Emo?
Ok. Someone has to let me know...why the hell would you think I was Emo? I could see maybe Elan passing for it (I love you, buddy), but this is the third time this year someone has asked me. First, I was at NACURH semi-annual conference. So, I didn't talk to much the first few days (well, maybe all week), but I just had surgery. So, I let that one slide (ask Tia Protopapa for details). Second, I was asked by some random person walking in the Commons in March. I was wearing American Eagle and Abercombie jeans (that just screams EMO). Finally, yesterday, I was asked again by a "friend of a friend," whatever the hell that means. I think she just wanted to know.
To set the record straight, I am not Emo. Let it be heard throughout the land. So, the next time you see me dying more hair jet black, greasing it up, putting on some tight-ass pants (which are often too short), breaking out the polyester shirts (or maybe even some back-in-the-day Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles kids T's), splurging with the black eyeshadow, and really taking my Crohn's the extra mile by becoming anorexic (or maybe even Vegan), just remember...I am not Emo.
Oh, and it's summer.
To set the record straight, I am not Emo. Let it be heard throughout the land. So, the next time you see me dying more hair jet black, greasing it up, putting on some tight-ass pants (which are often too short), breaking out the polyester shirts (or maybe even some back-in-the-day Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles kids T's), splurging with the black eyeshadow, and really taking my Crohn's the extra mile by becoming anorexic (or maybe even Vegan), just remember...I am not Emo.
Oh, and it's summer.