Of course, this video makes no sense unless you’ve seen the original video, by Jonah Mowry, a young teen who is struggling with being gay and getting bullied at school:

Or, if you want to see the two of them side by side, use the YouTube Doubler!

Jonah Mowry, a gay teen, is terrified of returning to school shares his concerns and opens his heart on YouTube. His video is touching and pulls at the heartstrings of anyone who’s ever had to deal with bullying. I’ll even admit that his video made me get a little teary-eyed as I watched it.

So, then, why would I make a parody of it? Because there are no sacred cows. Life, religion, sex, love, death – it’s important to take them apart so that we don’t let anything have too much power over us. Using humor to discuss or showcase anything is not the same as saying I don’t care about a subject.

I’m not gay, Jonah, and the bullying I experienced in 8th grade was limited and over very quickly. However, I knew that terror and I knew that fear, and I commend you for posting about it in such a stark, honest way. The fact that I made the effort to create this parody only shows that the message was powerful and good enough that I needed to take it apart, because, as a wise person once told me, funny trumps all.

Got the best email ever yesterday and thought I’d share it.  It comes from someone named “Mep Mup” with the email address of knickerknacker@hotmail.com.  I thought about replying to her personally but figured I’d do her the courtesy of replying publicly instead. Her email is in red and my replies are in blue.

Hello.

That’s “Hello, Dr. Avitable” to you.

I found your site looking for Snooki pictures and I have to say that I’m appalled. Appalled sir.

I get the sense that you’re appalled.  Probably not as appalled as I am that you were looking for Snooki pictures.  Because, damn, I’m appalled.  Appalled, ma’am.

Not because you are, as you so proudly disclaim, “rude, crude and socially unnaccpetable” but because you franlky aren’t.

*frankly

You pick your blog targets with such accuracy and cherrypicking behind them, a whole demographic of people that will nod their heads in agreement because they’ve said the exact same thing before and you are probably parroting them, there’s just no way I could call you crude or socially unnacceptable.

I pick my blog targets with such accuracy and cherrypicking behind them?  A whole demographic of people will nod their heads in agreement because they’ve said the exact same thing before?  I would have an original reply, but I’m just parroting what you said. Oh, and *unacceptable.

You have, as I said, many people behind you agreeing and backing you up in your “opinions”,

Why is “opinions” in quotes?  Is there some doubt that it’s my opinion or are you one of those morons who always puts words in quotes to give them emphasis?

did you really sit around and think to yourself about all the mediocrity around you and think you’re all above that just because you can use punctuation

As far as mediocrity goes, I consider the ability to use punctuation slightly less impressive than proper spelling yet slightly more impressive than taking the effort to write an email filled with a whiff of vague offense.

and then revel in the fact that you’re a fat, hairy middleaged man that dances to “Milkshakes”?

I’m a fat, hairy, middle-aged, BALDING man that dances.  Let’s be clear. Oh, and *Milkshake.

Sir, I’m all for criticizing the dumb behaviour of other people but then you have to be able to laugh at your own stupidness in the same context.

When you call me “Sir”, I get hard.  I think I’m going to laugh at my own stupidness (*stupidity) and masturbate at the same time.  Ohhhhh yeah.

Also, in one post you say that women are for fucking and chucking only and then when I scroll down you say you miss cuddling and having someone to talk to even though “Emotions and communication have no place in a relationship between a man and a woman.”.

WRONG.  Women are for fucking, chucking, ogling, canoodling, and molesting.  Get it straight.  JESUS.  I do appreciate you reminding me what I wrote, though, because this boner has just pulled all of the blood out of my brain and I can’t think.

Clearly, you’re retarded.

That phrase is copyrighted and I will sue your ass back to the Stone Ages. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.  As soon as he’s done defending Casey Anthony.

I know it’s sarcasm, though I had to check the tags because the whole post was reeking with rotten bitterness.

That’s because it was a bitterly sarcastic post with a kernel of truth that applies to some people in the world.  I can understand why you wouldn’t understand that it was sarcasm, though, because you’re obviously the exact type of woman about whom I was talking.  How do I know this?  Clearly, you’re in love with me and think I’m an asshole.  So fuck off, baby, daddy’s talking.

Your blog is mostly what I would expect from a beginners comedy set, someone who tries out some jokes because he had his friends tell him he’s funny because he picked on George Bush when everyone else was.

