Who is to know why I act this way.
It could be all the Red Bull I consume daily or maybe the fact I haven't had a girlfriend since freshman year. Or maybe I'm bat-shit crazy, such as, perhaps, say Tweek Tweak. The kid did catch himself on fire five times in Chemistry. Not on purpose of course, but enough for the teachers to ban him from labs. But this blog isn't about Tweekers. Nor is this blog really about me.
It's about an angsty teenage boy who goes by the name Stan Marsh and happens to wear a blue hat with a red puffball. More like he used to until we reached an age where it became socially unacceptable. But hey, whatever it was getting too small for him anyways.
If there is one thing you need to know about me, I get distracted very easily so if I do go off subject, please do not mind me.
So back to the point, my story begins in a small city in Colorado called South Park; a spunky little town full of over half of America's imbeciles. And in this hellhole of idiots, there resides two super-best-friends by the names of Kyle and Stan. Kyle is a Jewish, scrawny seventeen-year-old boy with fiery red hair and an asshole of a personality. He is rather intelligent (or at least considers himself to be; that conceited dick) and enjoys playing baseball and attending National Honors Society meetings. He has a massive, crooked nose and dark green, pointy eyes that make him appear angry just about all the time. The best thing about him is not his towering six foot height or his wonderful ass, but no; he has the scorching, lusting passion of desire to fuck his best friend.
Stan is an attractive sex god that appeals to every woman's voluptuous fantasies. He plays football (head quarterback thing or whatever, I could care two-shits about football) and is dating the head cheerleader and has been for three years. He has an odd sense of fashion that ranges somewhere between indie-hipster-faggot and preppy-jock-faggot (I know, those two totally go together, don't they?). He manages to be taller than poor, short Kyle and has ten times the muscle. Not gross muscle or anything, just the perfect amount of lean. Sometimes Stan goes to parties and sometimes he does drugs, but he still manages to remain a pretty sensible guy and never goes overboard no matter how much his friends taunt him. Stan is kind of a pussy, but the nice kind you'd like to fuck all over the place. He plays guitar and makes below-average grades (above with my help) though those two things are not any bit related. I'm kind of just ranting about how pretty much I would like to jump his bones if you haven't noticed.
The point of these blogs are to kind of let out some anger and get the opinions of fellow internet goers because I feel like you guys could really hand out some useful advice. Advice on what, you might ask. Well good sir or madam, this is my senior year. The year I am going to singlehandedly win the heart of my best friend Stan Marsh. So just sit back, prop your feet on your desk, and enjoy my blog because tomorrow is the first day of the most treacherous year of my high school career.
-Love,
Kyle Broflovski