There you were, twiddling your hair for a group of over-appreciated jocks (who, by the way, thought you were only good for one thing, and not your brains, baby). Normally I would just walk by and try not to completely gag, but the way you looked at me made me stop short in my tracks. Here I was, looking gorgeous with my bright pink hair, vintage rock t-shirt, and pyramid belt. Did you have a right to look at me that way? No. Did you have the right to be clothed in your overpriced "Punk" t-shirt and Tommy jeans... with, oh my god, a pyramid belt??? NO. Tell me something sweetie, just what do you think qualifies as punk? So your little teeny-bopper magazine tells you a few safety pins and muscle tank are "hip" now? Does this give you the right to give the up-and-down to anyone who actually didn't get their spikes at Nordstrom's? Poseur is what you are, a skanky, flat-chested, bubbly little Abercrombie & Fitch freak, who should think twice before you piss off this bitch, unless, of course, you would like to have my steel-toed, three-inch-soled boot shoved straight up your precious ass.--Anonymous