Monday, April 18

Too much stress?

It's finals week, which means every PMSing rich white trash wannabe Barbie bitch has to drag out the old material, dust it off, and act like no one else has heard it before: "Finals week is hard, wah wah wah, I can't believe how hard it is, why are things so hard, wah wah wah." Not only that, but now I have to deal with all these "Stress Seminar" signs being put up all over my dorm. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't such a blatant advertisement for the fact that my tuition money is paying for programs where fat RAs can teach people how to make stress balls out of rice and balloons or where they can take notes about "time management." In the interest of being effective, I've decided to tell everyone who complains to me that they have to take a final about a thrilling and optimal new solution:
Suicide.
Let's face it, life's not going to get any easier. Sooner or later those boobs daddy bought you are going to start sagging. Your skin's not going to be as tight. After your looks are gone you really won't have anything, because your bitch ass is too superficial to sustain any kind of meaningful existence beyond your colorful candy shell. I suggest the ol' razor to the wrist approach - this will give you enough time to call for help if you're having second thoughts, and when people find you you can look forward to a good three months of coddling and nurturing from people who were wondering why they didn't "see the signs." They'll even apologize to you for not being there! What a deal!
Guys, don't think I'm leaving you out. I know you don't worry as much about finals, so this doesn't apply to you right now. However, sooner or later you're going to go to work at a place that won't let you wear your backwards Abercrombie hat and cargo pants all the time, and you'll realize that drinking openly at 10 AM is no longer considered cool. You'll think that you're working your way up the corporate ladder, that you're just "getting in on the ground floor" and that someday when you're CEO you'll be able to relate to the guy in the mail room and will have all sorts of nice things to say about "the little people", but about the time you hit 37 that fantasy is going to wear a little thin. You'll realize that you've been in the same cubicle for the past twenty years and that the business degree (with a minor in public drunkenness) you got doesn't mean shit now. You'll realize that, while you had a bunch of connections because you joined a fraternity and bought yourself a bunch of "brothers", those connections don't mean shit now because all those fucking troglodytes are in the same boat as you. Let's face it - do you really think that a guy who made you drink his piss when you were a pledge is really gonna excel in any sort of environment outside of a frat house? After you realize that your life is worthless, I suggest you walk to your boss's office (since it's the only one that has a window), open the window and make a nice impressionist painting on the sidewalk. Hey, at least it's better than going home to that sagging bitch you thought was so hot in college.
Maybe you're thinking that suicide isn't for you, but trust me, it definitely is. Let's face the facts here: no one else besides you has to take four classes at once, no one else besides you has to work a whopping eleven hours a week at a desk job where you do nothing 99% of the time, and no one else has the demanding social life you do. C'mon, you don't really think you can have friends and maintain good enough grades for your mom and dad to continue sending you checks, do you? You're basically fucked. Now with finals coming up, you have added stress; in addition to trying to maintain a social life while finding time to study, work, read the Angry Drunken Irishman blog, and drink, you have to study for finals. Let's face it - no one can relate to you. Your life is way too hard. You're the only person in the history of the world who's had a life this hard. You're beyond help. Just end it.

But before you do, bring me a drink.



(NOTE: I realize that this might make it seem like I condone suicide. I don't. It's selfish and stupid and completely egotistic. Plus the pope says you'll go to hell if you do it. This post was written completely tongue-in-cheek. If you didn't realize that and actually needed this disclaimer to tell you I'm not serious, then go kill yourself. Seriously.)
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