The Tab Tries: Being Edgy
Against my morals, beliefs and will, I tried being edgy for a day at University. For me the word edgy conjures up images of Communism, metrosexuality and smelling terrible but […]
Against my morals, beliefs and will, I tried being edgy for a day at University.
For me the word edgy conjures up images of Communism, metrosexuality and smelling terrible but I was not prepared for just how incompatible being edgy was with my lifestyle.
The hardest part for me was, without doubt, the clothing. For a start it was heartbreaking to have to put my feet in a place worse than hell: high-tops.
Not only do they look ridiculous, but one thing quickly emerged to me, I simply did not need that much ankle support. In fact I don’t think anyone, except a back-row forward playing on a rain soaked Murrayfield pitch in the early 90s needs that much ankle support.
Secondly, not only was I informed that my order at the bar was not edgy enough, and was humiliatingly forced to drink an alcopop disguised as a ‘swedish cider’, but having my top button done up (despite the fact I was not wearing a tie) made it exceptionally difficult to gulp down my drinks – no wonder edgy people like to get their highs in powdered form.
To make matters worse, my jeans were too tight making it painful when I got a boner from perving on birds plus I got hot ears and hair from wearing a hat inside all day and all night.
The glasses I was forced to wear made it difficult to see, after all I don’t need glasses, I am in no way a nerd.
I couldn’t even hear anything because I was wearing headphones which were blaring out music made by computer geeks who make polyphonic sounds on the ‘synth’ and get paid thousands and thousands for putting on CDs in strange and dark warehouses with flashing lights.
Yes that’s right, when I was growing up people who spent time using their computer expertise to create artwork would have been considered bottom of any playground food chain: David Guetta is a nerd by any definition.
The final straw for me came when it was suggested that I should post N-Dubstep 7, (or whatever it is called), songs on my mates walls.
Not only is this the worst thing anyone can do on a computer (probably with the exception of that wiki leaks bloke) but it makes no sense to me at all. If I eat some food I like I don’t post the recipe to my mate’s wall, if I read a book I like I don’t type it out, and if I find a woman fit, or a poo particularly funny, then I at least have the decency to share it through a more private medium.
It breaks my heart to think of what true men like Churchill, Frank Sinatra, The Muscles from Brussels and Russell Crowe would make of this culture.
Just be a man and sort your life out. What would these great men say about the Air Max or the weird rucksacks you all wear?
But hey, being a dickheads cool.