shrugged it off and decided to stare at the people already inside the gas station. Man, I think, Those people are ugly. I'm glad I'm not so ugly. I don't even know what I would DO if I were so ugly! Hoho.

Beautiful.

Mike finally finished whatever the hell it was that he was doing and we went in. I paid no mind to the uggos sitting on the other side of the building. My good friend spent a few minutes discussing the intricacies of smoking cigarettes, the flavors and whatnot while I stared off into space. I'm much too sophisticated and attractive for such disgusting habits. And honestly, while I'm at it, I'm too smart to do something that damaging to my body. I would never do something like that. Ever.

I came back to reality to find Mike having completed his mission and was walking for the door. At that very moment, I got a better look at the people I had been staring at earlier. For some reason, something in my mind went "SHIT!" My conscious mind caught up with my unconscious and I also went "SHIT!"

Apparently she developed a hump back? What.

You know how when somebody's staring at you, you sort of feel it and then you look their way? And you know when you see something that really scares you that you freeze up and don't think straight? Well...

At this point, I actually did say, "SHIT! SHIT, MIKE, WE NEED TO GO! SHIT!"

Mike immediately got ready to fight, thinking that one of the guys Madame was with wanted to brawl or something. His adrenaline was pumping and he got red in the face, looking for the fight. He asked why, where was it at, what was going on. I simply said, "FORGET IT, I'LL TELL YOU AFTER WE'RE GONE!"

So we left. And by "we left" I mean "I sprinted out the door, drawing even more attention to myself and hoped that nobody noticed while my friend took his sweet fucking time getting to the car" By the time we were moving, I was in a frenzied state of screaming profanities and hoping that our car wouldn't be thrown over by an absolutely furious woman. I can't remember for sure, but I believe I told my friend something along the lines of 

 

SPLGHAFK! is "That-inese" for "SHITSHITSHITGETMOVINGSHITSHITSHIT"

Cool story, huh?

Mr. "Details So Heavily Altered for the Sake of Drama That This is Legally Fiction" Sandwichman