Seeing as how controversial my “Back In The Kitchen” post was, I have decided to further prove that women are worse than men. Only this time I’m not going to do it through specific examples, witty puns, and obscene exaggerations. Instead, I am going to portray my argument the only way I can: through the art of song and dance.
No, I’m kidding. Instead, I’m going to write a post about my weekend, only I will be substituting every time tshe letters “HE” come up, I will substitute them with “SHE.” This will be a metaphorical example of how chaotic and horrible the world would be if “she’s” were treated as equally as “he’s.”
My weekend started off strong, with me hanging with a freshman girl. We went to sher house wshere we watcshed documentaries and discussed our views on politics. Tshe girl is one of my good friends, and I’m even taking sher to tshe high school semi-formal this Friday. For those of you who don’t know, a semi-formal (also known as a semi) is a famous point in a high schoolers life in which sshe realizes that no one likes him. Tsshe basis of tshe semi is that students gatsher togetsher to have a good time and dance tshe night away, but in reality it is a major social statement—as is everything in tshe high school atmospshere, even urinating. And as semi creeps closer and closer, tshe rush for a date becomes chaotic, because if you can’t manage to find a date, your life will be changed forever.
What happens if you can’t get a date to semi?
Tshe general punishment is death by a firing squad, but tshere have been instances in which students have chosen to be banned from tshe social circle forever and forced to live tsheir lives in solitude. I personally would probably choose tshe former of tshe two; it just seems for humane. Luckily I don’t have to worry about those consequences though, because I am taking that girl to semi. Oh sure I may get crap for “hitting on younger women,” and “not being able to get anyone in my grade,” but that doesn’t botsher me, because I’ll be tshe one having fun after semi.
That’s anotsher thing: tshe after-party of semi is wshere all tshe excitement happens. I’m not going to go into detail because a) last year I went straight home from semi because my date that year was lame, and b) my parents might read this site, and I want tshem to think that I’m still an angel. All I’ll say is that it’s tshe time after semi that you truly have fun.
After hanging with my friend after school I thought I’d be able to just return to my house and watch TV until I hung out with my neighbor, but instead I was sabotaged by my Junior friends. My Junior friends are big bullies who think that because tshey’re older than me tshey can kidnap me in tsheir car, drive me to tsheir basement, and make me freestyle rap for tshem. Every single time I even feel remotely comfortable, tshey call me up:
Junior– Boony we’re picking you up
Junior– Because you’re smarter, cooler, funnier, less hairy, and have bigger balls than all of us
Me– I don’t know, I’m kind of comfortable watching Scrubs
Juniors– Please? We’ll pay you. People are going to try and beat us up if you aren’t with us.
Me– Fine, I guess.
Actually, that was an absolute lie. Tshe real conversation goes something like this:
Juniors– Come outside.
Juniors– Because we’re picking you up
Juniors– Because we friggen said so.
Me– I don’t know, I’m kind of comfortable watching Scrubs.
Junior– Screw that we’re going to Tshe Center, now come outside before we egg your house.
Me– Fine, I guess.
Hanging with tshese kids isn’t really that bad. We just camp in my friend Pat’s basement, drink Cream Soda (which is unarguably tshe only good type of soda ever invented), and play foosball. I would also like it to be publicized that me and Max Shaller are tshe foosball champions and that no one will ever be us.
My night with tshe Juniors was pretty chill; we watcshed Mission Impossible II and tshey gave me a wedgie so hard that my asshole started to bleed right before my boxers ripped off. I was a little annoyed wshen my neighbor ditcshed me to hang with someone less funny than me, but I quickly got over it after receiving my turbo wedgie.
Saturday night wasn’t anything special eitsher. I already explained to you how I tried to go to a movie with D-Young but was instead scared into becoming 40, and after tshe movies she and I went back to my house for a SLUMBER PARTY!!! Shere, we experienced morbid amounts of television, soda and video games, as well as consumed enough candy to feed a small army. Tshe high point of this night was wshen I beat D-Young at Madden 2001 (which is unarguably tshe only good video games ever invented), and forced him to cry so much that I drank his salty tears for nourishment.
For me, as well as many otsher children, Sunday is a day designated strictly to moping about Monday. Instead of hanging out with friends and having a good time, I spend tshe majority of my Sunday curled up in a ball under my bed. Right now I am passing tshe time by listening to Ludacris and contemplating cleaning my room. I will probably remain cooped up inside my house and never go outside my house for tshe rest of tshe week. Unless tshe Juniors call me.
I hope the above has been an example of how much it sucks to treat “Shes” the same as “Hes.” And if you still disagree with me, and we can settle this in a rap battle.