Just because you have cobalt blue hair pulled back by a bandana and an anthology of "beat" literature on the table in front of you, and you're wearing a black belt with silver grommets and sunglasses with lenses that color your world not rose but a hideous shade of green (not unlike the bile I feel upon looking at you), doesn't mean you're the coolest thing since bongos. And peppering your Valley Girl speech with the occasional "fuck" at higher volume than the rest of your conversation? That doesn't mean anything either. Shut the fuck up and eat your lunch.