Sup’ corona-crotches! So you’re stuck in your house and you can’t go anywhere. You’ve been cooped up so long now your hair has gone from a perfectly faded faux hawk to a bushy mess that would get you laughed out of any Tapout outlet store this side of the Mason-Dixon. You look like a Bernie bro. The only type of “bro” I don’t like. But no worries! I’m here to help you make the best of that sad tribble living on your noggin at least until Sportsclips reopens and we can all order the ol’ Alt-Right-High-and-Tight once more.
But until then we’re going emo, bitches!
First, you need to get some tight pants. This shouldn’t be a problem ever since you discovered Buffalo Wild Wings delivers (pandemic silver linings, I guess). Pick literally anything from your closet and we’ll call this box checked.
Next, you need to post about how shy you are on social media. Don’t overdo it. 18 daily posts should be enough to convey how introverted you are. High-angle selfies should accompany each post. Try to look like you just realized Gilmore Girls has been off the air for… wow, thirteen years. That’s the look!
Damn, thirteen years? Really? Obviously, the reunion specials don’t count.
Next, sensitivity. If the relentless series of beatings I call my childhood taught me anything, it’s that emotions are to be suppressed at all costs. It’s tough, but you gotta get sad. Think of something that makes you depressed, like how you have to hide your depression from your dad who doesn’t believe in it and will just call you a pussy. Or how much you miss Gilmore Girls.
Finally, a general sense of misanthropy. Alright so I don’t know what this word means and I didn’t look it up. I’ve been too wrapped up in thinking how fucked up everything is. It’s like, humans are shit. You can’t count on anyone. Everything either dies or disappoints. And now we’re stuck inside as every breath brings us closer to the inevitable eternal blackness of the void. Man, I’m bummed. I’m gonna go watch some Gilmore Girls.