It’s hard being a rich punk. Especially when you’re not rich.
So my parents got me a sweater for Christmas. The good news is it looks great on me! Unfortunately, it looks a little too good, and now everyone in the scene thinks I’m a “richie-rich-ass-poser-ass-bitch.” They call me other stuff too but that’s the nickname that stuck. Help!
I got this sweater for Christmas and it’s decimated my reputation. The sweater wasn’t even expensive. It was from target! And not even a name brand. This is from the “Goodfellow Collection” but it might as well be Balenciaga the way everyone at shows looks at me now.
It’s all because I look so goddamn charming when I put this thing on. I can see them all glaring behind me as I check myself out in every mirror I walk by. Now everyone thinks I’m some rich asshole who’s full of himself. And they couldn’t be more wrong. I’m a broke asshole who’s full of himself.
And for the record, my family is rich. But they cut me off though so I’m poor. Just like all of you!
This is the worst. Sure, I’ve been getting lots of offers for jobs and boats and insider trading stock tips. But now my friends won’t even invite me to see their shitty bands. They still send me merch links though.
It’s not my fault that my rugged exterior transforms as I pull the wool over my head. I can’t help that my spiked hair becomes miraculously slicked back and all the face tattoos I swore weren’t temporary disappear once this sweater envelopes my torso. Yet here I stand all alone, having been alienated from my entire community.
Fuck this gift. Next year I’m just gonna ask for another Marshall stack.