Tila Tequila & FORBIDDEN would know everyone in the whole world.
You would struggle over the time it takes someone you like to crack your top 8.
19 year old boys wouldn’t own shirts and 19 year old girls would not own pants.
If you’re a fat girl, people would only see you from the shoulders up.
Girls would always be posing, cheeks sucked in and lips puckered two feet off their face.
Your attraction to someone would be based on their favorite clothing label, their favorite band, and a survey.
All females are bi and all males drive import muscle cars
Your driver’s license would have hearts around your name or quote from an emo song.
The phrases “Yo,” “your hawt,” or “hit me back some time” would attract the opposite sex.
Bands with 3 song demos could book stadium tours.
Lesbian women would not allow anyone with a penis within 50 yards of them, not even to deliver a pizza.
It would be perfectly acceptable to blurt out any random filthy perverse sexual thought at any random woman/man you thought was “hawt” as a first greeting.
It would be no more unusual to see a man walking around displaying his erect, naked penis than it would be to see random women running around in a g-string w/nothing covering their breasts but their hands.
Every woman from the o.c. would have a boobjob.
Every man from the o.c. would have sleeves.
You would look your very best at all times.
Everyone would make $100,000 a year or higher.
There would be a lot of youthful looking 99 year olds.
Blogs would be required reading and any random thought in your head would be shared with everyone
Everywhere you would walk, an image of Angelina Jolie would be behind you.
You’d have a friend named Tom creepily following you around giving you bad news constantly.
It wouldn’t be odd to have Brad Pitt in your circle of friends.
Hello Kitty would be a real person.
Conversations would sound like this “How are you?” Sent. “Good, how are you?” Replied.
During a long conversation you’d have to say “Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: all right, well call me later.”
When it was time for bed you would say you’re “Undergoing Maintenance.”
You would have to paint your walls using Thomas Myspace Editor codes in your apartment.
Stewie from Family Guy would be your best friend.
In your circle of friends you would hang out with Scottsdale bars and clothing lines.
When someone said something funny, you’d actually roll around on the floor and laugh your fucking ass off.
“Friend Whoring” is equal to STD’s.
“Fuckin MySpace!” is the only universally known term in any language to show anger.
At nights when you are asleep you would get people running in your room that you don’t know saying. “It’s 4 a.m., I can’t sleep, someone talk to me.”
Bands go to your house and ask you to give them a listen because they see that you like a band they sound nothing like.
Anytime you walk into someones house they have the same video or song playing all the time, non-stop for three months straight.
Every couple of days you would threaten all your friends to take their information out of your cell phone and delete them, since they haven’t called you in, like, four days.
People would run up to you, tell you a random message, and you’d have 17 minutes and 13 seconds to pass it along before a ghost came to your house and raped your dog
It would be common to be walking down the street with your friends carrying parade banners advertising for the University of Phoenix, or some random free gift like a free Xbox 360 (participation required)
