Unemployed, twenty-something Nick Somers, starred into a mirror Wednesday evening in a state of panic. “I just don’t know what to do,” explains the irony-mulleted slacker, “the ‘Sam Elliot’s’ been done to death. I gotta find something new.”
Renaud struggled with the decision of how to groom the small area of hair between the upper lip and nose. “Sure I could go with the ‘Italian immigrant’ but I’m already wearing a Mario Bros. t–shirt. I don’t want to be seen as a one trick pony.”
The young man who makes you shake your head in disgust every time you see him is clearly distraught as he slips into his pair of perfectly preserved L.A. Gears. “It’s got to be just as appropriate playing retro rock in a basement as it is flailing around on a dance floor like an uncoordinated epileptic.”
“I was thinking of going with the ‘Hulk Hogan’,” The unsuccessful D.J. continues while rolling up one leg of his too tight acid-washed jeans, “but I’m afraid people will just think I’m a Motorhead fan. I mean I like Moterhead but everybody does, you know?”
“Dudes need to look at my stache and say, ‘that guy must be from Williamsburg or maybe Portland… definitely not this shitty place.’” The man whose name you have purposely forgotten clarifies. “I thought about doing the “Hitler” but I don’t know if that’s ironic or just offensive. I’m not trying to rock the boat. I just want to express my individuality while fitting in with the group.”
As the intentionally absurd douche pedals away on his $4,000 bicycle he calls back, “I forgot to shave didn’t I? Screw it, the “hobo” is totally in.”



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