thats that bullshit. Here's how i see it:

you are constantly trying to prove how wise you are, and that you've been there, done that, and understand it all perfectly. Then, your raggity ass gets all bent out of shape when a professor calls you out on it. If you can't back up the shit you're talking then shut the hell up. I don't care how hot the girl next to you is (which, incidentally she isn't, unless by hot you mean uglier than six week old piece of meatloaf, left in the sun. outside.) and how badly you want to impress her. I assure you that being a jackass is not going to help you out any in your endeavour. No really. Shut the fuck up. I'm serious.

next bitch:

You think you're pretty hot shit, with the shirts that you made yourself with "witty" little comics that you drew yourself with MSPaint. Dude, that's the stupidest shit I've ever seen. Not to mention your seeming obsession with facial hair. Get it together. Football moustashes don't count mano. 11 on a side just doesn't fucking cut it. And for christsakes you're a frosh. You aren't supposed to have a moustache... and if you do, it should be short and dense. Did I mention SHORT!? half inch long... also not okay. Length does not in any way, shape, OR form compensate for lack of quantity. And a briefcase with weird sticky notes in it such gems as: "I love the way your eyes sparkle when you talk" ...to someone else right? she sure as hell couldn't have been talking to you, otherwise you'd have told her that, and she'd have instantly fallen for you, isn't that right? Dude go fuck yourself. You obviously put it there, in the hopes that whomsoever that beehatch is will see it, and make the leap of faith that you're talking about her. I guess that's why you go to great lengths to leave that briefcase open all the time so EVERYONE can see that shit. and nothing else. your god damn briefcase blocks my whole field of vision, so I sure as hell can't see the econ lecture that is going on in front of me.

and we have yet ANOTHER winner!!!!

stupid stupid stupid bitch! You talk about the real world as if it were someplace you've been! You talk about doing everything for yourself. You're tired of pampering. Well you can't be that tired of it, considering you still run home to mommy and daddy when you get tired of the real world. You're so proud of yourself for finding yourself a job. Oh, that's right. you didn't. You just happened to have a connection so you had that shit set up FOR you. Someone else was supposed to have that job bitch. Someone who earned it. You didn't. You want to talk about the real world? Then put away all your ideas of someone being there to catch you all the time. Practice what you fucking preach about being indepentant, start thinking for your own damn self. What? You think that just because you know how to wash your clothes you're independant? You don't even know how to fucking STUDY! And you're going to brag about being ready for everything, ready for it all. But not just ready... but tired of the luck you've had. Bitch you'd best be thankful, because without that luck of yours, without that pampering which you scorn, you'd be nowhere. And you'd be helpless to boot. The funny thing about all of it is that you don't even have a clue. When we pull the safety net from under you, maybe you'll get an idea. With any luck, you'll figure it out just as your feet slip off of the tightrope and you begin your punge to doom.

know why I say these things?
cause ladys screams keep creeping in shadys dreams
and the way thing seem,
I shouldn't have to pay these shinks
these eighty g's
to say the same things tweece!