Socially Acceptable

Being a teenager is all about being totally weird and completely fine with it. Let me tell you, we're all kind of a mess. I'll admit it, I may like to think I'm classically normal but who am I kidding, I'm a super freak. There's nobody else in this world like me, and that's the way it should be. If you're replaceable or nothing more than just the bland, boring, generic brand of store cereal then you'd better change your recipe to become new and improved, and brand-named. Let it be known that I don't buy off brands, icky. We've all got our quirks and our ridiculous traits, teenagedom and college are all about using them to your advantage. Forget what's socially acceptable and act the fool.

Teens care so much about what other people think about them, and it prevents us from fulfilling our potential. I like to live to by the motto "It's a lifestyle" as in if you believe you only deserve the best, then you only strive for the best.  I never settle and there's no compromising. If you want something, you should go after it. I make my own rules, and make up my own words, you do you and I'mma do me. So Monday morning, I wake up to the whining noises of Krabby Patty's alarm clock, the routine is getting into a grindable rhythm nowadays. He dips out and I sit down to have my b-fast of Kellogg's Frosted Flakes (not dull colored "Flakes" from raggedy corner store) out of a pathetic Ziploc 100 calorie baggie (which gave me the impression that whatever food you could stuff into thing was a hundred calories, false pretenses peeps) with a healthy cup of Sprite (not Lemon-Lime tap water shat from Wally World). Great start to my week right there. I make my way to Biology after doing the player's handshake with the ultimate preptastic lax bro or as I call him, playboy, Chase-Chase'em right before I cross the street. Biology is always an adventure, there's this unbelieveable primitive kid who asks these kindergarten type questions that slow us down so much we're a lecture behind, dear dumbass, eff you and your lack of secondary education, apparently you were that child that George Bush left behind. And there was this dude who just fully reached his hand like asking a question, wasn't paying attention and forgot he was stretching, completely random as heck, only in biology, the study of life. I power walk my way back to the residential complex, well-dressed in plaid, as always, to my honors college class. This week it's this dude, Davey Humor, who just has a lot of emotions or can't turn off his senses or something like that, but whatevs. All I know is the discussion was flowed like a river this time, and like everybody said something, with my quote of the day chronically my preconceived notions of college as compliation of Beverly Hills, 90210 (the college years), Saved by the Bell (the college years), and Sabrina the Teenage Witch (uhm, the college years) - complete with a lack of aunties and Harvey Kinkle discovering the magical secret. Everybody laughs whenever I speak in that class, but I'm not joking - TV can be applied to every situation ever people. And using Superman as an example (the greatest superhero ever, BTW (pronounced bee-tee-dubs) for things we don't really know but still understand FTW (eff-tee-dubs, no you're getting it). I sat next to Em and Em with her futuristic Apple IPad, and Sommer and her Amazon Kindle, they know what's up. Brand-name shaboing boing. Keeping it socially acceptable kiddos.



After the soothing sounds of Pheebs (PF) voice, Westide Davey, Tanya from the Northside, and even Ky-Ky, I was ready to retire back to dorm life. Lolligagging goes down and I end up making my way to chemistry when I see the mystery dude who always locks eyes with me. It's kind of like a game, we always pass each other and do like a staring contest but I have no idea who he is, except his good looks may be second to mine only. I somehow drift off to napping in chemistry class, and I am rudely awakened by Jandro wailing hot fire super punches on my arm. If we weren't in public I would overturned the attached desks and raged because it hurt like WWE wrestling, fake a painful. Made it through the day and dinner came around with a trip to the Marché with Nemesis Norio (the kid has got some tricks up his H-Jap *like H-Clap but Half Japenese)sleeves), Shan-Dawg, Jandro, Nasty-Nate, Sam, and guest appearances by MAbby and Ali-Cat. So that UVM facebook celebrity Jay (Harris Millis - a residence/dining hall)was checking people out at the food spot, but he closed his lane right before we got to the front of the line, that dude is witty, and I most deff want his autograph, like on the real. So Jandro and I bicker as always, and he flat out harshes my mellow put knocking back one of my chicken tenders. Nobody touches my chicken, so I challenge him to a drinking contest, Sprite versus Sunkist Orange Soda (I do, I do, I do-oo-oo) of course, and subsquently fail miserably. I'm not a seasoned drinker, I need my liver to rot a little bit more. Back to my room and I'm just doing some homework and the little devil himself, City Boy Jandro, finds my water gun and I take two shots to my cranium. The dude rocked my dome, so I flip the heck out and race into the hallway recreating a Wild West shootout. The weakling took Sam I Am as a hostage and so I couldn't shoot and instead contemplated suicide by watergun until Big Ben intervened and reached for the sky, partner. After the excitement calmed down, the girls, including Hannity Insanity, No-Crap Carolyn, Sammy Slamma Jamma, and Mabby to the hallway to sip tea and listent to some "chill" music. Lets just say some kleptomaniac mason jars may or may not have been sipped out of, and I officially dubbed Judge Joe Brown for my ultra-judgemental glances. Quote of the night, in reference to JaMocha being a vegeterian - and I quote "I'd toss her salad" (terrible jokes). Petey Pablo, that's one cool dude, solid and chill, such a bro, came to visit for a major snackage fest before the nightly DP (dance party) went down. With everyone else asleep, Jandro blasts "Take Over Control" and Krabby Patty and I, just go nuts, get dumb stupid, and sick wasted on dancing. Booty popping, pillow grinding, and dirty dancing go down. Let's just say, it was probably not socially acceptable, but it's our brand of crazy, deal with it.



