Too Much Information
Being a teenager is all about seeing, and hearing the most outrageous things possible. I don't know what it is about the summer but it makes the freak or the freaky side of people come out. Like chill the heck out and relax. Just because it's sweltering outside does not give people the right to strip down naked, go streaking or skinny dipping. There are children around, as in myself. I have no intention of seeing whatever you are or are not packing, or getting flashed. That's called indecent exposure and I am now scarred for life. Keep your damn clothes on, please and thank you. No matter where I am nowadays, riding in the car, getting the mails from the mailbox, or buying dorm supplies, I can count on seeing some skin. If you're an old man, it's not necessary for you to be shirtless while you tend to your yard or fire up your grill. If you're a middle-aged woman you don't have to be a bia when you're gardening, your damn radishes won't be ready to harvest until the fall you mean hag. If you're an annoying teenager or child, I don't want to read your incessant tweets/facebook status updates about your country concerts or going to Kings Island with your friends. We're teenagers, and we could care less. That's just too much information.
Let's start with the old men. Okay, so I'm sorry your job doesn't constitute you having to work all the time, but that does not give you an excuse to always be outside fine tuning your lawn. Grass is freaking grass. It's weird, and creepy that you care that much about some plant life. We all know everyone judges everyone else's lawn, it's the classic suburban pretentiousness coming out, and let it be known that I don't care. Fine us all you want, I'll cut my lawn when it's long and that's that, I have a life and things to do other than riding around a tractor in the blazing heat. Take the leaf blower and shove it up your outdoorsy ass, mmkay. If you're going to be outside, wear something light and what not. My dad, who stays classy at all times, wear some cargo shorts, and a colorful polo when he does yardwork (which is rare, because he works all the time). You prancing around your yard without a shirt on should be illegal. It's gross and foul, you're pudgy, and your beer belly is showing. You being an alcoholic hasn't helped you at all, and slurping a sick pack while mowing your lawn isn't cool. Do not give a me death glare when I walk or drive past, it's weird. Your jhorts and hairy chest make you look like a sketchy pedophile. It's called hire some landscapers and call it a day. I don't need to see your ass crack when you bend over to water your lawn, please purchase a sprinkler or a system or something, that needs to go. You're giving me way too much information.
Gardening women, those chicas are always either super nice or else ridiculously catty. Listen here bia, I'm walking on the sidewalk to the playground and you raising your head to glare me down is not necessary. Put your fruity sunhat down and get back to work tending to your potatoes and flowers. If you think your little patch is going to supply your family with food for the winter you might be dumb as eff. It's not even enough for a measley salad, go to the damn supermarket like the rest of us, or if you want to be super eco-friendly, the farmer's market is your cup of tea. Don't act like a ball crushing your tomato plant is the end of the work. It's called put up a fence and get over it. You spraying your random pesticides trying to annihilate all bug life is ridiciulous. When your wenis gets stung by the angry wasps and bees, or a ferocious bird pecks the heck out of your peppers, that'll teach you. With your potting soil, spade, and watering pail, acting like you somebody. You don't know me, and I don't know you. The sidewalk is public property and I'll do as I please. Food is food, and ain't nobody want none of yours, and your sour apple attitude. If you work from home, that's cool, but that doesn't give you an excuse to stay outside all day rearranging some overgrown pumpkins and those watermelons that don't even look good (that's coming from me). Get yourself indoors and get back to watching soap operas, you desperate housewife. Yeah I went there. And when the haphazard weather sends your ruttabagas and carrots flying in a whirlwind, don't complain. I don't need to know the scientific names of your plant pets, that's too much information.
I know y'all love when I rant and rave, and this post is just for that purpose, as you can tell, tons of stereotypical people have bothered me lately. Now it's time to hit on home with a group of fellow teenagers that need to disappear from the face of the Earth. I'm sitting on twitter and facebook, trying to follow my favorite celebrities, and find embarrassing pictures of people I don't like and all I see is nonstop mentions of some stupid country concert. I know we're in the midwest, but that doesn't mean you have to be obsessed with country singers. I can't stand country music personally, belting out dumb tunes about fried chicken, cold beer, and guitar banjos all with a southern twang. This is America, and you barely speak English. I don't speak grit, so take your dang corn on the cob, cowboy hats, and plaid shirts and take your unsexy big green tractor back down to the river. This is not a personal vandetta, but whenever an artist comes to town, everyone freaks the freak out. I'm glad your parents spoiled you and splurged on front row tickets, or you and your friends have nosebleeds to see someone I didn't know existed but I don't want to hear about it. Please continue to pregame and indulge in your underage alcoholic ways, and then stumble in the crowd screaming country ballads, great night for sure. Glad, you're having fun but if you tweet or update your status with Jason (Aldean), Brad (Paisley), Rascal (Flatts), Tay (Swift) or Carrie (Underwood), I will delete you as a friend or unfollow your annoying self. The rest of us are fed up with your drunken stupors and you bragging about some music, it's called buy a freaking I-Pod and a lasso and call it day. That's too much information.
