Oh the angsty teenagers. The black clothing. The black hair. The black eyeliner. The black in their souls. I just want to look at them, with their angsty angsty angst, and ask them if their life is really so hard, what with their mommy and daddy forking over $700 for their platinum SXSW badge* so that they can party like underage rock stars while on spring break from Westlake High School.
A joke I heard the other day that made me laugh out loud:
One man to his neighbor: "I wish my lawn was emo."
The second man: "Why's that?"
The first man: "So it would cut itself."
Oh its so wrong, but so very right.
*I'm not jealous that underage teenagers have a platinum badge and I don't. Nope, not jealous at all.