Everybody has that thing that makes them special. It seriously bothers me when they say they have nothing unique about them, you're Debbie-Downer attitude is both pessimistic and unique to your boring ass, use that or stop complaining about your lackluster life. If you're not mad pops, or a loner, change it, it's your life and you don't want to live forever, unhappy. Brand spank that crap, and trademark your individuality. Tuesday morning, I wake up to more rain, but Big Time Rush "City Is Ours" comes blaring my IHome, so I'm happy. Those Nickoldeon boys know how to sing some tunes. I need my own boy band. I get all sportified and head off to tennis class. Come to find out our teach had to get ankle pinned, Nasty-Nate was sick and Pretty Boy Evan is still MIA. So we practiced amongst ourselves, things got real when Big Ev tried to ace this kid, uhm, hell no, we won't go, I grunted like the ferocious lion I am, reminiscent of Aslan of Narnia, or Simba (Pat-Pat would love that I referred to myself as his nickname for me. FYI, Lion King 3D topped the box office this past weekend) and power slammed that ball back. Taio Cruz "Dynamite" can't even describe how explosive that shot was right there. From there, I come back to the room where PC just hangs out in his undies, the dude is a confident kid, and never have I ever met anyone like him, my bromate (brother and roommate). He freaking sings to me, someone please top that shat - oh, wait, you can't it's impossible. I head to my Biology lab and end up dropping a stash of candy on the sidewalk only to be helped by the Mystery Model, no words exchanged still as we locked eyes and he helped me gain back my liveliehood (I will beat you Studly Starer). Bio Lab with our excessively explanatory TA, like damn girl, it's called beating a dead horse but this chick resurrected the calvary just to murder it again with her extensive guidelines). I was working with Ry-Ry, a pretty cool junior who knew his stuff, thank goodness, because Luke, and I were at a loss, and Pretty Dame, our other table-mate were at a loss. 3 hours of chaos and I finally got to escape to the student center to scavengge for food. I'm getting my daily curry chicken, Chicken + Spice + Every Nice = Joteng as happy boy. All of sudden I see my across the hall sister, Shan-Dawg, seriously seeing her makes me so much happier. We hug and everybody stares at us, yeah, we're excessively happy, but we're teens, chill bros. Lunch is demolished and I come back to clean the bathroom. What's brown, black, and pink all over ... my shower, like WTE (what-the-eff) so I pull a Cinderella fair-maiden and scrub that thing. I got on my hands and knees and cleaned that crap, keep it clean kiddies. Oh, and then I made poopy time (judge me all you want, but you tell your real friends everything, Tay Jay *my bromance and Krabby Patty all let me know when they're making splishy splash with the toilet, so deal). I hurry to math class, where I literally swashbuckle with drowsiness, a worthy foe. Then I zoom to my chemistry lab with our mad cool  twenty-something, shark-tooth necklace wearing,TA, named Graham (Teddy Graham or Graham Cracker for a secret nickname?) and my awesome lab partner, Danny Boy. That's one cool kid, that's a chemical bond in the making right there, he's easy to talk to, and evenly splits the work and smells like Procter and Gamble "Bounce" Dryer Sheets, which makes him even better. So there's this chem geek in our class who just complicates everything with this airy technical terms, and we just make fun of him, even Graham, mass Gram (so clever)  can't even handle his ridiculousness. I hurry out to get some free chicken wings, but the line apparently was going to take an hour, so screw that, and night fell, I was afraid bats would attack me, or I'd have to run to an emergency light after being chased by the hash-slinging slasher. I make it back for Hall Council where the quips kept flying, led by No-Crap Carolyn and Meatball/Mouse/Penguin Lilia's death stares (daggers in her eyes). A great catch up talk with our buddy Joelly-Bear, our resident politician. After a trip for grub with Jandro, I came back to go make some moves with JaMocha Shake. Baby girl wasn't in her room, so I sulked by to my room to drown my sorrows in Plite (pink lemonade + Sprite = Plite) when she appeared to use my printer. She can use me all she wants, and she can have whatever she wants for me, the girl has got wifey potential. After about 45 minutes worth of cartoon worthy printer hijinks, awkward arm around chair-ness, and silly webcam photoshoots the crush of my college years peaced out. Mission success. So socially acceptable.



Being a teenager is about defining what's socially acceptable for you. Whether that be like me, laughing at all times, smiling just because, or speaking your mind, it's up to you. Copyright your personality and patent pending your style of life. Uhm, let it be known that if you upload facebook pictures of events the same day they happen, that you might be a social pariah, JK or not really, that's weird. Oh, and if facebook doesn't stop having a personality disorder I will check them into a mental hospital, are you Google Plus or classic FB, make up your mind. Lists, and newness are killing me.



My blog post question for the day is ... what makes you cool? I don't know if it's my unique laugh, my chiseled features, or my knack for drama, but people seem to like me, and I like people, I guess.

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