Monday, August 24, 2009

Also: Please, please stop with the backyard tanning. Your poor be-freckled skin ...

Things I Wish I Could Have Told My Sixteen-Year-Old Self, Not That I Would’ve Listened to Me

–Still with the fake British accent? Still?

–Look, I know I can’t talk you out of the spiral perm, because you think it’s going to make you look like Rene Russo in Major League. But just know that it’s going to look good for about four days, and then it’s going to be an incredible pain in your ass for months. Think of this as a learning experience.

–Do you really have to sign literally everyone’s yearbook with that same ridonculous signature? Seriously: “Peace & love, freedom & justice”? What does that even mean?

–That basketball player who has for some unknown reason latched on to you? Just: Never mind, OK? A) You don’t actually like him, you just like that SOMEbody asked you out, and B) In less than five years, he’s going to wait on you, your mom and your grandmother at a Red Lobster in the Metroplex, having flunked out of college and failed – shockingly! – to make the NBA. So don’t sweat it, kid.

–They never shoulda given you a driver’s license.

–What’s with the tie-dye and the broomstick skirts? You have to get over the whole hippie thing. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.

–You know that other guy you’re DYING to get asked out by is gay, right? Gay, as in … oh, never mind. You’ll figure it out soon enough. You kids have fun!

–You can try the “My watch stopped – see? – and that’s why I’m 20 minutes late for curfew” bit exactly once. Your mother will not believe you, being as how she's not a moron, and I'm just warning you, it’s really going to piss her off that you even attempted such amateur bullshit.

–You don’t look 21. Not even close. Save yourself the embarrassment – don’t order a cocktail. Please?

–You should try to bottle some of the energy you’re wasting on bogus, idiotic bands like Def Leppard. When you’re 35 and have a toddler, you’re gonna want those spent protons back.

–Enjoy your obsession with the Mysterious New Guy. It’ll be fun while it lasts, and an endless source of hilarity to you for the next couple of decades. It’s worth every stupid line of emo poetry that you are about to write.

Labels: , , , , ,


Blogger bgirl said...

oddly enough, I was flipping through the old yearbooks this morning whilst cleaning out a closet, and I have one thing to say to your sixteen-year-old self: when the photogs line you up for this and that club/activity picture, just don't blink for like four minutes. ;)

10:58 AM  
Blogger Panda!!!! said...

Def Leppard is not a waste of time. Now I have Love Bites in my head! And I love it.

1:05 PM  
Blogger Uncle Spike said...

1) That ridonculous signature? Forever stick in the nooks and crannies of my cerebral tissue. And remember...I adopted it, too.

2) I would PAY to see you in tie-dye and a broomstick dress. Two, um, interesting tastes that I just can't see going together. But I luurrv broomstick dresses. My skater betty girlfriend is to blame. They will never go out of style in my book, and I miss them so. For reals.

4:09 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home