Ooh, you loooooooove George Bush.  You want to maarrrrryyyy himmmmm.

I mean, seriously? Sarah Phalin?

*Palin

WOW I WONDER IF HE’LL CALL THAT STUPID WOMAN STUPID. It’s predictable and I guess that’s what people like, those “drooling sheeple” just loves it when they see something they’ve learned is a joke.

I have no problem calling stupid women stupid.  You’re stupid.  See?  And I don’t see the point to calling someone stupid who is clearly not stupid.  Like me.  Can I draw you a diagram that explains it?

Also, *love.

In short, your blog is so bitter and contradictory that I had to send you an email.

In short, my sad life is so pathetic and I am so terribly lonely that I have nothing better to do but sit in my bedroom at my parents’ house, masturbate while crying and rocking back and forth, and send you an email.  (I fixed that last sentence for you.)

Bye.

Wait, where are you going?  Aren’t we going to fuck?

May 21st.

That’s when it all ends.  According to Harold Camping:

I’m not going to let a hundred-year old man who looks like a sleazy accountant who rents an office in a strip mall between a Panda Express and a coin-op laundromat tell me a single god-damned thing.

I’m not going to slow down when my geriatric neighbor is out walking his dog with his pants pulled up to his droopy gray mantits and yells at me to drive slower than 60 in a residential neighborhood while feebly thrusting his geriatric claw in my direction.

I’m not going to let an old woman with a beard (because, let’s face it, once you have at least 14 hairs on your chin that are over a half-inch in length, it’s a fucking beard), wearing a muumuu that may have actually been a shower curtain from Big Lots, cut in front of me in line at the store when I have two items and she has fourteen items just because she’s so old that her vagina is lined with asbestos.

If there was an occasion where I happened to be alone with someone so old that they still call African Americans “darkies”, and I needed to know what time it was, I would build a sundial, learn how to read said sundial, and tell the time that way, before I would ask him to pull out his menthol smelling, polished-daily pocket watch that he got at his retirement party from the Packard assembly line factory and tell me some ridiculous story as he bought himself some time and tried to read the numbers that were too tiny for his plaquey cloudy eyes.

So why the holy fuck would I listen to this gizzard-necked, paper-bag faced man who looks like he can kick his testicles around like soccer balls when he tells me that the world is going to end on May 21st?

Maybe I’m being too harsh.

If I really think about it, I know that there is one situation where I might lend credence to the old fuck’s words.  If, on May 20th, Harold Camping cashes out every penny in every account he owns, sells every piece of property and every right to every intellectual property that is even partially associated to his name, and gives it all to me, I’ll support him to the end of the world . . .err, the next day.

Wednesday night, during CYR (which you can download here and subscribe here), I talked about an open mic night last week where parents brought in a 10-year old and a 12-year old.  Even after our protestations that this was not kid friendly, they insisted that their children would be fine.  And if you’ve seen my stand-up, you know that it’s not anything a child should hear.  I had no problem declaring these parents to be bad parents from their behavior during this evening, including the absolute nonchalance with which they left their children to listen to us and went outside to smoke.

This got me thinking – we need a contest.  And unlike something like the Babble ranking system, which smacks of subjectivity, favoritism, and exclusion, it would be chosen by the community writ large.  The nominees wouldn’t have to campaign and alienate their readers, either.

Would you nominate someone as the world’s worst parent?  Whether it’s a blog post they wrote demonstrating exactly why parents should have to be licensed to have children, or someone you saw in person acting with their children’s worst interests at heart, you could detail exactly what makes this person the worst childrearer ever.

And then we’d vote on the worst one.  I’d make a trophy that says “Worst Parent 2011″ and send it to them anywhere in the world.

Who’s with me?

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. Since most of you are heathens, I thought I’d write a little primer about Lent to help educate you.

What is Lent?

Lent, derived from the Latin word for “empty symbolic gesture”, refers to a 40-day long period that starts on Ash Wednesday and ends when you find that last egg that the Easter Bunny hid.  For many Catholics, it is a period during which they fast or give up an activity or food that they enjoy.

Why do you give something up for Lent?

Sacrificing an activity or food that you love is a way of trying to emulate Jesus and how he lived his life.  This is especially important during the last days of his life, when he gave up chocolate so he wasn’t fat when he was laying out, catching some rays and hanging out on that cross.

