DrWorm (drworm) wrote,
DrWorm
drworm

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Stereotypedness!

Ganked from sillypants.

Stereotypes:

I'm American, therefore I live in a cozy one story ranch in the suburbs with a dog and a little brother. Our lawn is always mowed and sparkling green. The neighbors all get together for coffee. I am completely ignorant of the rest of the world.

I live in Kent, Ohio, so I get shot at by the National Guard on a daily basis.

I was born in Lowell, Massachusetts, so I drop my 'r's and live on the bay at Cape Cod.

I'm a public high school student, therefore I am more ignorant than most, self-absorbed, illiterate, and proficient in small firearms.

My Dad is a college professor, therefore I should be at the top of my class and gearing toward valedictorian. I get free tuition, should I want it.

My Mommy is a secretary, therefore she does no work, is absolutely gigantic, has big hair and long fake nails, chews gum constantly, and does nothing but talk on the phone all day. I will grow up to be a carbon copy.

I am a self-mutilator, therefore I am a whiny 15 year old goth who writes bad poetry about blood and the absolutely horrible life she's led. Secretly, I want to be a vampire. I tell people that I obviously don't do it for the attention, as I am far too deep for something so petty.

My parents are divorced and I am an only child living with a single parent, so I am spoiled, angsty, unloved, and rebellious. I didn't play well with other children and I must always have my way.

I like "X-Men: Evolution", therefore I know absolutely nothing about the original X-Men universe and do not bother to care. I write bad fics that center around the virginal purity incarnate that is Kitty Pryde and languish in the multitudinous reviews I somehow manage to receive.

I like art, so I am a pretentious snob who pretends to understand the many nuances of the color blue. I listen to emo, roll the cuffs of my designer jeans up to show off my Converse high tops, and enjoy hanging out at the local smoke-filled coffee-shop on Open Mic Night to listen to bad poetry written by 15 year old whiny goths about the pain of their existence. Secretly, I long for a Motley Crue album.












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