This is Why I'm Cool

So, in my recent, weary travels 'round this wicked globe of ours, (well, around my small corner of it anyway), I've recently run into some pretty cool people. They weren't necessarily people of note, they weren't people you'd instantly recognize as people worth recognizing, and they certainly aren't people about whom you'd read in "People," but nevertheless, I feel that they're people who are worth immortalizing on this here blog.

Because, let's face it: they're cool.

I've put them into categories, as best as I am able. I hope that you will be able to appreciate their inherent coolness and, in some small way, aspire to become more like them, because imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and these are people who have earned the right to be both imitated and flattered due to their unending coolness.

'Kay? Here we go:

I'm Cool ...Because of the Way I Dress.

That's right, bitches. Check me the fuck out! I stroll through the aisles of Home Depot on a Tuesday night wearing a white tank-top with no bra! Think that's hot? Well, I'm approaching 60! That's right, horndogglettes! The last time I looked good in a tank-top with no bra, they were burning those underwire babies on the quad at Vassar!

Think THAT'S hot? Well, check ME out! I buy cigarettes at the Sunoco station wearing a black midriff top that my big ol' belly hangs out from beneath. My Daisy Dukes stink of shit 'cuz they're so far up my asshole I can feel them on the back of my tonsils, and the celluloid jiggling back and forth on my legs could feed all the impoverished, African babies playing in Madonna's backyard for a decade.

Well, that's gettin' me all hot-and-bothered, but hey-- look at ME! It's early December, but I'm in the Best Buy parking lot wearing a pink button-down Izod shirt completely open with a pale blue t-shirt underneath, madras shorts, flip-flops, and Ray-Ban sunglasses. My hair's slicked all the way back, I've probably got a dozen or so condoms in each of my pockets, and, just so you can be sure that I'm a total 100% certified asshole, I've got a toothpick in my mouth! Just line up for my phone number, ladies! You in the black midriff-- you've got dibs, babe.

I'm Cool... Because of Where I Hang Out.

Yo! Whaddup, MILF?! You comin' into the 7-Eleven for some Ding-Dongs? I got yo Ding-Dong right here! Don't sweat it, bitch, I'll save some for yo daughter, too! Wha? They in middle school? Yo, I don' care! 'Cuz so am I! Fuck, yeah, I hang out in front of convenience stores, because I'm fuckin' badass, yo! I wear black and have studs coming outta my Converse and shit. Don't come near me, 'cuz my hoodie's all big and shit, and I might have to get Diesel on his skateboard to fuck your day up, narc twat! Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops? Fuckin' Five-O? Um... so is this technically loitering?

Hmmm... yeah. Like, that's cool and all, but I, um, like, hang out at the tanning salon! Like, OMG! Like, come check me out! I did my 10 minute tan, like, but I've been here for, like, two hours! Why? Um, like, I'm just kinda hangin' out with my rock-hard tits displayed on the counter like they're merchandise. Actually, I guess they're, like, advertising or whatever. Product placement. Like, um, like, what does that even mean? Like, whatevs, peeps. I'm blonde, so, um, like, fuck you.

Um... uh.... yeah. Tanning salons are cool. But I'm the creepy guy in the wife-beater you see hanging out at the corner pizzeria drinking a Sprite. I, uh, um... I don't actually work there. But, um, you see me there. I know you do, 'cuz I see you there. With your family. Uh... I have a thin mustache and probably some peach fuzz on my chin, too. My hair's cut real close. They guy up the road does it for 6 bucks. I don't tip him, 'cuz you don't make too much money when you're the creepy guy in the wife-beater you see hanging out at the corner pizzeria drinking a Sprite.

Uh... it's really malt liquor.

I'm Cool... Because I'm Smart.

Wanna know how smart I am? I fuckin' outsmarted my ultra-high-tech modern car! Yeah! That's right! You know how it makes that annoying chime every two minutes if the seatbelt isn't buckled? Well, I just fasten the seatbelt BEHIND me! Yup! And then I get to sit in the seat with the seat belt buckled behind me and the stupid fucking car thinks that I'M buckled in! What a retarded car! That ultra-high-tech modern car ain't so cool now, is it? I'm cool!

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we're cool.