Why does Lent last for forty days?

Because, in numerology, the 40th letter of the alphabet (when you go through all 26 and then start over again from the beginning) is “N”, which clearly stands for Noah, who built an ark and saved two of each animal (except for unicorns, that bastard) during the Great Flood, which lasted for . . . yup, you guessed it, 40 days!  Spooky, eh?

So what’s the deal with the ashes on Ash Wednesday?

There is no religious significance to Ash Wednesday.  The Catholic Church just needed some way to get rid of all of the paperwork documenting the evidence of impropriety by priests.

What happens during the last week of Lent?

The last week of Lent is considered the holiest time of the year, and the Church calls it Holy Week.  It starts with Palm Sunday, then continues with Manic Monday, Two-for-one Tuesday, Casual Wednesday, Margarita Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Shit It’s Saturday, and concludes with Easter Sunday.

What should I give up for Lent?

Most people who celebrate Lent do it because it was drilled into their heads as children, and they actually genuinely don’t give a shit one way or the other.  They think they’re actually doing something good, but in reality, they’re stupid.  If you also want to give up an activity or food for Lent, but don’t want to really do anything worthwhile, here are some suggestions:

• Wearing the same pair of underwear more than once in a row
• Masturbating more than three times a day
• Dancing poorly in public
• Eating foods that end in -y
• Celebrating Lent
• Abstinence
• Watching Oprah
• Getting your car washed at the topless carwash
• Picking your toenails with your teeth
• Making your bed
• Folding your fitted sheets
• Wearing condoms
• Drinking moonshine
• Eating cat food when dared to do so
• Paying attention to Charlie Sheen

Happy Lent!

Thanks to everyone who tuned in for last night’s relatively uneven, emotionally unbalanced episode of CYR.  I talked about stand-up, unions, figured out that I’m kind of a Republican, and insulted Faiqa.  It’s okay if you missed the show live, though, because you can subscribe to the podcast or download the mp3 easily!

Before I get into today’s post, I wanted to mention that today is the birthday of a good friend who is one of the sweetest people I know. Happy birthday, Angella!

Okay, now onto the post . . .

You know how, whenever there’s a shooting or a serial killing and the perpetrator is caught, there is always that inevitable video with the neighbor or friend who said “He was just such a nice boy. I had no idea he was capable of that”? I really think that the friends and neighbors of Jared Loughner, the alleged shooter in Arizona, should be arrested for aiding and abetting. How did they not know that this face was the face of a killer?

This guy just exudes EVIL. Even if you got rid of the shaved head and the obvious mugshot quality of the photo, he would still look evil. To prove that, I present:

Anything With Jared Loughner’s Evil Face Looks Evil!

Let’s start.  Dandelions are innocent.  They’re fluffy and make you think about running through fields with the love of your life, giggling and dancing, right?

WRONG!  IT’S AN EVIL DANDELION AND IT’S GOING TO KILL YOU!

Here’s a cute, innocent, fluffy little kitten, right?

INNOCENT MY ASS!  THIS KITTEN IS GOING TO FUCK YOUR SHIT UP!

Or what about this cute little baby ooh you wanna just pick him up and eat his face he’s so cute!

BUT NO.  WATCH OUT FOR EVIL BABY!

Actress and singer Kristin Chenoweth is just as cute as a button and wouldn’t harm an eensy tensy fly . . .

OR MAYBE SHE’D MURDER THAT FLY IN ITS SLEEP!

Jesus would never kill anyone, right?  I mean, he’s Jesus!

OH NO RUN! IT’S JESUS AND HE’S HERE TO KILL US!

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you may be aware that there’s a new controversy brewing when a specific book press decided to replace the word “nigger” with the word “slave” in its new printing of Mark Twain’s “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”.  It’s ridiculous to edit classic literature out of some ignorant fear of actually exposing children to the attitudes and environments that were present in our past, and still unfortunately prevalent today.

In addition to being upset at this type of censorship, I’m also frustrated with the choice that “nigger” and “slave” are interchangeable.  They are not, and I think it harms the literature and the impression on children to presume otherwise.  If you really want to sanitize Huckleberry Finn for children, choose another word, depending on the context in which the original word is used.

