Damn You Hipsters To Hell!

It’s not fucking fair.

I have never been an avid follower and worshiper of the newest styles and trends. I like my band t-shirts, jeans, and black Chuck Taylors. I’ll admit that the thought of me throwing a pair of skinny jeans on struts though my mind every now and then, but that is beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I do my best to look presentable, but i don’t go out of my way. This is exactly the reason why things are not fucking fair.

About eight years ago, the spawn of Satan that my mom refers to as the ‘optometrist’ told me that I needed a pair of glasses. I told him that he could go to hell. i would have won the battle of words, but he also told my parents who thought it would be in my best interest to get a pair. For those of you who were never 10 years old and in Elementary School, having glasses was on-par with being the kid who didn’t like recess or the guy that put glue on his sandwiches. I was a perfectly normal kid then, well liked by many of my peers, so you can obviously understand my horror and intense loathing of not only the bastard optometrist but also of my parents who practically sentenced me to social seclusion and depression.

Monday rolled along and I was on the playground with shiny new glasses hidden in my backpack, doing my best to enjoy my last game of grounder while I still had friends. When class time rolled around I unhappily withdrew the spectacles from my bag and placed them on my face. At that exact moment, every single kid turned around and looked at me, their faces contorting with laughter and their fingers pointing at my face, directing their ridicule and teasing. I’ve never cried so hard in my life.

This is why it’s not fucking fair.

Now, 8 years later, I have been redeemed. The pair of brown-framed glasses that I was reluctant to purchase are now considered ‘cool’. All those days of teasing, those intolerable recesses spent playing with the blind kids, and God-knows how many painful wedgies were now finally paid back in full. Instead of being the stupid-white-kid-who-can’t-see, I am now the stupid-white-kid-with-cool-glasses. Oh, how the heavens have blessed me! I was all smiles and sunshine for several weeks until I read an article in the University newspaper entitled ‘New Hipster Style For Fall’. After reading it, I wanted to drown a panda.

On the front page, a girl’s face accented by dark bangs and a couple piercings stared me in the face, right through a pair of FAKE GLASSES!

How fucking dare you?! I suffered through Elementary School wearing these abominations and now you, in the name of fashion, choose to wear these cheap plastic LIES on your face. The article stated:

…thick plastic glasses with removed lenses will give you a sexy ‘geek’ look, perfectly accenting your clothes and hair.

For all I cared it could have said:

…thick black glasses with removed lenses will give you a FUCK GARRET AND HIS PAINFUL CHILDHOOD.

My time to shine has finally rolled around, and it was shot down by fashion-worshipping dream-smashers. My only hope is that cowlicks come into style someday soon. Lets see those hipster kids replicate that shit.

Back again, are you?

I catch a ride with my mom to University everyday. She works at the University Hospital, so riding with her not only saves me gas money, but it also saves me having to pay to rent a parking spot that’s a 5 kilometre walk across hardened lava, rickety rope bridges, and quicksand pits. The unfortunate this is that mom has to be at work at 7:30am each and every single day. 7:30am. This may not seem too bad, but take into consideration that my classes start at 10:00am every day. That’s right, 10-fucking-o’clock. Not only does this rob me of precious time that could be spent drooling on my pillow in my underwear, enjoying a comatose-like state, but it makes me sit at the University for two and a half hours with absolutely nothing to do.

Mom always tells me that I can use this time for ‘catching up on homework’, but that’s bullshit. Everyone knows that homework only gets done if it absolutely needs to, and thus far there have been no such assignments. So, for the last couple weeks, I have been sitting on a bench and either reading a book or reading my RSS feeds; both of which I lost interest in on about the 4th day. Now what is a young boy to do with all this free time on his hands? I tried to sleep in the car once, but I quickly learned that car seats are the most uncomfortable beds ever, and that the airbag does not make a good pillow due to the fact that it doesn’t stay inflated for long. I tried searching around campus for a secluded room or bench that no one sits on where I could bring a pillow and blanket and nap, but it seems that the 20,000 kids going to the U of S are out to get me by inhabiting every single plush bench on campus.

So since sleeping is out of the picture, it seems that I would have to find an activity that I could do while awake to fill my free time. Days went by with me wandering the lonely halls of University, searching, craving for something to do. I was like a ghost, floating past classrooms and lecture halls without a destination, and only the unhappy knowledge that I could be laying in bed right now. It wasn’t until I went for some coffee that I realized what I was put here so early to do. I would become friends with the women that worked at Tim Hortons.

It was so simple, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of it before. I went there almost everyday to purchase some coffee that would help me through those cold, lonely mornings, and there was always dudes that went up to the counter only to be greeted by the middle-aged woman that knew their first name, their method of transportation to school, their drink, their drink size, and what they had planned for the day (ex: “Oh hello Robert! Must have been a cold bike ride to school today I bet. Let me guess, large coffee with two sugar, one cream? … Here you go! I hope you have fun at your Biology lab this afternoon!) Just hearing this makes me jealous of the biker who drinks large coffees. How awesome would it be to come to school, and have the woman working at Tim Hortons grab you your desired hot-beverage without you even having to say a word? It’s like you have your own personal robot, except instead of an antenna on its head, yours has a brown visor and a hairnet. Just thinking about this new possible University-residing friend fills me with such warmth that only a large mocha could replicate.

The friend-making will begin on Monday. Watch out ladies, here comes your new best pal.

"…She’s so drunk!"

Today at University I saw a zombie. It was like the textbook definition of an undead human:

• he was very pale, almost a pasty white
• his expression was one of emptiness, with a touch of sadness and remorse
• his eyes were open and aware, but it was obvious that he wasn’t seeing anything; a blank stare
• his mouth was open slightly, as if about to speak, but never actually doing so
• his legs seemed to be very limp – his feet dragged more than they stepped

The only thing missing was the decaying skin and absence of limbs or other vital body parts. It took note of all this in the 5 seconds it took me to walk past him. He was shuffling his way in the opposite direction down the hallway, and I couldn’t help but pull my sweater down over any exposed skin, as not to taunt him with my non-undead flesh. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for any reports of bitings. If none, I will safely assume that he either expired somewhere near a dumpster or his head was removed/brain was destroyed by some brave zombie hunter.

(For those of you who have seen the movie Shawn of the Dead (absolutely excellent, you must watch it if you haven’t), It reminded me of the zombie kids at the very beginning of the movie, when they are all shuffling down the back alley, nodding their heads to their music. You will also be the only people who see the humour in the post title.)