It's is with heavy heart that I understand your predicament. You're currently in limbo between "young and cool" and old-with-family-on-the-horizons-and-no-more-game-nights. I feel your pain, nay, I have no idea, nor do I care to sympathize with you. But here is maybe a clue to find just a shred of "cool" in your blurred haze as a hasbeen jock in high school. It's quite simple. Get the fuck off your ridiculous Bluetooth phones everywhere you go, you insolent pricks.
Seriously, don't walk around the supermarket talking away to your mistress or joe blow about your lame white-collar job as a fuckoid accountant. I'm sorry, you're already fucked and uncool, but a bloody earpiece phone isn't going to make it any better. No one cares about your pathetic "oh man, you see that hot babe" excuse of a life. You're not fooling anyone.
You're just as cool as those washed-up athletes that you rag about to dickweed Timmy while walking to your wretched job.
Signed,
Your replacement in never-land.
post script. Fuck off and go punch some more numbers.
post post script. Oh, and stop getting your hair cut like that for Chirst sakes, you look risible.
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