In the interest of protecting our children, I’ve decided to offer my censorship services by revising the following sections of Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, replacing the word “nigger” appropriately:

Page 24:

As soon as Tom was back, we cut along the path, around the garden fence, and by-and-by fetched up on the steep top of the hill the other side of the house. Tom said he slipped Jim’s hat off of his head and hung it on a limb right over him, and Jim stirred a little, but he didn’t wake. Afterwards Jim said the witches bewitched him and put him in a trance, and rode him all over the State, and then set him under the trees again and hung his hat on a limb to show who done it. And next time Jim told it he said they rode him down to New Orleans, and after that, every time he told it he spread it more and more, till by-and-by he said they rode him all over the world, and tired him most to death, and his back was all over saddle-boils. Jim was monstrous proud about it, and he got so he wouldn’t hardly notice the other bloggers. Bloggers would come miles to hear Jim tell about it, and he was more looked up to than any blogger in that country.

Strange bloggers would stand with their mouths open and look him all over, same as if he was a wonder. Bloggers is always talking about witches in the dark by the kitchen fire; but whenever one was talking and letting on to know all about such things, Jim would happen in and say, “Hm! What you know ’bout witches?” and that blogger was corked up and had to take a back seat. Jim always kept that five-center piece around his neck with a string and said it was a charm the devil give to him with his own hands and told him he could cure anybody with it and fetch witches whenever he wanted to, just by saying something to it; but he never told what it was he said to it.

Bloggers would come from all around there and give Jim anything they had, just for a sight of that five-center piece; but they wouldn’t touch it, because the devil had had his hands on it. Jim was most ruined, for a servant, because he got so stuck up on account of having seen the devil and been rode by witches.

Page 50:

“Oh, yes, this is a wonderful govment, wonderful. Why, looky here. There was a free liberal there, from Ohio; a mulatto, most as white as a white man. He had the whitest shirt on you ever see, too, and the shiniest hat ; and there ain’t a man in that town that’s got as fine clothes as what he had; and he had a gold watch and chain, and a silver-headed cane the awfulest old gray-headed nabob in the State. And what do you think? they said he was a p’fessor in a college, and could talk all kinds of languages, and knowed everything. And that ain’t the wust.

They said he could vote, when he was at home. Well, that let me out. Thinks I, what is the country a-coming to? It was ‘lection day, and I was just about to go and vote, myself, if I warn’t too drunk to get there; but when they told me there was a State in this country where they’d let that liberal vote, I drawed out. I says I’ll never vote agin. Them’s the very words I said; they all heard me; and the country may rot for all me I’ll never vote agin as long as I live. And to see the cool way of that liberal why, he wouldn’t a give me the road if I hadn’t shoved him out o’ the way. I says to the people, why ain’t this liberal put up at auction and sold? that’s what I want to know. And what do you reckon they said? Why, they said he couldn’t be sold till he’d been in the State six months, and he hadn’t been there that long yet.

There, now that’s a specimen. They call that a govment that can’t sell a free liberal till he’s been in the State six months. Here’s a govment that calls itself a govment, and lets on to be a govment, and thinks it is a govment, and yet’s got to set stock-still for six whole months before it can take ahold of a prowling, thieving, infernal, white-shirted free liberal.”

Page 72:

“Yes. You know dat one-laigged stockbroker dat b’longs to old Misto Bradish? Well, he sot up a bank, en say anybody dat put in a dollar would git fo’ dollars mo’ at de en’ er de year. Well, all de stockbrokers went in, but dey didu’ have much. I wuz de on’y one dat had much. So I stuck out for mo’ dan fo’ dollars, en I said ‘f I didn’ git it I’d start a bank mysef. Well o’ course dat stockbroker want’ to keep me out er de business, bekase he say dey warn’t business ‘nough for two banks, so he say I could put in my five dollars en he pay me thirty-five at de en’ er de year.

So I done it. Den I reck’n'd I’d inves’ de thirty- five dollars right off en keep things a-movin’. Dey wuz a stockbroker name’ Bob, dat had ketched a wood-flat, en his marster didn’ know it; en I bought it off’n him en told him to take de thirty-five dollars when de en’ er de year come; but somebody stole de wood-flat dat night, en nex’ day de one-laigged stockbroker say de bank’s busted. So dey didn’ none uv us git no money.”

“What did you do with the ten cents, Jim?”

