This was a blog post I recently did, but I figured there are plenty of people in here who can have creative/humourous fun with this: To my thirteen-year-old Self: Jesus, dude. What's with the track suits? Do you own a single thing that doesn't have "Beaver Canoe" or "Northern Reflections" written on it? They're called jeans, and they've worked since the mid fifties for dudes so maybe you should stop raging against the status quo already. Just because all of the girls are taller than you right now doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to stay unattractive to them. While we're on the subject, those steps you have shaved in the side of your head? Yeah, they're utterly yesterday as of next month. Do you honestly believe MC Hammer will be playing arenas in ten years? What is your damage? Yes, you must think you're cool being the first in your class to own C+C Music Factory's album, but get this: you'll be able to hold 10,000 songs on something the size of your thumbnail in less than twenty years while you're wasting your fifteen minutes of fame on a fucking cassette tape. You should be out in the yard with the cool kids helping them pick on the weak and ugly instead of designing your own movie posters in your science book, asshole. Darryl Winkler is having a house party two blocks away while his parents are in Acapulco and here you are watching Die Hard 2 in your parent's darkened basement for the billionth time. Steal that bottle of Sauza from the liquor cabinet since you're parents never touch booze anymore and show up at that party a hero. No? You'd rather piss away a golden opportunity at popularity to see McClane fight Colonel Stewart on the plane's wing again? Your loss, ass-munch. Nice guys finish last, and here you are doe-eyed and submissive to any half-attractive girl that talks to you. You're one of few kids who bring a lunch box to school, shouldn't you be in the remedial class using safety scissors when you sport that sort of look? Ask Tanya out already. She honestly likes you and you think she's hot, but no, you think public school dating requires effort of some kind you have no knowledge of. BULLSHIT. You don't "date" in public school, idiot. You hold hands in the hall to demonstrate you've marked your territory. In a couple years, you'll want to stick your Thing in this girl, but that won't happen because to her you were just that bashful little schmuck that never asked her out. Swish that around in your mouth and let me know how it tastes, and take that abomination of a retainer out before you do it you poltergeist. Oh, and one more thing: stop being a Redskins fan after they win the Superbowl this year. Focus: Write a letter to your thirteen-year-old self.