Being a teenager is all about being bothered by the smallest of things. It's about raving and complaining about anything and everything humanly possible. It's about about being blinded by ugly man blubber, rude pruny women, and stupid drunk teenagers. It's summer so live it up, but keep your clothes on, thanks a million.
My blog post question for the day is ... what's your dream concert?
Uhm, Shane Harper, opening for Jesse McCartney and Big Time Rush.
Let's start with the old men. Okay, so I'm sorry your job doesn't constitute you having to work all the time, but that does not give you an excuse to always be outside fine tuning your lawn. Grass is freaking grass. It's weird, and creepy that you care that much about some plant life. We all know everyone judges everyone else's lawn, it's the classic suburban pretentiousness coming out, and let it be known that I don't care. Fine us all you want, I'll cut my lawn when it's long and that's that, I have a life and things to do other than riding around a tractor in the blazing heat. Take the leaf blower and shove it up your outdoorsy ass, mmkay. If you're going to be outside, wear something light and what not. My dad, who stays classy at all times, wear some cargo shorts, and a colorful polo when he does yardwork (which is rare, because he works all the time). You prancing around your yard without a shirt on should be illegal. It's gross and foul, you're pudgy, and your beer belly is showing. You being an alcoholic hasn't helped you at all, and slurping a sick pack while mowing your lawn isn't cool. Do not give a me death glare when I walk or drive past, it's weird. Your jhorts and hairy chest make you look like a sketchy pedophile. It's called hire some landscapers and call it a day. I don't need to see your ass crack when you bend over to water your lawn, please purchase a sprinkler or a system or something, that needs to go. You're giving me way too much information.
Gardening women, those chicas are always either super nice or else ridiculously catty. Listen here bia, I'm walking on the sidewalk to the playground and you raising your head to glare me down is not necessary. Put your fruity sunhat down and get back to work tending to your potatoes and flowers. If you think your little patch is going to supply your family with food for the winter you might be dumb as eff. It's not even enough for a measley salad, go to the damn supermarket like the rest of us, or if you want to be super eco-friendly, the farmer's market is your cup of tea. Don't act like a ball crushing your tomato plant is the end of the work. It's called put up a fence and get over it. You spraying your random pesticides trying to annihilate all bug life is ridiciulous. When your wenis gets stung by the angry wasps and bees, or a ferocious bird pecks the heck out of your peppers, that'll teach you. With your potting soil, spade, and watering pail, acting like you somebody. You don't know me, and I don't know you. The sidewalk is public property and I'll do as I please. Food is food, and ain't nobody want none of yours, and your sour apple attitude. If you work from home, that's cool, but that doesn't give you an excuse to stay outside all day rearranging some overgrown pumpkins and those watermelons that don't even look good (that's coming from me). Get yourself indoors and get back to watching soap operas, you desperate housewife. Yeah I went there. And when the haphazard weather sends your ruttabagas and carrots flying in a whirlwind, don't complain. I don't need to know the scientific names of your plant pets, that's too much information.
I know y'all love when I rant and rave, and this post is just for that purpose, as you can tell, tons of stereotypical people have bothered me lately. Now it's time to hit on home with a group of fellow teenagers that need to disappear from the face of the Earth. I'm sitting on twitter and facebook, trying to follow my favorite celebrities, and find embarrassing pictures of people I don't like and all I see is nonstop mentions of some stupid country concert. I know we're in the midwest, but that doesn't mean you have to be obsessed with country singers. I can't stand country music personally, belting out dumb tunes about fried chicken, cold beer, and guitar banjos all with a southern twang. This is America, and you barely speak English. I don't speak grit, so take your dang corn on the cob, cowboy hats, and plaid shirts and take your unsexy big green tractor back down to the river. This is not a personal vandetta, but whenever an artist comes to town, everyone freaks the freak out. I'm glad your parents spoiled you and splurged on front row tickets, or you and your friends have nosebleeds to see someone I didn't know existed but I don't want to hear about it. Please continue to pregame and indulge in your underage alcoholic ways, and then stumble in the crowd screaming country ballads, great night for sure. Glad, you're having fun but if you tweet or update your status with Jason (Aldean), Brad (Paisley), Rascal (Flatts), Tay (Swift) or Carrie (Underwood), I will delete you as a friend or unfollow your annoying self. The rest of us are fed up with your drunken stupors and you bragging about some music, it's called buy a freaking I-Pod and a lasso and call it day. That's too much information.
Being a teenager is all about being bothered by the smallest of things. It's about raving and complaining about anything and everything humanly possible. It's about about being blinded by ugly man blubber, rude pruny women, and stupid drunk teenagers. It's summer so live it up, but keep your clothes on, thanks a million.
My blog post question for the day is ... what's your dream concert?
Uhm, Shane Harper, opening for Jesse McCartney and Big Time Rush.
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