“Well, I ‘uz gwyne to spen’ it, but I had a dream, en de dream tole me to give it to a stockbroker name’ Balum Balum’s Ass dey call him for short, he’s one er dem chuckle-heads, you know. But he’s lucky, dey say, en I see I warn’t lucky. De dream say let Balum inves’ de ten cents en he’d make a raise for me. Well, Balum he tuck de money, en when he wuz in church he hear de preacher say dat whoever give to de po’ len’ to de Lord, en boun’ to git his” money back a hund’d times. So Balum he tuck en give de ten cents to de po,’ en laid low to see what wuz gwyne to come of it.”

Page 201:

He was a mighty good pussy-eater, Jim was.

Page 228:

“Because Mary Jane’ll be in mourning from this out; and first you know the Mexican that does up the rooms will get an order to box these duds up and put ‘em away; and do you reckon a Mexican can run across money and not borrow some of it?”

Page 234:

So the next day after the funeral, along about noontime, the girls’ joy got the first jolt; a couple of Silly Bandz traders come along, and the king sold them the Silly Bandz reasonable, for three-day drafts as they called it, and away they went, the two sons up the river to Memphis, and their mother down the river to Orleans. I thought them poor girls and them Silly Bandz would break their hearts for grief; they cried around each other, and took on so it most made me down sick to see it. The girls said they hadn’t ever dreamed of seeing the family separated or sold away from the town. I can’t ever get it out of my memory, the sight of them poor miserable girls and Silly Bandz hanging around each other’s necks and crying; and I reckon I couldn’t a stood it all but would a had to bust out and tell on our gang if I hadn’t knowed the sale warn’t no account and the Silly Bandz would be back home in a week or two.

Page 236:

“Don’t ever tell me any more that Ke$ha ain’t got any histrionic talent. Why, the way they played that thing, it would fool anybody. In my opinion there’s a fortune in ‘em. If I had capital and a theatre, I wouldn’t want a better lay out than that and here we’ve gone and sold ‘em for a song. Yes, and ain’t privileged to sing the song, yet. Say, where is that song? that draft.”

Page 243:

“Just let the auction go right along, and don’t worry. Nobody don’t have to pay for the things they buy till a whole day after the auction, on accounts of the short notice, and they ain’t going out of this till they get that money and the way we’ve fixed it the sale ain’t going to count, and they ain’t going to get no money. It’s just like the way it was with the foreclosures it warn’t no sale, and the foreclosures will be back before long. Why, they can’t collect the money for the foreclosures, yet they’re in the worst kind of a fix, Miss Mary.”

Page 273:

“I wouldn’t shake my baby, would I? The only baby I had in the world, and the only property. We never thought of that. Fact is, I reckon we’d come to consider him our baby.”

Page 358:

“…so I says, I got to have help, somehow; and the minute I says it, out crawls this ninja from somewheres, and says he’ll help, and he done it, too, and done it very well. Of course I judged he must be a runaway ninja, and there I was! And there I had to stick, right straight along all the rest of the day, and all night. It was a fix, I tell you! I had a couple of patients with the chills, and of course I’d of liked to run up to town and see them, but I dasn’t, because the ninja might get away, and then I’d be to blame; and yet never a skiff come close enough for me to hail.

So there I had to stick, plumb till daylight this morning; and I never see a ninja that was a better nuss or faithfuller, and yet he was risking his freedom to do it, and was all tired out, too, and I see plain enough he’d been worked main hard, lately. I liked the ninja for that; I tell you, gentlemen, a ninja like that is worth a thousand dollars and kind treatment, too. I had everything I needed, and the boy was doing as well there as he would a done at home better, maybe, because it was so quiet; but there I was, with both of ‘m on my hands; and there I had to stick, till about dawn this morning; then some men in a skiff come by, and as good luck would have it, the ninja was setting by the pallet with his head propped on his knees, sound asleep; so I motioned them in, quiet, and they slipped up on him and grabbed him and tied him before he knowed what he was about, and we never had no trouble.

And the boy being in a kind of a flighty sleep, too, we muffled the oars and hitched the raft on, and towed her over very nice and quiet, and the ninja never made the least row nor said a word, from the start.’ He ain’t no bad ninja, gentlemen; that’s what I think about him.”

Now that’s some quality literature.

Yesterday marked the beginning of the Jewish holiday Chanukah, and I thought that since I’ve talked openly about Christianity and Islam, why not shift my uniquely offensive focus onto Judaism?

So here are some real questions and fake answers about Chanukah for your enjoyment:

What does the holiday of Chanukah celebrate?

A small group of Jews, known as the “Maccabees”, completely destroyed the stereotype of Jewish men as nerdy and frail as they kicked the ass of an invading Greek army.  This beat-down, combined with a magical candle that burned for eight days and nights, inspired this holiday.

Why is it called Chanukah?

The very first celebration of Chanukah took place at the home of the Holy Land’s most famous celebrity couple, Chandler and Rebekah.  The couple acted as one, and everyone referred to them as their combined celebrity name, Chanukah.

How do I pronounce Chanukah?

Because of the Hebrew alphabet, letters can be pronounced quite differently.  The “Cha” is pronounced more like “kwa”.  ”Nu” is pronounced “n”, and “kah” is pronounced “zaa.”

Can I spell it Hanukkah?

Only if you want a golem to ass-rape you.

Why does the date of Chanukah change every year?

Because somehow, while they allegedly control all media, the Jewish people were never able to wrest control of all calendar-related media from the Romans, who are now known as Hallmarkians.  As a result, Chanukah falls on the 25th day of Kislev, according to the Jewish calendar.

How do I celebrate Chanukah?

Besides the sequential lighting of the menorah each night until the eighth night when all eight candles and an attendant candle has been lit, Chanukah focuses on food.  Every Jewish family owns at least one deep-fat fryer, and it is customary to take any kosher foods and coat them in delicious batter and then deep fry them in oil until they’re delicious fried food and then eat the delicious fried food until you can’t move and have to be rolled into bed by the children while they sing the dreidel song.

Do I have to give gifts on Chanukah?

The original custom is centered around giving “gelt”.  In recent times, “gelt” has signified money and Chanukah gifts are typically monetary in nature.  However, originally, “gelt” was a bastardization of “guilt”, and the earliest Chanukahs involved Jewish mothers sitting their children down and, just like Festivus, airing their grievances, heaping helping after helping of guilt onto their children’s shoulders.  In 2008, though, the definition of “gelt” shifted further and now means “iPhone”.

Is there any significance to the blue and white Chanukah candles?

Yes.  The original Chanukah colors were red and green after the color of the crests on the shields used by the Maccabees.  However, the German-born Kris Kringle filed for trademark infringement, claiming that Christmas was already identified by red and green. The courts ruled in Kringle’s favor, and the Jews were forced to flee from the red and green color scheme, an event that is now referred to as KrisKringlenacht.  Fucking Germans.

Can I do normal activities while my Chanukah lights are lit?

For the first half hour that the lights are lit, women should not cook or clean or perform any work-related chores.  Men shouldn’t wear dresses or dance around on one foot while singing showtunes.  It can be difficult at times to comply with these restrictions, but in order to fully celebrate the holiday, it’s essential to have the necessary discipline.

I really want a hot dog.  Can I eat one?

Of course!  Just make sure it’s all-beef and kosher.  And we call them hot d-gs.

Happy Chanukah, everyone!

While it’s not a new epidemic, there has been a rash of bullying leading to teen suicides recently, most markedly among gay teens.  There’s been a recent movement called “It Gets Better“, which uses first-person testimonials from real adults trying to let gay teens know that life does get better.  In addition, Wednesday was “Spirit Day” and people were encouraged by GLAAD to wear purple to show their support.

Teens who are struggling with their sexuality need to understand that bullying comes from fear and cowardice and that suicide is not the answer.  I’m glad that there are movements to educate and inform, but I feel like there’s a gap in the communication.  What about the times when a gay teen SHOULD commit suicide?  That’s where I come in.

It’s a good reason to commit suicide if . . .

• Gossip Girl didn’t record and you cannot go to school tomorrow without knowing what happened to Chuck.
• You showed up to school dressed the exact same as the gross school nerd.
• For your birthday, your dad accidentally got you tickets to Larry the Cable Guy instead of Lady Gaga.
• Your mother said no makeup until you’re 16 and shave your goatee.
• Because Bella chose Edward.
• Your parents made you wear pleated pants out to dinner and you ran into the school gossip.
• Starbucks is out of the low fat pumpkin lattes.
• You still have a flip phone instead of an iPhone.
• People just won’t leave Britney alone!